Smoked Skipper Page #4

"Smoked Skipper" is a humorous short story by W. W. Jacobs that captures the essence of British humor and wit. It revolves around the entertaining misadventures of a group of fishing enthusiasts who encounter various comical dilemmas as they navigate their fishing trip. The story showcases Jacobs' skill in character development and his ability to weave amusing situations with engaging dialogue, making it a delightful read for fans of classic literature. Through his vivid storytelling, Jacobs also highlights themes of camaraderie and the unpredictability of outdoor adventures.

• Fiction

								

schooner heard him assisting Dobbs. Then the sounds of strife, of
thumps, and wicked words broke on their delighted ears.

“They’re coming back for us,” said the mate, taking a deep breath.
“Well done, Jem.”

The boat came towards them, impelled by powerful strokes, and was soon
alongside. The three men tumbled in hurriedly, their fall being
modified by the original crew, who were lying crouched up in the bottom
of the boat. Jem and Dobbs gave way with hearty goodwill, and the
doomed ship receded into the darkness. A little knot of people had
gathered on the shore, and, receiving the tidings, became anxious for
the safety of their town. It was felt that the windows, at least, were
in imminent peril, and messengers were hastily sent round to have them
opened.

Still the deserted Susan Jane made no sign. Twelve o’clock struck
from the little church at the back of the town, and she was still
intact.

“Something’s gone wrong,” said an old fisherman with a bad way of
putting things. “Now’s the time for somebody to go and tow her out to
sea.”

There was no response.

“To save Lowport,” said the speaker feelingly. “If I was only twenty
years younger——”

“It’s old men’s work,” said a voice.

The skipper, straining his eyes through the gloom in the direction of
his craft, said nothing. He began to think that she had escaped after
all.

Two o’clock struck and the crowd began to disperse. Some of the bolder
inhabitants who were fidgety about draughts closed their windows, and
children who had been routed out of their beds to take a nocturnal walk
inland were led slowly back, By three o’clock the danger was felt to be
over, and day broke and revealed the forlorn Susan Jane still riding
at anchor.

“I’m going aboard,” said the skipper suddenly; “who’s coming with me?”

Jem and the mate and the town-policeman volunteered, and, borrowing the
boat which had served them before, pulled swiftly out to their vessel
and, taking the hatches off with unusual gentleness, commenced their
search. It was nervous work at first, but they became inured to it,
and, moreover, a certain suspicion, slight at first, but increasing in
intensity as the search proceeded, gave them some sense of security.
Later still they began to eye each other shamefacedly.

“I don’t believe there’s anything there,” said the policeman, sitting
down and laughing boisterously: “that boy’s been making a fool of you.”

“That’s about the size of it,” groaned the mate. “We’ll be the
laughing-stock o’ the town.”

The skipper, who was standing with his back towards him, said nothing;
but, peering about, stooped suddenly, and, with a sharp exclamation,
picked up something from behind a damaged case.

“I’ve got it,” he yelled suddenly; “stand clear!”

He scrambled hastily on deck, and, holding his find at arm’s length,
with his head averted, flung it far into the water. A loud cheer from a
couple of boats which were watching greeted his action, and a distant
response came from the shore.

“Was that a infernal machine?” whispered the bewildered Jem to the
mate. “Why, it looked to me just like one o’ them tins o’ corned beef.”

The mate shook his head at him and glanced at the constable, who was
gazing longingly over the side. “Well, I’ve ’eard of people being
killed by them sometimes,” he said with a grin.
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