Mixed Relations

by W. W. Jacobs

The brig Elizabeth Barstow came up the river as though in a hurryto taste again the joys of the Metropolis. The skipper, leaning on thewheel, was in the midst of a hot discussion with the mate, who wasplacing before him the hygienic, economical, and moral advantages oftotal abstinence in language of great strength but little variety."Teetotallers eat more," said the skipper, finally.The mate choked, and his eye sought the galley. "Eat more?" hespluttered. "Yesterday the meat was like brick-bats; to-day it tastedlike a bit o' dirty sponge. I've lived on biscuits this trip; and theonly tater I ate I'm going to see a doctor about direckly I get ashore.It's a sin and a shame to spoil good food the way 'e does.""The moment I can ship another cook he goes," said the skipper. "Heseems busy, judging by the noise.""I'm making him clean up everything, ready for the next," explained themate, grimly. "And he 'ad the cheek to tell me he's improving--improving!""He'll go as soon as I get another," repeated the skipper, stooping andpeering ahead. "I don't like being poisoned any more than you do. Hetold me he could cook when I shipped him; said his sister had taughthim."The mate grunted and, walking away, relieved his mind by putting hishead in at the galley and bidding the cook hold up each separate utensilfor his inspection. A hole in the frying-pan the cook modestlyattributed to elbow-grease.The river narrowed, and the brig, picking her way daintily through thetraffic, sought her old berth at Buller's Wharf. It was occupied by adeaf sailing-barge, which, moved at last by self-interest, notunconnected with its paint, took up a less desirable position andconsoled itself with adjectives.The men on the wharf had gone for the day, and the crew of theElizabeth Barstow, after making fast, went below to preparethemselves for an evening ashore. Standing before the largest saucepan-lid in the galley, the cook was putting the finishing touches to histoilet.A light, quick step on the wharf attracted the attention of the skipperas he leaned against the side smoking. It stopped just behind him, andturning round he found himself gazing into the soft brown eyes of theprettiest girl he had ever seen."Is Mr. Jewell on board, please?" she asked, with a smile."Jewell?" repeated the skipper. "Jewell? Don't know the name.""He was on board," said the girl, somewhat taken aback. "This is theElizabeth Barstow, isn't it?""What's his Christian name?" inquired the skipper, thoughtfully."Albert," replied the girl. "Bert," she added, as the other shook hishead."Oh, the cook!" said the skipper. "I didn't know his name was Jewell.Yes, he's in the galley."He stood eyeing her and wondering in a dazed fashion what she could seein a small, white-faced, slab-sided--The girl broke in upon his meditations. "How does he cook?" sheinquired, smiling.He was about to tell her, when he suddenly remembered the cook'sstatement as to his instructor."He's getting on," he said, slowly; "he's getting on. Are you hissister?"The girl smiled and nodded. "Ye--es," she said, slowly. "Will you tellhim I am waiting for him, please?"The skipper started and drew himself up; then he walked forward and puthis head in at the galley."Bert," he said, in a friendly voice, "your sister wants to see you.""Who?" inquired Mr. Jewell, in the accents of amazement. He puthis head out at the door and nodded, and then, somewhat red in the facewith the exercise, drew on his jacket and walked towards her. Theskipper followed."Thank you," said the girl, with a pleasant smile."You're quite welcome," said the skipper.Mr. Jewell stepped ashore and, after a moment of indecision, shook handswith his visitor."If you're down this way again," said the skipper, as they turned away,"perhaps you'd like to see the cabin. We're in rather a pickle just now,but if you should happen to come down for Bert to-morrow night--"The girl's eyes grew mirthful and her lips trembled. "Thank you," shesaid."Some people like looking over cabins," murmured the skipper.He raised his hand to his cap and turned away. The mate, who had justcome on deck, stared after the retreating couple and gave vent to a lowwhistle."What a fine gal to pick up with Slushy," he remarked."It's his sister," said the skipper, somewhat sharply."The one that taught him to cook?" said the other, hastily. "Here! I'dlike five minutes alone with her; I'd give 'er a piece o' my mind that'ud do her good. I'd learn 'er. I'd tell her wot I thought of her.""That'll do," said the skipper; "that'll do. He's not so bad for abeginner; I've known worse.""Not so bad?" repeated the mate. "Not so bad? Why"--his voice trembled--"ain't you going to give 'im the chuck, then?""I shall try him for another vy'ge, George," said the skipper. "It'shard lines on a youngster if he don't have a chance. I was never one tobe severe. Live and let live, that's my motto. Do as you'd be done by.""You're turning soft-'arted in your old age," grumbled the mate."Old age!" said the other, in a startled voice. "Old age! I'm notthirty-seven yet.""You're getting on," said the mate; "besides, you look old."The skipper investigated the charge in the cabin looking-glass tenminutes later. He twisted his