Pickled Herring Page #2

"Pickled Herring" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous short story that showcases the author's knack for wit and character-driven narratives. The tale revolves around a comical misunderstanding involving a character's obsession with pickled herring, leading to amusing situations and revealing the quirks of human nature. Jacobs skillfully blends humor with everyday scenarios, making it a delightful read that highlights the absurdities of life and relationships. The story, typical of Jacobs' style, offers a charming glimpse into early 20th-century British life and the humorous predicaments that can arise from seemingly innocuous choices.

• Fiction

								

chucking it away, won’t they?”

It really seemed the only thing to be done. The skipper finished his
tea in silence, and then going on deck called the crew aft and apprised
them of his intentions, threatening them with all sorts of pains and
penalties if the treasure about to be confided to their keeping should
be lost. The cook was sent below for it, and, at the skipper’s bidding,
handed it to the grinning Joe.

“And mind,” said the skipper as he turned away, “I leave it in your
keepin’, and if it’s missing I shall understand that you’ve made away
with it, and I shall take it as a sign of guilt, and act according.”

The end came sooner even than he expected. They were at breakfast next
morning when Joe, looking somewhat pale, came down to the cabin,
followed by Clark, bearing before him an empty plate.

“Well?” said the skipper fiercely.

“It’s about the ’erring, sir,” said Joe, twisting his cap between his
hands.

“Well?” roared the skipper again.

“It’s gone, sir,” said Joe, in bereaved accents.

“You mean you’ve thrown it away, you infernal rascal!” bellowed the
skipper.

“No, sir,” said Joe.

“Ah! I s’pose it walked up on deck and jumped overboard,” said the
mate.

“No, sir,” said Joe softly. “The dog ate it, sir.”

The skipper swung round in his seat and regarded him open-mouthed.

“The—dog—ate—it?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir; Clark saw ’im do it—didn’t you, Clark?”

“I did,” said Clark promptly. He had made his position doubly sure by
throwing it overboard himself.

“It comes to the same thing, sir,” said Joe sanctimoniously; “my
innercence is proved just the same. You’ll find the dog won’t take no
’urt through it, sir. You watch ’im.”

The skipper breathed hard, but made no reply.

“If you don’t believe me, sir, p’r’aps you’d like to see the plate
where ’e licked it?” said Joe. “Give me the plate, Sam.”

He turned to take it, but in place of handing it to him that useful
witness dropped it and made hurriedly for the companion-ladder, and by
strenuous efforts reached the deck before Joe, although that veracious
gentleman, assisted from below by strong and willing arms, made a good
second.
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