Low Water Page #2

"Low Water" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous short story that captures the misadventures of its characters in a coastal setting. The narrative revolves around the experiences of a group of locals dealing with the challenges posed by low tides, showcasing Jacobs' signature wit and keen observations of human nature. Through clever dialogue and a lighthearted plot, the story explores themes of resourcefulness and camaraderie, ultimately delivering a charming and entertaining glimpse into life by the sea.

• Fiction

								

it on the floor. “I’ll read them chaps a lesson they won’t forget in a
hurry, and put a little money in my pocket at the same time. I’ve got a
little plan in my ’ed as come to me quite sudden this afternoon. Come
on deck, Bob.”

Bob obeyed, grinning, and the skipper, taking the wheel from Sam, sent
him for the others.

“Did you ever know me break my word, Dick?” he inquired abruptly, as
they shuffled up.

“Never,” said Dick.

“Cap’n Bowers’ word is better than another man’s oath,” asseverated
Joe.

“Well,” said Captain Bowers, with a wink at the mate, “I’m going to
give you chaps a little self-denial week all to yourselves. If you all
live on biscuit and water till we get to port, and don’t touch nothing
else, I’ll jine you and become a Salvationist.”

“Biscuit and water,” said Dick doubtfully, scratching a beard strong
enough to scratch back.

“It wouldn’t be right to play with our constitooshuns in that way,
sir,” objected Joe, shaking his head.

“There you are,” said Bowers, turning to the mate with a wave of his
hand. “They’re precious anxious about me so long as it’s confined to
jawing, and dropping tracts into my tea, but when it comes to a little
hardship on their part, see how they back out of it.”

“We ain’t backing out of it,” said Dick cautiously; “but s’pose we do,
how are we to be certain as you’ll jine us?”

“You’ve got my word for it,” said the other, “an’ the mate an’ cook
witness it.”

“O’ course, you jine the Army for good, sir,” said Dick, still
doubtfully.

“O’ course.”

“Then it’s a bargain, sir,” said Dick, beaming; “ain’t it, chaps?”

“Ay, ay,” said the others, but not beaming quite so much. “Oh, what a
joyful day this is!” said the old man. “A Salvation crew an’ a
Salvation cap’n! We’ll have the cook next, bad as he is.”

“You’ll have biskit an’ water,” said the cook icily, as they moved off,
“an’ nothing else, I’ll take care.”

“They must be uncommon fond o’ me,” said the skipper meditatively.

“Uncommon fond o’ having their own way,” growled the mate. “Nice thing
you’ve let yourself in for.”

“I know what I’m about,” was the confident reply.

“You ain’t going to let them idiots fast for a week an’ then break your
word?” said the mate in surprise.

“Certainly not,” said the other wrathfully; “I’d sooner jine three
armies than do that, and you know it.”

“They’ll keep to the grub, don’t you fear,” said the mate. “I can’t
understand how you are going to manage it.”

“That’s where the brains come in,” retorted the skipper, somewhat
arrogantly.

“Fust time I’ve heard of ’em,” murmured the mate softly; “but I s’pose
you’ve been using pint pots too.”

The skipper glared at him scornfully, but, being unprovided with a
retort, forbore to reply, and going below again mixed himself a stiff
glass of grog, and drank success to his scheme.

Three days passed, and the men stood firm, and, realising that they
were slowly undermining the skipper’s convictions, made no effort to
carry him by direct assault. The mate made no attempt to conceal his
opinion of his superior’s peril, and in gloomy terms strove to put the
full horror of his position before him.

“What your missis’ll say the first time she sees you prancing up an’
down the road tapping a tambourine, I can’t think,” said he.

“I shan’t have no tambourine,” said Captain Bowers cheerfully.

“It’ll also be your painful dooty to stand outside your father-in-law’s
pub and try and persuade customers not to go in,” continued Bob. “Nice
thing that for a quiet family!”

The skipper smiled knowingly, and, rolling a cigar in his mouth, leaned
back in his seat and cocked his eye at the skylight.

“Don’t you worry, my lad,” said he; “don’t you worry. I’m in this job,
an’ I’m coming out on top. When men forget what’s due to their betters,
and preach to ’em, they’ve got to be taught what’s what. If the wind
keeps fair we ought to be home by Sunday night or Monday morning.”

The other nodded.

“Now, you keep your eyes open,” said the skipper; and, going to his
state-room, he returned with three bottles of rum and a corkscrew, all
of which, with an air of great mystery, he placed on the table, and
then smiled at the mate. The mate smiled too.

“What’s this?” inquired the skipper, drawing the cork, and holding a
bottle under the other’s nose.

“It smells like rum,” said the mate, glancing round, possibly for a
glass.

“It’s for the men,” said the skipper, “but you may take a drop.”

The mate, taking down a glass, helped himself liberally, and, having
made sure of it, sympathetically, but politely, expressed his firm
opinion that the men would not touch it under any conditions whatever.

“You don’t quite understand how firm they are,” said he; “you think
it’s just a new fad with ’em, but it ain’t.”

“They’ll drink it,” said the skipper, taking up two of the bottles.
“Bring the other on deck for me.”

The mate complied, wonderingly, and, laden with prime old Jamaica,
ascended the steps.

“What’s this?” inquired the skipper, crossing over to Dick, and holding
out a bottle.

“Pison, sir,” said Dick promptly.

“Have a drop,” said the skipper jovially.

“Not for twenty pounds,” said the old man, with a look of horror.

“Not for two million pounds,” said Sam, with financial precision.

“Will anybody have a drop?” asked the owner, waving the bottle to and
fro.

As he spoke a grimy paw shot out from behind him, and, before he quite
realised the situation, the cook had accepted the invitation, and was
hurriedly making the most of it.

“Not you,” growled the skipper, snatching the bottle from him; “I
didn’t mean you. Well, my lads, if you won’t have it neat you shall
have it watered.”

Before anybody could guess his intention he walked to the water-cask,
and, removing the cover, poured in the rum. In the midst of a profound
silence he emptied the three bottles, and then, with a triumphant
smile, turned and confronted his astonished crew.

“What’s in that cask, Dick?” he asked quietly.

“Rum and water,” groaned Dick; “but that ain’t fair play, sir. We’ve
kep’ to our part o’ the agreement, sir, an’ you ought to ha’ kep’ to
yours.”

“So I have,” was the quick reply; “so I have, an’ I still keep to it.
Don’t you see this, my lads; when you start playing antics with me
you’re playing a fool’s game, an’ you’re bound to come a cropper. Some
men would ha’ waited longer afore they spiled their game, but I think
you’ve suffered enough. Now there’s a lump of beef and some taters on,
an’ you’d better go and make a good square meal, an’ next time you want
to alter the religion of people as knows better than you do, think
twice.”

“We don’t want no beef, sir; biskit’ll do for us,” said Dick firmly.

“All right, please yourselves,” said the skipper; “but mind, no
hanky-panky, no coming for drink when my back’s turned; this cask’ll be
watched; but if you do alter your mind about the beef you can tell the
cook to get it for you any time you like.”

He threw the bottles overboard, and, ignoring the groaning and
head-shaking of the men, walked away, listening with avidity to the
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