beard in his hand and tried to imagine howhe would look without it. As a compromise he went out and had it cutshort and trimmed to a point. The glass smiled approval on his return;the mate smiled too, and, being caught in the act, said it made him looklike his own grandson.It was late when the cook returned, but the skipper was on deck, and,stopping him for a match, entered into a little conversation. Mr.Jewell, surprised at first, soon became at his ease, and, the talkdrifting in some unknown fashion to Miss Jewell, discussed her withbrotherly frankness."You spent the evening together, I s'pose?" said the skipper,carelessly.Mr. Jewell glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Cooking," hesaid, and put his hand over his mouth with some suddenness.By the time they parted the skipper had his hand in a friendly fashionon the cook's shoulder, and was displaying an interest in his welfare asunusual as it was gratifying. So unaccustomed was Mr. Jewell to suchconsideration that he was fain to pause for a moment or two to regaincontrol of his features before plunging into the lamp-lit fo'c'sle.The mate made but a poor breakfast next morning, but his superior, whosaw the hand of Miss Jewell in the muddy coffee and the cremated bacon,ate his with relish. He was looking forward to the evening, the cookhaving assured him that his sister had accepted his invitation toinspect the cabin, and indeed had talked of little else. The boy was setto work house-cleaning, and, having gleaned a few particulars, cursedthe sex with painstaking thoroughness.It seemed to the skipper a favorable omen that Miss Jewell descended thecompanion-ladder as though to the manner born; and her exclamations ofdelight at the cabin completed his satisfaction. The cook, who hadfollowed them below with some trepidation, became reassured, and seatinghimself on a locker joined modestly in the conversation."It's like a doll's-house," declared the girl, as she finished byexamining the space-saving devices in the state-room. "Well, I mustn'ttake up any more of your time.""I've got nothing to do," said the skipper, hastily. "I--I was thinkingof going for a walk; but it's lonely walking about by yourself."Miss Jewell agreed. She lowered her eyes and looked under the lashes atthe skipper."I never had a sister," continued the latter, in melancholy accents."I don't suppose you would want to take her out if you had," said thegirl.The skipper protested. "Bert takes you out," he said."He isn't like most brothers," said Miss Jewell, shifting along thelocker and placing her hand affectionately on the cook's shoulder."If I had a sister," continued the skipper, in a somewhat uneven voice,"I should take her out. This evening, for instance, I should take her toa theatre."Miss Jewell turned upon him the innocent face of a child. "It would benice to be your sister," she said, calmly.The skipper attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. "Well, pretendyou are my sister," he said, at last, "and we'll go to one.""Pretend?" said Miss Jewell, as she turned and eyed the cook. "Bertwouldn't like that," she said, decidedly."N--no," said the cook, nervously, avoiding the skipper's eye."It wouldn't be proper," said Miss Jewell, sitting upright and lookingvery proper indeed."I--I meant Bert to come, too," said the skipper; "of course," he added.The severity of Miss Jewell's expression relaxed. She stole an amusedglance at the cook and, reading her instructions in his eye, began totemporize. Ten minutes later the crew of the Elizabeth Barstow invarious attitudes of astonishment beheld their commander going ashorewith his cook. The mate so far forgot himself as to whistle, but withgreat presence of mind cuffed the boy's ear as the skipper turned.For some little distance the three walked along in silence. The skipperwas building castles in the air, the cook was not quite at his ease, andthe girl, gazing steadily in front of her, appeared slightlyembarrassed.By the time they reached Aldgate and stood waiting for an omnibus MissJewell found herself assailed by doubts. She remembered that she did notwant to go to a theatre, and warmly pressed the two men to go togetherand leave her to go home. The skipper remonstrated in vain, but the cookcame to the rescue, and Miss Jewell, still protesting, was pushed on toa 'bus and propelled upstairs. She took a vacant seat in front, and theskipper and Mr. Jewell shared one behind.The three hours at the theatre passed all too soon, although the girlwas so interested in the performance that she paid but slight attentionto her companions. During the waits she became interested in hersurroundings, and several times called the skipper's attention to smart-looking men in the stalls and boxes. At one man she stared sopersistently that an opera-glass was at last levelled in return."How rude of him," she said, smiling sweetly at the skipper.She shook her head in disapproval, but the next moment he saw her gazingsteadily at the opera-glasses again."If you don't look he'll soon get tired of it," he said, between histeeth."Yes, perhaps he will," said Miss Jewell, without lowering her eyes inthe least.The skipper sat in torment until the lights were lowered and the curtainwent