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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10561 ***
+
+SHIP'S COMPANY
+
+By W.W. Jacobs
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Can I 'ave it took off while I eat my bloater, mother?"]
+
+
+FINE FEATHERS
+
+
+Mr. Jobson awoke with a Sundayish feeling, probably due to the fact that
+it was Bank Holiday.  He had been aware, in a dim fashion, of the rising
+of Mrs. Jobson some time before, and in a semi-conscious condition had
+taken over a large slice of unoccupied territory.  He stretched himself
+and yawned, and then, by an effort of will, threw off the clothes and
+springing out of bed reached for his trousers.
+
+He was an orderly man, and had hung them every night for over twenty
+years on the brass knob on his side of the bed.  He had hung them there
+the night before, and now they had absconded with a pair of red braces
+just entering their teens.  Instead, on a chair at the foot of the bed
+was a collection of garments that made him shudder.  With trembling
+fingers he turned over a black tailcoat, a white waistcoat, and a pair of
+light check trousers.  A white shirt, a collar, and tie kept them
+company, and, greatest outrage of all, a tall silk hat stood on its own
+band-box beside the chair.  Mr. Jobson, fingering his bristly chin,
+stood: regarding the collection with a wan smile.
+
+"So that's their little game, is it?"  he muttered.  "Want to make a toff
+of me.  Where's my clothes got to, I wonder?"
+
+A hasty search satisfied him that they were not in the room, and, pausing
+only to drape himself in the counterpane, he made his way into the next.
+He passed on to the others, and then, with a growing sense of alarm,
+stole softly downstairs and making his way to the shop continued the
+search.  With the shutters up the place was almost in darkness, and in
+spite of his utmost care apples and potatoes rolled on to the floor and
+travelled across it in a succession of bumps.  Then a sudden turn brought
+the scales clattering down.
+
+"Good gracious, Alf!"  said a voice.  "Whatever are you a-doing of?"
+
+Mr. Jobson turned and eyed his wife, who was standing at the door.
+
+"I'm looking for my clothes, mother," he replied, briefly.
+
+"Clothes!"  said Mrs. Jobson, with an obvious attempt at unconcerned
+speech.  "Clothes!  Why, they're on the chair."
+
+"I mean clothes fit for a Christian to wear--fit for a greengrocer to
+wear," said Mr. Jobson, raising his voice.
+
+"It was a little surprise for you, dear," said his wife.  "Me and Bert
+and Gladys and Dorothy 'ave all been saving up for it for ever so long."
+
+"It's very kind of you all," said Mr. Jobson, feebly--"very, but--"
+
+"They've all been doing without things themselves to do it," interjected
+his wife.  "As for Gladys, I'm sure nobody knows what she's given up."
+
+"Well, if nobody knows, it don't matter," said Mr. Jobson.  "As I was
+saying, it's very kind of you all, but I can't wear 'em.  Where's my
+others?"
+
+Mrs. Jobson hesitated.
+
+"Where's my others?"  repeated her husband.
+
+"They're being took care of," replied his wife, with spirit.  "Aunt
+Emma's minding 'em for you--and you know what she is.  H'sh!  Alf!  Alf!
+I'm surprised at you!"
+
+Mr. Jobson coughed.  "It's the collar, mother," he said at last.  "I
+ain't wore a collar for over twenty years; not since we was walking out
+together.  And then I didn't like it."
+
+"More shame for you," said his wife.  "I'm sure there's no other
+respectable tradesman goes about with a handkerchief knotted round his
+neck."
+
+"P'r'aps their skins ain't as tender as what mine is," urged Mr. Jobson;
+"and besides, fancy me in a top-'at!  Why, I shall be the laughing-stock
+of the place."
+
+"Nonsense!"  said his wife.  "It's only the lower classes what would
+laugh, and nobody minds what they think."
+
+Mr. Jobson sighed.  "Well, I shall 'ave to go back to bed again, then,"
+he said, ruefully.  "So long, mother.  Hope you have a pleasant time at
+the Palace."
+
+He took a reef in the counterpane and with a fair amount of dignity,
+considering his appearance, stalked upstairs again and stood gloomily
+considering affairs in his bedroom.  Ever since Gladys and Dorothy had
+been big enough to be objects of interest to the young men of the
+neighbourhood the clothes nuisance had been rampant.  He peeped through
+the window-blind at the bright sunshine outside, and then looked back at
+the tumbled bed.  A murmur of voices downstairs apprised him that the
+conspirators were awaiting the result.
