Two of a Trade Page #4

"Two of a Trade" is a humorous short story by W. W. Jacobs that revolves around the misadventures of two sailors who find themselves in a series of comedic situations due to their conflicting personalities and approaches to life. The narrative captures the themes of friendship, rivalry, and the absurdity of human behavior, often highlighting the quirks and foibles of its characters. Jacobs's witty writing style and keen observational humor make the story an entertaining exploration of camaraderie and the challenges of collaboration.

• Fiction

								

slowly counted the money into her hand.

She dropped the coins into her pocket, and, with a parting glance at
the motionless figure in the bunk, turned away. The procession made its
way on deck again, but not in the same order, the cook carefully
bringing up the rear.

“If there’s any other little things,” she said, pausing at the side to
get a firmer grip of the clothes under her arm.

“You shall have them,” said the skipper, who had been making mental
arrangements to have George buried before her return.

Apparently much comforted by this assurance, she allowed herself to be
lowered into the boat, which was waiting. The excitement of the crew of
the brig, who had been watching her movements with eager interest, got
beyond the bounds of all decency as they saw her being pulled ashore
with the clothes in her lap.

“You can come up now,” said the skipper, as he caught sight of George’s
face at the scuttle.

“Has she gone?” inquired the seaman anxiously.

The skipper nodded, and a wild cheer rose from the crew of the brig as
George came on deck in his scanty garments, and, from behind the
others, peered cautiously over the side.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

The skipper pointed to the boat.

“That?” said George, starting. “That? That ain’t my wife.”

“Not your wife?” said the skipper, staring. “Whose is she, then?”

“How the devil should I know,” said George, throwing discipline to the
winds in his agitation. “It ain’t my wife.”

“P’r’aps it’s one you’ve forgotten,” suggested the skipper in a low
voice.

George looked at him and choked. “I’ve never seen her before,” he
replied, “s’elp me. Call her back. Stop her.”

The mate rushed aft and began to haul in the ship’s boat, but George
caught him suddenly by the arm.

“Never mind,” he said bitterly; “better let her go. She seems to know
too much for me. Somebody’s been talking to her.”

It was the same thought that was troubling the skipper, and he looked
searchingly from one to the other for an explanation. He fancied that
he saw it when he met the eye of the mate of the brig, and he paused
irresolutely as the skiff reached the stairs, and the woman, springing
ashore, waved the clothes triumphantly in the direction of the schooner
and disappeared.
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