Rule of Three

"Rule of Three" by W. W. Jacobs is a classic short story that explores the themes of superstition and humor through the tale of a sailor who encounters a series of comical misadventures following a peculiar set of rules he learns about luck and fate. The narrative combines wit and charm, showcasing Jacobs' distinctive storytelling style as it delves into the lives of its characters and the absurdity of their beliefs. The story ultimately reflects on the interplay between chance and human folly, leaving readers both entertained and contemplative.

• Fiction

								
The long summer day had gone and twilight was just merging into night.
A ray of light from the lantern at the end of the quay went trembling
across the sea, and in the little harbour the dusky shapes of a few
small craft lay motionless on the dark water.

The master of the schooner Harebell came slowly towards the harbour,
accompanied by his mate. Both men had provided ashore for a voyage
which included no intoxicants, and the dignity of the skipper, always a
salient feature, had developed tremendously under the influence of
brown stout. He stepped aboard his schooner importantly, and then,
turning to the mate, who was about to follow, suddenly held up his hand
for silence.

“What did I tell you?” he inquired severely as the mate got quietly
aboard.

“About knocking down the two policemen?” guessed the mate, somewhat
puzzled.

“No,” said the other shortly. “Listen.”

The mate listened. From the fo’c’s’le came the low, gruff voices of
men, broken by the silvery ripple of women’s laughter.

“Well, I’m a Dutchman,” said the mate with the air of one who felt he
was expected to say something.

“After all I said to ’em,” said the skipper with weary dignity. “You
’eard what I said to ’em, Jack?”

“Nobody could ha’ swore louder,” testified the mate.

“An’ here they are,” said the skipper in amaze, “defying of me. After
all I said to ’em. After all the threats I—I employed.”

“Employed,” repeated the mate with relish.

“They’ve been and gone and asked them females down the fo’c’s’le again.
You know what I said I’d do, Jack, if they did.”

“Said you’d eat ’em without salt,” quoted the other helpfully.

“I’ll do worse than that, Jack,” said the skipper after a moment’s
discomfiture. “What’s to hinder us casting off quietly and taking them
along with us?”

“If you ask me,” said the mate, “I should say you couldn’t please the
crew better.”

“Well, we’ll see,” said the other, nodding sagely; “don’t make no
noise, Jack.”

He set an example of silence himself, and aided by the mate, cast off
the warps which held his unconscious visitors to their native town, and
the wind being off the shore, the little schooner drifted silently away
from the quay. The skipper went to the wheel, and the noise of the mate
hauling on the jib brought a rough head out of the fo’c’s’le, the owner
of which, after a cry to his mates below, sprang up on deck and looked
round in bewilderment.

“Stand by, there!” cried the skipper as the others came rushing on
deck, “Shake ’em out.”

“Beggin’ your pardin’, sir,” said one of them with more politeness in
his tones than he had ever used before, “but———”

“Stand by!” said the skipper.

“Now then!” shouted the mate sharply, “lively there! Lively with it!”

The men looked at each other helplessly and went to their posts as a
scream of dismay arose from the fair beings below who, having just
begun to realise their position, were coming on deck to try and improve
it.

“What!” roared the skipper in pretended astonishment, “what! gells
aboard after all I said, It can’t be; I must be dreaming!”

“Take us back!” wailed the damsels, ignoring the sarcasm, “take us
back, captain.”

“No, I can’t go back,” said the skipper. “You see what comes o’
disobedience, my gells. Lively there on that mains’l, d’ye hear?”

“We won’t do it again,” cried the girls, as the schooner came to the
mouth of the harbour and they smelt the dark sea beyond. “Take us
back.”

“It can’t be done,” said the skipper cheerfully.

“It’s agin the lor, sir,” said Ephraim Biddle solemnly.

“What! Taking my own ship out?” said the skipper in affected surprise.
“How was I to know they were there? I’m not going back; ’tain’t likely.
As they’ve made their beds so they must lay on ’em.”

“They ain’t got no beds,” said George Scott hastily. “It ain’t fair to
punish the gals for us, sir.”

“Hold your tongue,” said the skipper sharply.

“It’s agin the lor, sir,” said Biddle again. “If so be they’re
passengers, this ship ain’t licensed to carry passengers. If so be as
they’re took out agin their will, it’s abduction—I see the other day a
chap had seven years for abducting one gal, three sevens—three sevens
is—three sevens is, well, it’s more years than you’d like to be in
prison, sir.”

“Bosh,” said the skipper, “they’re stowaways, an’ I shall put ’em
ashore at the first port we touch at—Plymouth.”

A heartrending series of screams from the stow-aways rounded his
sentence, screams which gave way to sustained sobbing, as the schooner,
catching the wind, began to move through the water.

“You’d better get below, my gals,” said Biddle, who was the eldest
member of the crew, consolingly.

“Why don’t you make him take us back?” said Jenny Evans, the biggest of
the three girls, indignantly.

“’Cos we can’t, my dear,” said Biddle reluctantly; “it’s agin the lor.
You don’t want to see us put into prison, do you?”

“I don’t mind,” said Miss Evans tearfully, “so long as we get back.
George, take us back.”

“I can’t,” said Scott sullenly.

“Well, you can look for somebody else, then,” said Miss Evans with
temper. “You won’t marry me. How much would you get if you did make the
skipper put back?”

“Very likely six months,” said Biddle solemnly.

“Six months would soon pass away,” said Miss Evans briskly, as she
wiped her eye.

“It would be a rest,” said Miss Williams coaxingly.

The men not seeing things in quite the same light, they announced their
intention of having nothing more to do with them, and crowding together
in the bows beneath two or three blankets, condoled tearfully with each
other on their misfortunes. For some time the men stood by offering
clumsy consolations, but tired at last of repeated rebuffs and insults
went below and turned in, leaving the satisfied skipper at the wheel.

The night was clear and the wind light. As the effects of his libations
wore off the skipper had some misgivings as to the wisdom of his
action, but it was too late to return, and he resolved to carry on.

Looking at all the circumstances of the case he thought it best to keep
the wheel in his own hands for a time, and the dawn came in the early
hours and found him still at his post.

Objects began to stand out clearly in the grow-ing light, and three
dispirited girls put their heads out from the blankets and sniffed
disdainfully at the sharp morning air. Then after an animated
discussion they arose, and casting their blankets aside, walked up to
the skipper and eyed him thoughtfully.

“As easy as easy,” said Jenny Evans confidently, as she drew herself up
to her full height, and looked down at the indignant man.

“Why, he isn’t any bigger than a boy,” said Miss Williams savagely.

“Pity we didn’t think of it before,” said Miss Davies. “I s’pose the
crew won’t help him?”

“Not they,” said Miss Evans scornfully. “If they do, we’ll serve them
the same.”

They went off, leaving the skipper a prey to gathering uneasiness,
watching their movements with wrinkled brow. From the forecastle and
the galley they produced two mops and a broom, and he caught his breath

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes