Manners Makyth Man

"Manners Makyth Man" is a humorous short story by W. W. Jacobs, known for his sharp wit and observation of human nature. Set in a charming coastal town, the narrative follows the misadventures of a group of characters who navigate social interactions guided by the adage that good manners define a person's character. Jacobs explores themes of social class, etiquette, and human folly, using clever dialogue and situational comedy to reveal the absurdities of societal norms. The story highlights the contrast between appearances and reality, ultimately suggesting that true character transcends mere manners.

• Humour
• Short story

								
The night-watchman appeared to be out of sorts.  His movements were even
slower than usual, and, when he sat, the soap-box seemed to be unable to
give satisfaction.  His face bore an expression of deep melancholy, but a
smouldering gleam in his eye betokened feelings deeply moved.

"Play-acting I don't hold with," he burst out, with sudden ferocity.
"Never did.  I don't say I ain't been to a theayter once or twice in my
life, but I always come away with the idea that anybody could act if they
liked to try.  It's a kid's game, a silly kid's game, dressing up and
pretending to be somebody else."

He cut off a piece of tobacco and, stowing it in his left cheek, sat
chewing, with his lack-lustre eyes fixed on the wharves across the river.
The offensive antics of a lighterman in mid-stream, who nearly fell
overboard in his efforts to attract his attention, he ignored.

"I might ha' known it, too," he said, after a long silence.  "If I'd only
stopped to think, instead o' being in such a hurry to do good to others,
I should ha' been all right, and the pack o' monkey-faced swabs on the
Lizzie and Annie wot calls themselves sailor-men would 'ave had to 'ave
got something else to laugh about.  They've told it in every pub for 'arf
a mile round, and last night, when I went into the Town of Margate to get
a drink, three chaps climbed over the partition to 'ave a look at me.

"It all began with young Ted Sawyer, the mate o' the Lizzie and Annie.
He calls himself a mate, but if it wasn't for 'aving the skipper for a
brother-in-law 'e'd be called something else, very quick.  Two or three
times we've 'ad words over one thing and another, and the last time I
called 'im something that I can see now was a mistake.  It was one o'
these 'ere clever things that a man don't forget, let alone a lop-sided
monkey like 'im.

"That was when they was up time afore last, and when they made fast 'ere
last week I could see as he 'adn't forgotten it.  For one thing he
pretended not to see me, and, arter I 'ad told him wot I'd do to him if
'e ran into me agin, he said 'e thought I was a sack o' potatoes taking a
airing on a pair of legs wot somebody 'ad throwed away.  Nasty tongue
'e's got; not clever, but nasty.

"Arter that I took no notice of 'im, and, o' course, that annoyed 'im
more than anything.  All I could do I done, and 'e was ringing the
gate-bell that night from five minutes to twelve till ha'-past afore I
heard it.  Many a night-watchman gets a name for going to sleep when
'e's only getting a bit of 'is own back.

"We stood there talking for over 'arf-an-hour arter I 'ad let'im in.
Leastways, he did.  And whenever I see as he was getting tired I just
said, 'H'sh!' and 'e'd start agin as fresh as ever.  He tumbled to it at
last, and went aboard shaking 'is little fist at me and telling me wot
he'd do to me if it wasn't for the lor.

"I kept by the gate as soon as I came on dooty next evening, just to give
'im a little smile as 'e went out.  There is nothing more aggravating
than a smile when it is properly done; but there was no signs o' my lord,
and, arter practising it on a carman by mistake, I 'ad to go inside for a
bit and wait till he 'ad gorn.

"The coast was clear by the time I went back, and I 'ad just stepped
outside with my back up agin the gate-post to 'ave a pipe, when I see a
boy coming along with a bag.  Good-looking lad of about fifteen 'e was,
nicely dressed in a serge suit, and he no sooner gets up to me than 'e
puts down the bag and looks up at me with a timid sort o' little smile.

"'Good evening, cap'n,' he ses.

"He wasn't the fust that has made that mistake; older people than 'im
have done it.

"'Good evening, my lad,' I ses.

"'I s'pose,' he ses, in a trembling voice, 'I suppose you ain't looking
out for a cabin-boy, sir?'

"'Cabin-boy?' I ses.  'No, I ain't.'

"'I've run away from 'ome to go to sea,' he ses, and I'm afraid of being
pursued.  Can I come inside?'

"Afore I could say 'No' he 'ad come, bag and all; and afore I could say
anything else he 'ad nipped into the office and stood there with his 'and
on his chest panting.

"'I know I can trust you,' he ses; 'I can see it by your face."

"'Wot 'ave you run away from 'ome for?' I ses.  'Have they been
ill-treating of you?'

"'Ill-treating me?' he ses, with a laugh.  'Not much.  Why, I expect my
father is running about all over the place offering rewards for me.  He
wouldn't lose me for a thousand pounds.'

"I pricked up my ears at that; I don't deny it.  Anybody would.  Besides,
I knew it would be doing him a kindness to hand 'im back to 'is father.
And then I did a bit o' thinking to see 'ow it was to be done.

"'Sit down,' I ses, putting three or four ledgers on the floor behind one
of the desks.  'Sit down, and let's talk it over.'

"We talked away for ever so long, but, do all I would, I couldn't
persuade 'im.  His 'ead was stuffed full of coral islands and smugglers
and pirates and foreign ports.  He said 'e wanted to see the world, and
flying-fish.

"'I love the blue billers,' he ses; 'the heaving blue billers is wot I
want.'

"I tried to explain to 'im who would be doing the heaving, but 'e
wouldn't listen to me.  He sat on them ledgers like a little wooden
image, looking up at me and shaking his 'ead, and when I told 'im of
storms and shipwrecks he just smacked 'is lips and his blue eyes shone
with joy.  Arter a time I saw it was no good trying to persuade 'im, and
I pretended to give way.

"'I think I can get you a ship with a friend o' mine,' I ses; 'but, mind,
I've got to relieve your pore father's mind--I must let 'im know wot's
become of you.'

"'Not before I've sailed,' he ses, very quick.

"'Certingly not,' I ses.  'But you must give me 'is name and address,
and, arter the Blue Shark--that's the name of your ship--is clear of the
land, I'll send 'im a letter with no name to it, saying where you ave
gorn.'

"He didn't seem to like it at fust, and said 'e would write 'imself, but
arter I 'ad pointed out that 'e might forget and that I was responsible,
'e gave way and told me that 'is father was named Mr. Watson, and he kept
a big draper's shop in the Commercial Road.

"We talked a bit arter that, just to stop 'is suspicions, and then I told
'im to stay where 'e was on the floor, out of sight of the window, while
I went to see my friend the captain.

"I stood outside for a moment trying to make up my mind wot to do.
O'course, I 'ad no business, strictly speaking, to leave the wharf, but,
on the other 'and, there was a father's 'art to relieve.  I edged along
bit by bit while I was thinking, and then, arter looking back once or
twice to make sure that the boy wasn't watching me, I set off for the
Commercial Road as hard as I could go.

"I'm not so young as I was.  It was a warm evening, and I 'adn't got even
a bus fare on me.  I 'ad to walk all the way, and, by the time I got

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