+
+He dressed at last and stood like a lamb--a redfaced, bull-necked lamb--
+while Mrs. Jobson fastened his collar for him.
+
+"Bert wanted to get a taller one," she remarked, "but I said this would
+do to begin with."
+
+"Wanted it to come over my mouth, I s'pose," said the unfortunate Mr.
+Jobson.  "Well, 'ave it your own way.  Don't mind about me.  What with
+the trousers and the collar, I couldn't pick up a sovereign if I saw one
+in front of me."
+
+"If you see one I'll pick it up for you," said his wife, taking up the
+hat and moving towards the door.  "Come along!"
+
+Mr. Jobson, with his arms standing out stiffly from his sides and his
+head painfully erect, followed her downstairs, and a sudden hush as he
+entered the kitchen testified to the effect produced by his appearance.
+It was followed by a hum of admiration that sent the blood flying to his
+head.
+
+"Why he couldn't have done it before I don't know," said the dutiful
+Gladys.  "Why, there ain't a man in the street looks a quarter as smart."
+
+"Fits him like a glove!"  said Dorothy, walking round him.
+
+"Just the right length," said Bert, scrutinizing the coat.
+
+"And he stands as straight as a soldier," said Gladys, clasping her hands
+gleefully.
+
+"Collar," said Mr. Jobson, briefly.  "Can I 'ave it took off while I eat
+my bloater, mother?"
+
+"Don't be silly, Alf," said his wife.  "Gladys, pour your father out a
+nice, strong, Pot cup o' tea, and don't forget that the train starts at
+ha' past ten."
+
+"It'll start all right when it sees me," observed Mr. Jobson, squinting
+down at his trousers.
+
+Mother and children, delighted with the success of their scheme, laughed
+applause, and Mr. Jobson somewhat gratified at the success of his retort,
+sat down and attacked his breakfast.  A short clay pipe, smoked as a
+digestive, was impounded by the watchful Mrs. Jobson the moment he had
+finished it.
+
+"He'd smoke it along the street if I didn't," she declared.
+
+"And why not?"  demanded her husband--always do."
+
+"Not in a top-'at," said Mrs. Jobson, shaking her head at him.
+
+"Or a tail-coat," said Dorothy.
+
+"One would spoil the other," said Gladys.
+
+"I wish something would spoil the hat," said Mr. Jobson, wistfully.
+"It's no good; I must smoke, mother."
+
+Mrs. Jobson smiled, and, going to the cupboard, produced, with a smile of
+triumph, an envelope containing seven dangerous-looking cigars.  Mr.
+Jobson whistled, and taking one up examined it carefully.
+
+"What do they call 'em, mother?"  he inquired.  "The 'Cut and Try Again
+Smokes'?"
+
+Mrs. Jobson smiled vaguely.  "Me and the girls are going upstairs to get
+ready now," she said.  "Keep your eye on him, Bert!"
+
+Father and son grinned at each other, and, to pass the time, took a cigar
+apiece.  They had just finished them when a swish and rustle of skirts
+sounded from the stairs, and Mrs. Jobson and the girls, beautifully
+attired, entered the room and stood buttoning their gloves.  A strong
+smell of scent fought with the aroma of the cigars.
+
+"You get round me like, so as to hide me a bit," entreated Mr. Jobson, as
+they quitted the house.  "I don't mind so much when we get out of our
+street."
+
+Mrs. Jobson laughed his fears to scorn.
+
+"Well, cross the road, then," said Mr. Jobson, urgently.  "There's Bill
+Foley standing at his door."
+
+His wife sniffed.  "Let him stand," she said, haughtily.
+
+Mr. Foley failed to avail himself of the permission.  He regarded Mr.
+Jobson with dilated eyeballs, and, as the party approached, sank slowly
+into a sitting position on his doorstep, and as the door opened behind
+him rolled slowly over onto his back and presented an enormous pair of
+hobnailed soles to the gaze of an interested world.
+
+"I told you 'ow it would be," said the blushing Mr. Jobson.  "You know
+what Bill's like as well as I do."
+
+His wife tossed her head and they all quickened their pace.  The voice of
+the ingenious Mr. Foley calling piteously for his mother pursued them to
+the end of the road.
+
+"I knew what it 'ud be," said Mr. Jobson, wiping his hot face.  "Bill
+will never let me 'ear the end of this."
+
+"Nonsense!"  said his wife, bridling.  "Do you mean to tell me you've got
+to ask Bill Foley 'ow you're to dress?  He'll soon get tired of it; and,
+besides, it's just as well to let him see who you are.  There's not many
+tradesmen as would lower themselves by mixing with a plasterer."
+
+Mr. Jobson scratched his ear, but wisely refrained from speech.  Once
+clear of his own district mental agitation subsided, but bodily
+discomfort increased at every step.  The hat and the collar bothered him
+most, but every article of attire contributed its share.  His uneasiness
+was so manifest that Mrs. Jobson, after a little womanly sympathy,
+suggested that, besides Sundays, it might be as well to wear them
+occasionally of an evening in order to get used to them.
+
+"What, 'ave I got to wear them every Sunday?"  demanded the unfortunate,
+blankly; "why, I thought they was only for Bank Holidays."
+
+Mrs. Jobson told him not to be silly.
+
+"Straight, I did," said her husband, earnestly.  "You've no idea 'ow I'm
+suffering; I've got a headache, I'm arf choked, and there's a feeling
+about my waist as though I'm being cuddled by somebody I don't like."
+
+Mrs. Jobson said it would soon wear off and, seated in the train that
+bore them to the Crystal Palace, put the hat on the rack.  Her husband's
+attempt to leave it in the train was easily frustrated and his
+explanation that he had forgotten all about it received in silence.  It
+was evident that he would require watching, and under the clear gaze of
+his children he seldom had a button undone for more than three minutes at
+a time.
+
+The day was hot and he perspired profusely.  His collar lost its starch--
+a thing to be grateful for--and for the greater part of the day he wore
+his tie under the left ear.  By the time they had arrived home again he
+was in a state of open mutiny.
+
+"Never again," he said, loudly, as he tore the collar off and hung his
+coat on a chair.
+
+There was a chorus of lamentation; but he remained firm.  Dorothy began
+to sniff ominously, and Gladys spoke longingly of the fathers possessed
+by other girls.  It was not until Mrs. Jobson sat eyeing her supper,
+instead of eating it, that he began to temporize.  He gave way bit by
+bit, garment by garment.  When he gave way at last on the great hat
+question, his wife took up her knife and fork.
+
+His workaday clothes appeared in his bedroom next morning, but the others
+still remained in the clutches of Aunt Emma.  The suit provided was of
+considerable antiquity, and at closing time, Mr. Jobson, after some
+hesitation, donned his new clothes and with a sheepish glance at his wife
+went out; Mrs. Jobson nodded delight at her daughters.
+
+"He's coming round," she whispered.  "He liked that ticket-collector
+calling him 'sir' yesterday.  I noticed it.  He's put on everything but
+the topper.  Don't say nothing about it; take it as a matter of course."
+
+It became evident as the days wore on that she was right...  Bit by bit
+she obtained the other clothes--with some difficulty--from Aunt Emma, but
+her husband still wore his best on Sundays and sometimes of an evening;
+and twice, on going into the bedroom suddenly, she had caught him
+surveying himself at different angles in the glass.
+
+And, moreover, he had spoken with some heat--for such a good-tempered
+man--on the shortcomings of Dorothy's laundry work.
+
+"We'd better put your collars out," said his wife.
+
+"And the shirts," said Mr. Jobson.  "Nothing looks worse than a bad
+got-up cuff."
+
+"You're getting quite dressy," said his wife, with a laugh.
+
+Mr. Jobson eyed her seriously.
+
+"No, mother, no," he replied.  "All I've done is to find out that you're
+right, as you always 'ave been.  A man in my persition has got no right
+to dress as if he kept a stall on the kerb.  It ain't fair to the gals,
+or to young Bert.  I don't want 'em to be ashamed of their father."
+
+"They wouldn't be that," said Mrs. Jobson.
+
+"I'm trying to improve," said her husband.  "O' course, it's no use
+dressing up and behaving wrong, and yesterday I bought a book what tells
+you all about behaviour."
+
+"Well done!"  said the delighted Mrs. Jobson.
+
+Mr. Jobson was glad to find that her opinion on his purchase was shared
+by the rest of the family.  Encouraged by their approval, he told them of
+the benefit he was deriving from it; and at tea-time that day, after a
+little hesitation, ventured to affirm that it was a book that might do
+them all good.
+
+"Hear, hear!"  said Gladys.
+
+"For one thing," said Mr. Jobson, slowly, "I didn't know before that it
+was wrong to blow your tea; and as for drinking it out of a saucer, the
+book says it's a thing that is only done by the lower orders."
+
+"If you're in a hurry?"  demanded Mr. Bert Jobson, pausing with his
+saucer half way to his mouth.
+
+"If you're in anything," responded his father.  "A gentleman would rather
+go without his tea than drink it out of a saucer.  That's the sort o'
+thing Bill Foley would do."
+
+Mr. Bert Jobson drained his saucer thoughtfully.
+
+"Picking your teeth with your finger is wrong, too," said Mr. Jobson,
+taking a breath.  "Food should be removed in a--a--un-undemonstrative
+fashion with the tip of the tongue."
+
+"I wasn't," said Gladys.
+
+"A knife," pursued her father--"a knife should never in any circumstances
+be allowed near the mouth."
+
+"You've made mother cut herself," said Gladys, sharply; "that's what
+you've done."
+
+"I thought it was my fork," said Mrs. Jobson.  "I was so busy listening I
+wasn't thinking what I was doing.  Silly of me."
+
+"We shall all do better in time," said Mr. Jobson.  "But what I want to
+know is, what about the gravy?  You can't eat it with a fork, and it
+don't say nothing about a spoon.  Oh, and what about our cold tubs,
+mother?"
+
+"Cold tubs?"  repeated his wife, staring at him.  "What cold tubs?"
+
+"The cold tubs me and Bert ought to 'ave," said Mr. Jobson.  "It says in
+the book that an Englishman would just as soon think of going without his
+breakfus' as his cold tub; and you know how fond I am of my breakfus'."
+
+"And what about me and the gals?"  said the amazed Mrs. Jobson.
+
+"Don't you worry about me, ma," said Gladys, hastily.
+
+"The book don't say nothing about gals; it says Englishmen," said Mr.
+Jobson.
+
+"But we ain't got a bathroom," said his son.
+
+"It don't signify," said Mr. Jobson.  "A washtub'll do.  Me and Bert'll
+'ave a washtub each brought up overnight; and it'll be exercise for the
+gals bringing the water up of a morning to us."
+
+"Well, I don't know, I'm sure," said the bewildered Mrs. Jobson.
+"Anyway, you and Bert'll 'ave to carry the tubs up and down.  Messy, I
+call it.
+
+"It's got to be done, mother," said Mr. Jobson cheerfully.  "It's only
+the lower orders what don't 'ave their cold tub reg'lar.  The book says
+so."
+
+He trundled the tub upstairs the same night and, after his wife had gone
+downstairs next morning, opened the door and took in the can and pail
+that stood outside.  He poured the contents into the tub, and, after
+eyeing it thoughtfully for some time, agitated the surface with his right
+foot.  He dipped and dried that much enduring member some ten times, and
+after regarding the damp condition of the towels with great satisfaction,
+dressed himself and went downstairs.
+
+"I'm all of a glow," he said, seating himself at the table.  "I believe I
+could eat a elephant.  I feel as fresh as a daisy; don't you, Bert?"
+
+Mr. Jobson, junior, who had just come in from the shop, remarked,
+shortly, that he felt more like a blooming snowdrop.
+
+"And somebody slopped a lot of water over the stairs carrying it up,"
+said Mrs. Jobson.  "I don't believe as everybody has cold baths of a
+morning.  It don't seem wholesome to me."
+
+Mr. Jobson took a book from his pocket, and opening it at a certain page,
+handed it over to her.
+
+"If I'm going to do the thing at all I must do it properly," he said,
+gravely.  "I don't suppose Bill Foley ever 'ad a cold tub in his life; he
+don't know no better.  Gladys!"
+
+"Halloa!"  said that young lady, with a start.
+
+"Are you--are you eating that kipper with your fingers?"
+
+Gladys turned and eyed her mother appealingly.
+
+"Page-page one hundred and something, I think it is," said her father,
+with his mouth full.  "'Manners at the Dinner Table.' It's near the end
+of the book, I know."
+
+"If I never do no worse than that I shan't come to no harm," said his
+daughter.
+
+Mr. Jobson shook his head at her, and after eating his breakfast with
+great care, wiped his mouth on his handkerchief and went into the shop.
+
+"I suppose it's all right," said Mrs. Jobson, looking after him, "but
+he's taking it very serious--very."
+
+"He washed his hands five times yesterday morning," said Dorothy, who had
+just come in from the shop to her breakfast; "and kept customers waiting
+while he did it, too."
+
+"It's the cold-tub business I can't get over," said her mother.  "I'm
+sure it's more trouble to empty them than what it is to fill them.
+There's quite enough work in the 'ouse as it is."
+
+"Too much," said Bert, with unwonted consideration.
+
+"I wish he'd leave me alone," said Gladys.  "My food don't do me no good
+when he's watching every mouthful I eat."
