“Choice Spirits” Page #5

"Choice Spirits" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous collection of short stories that explores the quirks and eccentricities of human nature, often set against the backdrop of working-class life in early 20th-century England. Featuring memorable characters and witty dialogue, Jacobs delves into themes of class, camaraderie, and the unpredictability of life, all while highlighting the amusing and sometimes absurd situations that arise in everyday interactions. The book showcases Jacobs' talent for blending comedy with insights into human behavior, making it a delightful read for fans of classic British literature.

• Fiction

								

suicide,” said the skipper.

“We didn’t commit sooicide,” said Bill; “how could we when we’re
standing here?”

“Oh, yes, you did,” said the other. “I’ve got your letters in my pocket
to prove it; besides, if you didn’t I should give you in charge for
desertion directly we get to port.”

He exchanged glances with the mate, and Bill, after standing first on
one leg and then on the other, walked slowly away. For the rest of the
morning he stayed below setting the smaller ghost a bad example in the
way of language, and threatening his fellows with all sorts of fearful
punishments.

Until dinner time the skipper heard no more of them, but he had just
finished that meal and lit his pipe when he heard footsteps on the
deck, and the next moment old Ned, hot and angry, burst into the cabin.

“Bill’s stole our dinner, sir,” he panted unceremoniously.

“Who?” inquired the skipper coldly.

“Bill, sir, Bill Smith,” replied Ned.

“Who?” inquired the skipper more coldly than before.

“The ghost o’ Bill Smith,” growled Ned, correcting himself savagely,
“has took our dinner away, an’ him an’ the ghost o’ Tommy Brown is a
sitting down and boltin’ of it as fast as they can bolt.”

“Well, I don’t see what I can do,” said the skipper lazily. “What’d you
let ’em for?”

“You know what Bill is, sir,” said Ned. “I’m an old man, cook’s no
good, and unless Simpson has a bit o’ raw beef for his eyes, he won’t
be able to see for a week.”

“Rubbish!” said the skipper jocularly. “Don’t tell me, three men all
afraid o’ one ghost. I sha’n’t interfere. Don’t you know what to do?”

“No, sir,” said Ned eagerly.

“Go up and read the prayer-book to him, and he’ll vanish in a cloud of
smoke,” said the skipper.

Ned gazed at him for a moment speechlessly, and then going up on deck
leaned over the side and swore himself faint. The cook and Simpson came
up and listened respectfully, contenting themselves with an occasional
suggestion when the old man’s memory momentarily failed him.

For the rest of the voyage the two culprits suffered all the
inconvenience peculiar to a loss of citizenship. The skipper blandly
ignored them, and on two or three occasions gave great offence by
attempting to walk through Bill as he stood on the deck. Speculation
was rife in the fo’c’sle as to what would happen when they got ashore,
and it was not until Northsea was sighted that the skipper showed his
hand. Then he appeared on deck with their effects done up neatly in two
bundles, and pitched them on the hatches. The crew stood and eyed him
expectantly.

“Ned,” said the skipper sharply.

“Sir,” said the old man.

“As soon as we’re made fast,” said the other, “I want you to go ashore
for me and fetch an undertaker and a policeman. I can’t quite make up
my mind which I want.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” murmured the old man.

The skipper turned away, and seizing the helm from the mate, took the
ship in. He was so intent upon his business that he appeared not to
notice the movements of Bill and Tommy as they edged nervously towards
their bundles, and waited impatiently for the schooner to get alongside
the quay. Then he turned to the mate and burst into a loud laugh as the
couple, bending suddenly, snatched up their bundles, and, clambering up
the side, sprang ashore and took to their heels. The mate laughed, too,
and a faint but mirthless echo came from the other end of the schooner.
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