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Captain Mugford: Our Salt and Fresh Water Tutors, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 8. The Regatta--The Duel |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHT. THE REGATTA--THE DUEL By agreement we rested through the middle of the day, and, in place of our usual hearty dinner, took an early lunch. It was irksome, though, to be quiet when so excited, and when, too, a multitude of pastimes were suggested to our senses by the loveliness of that June day. Mr Clare and Captain Mugford had gone to fish in the Race off the extreme point. When half-past one o'clock came, Harry, who seemed the most impatient, proposed that we should go down to Bath Bay then, and wait there until three, the hour of the race. That we agreed to, but left directions with Clump to hurry our tutors up as soon as they returned, and have them ready for the race. We had time to launch our boat carefully, and take a nice swim, before we descried our tutors, followed by Clump with a long musket, descending the knoll toward us. So we hastened our dressing, and, when they reached the beach, were ready to receive them in our extemporised costume of blue shirts and white trousers. Captain Mugford was already in a perspiration from his walk, and, what we boys also noticed with delight, seemed somewhat blown. However, he was jolly, and, flourishing the ever active handkerchief, proposed to Mr Clare that they should row round Leander's Rock, and _let the boys follow them_! "But at a respectful distance, remember, boys!" We laughed scornfully at his chaff. Harry touched his cap like a middy, and promised for our boat that it should keep at a _very_ "respectful distance." It took but a short time to complete preparations. Our tutors threw off hats, coats, and vests, and tied handkerchiefs about their heads. Then they lifted their boat into the water, and stood smiling at the excitement we could not help betraying. Clump was on his way to Youngster's Wharf, where, at the proper moment, he was to give the signal for starting by firing the musket. A flag waved from Leander's Rock; another was flying over our heads. The clear water of the bay soused in impatient little ripples against the boats we stood ready to enter, as if to say, "Well, why don't you come on?" and then, purling a few feet farther, skipped over the spar which was to be our goal. Clump had reached Youngster's Wharf. Seeing that, we entered our boats, seated ourselves carefully, balancing the oars ready to spring, and waited the signal. I alone could see Clump; the oarsmen had their backs to him. The long gun was brought up to his shoulder, and his eyes fixed on us. I saw his finger twitch, and as the hammer fell, my body gave way to help the start. The oarsmen, with their eyes on mine, acted in sympathy, and every oar touched the water; but the old flintlock had only snapped. How our adversaries laughed! The old man sprang about on the rock like a wounded baboon. He was indignant at the failure. Again we were in order. Again I saw the musket brought up. Bang! We were off, and were opposite Youngster's Wharf before the smoke had cleared from above Clump's head. The boats were side by side then. Notwithstanding the eagerness with which I swayed forward with every pull of the oars, and the frenzy that filled me, as in a moment more I saw our tutors' boat drawing slightly ahead, I had to laugh at the antics of Clump, who was rushing from side to side of his floating staging, dancing up and down like a rheumatic lunatic, tossing his arms wildly about his uncovered head, his face a kaleidoscope of grimaces, while he shouted to each one of us by name, in encouragement, in entreaty, in fear: "Oh, Massa Drake! pull, pull!" "Massa Walter! Massa Walter! dus you let 'em beat!" "Day'se gwine ahead! Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear!" His voice was lost in another moment. We were nearly half across the bay, and our tutors' boat a full length ahead. I saw that my crew were too excited to do their best, so I called to them: "Boys, steady now! Keep cool, cool. Only think of what your arms are doing." "There, that's better already! We're gaining! Hurrah! Stick to it!" "Come, boys," called Mr Clare. "Come, we can't wait for you longer!" I believe that lent five pounds of extra strength to every arm in my boat. We were nearing Leander's Rock. Ay! and we were steadily gaining on our tutors. They, too, saw that, but could do no better. Having a steersman, gave our boat an advantage of rounding the Rock closely. We gained distance. In five minutes we were thirty or forty feet ahead. But then, terrible to see, our adversaries made a spurt, and were coming up again, hand over hand. They gained, _gained_, gained, until their stern was opposite Harry's oar-blade. I was almost wild with excitement. I called upon the boys, with every entreaty I could think of, to pull harder; urging on Alfred, who was evidently the weakest oar, and whose strength seemed waning. But our tutors could not pull harder. They had done their best. Could we but keep our speed. So we went, without widening or lessening the distance between us, for a hundred yards. But was it possible for us to hold out? How I prayed we might! We neared Clump again. The comic sight cheered me. Truly, if hopping about and entreaties could help us, what aid must that old nigger give us. I almost expected to see him soar off to us, he looked so like a crow taking flight. "Fellows! keep a morsel of extra strength to use when we pass Clump, then just let us put forth our utmost breath and strength for those forty yards. But don't let our tutes gain. Look! look!" But they were coming up--only by inches, to be sure, but coming. We rushed past Youngster's Wharf. Clump stretched out his body as if to pull us on. Hurrah! hurrah! Their bow is a foot beyond our stern. "Hi! hi! hi! Yah! yah! Hurrah! hurrah! My young--" Splash!!! Clump had pitched in sure enough, head first. But there was no stop to our