The Lady of the Barge and Others, Entire CollectionJacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
General
The Lady of the Barge and Others, Entire Collection
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; River life -- Fiction
“They are,” said the other dryly, “they generally see them in pairs,
and the shock to the nervous system frequently causes headache next
morning.”
“You never saw anything yourself?” suggested an unbeliever.
“Man and boy,” said the other, “I’ve been at sea thirty years, and the
only unpleasant incident of that kind occurred in a quiet English
countryside.”
“And that?” said another man.
“I was a young man at the time,” said the narrator, drawing at his pipe
and glancing good-humouredly at the company. “I had just come back from
China, and my own people being away I went down into the country to
invite myself to stay with an uncle. When I got down to the place I
found it closed and the family in the South of France; but as they were
due back in a couple of days I decided to put up at the Royal George, a
very decent inn, and await their return.
“The first day I passed well enough; but in the evening the dulness of
the rambling old place, in which I was the only visitor, began to weigh
upon my spirits, and the next morning after a late breakfast I set out
with the intention of having a brisk day’s walk.
“I started off in excellent spirits, for the day was bright and frosty,
with a powdering of snow on the iron-bound roads and nipped hedges, and
the country had to me all the charm of novelty. It was certainly flat,
but there was plenty of timber, and the villages through which I passed
were old and picturesque.
“I lunched luxuriously on bread and cheese and beer in the bar of a
small inn, and resolved to go a little further before turning back.
When at length I found I had gone far enough, I turned up a lane at
right angles to the road I was passing, and resolved to find my way
back by another route. It is a long lane that has no turning, but this
had several, each of which had turnings of its own, which generally
led, as I found by trying two or three of them, into the open marshes.
Then, tired of lanes, I resolved to rely upon the small compass which
hung from my watch chain and go across country home.
“I had got well into the marshes when a white fog, which had been for
some time hovering round the edge of the ditches, began gradually to
spread. There was no escaping it, but by aid of my compass I was saved
from making a circular tour and fell instead into frozen ditches or
stumbled over roots in the grass. I kept my course, however, until at
four o’clock, when night was coming rapidly up to lend a hand to the
fog, I was fain to confess myself lost.
“The compass was now no good to me, and I wandered about miserably,
occasionally giving a shout on the chance of being heard by some
passing shepherd or farmhand. At length by great good luck I found my
feet on a rough road driven through the marshes, and by walking slowly
and tapping with my stick managed to keep to it. I had followed it for
some distance when I heard footsteps approaching me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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