up again. When it fell he began to discuss the play, but MissJewell returned such vague replies that it was evident her thoughts werefar away."I wonder who he is?" she whispered, gazing meditatingly at the box."A waiter, I should think," snapped the skipper.The girl shook her head. "No, he is much too distinguished-looking," shesaid, seriously. "Well, I suppose he'll know me again."The skipper felt that he wanted to get up and smash things; beginningwith the man in the box. It was his first love episode for nearly tenyears, and he had forgotten the pains and penalties which attach to thecondition. When the performance was over he darted a threatening glanceat the box, and, keeping close to Miss Jewell, looked carefully abouthim to make sure that they were not followed."It was ripping," said the cook, as they emerged into the fresh air."Lovely," said the girl, in a voice of gentle melancholy. "I shall comeand see it again, perhaps, when you are at sea.""Not alone?" said the skipper, in a startled voice."I don't mind being alone," said Miss Jewell, gently; "I'm used to it."The other's reply was lost in the rush for the 'bus, and for the secondtime that evening the skipper had to find fault with the seatingarrangements. And when a vacancy by the side of Miss Jewell did occur,he was promptly forestalled by a young man in a check suit smoking alarge cigar.They got off at Aldgate, and the girl thanked him for a pleasantevening. A hesitating offer to see her home was at once negatived, andthe skipper, watching her and the cook until they disappeared in thetraffic, walked slowly and thoughtfully to his ship.The brig sailed the next evening at eight o'clock, and it was not untilsix that the cook remarked, in the most casual manner, that his sisterwas coming down to see him off. She arrived half an hour late, and, sofar from wanting to see the cabin again, discovered an inconvenient loveof fresh air. She came down at last, at the instance of the cook, and,once below, her mood changed, and she treated the skipper with a softgraciousness which raised him to the seventh heaven. "You'll be good toBert, won't you?" she inquired, with a smile at that young man."I'll treat him like my own brother," said the skipper, fervently. "No,better than that; I'll treat him like your brother."The cook sat erect and, the skipper being occupied with Miss Jewell,winked solemnly at the skylight."I know you will," said the girl, very softly; "but I don't thinkthe men--""The men'll do as I wish," said the skipper, sternly. "I'm the master onthis ship--she's half mine, too--and anybody who interferes with himinterferes with me. If there's anything you don't like, Bert, you tellme."Mr. Jewell, his small, black eyes sparkling, promised, and then,muttering something about his work, exchanged glances with the girl andwent up on deck."It is a nice cabin," said Miss Jewell, shifting an inch and a halfnearer to the skipper. "I suppose poor Bert has to have his meals inthat stuffy little place at the other end of the ship, doesn't he?""The fo'c'sle?" said the skipper, struggling between love anddiscipline. "Yes."The girl sighed, and the mate, who was listening at the skylight above,held his breath with anxiety. Miss Jewell sighed again and in an absent-minded fashion increased the distance between herself and companion bysix inches."It's usual," faltered the skipper."Yes, of course," said the girl, coldly."But if Bert likes to feed here, he's welcome," said the skipper,desperately, "and he can sleep aft, too. The mate can say what helikes."The mate rose and, walking forward, raised his clenched fists to heavenand availed himself of the permission to the fullest extent of asomewhat extensive vocabulary."Do you know what I think you are?" inquired Miss Jewell, bendingtowards him with a radiant face."No," said the other, trembling. "What?"The girl paused. "It wouldn't do to tell you," she said, in a low voice."It might make you vain.""Do you know what I think you are?" inquired the skipper in his turn.Miss Jewell eyed him composedly, albeit the corners of her mouthtrembled. "Yes," she said, unexpectedly.Steps sounded above and came heavily down the companion-ladder. "Tide'sa'most on the turn," said the mate, gruffly, from the door.The skipper hesitated, but the mate stood aside for the girl to pass,and he followed her up on deck and assisted her to the jetty. For hoursafterwards he debated with himself whether she really had allowed herhand to stay in his a second or two longer than necessary, or whetherunconscious muscular action on his part was responsible for thephenomenon.He became despondent as they left London behind, but the necessity ofinterfering between a goggle-eyed and obtuse mate and a pallid but noless obstinate cook helped to relieve him."He says he is going to sleep aft," choked the mate, pointing to thecook's bedding."Quite right," said the skipper. "I told him to. He's going to take hismeals here, too. Anything to say against it?"The mate sat down on a locker and fought for breath. The cook, stillpale, felt his small, black mustache and eyed him with triumphantmalice. "I told 'im they was your orders," he remarked."And I told him I didn't believe him," said the mate. "Nobody