Explore "Low Water" by W.W. Jacobs on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was a calm, clear evening in late summer as the Elizabeth Ann, of Pembray, scorning the expensive aid of a tug, threaded her way down the London river under canvas. The crew were busy forward, and the master and part-owner-a fussy little man, deeply imbued with a sense of his own importance and cleverness-was at the wheel chatting with the mate. While waiting for a portion of his cargo, he had passed the previous week pleasantly enough with some relatives in Exeter, and was now in a masterful fashion receiving a report from the mate.
"There's one other thing," said the mate. "I dessay you've noticed how sober old Dick is to-night."