In Mid-atlantic Page #2

"In Mid-Atlantic" by W. W. Jacobs is a charming collection of short stories that capture the essence of life and adventure in the early 20th century. Set against the backdrop of the picturesque Mid-Atlantic region, the narratives showcase Jacobs's signature wit and humor, often revolving around eccentric characters and their misadventures. The stories blend elements of light-hearted romance, maritime escapades, and quirky encounters, making for an engaging read that reflects Jacobs's keen observation of human nature and the idiosyncrasies of everyday life.

• Fiction

								

my throat,’ ses he.

“The cap’n give a gulp, and walked off, but he comes back in a minute,
and ses he—

“‘Mr. Salmon, I should think it a great pity to lose a valuable officer
like yourself, even to do good to others. There’s a hard ring about
that cough I don’t like, an’ if you really think it’s going up this bit
north, why, I don’t mind putting the ship in her course again.’

“Well, the mate thanked him kindly, and he was just about to give the
orders when one o’ the men who was at the masthead suddenly shouts out—

“‘Ahoy! Small boat on the port bow!’

“The cap’n started as if he’d been shot, and ran up the rigging with
his glasses. He came down again almost direckly, and his face was all
in a glow with pleasure and excitement.

“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses he, ‘here’s a small boat with a lug sail in the
middle o’ the Atlantic, with one pore man lying in the bottom of her.
What do you think o’ my warning now?’

“The mate didn’t say anything at first, but he took the glasses and had
a look, an’ when he came back anyone could see his opinion of the
skipper had gone up miles and miles.

“‘It’s a wonderful thing, sir,’ ses he, ‘and one I’ll remember all my
life. It’s evident that you’ve been picked out as a instrument to do
this good work.’

“I’d never heard the fust mate talk like that afore, ’cept once when he
fell overboard, when he was full, and stuck in the Thames mud. He said
it was Providence; though, as it was low water, according to the
tide-table, I couldn’t see what Providence had to do with it myself. He
was as excited as anybody, and took the wheel himself, and put the
ship’s head for the boat, and as she came closer, our boat was slung
out, and me and the second mate and three other men dropped into her,
an’ pulled so as to meet the other.

“‘Never mind the boat; we don’t want to be bothered with her,’ shouts
out the cap’n as we pulled away—‘Save the man!’

“I’ll say this for Mr. McMillan, he steered that boat beautifully, and
we ran alongside o’ the other as clever as possible. Two of us shipped
our oars, and gripped her tight, and then we saw that she was just an
ordinary boat, partly decked in, with the head and shoulders of a man
showing in the opening, fast asleep, and snoring like thunder.

“‘Puir chap,’ ses Mr. McMillan, standing up. ‘Look how wasted he is.’

“He laid hold o’ the man by the neck of his coat an’ his belt, an’,
being a very powerful man, dragged him up and swung him into our boat,
which was bobbing up and down, and grating against the side of the
other. We let go then, an’ the man we’d rescued opened his eyes as Mr.
McMillan tumbled over one of the thwarts with him, and, letting off a
roar like a bull, tried to jump back into his boat.

“‘Hold him!’ shouted the second mate. ‘Hold him tight! He’s mad, puir
feller.’

“By the way that man fought and yelled, we thought the mate was right,
too. He was a short, stiff chap, hard as iron, and he bit and kicked
and swore for all he was worth, until at last we tripped him up and
tumbled him into the bottom of the boat, and held him there with his
head hanging back over a thwart.

“‘It’s all right, my puir feller,’ ses the second mate; ‘ye’re in good
hands—ye’re saved.’

“‘Damme!’ ses the man; ‘what’s your little game? Where’s my boat—eh?
Where’s my boat?’

“He wriggled a bit, and got his head up, and, when he saw it bowling
along two or three hundred yards away, his temper got the better of
him, and he swore that if Mr. McMillan didn’t row after it he’d knife
him.

“‘We can’t bother about the boat,’ ses the mate; ‘we’ve had enough
bother to rescue you.’

“‘Who the devil wanted you to rescue me?’ bellowed the man. ‘I’ll make
you pay for this, you miserable swabs. If there’s any law in Amurrica,
you shall have it!’

“By this time we had got to the ship, which had shortened sail, and the
cap’n was standing by the side, looking down upon the stranger with a
big, kind smile which nearly sent him crazy.

“‘Welcome aboard, my pore feller,’ ses he, holding out his hand as the
chap got up the side.

“‘Are you the author of this outrage?’ ses the man fiercely. “‘I don’t
understand you,’ ses the cap’n, very dignified, and drawing himself up.

“‘Did you send your chaps to sneak me out o’ my boat while I was having
forty winks?’ roars the other. ‘Damme! that’s English, ain’t it?’

“‘Surely,’ ses the cap’n, ‘surely you didn’t wish to be left to perish
in that little craft. I had a supernatural warning to steer this course
on purpose to pick you up, and this is your gratitude.’

“‘Look here!’ ses the other. ‘My name’s Cap’n Naskett, and I’m doing a
record trip from New York to Liverpool in the smallest boat that has
ever crossed the Atlantic, an’ you go an’ bust everything with your
cussed officiousness. If you think I’m going to be kidnapped just to
fulfil your beastly warnings, you’ve made a mistake. I’ll have the law
on you, that’s what I’ll do. Kidnapping’s a punishable offence.’

“‘What did you come here for, then?’ ses the cap’n.

“‘Come!’ howls Cap’n Naskett. ‘Come! A feller sneaks up alongside o’ me
with a boat-load of street-sweepings dressed as sailors, and snaps me
up while I’m asleep, and you ask me what I come for. Look here. You
clap on all sail and catch that boat o’ mine, and put me back, and I’ll
call it quits. If you don’t, I’ll bring a law-suit agin you, and make
you the laughing-stock of two continents into the bargain.’

“Well, to make the best of a bad bargain, the cap’n sailed after the
cussed little boat, and Mr. Salmon, who thought more than enough time
had been lost already, fell foul o’ Cap’n Naskett. They was both pretty
talkers, and the way they went on was a education for every sailorman
afloat. Every man aboard got as near as they durst to listen to them;
but I must say Cap’n Naskett had the best of it. He was a sarkastik
man, and pretended to think the ship was fitted out just to pick up
shipwrecked people, an’ he also pretended to think we was castaways
what had been saved by it. He said o’ course anybody could see at a
glance we wasn’t sailormen, an’ he supposed Mr. Salmon was a butcher
what had been carried out to sea while paddling at Margate to
strengthen his ankles. He said a lot more of this sort of thing, and
all this time we was chasing his miserable little boat, an’ he was
admiring the way she sailed, while the fust mate was answering his
reflexshuns, an’ I’m sure that not even our skipper was more pleased
than Mr. Salmon when we caught it at last, and shoved him back. He was
ungrateful up to the last, an’, just before leaving the ship, actually
went up to Cap’n Brown, and advised him to shut his eyes an’ turn round
three times and catch what he could.

“I never saw the skipper so upset afore, but I heard him tell Mr.
McMillan that night that if he ever went out of his way again after a
craft, it would only be to run it down. Most people keep pretty quiet
about supernatural things that happen to them, but he was about the
quietest I ever heard of, an’, what’s more, he made everyone else keep
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