engines. Our tutors were four feet behind; but they were working with a last hope and mad effort. "One more, boys!" Cr-u-a-nk! we touched the spar, slid over its roundness as it sunk beneath our keel, and were on the soft beach--Victors! We were crazy with joy, and completely used up. The boys jumped from the boat and threw themselves, laughing hysterically, on the sand. Our tutors only said, in tones of mingled chagrin and exhaustion, "Boys, we are beaten, well and fairly;" and they pushed off again to pick up Clump. I do not know any successes or honours of after-life sweeter or more satisfying than that boat victory. Until bedtime, we remained just tired and happy enough to sit quietly and talk over the events of the afternoon. In resuming study for the few days before Saturday, we had in anticipation for that time a fishing party on the rocks, for bass, which were beginning to bite sharply, and for which our bait was lobster and the crabs that were found under the small rocks at low tide. In talking over the project together, Drake said he would not go this time, but would wait to see our luck. Alfred Higginson expressed neither assent nor dissent with the general arrangement, and of course we supposed he was to be of our party, until Saturday came and we were ready to start, poles, bait and basket in hand, when he was not to be found. We wondered at his disappearance, but had no time to hunt him up. Drake was there to see us off. The Captain and Mr Clare, who were going with us, told Drake they thought that boat-race had proved too much for him. He laughed, but was not as ready at an answer as usual. Indeed, he appeared rather low-spirited. However, we started on our excursion without a suspicion of the affair which prevented both fellows from joining it. It afterwards appeared that Drake had addressed the following note to Alfred Higginson on the day before the boat-race:-- "Cape ---, June 17, 1816. "Alfred Higginson, "Our quarrels have gone nearly far enough, disturbing the peace of our entire company, and increasing the irritation between us. Let us conclude the dissension in a thorough and honourable way that may satisfy both and prove a final contest. After that I will agree to strive not to give offence to you, and also to bear silently whatever conceit and insults may escape you. Perhaps we may become friends. But we cannot remain as we are. The blow you struck the other day _must_ be answered for. _I ask satisfaction_, and the incompleteness and vulgarity of a pugilistic encounter will not suit me. I propose, therefore, as we cannot resort to the regular duel of pistols, (for reasons so good and evident that I need not name them), that after the example of the ancients, whose history we are now daily reading, we have our combat. Arms of their fashion our ingenuity can supply, not of the same materials, I know, but of wood, which should prove effective enough for our purposes. I propose Saturday as the time, when those who might otherwise disturb our meeting are absent: and I propose the hold of the wreck as a suitable spot. Your sense of honour will, of course, keep this affair secret, and I ask a speedy reply. "Drake Tregellin." Only a warm, fierce, reckless-natured boy of fourteen could have hit upon such an absurdly quixotic way of deciding a quarrel. Indian combats between Red Indians in the Far West, the deeds of Sir Kenneth, Saladin, and Coeur de Lion in his favourite "Talisman," and the entire character of Drake's reading, had joined with and gathered romance from his late study of Virgil to misdirect an innate chivalry. Alfred Higginson's reply was also characteristic:-- "Drake Tregellin, "I have received your _cartel_. In my humble opinion nothing could be more stupid and silly than the resort you propose. I suppose you think your proposition very _grand_ and _chivalric_. It endangers the continuance of our stay on the cape; it rebels against the rule we are under here; and it would make our parents unhappy. Its spirit of selfishness and indifference to everything but your own impulse is the same which causes and continues our quarrelling. But I shall be a fool with you this time. I have not the courage to balk your desire. I agree to the contest, if you agree to keep the peace after that. I suppose javelins and shields of wood are to be our weapons. What nonsense! But I shall be at hand, Saturday, at the brig, when the others have gone fishing. "Alfred Higginson." About an hour after we had got settled on Bass Rocks, and just as we commenced catching fish, and I had a mighty fellow slashing my line about and trying to snap the pole, we heard the voice of some one calling to us in distress, and, turning, saw Juno hurrying towards us as fast as her old limbs and breathless state would allow. She was chattering all the while, but it was impossible for us to understand the cause of her mission until she had come up to us and had taken a moment's rest. Then, the tears springing from her eyes and terror in her voice, she exclaimed: "De yun' gem'men--Massa Drake, Massa Alf'fed, dey is fiteten and tarr'en one udder to pieces. Dey is down dare in de ole ship and fire'en sticks and poke-en guns; an' oh Lord, I fear dey is all dead now!" Her excitement could no longer be contained, but broke forth in cries and ejaculations: "Oh! oh! oh! marssaful Hebbens! Oh de Lord, please top de yun' gem'men! Massa Clare, Massa Capting, ar'n't yous gwine? Ar'n't yous gwine afore dey is done dead? Dat dis ole woman mus' see such tings!" We also gleaned from her, that, hearing a noise at the wreck, as she was passing near by, she had scrambled on board the vessel and there seen the two boys engaged in a severe fight; that she had hurried off for Clump, but could not find him; and that then she had run to where she knew we were; but we had to hasten her broken narrative to get at the whole matter, and then we all started for the wreck as fast as we could run, fearful that a tragedy was to meet our sight--that we might be too late to prevent