would.Whoever 'eard of a cook living aft? Why, they'd laugh at the idea."He laughed himself, but in a strangely mirthless fashion, and, afraid totrust himself, went up on deck and brooded savagely apart. Nor did hecome down to breakfast until the skipper and cook had finished.Mr. Jewell bore his new honors badly, and the inability to express theirdissatisfaction by means of violence had a bad effect on the tempers ofthe crew. Sarcasm they did try, but at that the cook could more thanhold his own, and, although the men doubted his ability at first, he wasable to prove to them by actual experiment that he could cook worse thanthey supposed.The brig reached her destination--Creekhaven--on the fifth day, and Mr.Jewell found himself an honored guest at the skipper's cottage. It was acomfortable place, but, as the cook pointed out, too large for one. Healso referred, incidentally, to his sister's love of a country life,and, finding himself on a subject of which the other never tired, gavefull reins to a somewhat picturesque imagination.They were back at London within the fortnight, and the skipper learnedto his dismay that Miss Jewell was absent on a visit. In thesecircumstances he would have clung to the cook, but that gentleman,pleading engagements, managed to elude him for two nights out of thethree.On the third day Miss Jewell returned to London, and, making her way tothe wharf, was just in time to wave farewells as the brig parted fromthe wharf.From the fact that the cook was not visible at the moment the skippertook the salutation to himself. It cheered him for the time, but thenext day he was so despondent that the cook, by this time thoroughly inhis confidence, offered to write when they got to Creekhaven and fix upan evening."And there's really no need for you to come, Bert," said the skipper,cheering up.Mr. Jewell shook his head. "She wouldn't go without me," he said,gravely. "You've no idea 'ow particular she is. Always was from achild.""Well, we might lose you," said the skipper, reflecting. "How would thatbe?""We might try it," said the cook, without enthusiasm.To his dismay the skipper, before they reached London again, hadinvented at least a score of ways by which he might enjoy Miss Jewell'scompany without the presence of a third person, some of them soingenious that the cook, despite his utmost efforts, could see no way ofopposing them.The skipper put his ideas into practice as soon as they reached London.Between Wapping and Charing Cross he lost the cook three times. MissJewell found him twice, and the third time she was so difficult that theskipper had to join in the treasure-hunt himself. The cook listenedunmoved to a highly-colored picture of his carelessness from the lipsof Miss Jewell, and bestowed a sympathetic glance upon the skipper asshe paused for breath."It's as bad as taking a child out," said the latter, with well-affectedindignation."Worse," said the girl, tightening her lips.With a perseverance worthy of a better cause the skipper nudged thecook's arm and tried again. This time he was successful beyond hiswildest dreams, and, after ten minutes' frantic search, found that hehad lost them both. He wandered up and down for hours, and it was pasteleven when he returned to the ship and found the cook waiting for him."We thought something 'ad happened to you," said the cook. "Kate hasbeen in a fine way about it. Five minutes after you lost me she foundme, and we've been hunting 'igh and low ever since."Miss Jewell expressed her relief the next evening, and, stealing aglance at the face of the skipper, experienced a twinge of somethingwhich she took to be remorse. Ignoring the cook's hints as to theatres,she elected to go for a long 'bus ride, and, sitting in front with theskipper, left Mr. Jewell to keep a chaperon's eye on them from threeseats behind.Conversation was for some time disjointed; then the brightness andcrowded state of the streets led the skipper to sound his companion asto her avowed taste for a country life."I should love it," said Miss Jewell, with a sigh. "But there's nochance of it; I've got my living to earn.""You might--might marry somebody living in the country," said theskipper, in trembling tones.Miss Jewell shuddered. "Marry!" she said, scornfully."Most people do," said the other."Sensible people don't," said the girl. "You haven't," she added, with asmile."I'm very thankful I haven't," retorted the skipper, with great meaning."There you are!" said the girl, triumphantly."I never saw anybody I liked," said the skipper, "be--before.""If ever I did marry," said Miss Jewell, with remarkable composure, "ifever I was foolish enough to do such a thing, I think I would marry aman a few years younger than myself.""Younger?" said the dismayed skipper.Miss Jewell nodded. "They make the best husbands," she said, gravely.The skipper began to argue the point, and Mr. Jewell, at that momenttaking a seat behind, joined in with some heat. A more ardent supportercould not have been found, although his repetition of the phrase "Mayand December" revealed a want of tact of which the skipper had notthought him capable. What had promised to be a red-letter day in hisexistence was spoiled, and he went to bed that night with the