+
+Of murmurings such as these Mr. Jobson heard nothing, and in view of the
+great improvement in his dress and manners, a strong resolution was
+passed to avoid the faintest appearance of discontent.  Even when,
+satisfied with his own appearance, he set to work to improve that of Mrs.
+Jobson, that admirable woman made no complaint.  Hitherto the brightness
+of her attire and the size of her hats had been held to atone for her
+lack of figure and the roomy comfort of her boots, but Mr. Jobson,
+infected with new ideas, refused to listen to such sophistry.  He went
+shopping with Dorothy; and the Sunday after, when Mrs. Jobson went for an
+airing with him, she walked in boots with heels two inches high and toes
+that ended in a point.  A waist that had disappeared some years before
+was recaptured and placed in durance vile; and a hat which called for a
+new style of hair-dressing completed the effect.
+
+"You look splendid, ma!"  said Gladys, as she watched their departure.
+"Splendid!"
+
+"I don't feel splendid," sighed Mrs. Jobson to her husband.  "These 'ere
+boots feel red-'ot."
+
+"Your usual size," said Mr. Jobson, looking across the road.
+
+"And the clothes seem just a teeny-weeny bit tight, p'r'aps," continued
+his wife.
+
+Mr. Jobson regarded her critically.  "P'r'aps they might have been let
+out a quarter of an inch," he: said, thoughtfully.  "They're the best fit
+you've 'ad for a long time, mother.  I only 'ope the gals'll 'ave such
+good figgers."
+
+His wife smiled faintly, but, with little breath for conversation, walked
+on for some time in silence.  A growing redness of face testified to her
+distress.
+
+"I--I feel awful," she said at last, pressing her hand to her side.
+"Awful."
+
+"You'll soon get used to it," said Mr. Jobson, gently.  "Look at me!  I
+felt like you do at first, and now I wouldn't go back to old clothes--and
+comfort--for anything.  You'll get to love them boots.
+
+"If I could only take 'em off I should love 'em better," said his wife,
+panting; "and I can't breathe properly--I can't breathe."
+
+"You look ripping, mother," said her husband, simply.
+
+His wife essayed another smile, but failed.  She set her lips together
+and plodded on, Mr. Jobson chatting cheerily and taking no notice of the
+fact that she kept lurching against him.  Two miles from home she stopped
+and eyed him fixedly.
+
+"If I don't get these boots off, Alf, I shall be a 'elpless cripple for
+the rest of my days," she murmured.  "My ankle's gone over three times."
+
+"But you can't take 'em off here," said Mr. Jobson, hastily.  "Think 'ow
+it would look."
+
+"I must 'ave a cab or something," said his wife, hysterically.  "If I
+don't get 'em off soon I shall scream."
+
+She leaned against the iron palings of a house for support, while Mr.
+Jobson, standing on the kerb, looked up and down the road for a cab.  A
+four-wheeler appeared just in time to prevent the scandal--of Mrs. Jobson
+removing her boots in the street.
+
+"Thank goodness," she gasped, as she climbed in.  "Never mind about
+untying 'em, Alf; cut the laces and get 'em off quick."
+
+They drove home with the boots standing side by side on the seat in front
+of them.  Mr. Jobson got out first and knocked at the door, and as soon
+as it opened Mrs. Jobson pattered across the intervening space with the
+boots dangling from her hand.  She had nearly reached the door when Mr.
+Foley, who had a diabolical habit of always being on hand when he was
+least wanted, appeared suddenly from the offside of the cab.
+
+"Been paddlin'?"  he inquired.
+
+Mrs. Jobson, safe in her doorway, drew herself up and, holding the boots
+behind her, surveyed him with a stare of high-bred disdain.
+
+"Been paddlin'?"  he inquired
+
+"I see you going down the road in 'em," said the unabashed Mr. Foley,
+"and I says to myself, I says, 'Pride'll bear a pinch, but she's going
+too far.  If she thinks that she can squeedge those little tootsywootsies
+of 'ers into them boo--'"
+
+The door slammed violently and left him exchanging grins with Mr. Jobson.
+
+"How's the 'at?"  he inquired.
+
+Mr. Jobson winked.  "Bet you a level 'arf-dollar I ain't wearing it next
+Sunday," he said, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+Mr. Foley edged away.
+
+"Not good enough," he said, shaking his head.  "I've had a good many bets
+with you first and last, Alf, but I can't remember as I ever won one yet.
+So long."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fine Feathers, by W.W. Jacobs
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10561 ***