it. What a sight met our eyes as we hurried down the stairs to the brig's schoolroom! Chairs, desks, and tables had been pushed back against the sides to make room for the duel, and there, in the so-formed arena, the atmosphere of which was thick with disturbed dust, lay in common confusion a split shield, two swords, a padded glove, a splintered lance, and a torn cap. The weapons--the shield in particular--reflected skill upon Clump or whatever carpenter had fashioned them. In some charge of one of the combatants, the round table, although intended to be in a place of safety, had been overturned, adding a globe, a streaming inkstand, and sundry books to the medley on the floor. But our astonishment culminated when we saw Drake leaning back in Mr Clare's big chair in the farther end of the hold, his head bleeding, a sleeve torn off, and an expression of comically blended fatigue and dignified indifference in his face, while near the opposite side of the schoolroom, and on one side of the stairway we had descended, was Alfred Higginson lying on the floor, his head supported on an arm, his countenance the picture of pain and mortification. Evidently the battle was over. The parties spoke not a word; and the first exclamation that came from us was Harry's: "Hillo! A real duel, and no one killed." Our good Captain, his face full of tenderness and anxiety, hurried to Alf and lifted him up, but as he was so much hurt as to be only able to hobble a few steps, Captain Mugford lifted him in his arms and carried him on deck. "What is all this, my poor fellow?" asked the Captain, as he got him on a bench there. "Rather a long story, Captain, but no one to blame but Drake and me. He ain't much hurt, is he?" "That is what I want to ask you, Alf. Where is your pain?" "There, sir, in my side. It is only stiff and bruised, but don't touch it hard, please. There! where your hand is. And I believe my hand is somewhat cut." As it proved on examination by the doctor from the village, whom I brought over an hour afterwards, one of Alf's ribs was broken and the palm of his left hand badly gashed. Whilst the Captain and Harry Higginson had attended to Alfred, Mr Clare and Walter took care of Drake. He was very laconic in his replies to their questions, and made light of the injury; but he was faint from the wound in the head, and his sleeveless arm was so stiff as to be useless to him then. Juno, who had found Clump, joined us before we reached the house with our wounded comrades; but at the sight of Drake's bleeding head and Alfred carried in the Captain's arms, Juno's ejaculations recommenced, and Clump followed, only wringing his hands in mute despair. Of the particulars of the fight we never knew further than I have related. Both of the principals in the affair hated to have it alluded to, and we spared their feelings. When we had got them comfortably settled in their rooms, Mr Clare called the remainder of us aside and enjoined upon us that we should not question Drake and Alfred, nor mention the matter in their presence; and that in the meantime he would decide with Captain Mugford what steps to take when the boys had recovered. In another week Drake was as well as ever, but hardly as noisy and reckless as of old. Alfred remained an invalid for some time longer. When both were perfectly recovered, Mr Clare called us all together in the brig's schoolroom one afternoon, and then addressed us, particularly the two combatants, in a manner that I can never forget--it was so sensible, so manly, so solemn. He pointed out the faults of each, which had fed the long quarrel and finally serious conclusion. He painted the wickedness of that duel, (for it could be called nothing else), and all such affairs, which in former times were ignorantly considered necessary and honourable. He told us in what he thought true manliness, courage, and _chivalry_ consisted. Then, in a simple, touching way, he suggested higher thoughts--our duty to our Father in heaven as brothers of one common family, and more than all of the example which our blessed Lord and Master set us while He was on earth--to forgive injuries--to overlook insults; and he spoke of charity as forbearance, and conquest as governing ourselves; and then begged us to join him in earnest entreaty to the Holy Spirit for the strength to practise that charity and make those conquests, to the Source whence such virtues came, and to the Ear which was never deaf to supplication. How simple and noble was that whole address! And I cannot forbear testimony to the fruitfulness of a Christian practice such as that of our then tutor, dear Mr Clare. Even thoughtless boys could not sneer at the constant manly practice of his life. We had to see that it gave the loftiest aims even to the smallest acts of his everyday life--that where he spoke one word he acted fifty in that service which ennobles the commonest deed. So that religion, which youth often regards as something whining and hypocritical, something only for the old and sick, we boys _began_ to look up to as something which, if we could only _partly_ understand, was, at the least, truly beautiful and noble. The lesson and bearing of Mr Clare on that occasion was enforced by the fact that as he concluded, Captain Mugford, rubbing the back of a rough hand on his cheek for some reason, got up and crossed the room to Mr Clare, whose hand he took in both his, and said-- "Mr Clare, I am but a rough, wicked old sailor, but the words you have spoken to these boys have touched an older boy than they, and I thank you--I thank you!" The parents of both Drake and Alfred were duly informed, by both Mr Clare and the boys themselves, of the affair. From that time Drake and Alfred were changed boys. The old dominant faults I have told of had now to _fight_ for sway and were generally mastered, whilst the conduct of one to the other grew generous and considerate, and the two boys became and ever afterward remained close friends. _ |
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