fullconviction that he had better abandon a project so hopeless.With a fine morning his courage revived, but as voyage succeeded voyagehe became more and more perplexed. The devotion of the cook was patentto all men, but Miss Jewell was as changeable as a weather-glass. Theskipper would leave her one night convinced that he had better forgether as soon as possible, and the next her manner would be so kind, andher glances so soft, that only the presence of the ever-watchful cookprevented him from proposing on the spot. The end came one evening inOctober. The skipper had hurried back from the City, laden with stores,Miss Jewell having, after many refusals, consented to grace the tea-table that afternoon. The table, set by the boy, groaned beneath theweight of unusual luxuries, but the girl had not arrived. The cook wasalso missing, and the only occupant of the cabin was the mate, who,sitting at one corner, was eating with great relish."Ain't you going to get your tea?" he inquired."No hurry," said the skipper, somewhat incensed at his haste. "Itwouldn't have hurt you to have waited a bit.""Waited?" said the other. "What for?""For my visitors," was the reply.The mate bit a piece off a crust and stirred his tea. "No use waitingfor them," he said, with a grin. "They ain't coming.""What do you mean?" demanded the skipper."I mean," said the mate, continuing to stir his tea with greatenjoyment--"I mean that all that kind'artedness of yours was cleanchucked away on that cook. He's got a berth ashore and he's gone forgood. He left you 'is love; he left it with Bill Hemp.""Berth ashore?" said the skipper, staring."Ah!" said the mate, taking a large and noisy sip from his cup. "He'sbeen fooling you all along for what he could get out of you. Sleepingaft and feeding aft, nobody to speak a word to 'im, and going out andbeing treated by the skipper; Bill said he laughed so much when he wastelling 'im that the tears was running down 'is face like rain. He saidhe'd never been treated so much in his life.""That'll do," said the skipper, quickly."You ought to hear Bill tell it," said the mate, regretfully. "I can'tdo it anything like as well as what he can. Made us all roar, he did.What amused 'em most was you thinking that that gal was cookie'ssister."The skipper, with a sharp exclamation, leaned forward, staring at him."They're going to be married at Christmas," said the mate, choking inhis cup.The skipper sat upright again, and tried manfully to compose hisfeatures. Many things he had not understood before were suddenly madeclear, and he remembered now the odd way in which the girl had regardedhim as she bade him good-night on the previous evening. The mate eyedhim with interest, and was about to supply him with further details whenhis attention was attracted by footsteps descending the companion-ladder. Then he put down his cup with great care, and stared in stolidamazement at the figure of Miss Jewell in the doorway."I'm a bit late," she said, flushing slightly.She crossed over and shook hands with the skipper, and, in the mostnatural fashion in the world, took a seat and began to remove hergloves. The mate swung round and regarded her open-mouthed; the skipper,whose ideas were in a whirl, sat regarding her in silence. The mate wasthe first to move; he left the cabin rubbing his shin, and castingfurious glances at the skipper."You didn't expect to see me?" said the girl, reddening again."No," was the reply.The girl looked at the tablecloth. "I came to beg your pardon," shesaid, in a low voice."There's nothing to beg my pardon for," said the skipper, clearing histhroat. "By rights I ought to beg yours. You did quite right to make funof me. I can see it now.""When you asked me whether I was Bert's sister I didn't like to say'no,' continued the girl; "and at first I let you come out with me forthe fun of the thing, and then Bert said it would be good for him, andthen--then--""Yes," said the skipper, after a long pause.The girl broke a biscuit into small pieces, and arranged them on thecloth. "Then I didn't mind your coming so much," she said, in a lowvoice.The skipper caught his breath and tried to gaze at the averted face.The girl swept the crumbs aside and met his gaze squarely. "Not quite somuch," she explained."I've been a fool," said the skipper. "I've been a fool. I've mademyself a laughing-stock all round, but if I could have it all over againI would.""That can never be," said the girl, shaking her head. "Bert wouldn'tcome.""No, of course not," asserted the other.The girl bit her lip. The skipper thought that he had never seen hereyes so large and shining. There was a long silence."Good-by," said the girl at last, rising.The skipper rose to follow. "Good-by," he said, slowly; "and I wish youboth every happiness.""Happiness?" echoed the girl, in a surprised voice. "Why?""When you are married.""I am not going to be married," said the girl. "I told Bert so thisafternoon. Good-by."The skipper actually let her get nearly to the top of the ladder beforehe regained his presence of mind. Then, in obedience to a powerful tugat the hem of her skirt, she came down again, and accompanied him meeklyback to the cabin.

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