 | CHAPTER XXXIX.
HOW CAPTAIN WATERS WAS CHALLENGED TO MORTAL COMBAT. The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion |  |
39. CHAPTER XXXIX.
HOW CAPTAIN WATERS WAS CHALLENGED TO MORTAL COMBAT.
“The manner in which Captain Ralph vituperated Lanky,
upon that occasion, was positively shocking. In the first
considering Lanky's inoffensive character; in the
third place, it was too great an expenditure of genius upon an
humble personage, and an ordinary occasion.
“The Captain swore philologically, and with an eye to
ethnology. He proceeded geographically, first exhausting
that department of Spanish and Portuguese, after which he
went on to France, and swore that oath-loving land quite
through, from Gascony and Provence to Normandy. He
did not neglect Germany and Prussia, and paid due honor
to Italy, where the science has perhaps arrived at its climax.
And in all this flood there was no mixture of the deeply
impure. The Captain's expletives were of that pleasant and
humorous description, which are not inconsistent with a very
charitable nature, and we may in a single word describe the
handling of this great master, by saying that he swore poetically
and from the imagination, not coarsely and from envy
and hatred.
“Having exhausted Syria and Persia, the Captain modestly
paused: he had not travelled further, and great as was
his ill-humor, he would not trespass on his fancy. Instead
of doing so, he seized his sword, and placing himself in position,
called on Lanky to defend himself. Lanky replied by
mentioning his master's military title, with an `Oh!' before
it; and this not being satisfactory, the Captain lunged furiously
at him, and several times grazed the unfortunate Lanky,
who uttered cries of despair and terror, as he shrunk and
curled himself up to avoid the imminent sword point, flashing
like a fiery serpent's head before his breast.”
Thus far the author of the MS.
It is scarcely necessary for us, in explanation of Captain
Ralph's ill-humor, to do more than refer to the scene between
himself and Mr. Hamilton, narrated in former pages of this
history. The present outburst occurred on the Monday immediately
following; and in it the Captain poured out all
the wrath which had been slowly gathering, like a storm, for
forty-eight hours.
When he had nearly terrified Lanky out of his wits, he
calmly restored his sword to its scabbard, and sat down.
“Oh, Cap'n,” said Lanky, “did anybody ever see—”
“Basta! you villain, don't appeal to me!”
“Oh, Cap'n!”
“Off with you!—I'm in a man-eating humor. Stay if
you dare, you rascal, and I'll fry you!”
“Fry me?”
“Yes, morbleu!”
Lanky meditated for a moment, and thought how he
would feel if this terrible threat was carried into effect. The
idea was disagreeable in the highest degree, and he made a
step towards the door.
“Stay!” thundered the Captain, “the sight of that pine
knot head, you Scaramouch, keeps me from having a fit of
the blue devils.”
“The blue devils, Cap'n?” asked Lanky, pausing.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you subjic to 'em?”
“No, you rascal: but I am threatened with them. One
thing consoles me, however: threatened men live long.”
Lanky inclined his head, in token of acquiescence.
“Sim Trabbles said he was goin' to cut me up into sossige
once,” said Lanky, “an' I aint cut up yit.”
“Well, sir, what do you fancy I care for you and Mr.
Trabbles? Sink Trabbles! you rascal!”
“Oh, Cap'n!”
“Dance, there!”
“Me dance, Cap'n?”
“Yes, this moment.”
Lanky looked around, groaning.
“They aint no music. Oh, Cap'n,” he added, “what's
the matter with you?”
“I'm in an ill-humor, you Scaramouch—terribly angry.”
“Cap'n,” observed Lanky.
“Sir?”
“What is a Skarrymush?”
The Captain regarded his retainer for a moment with
contemptuous pity.
“Look in that mirror,” he said.
Lanky obeyed.
“Well, sir?” said Lanky.
“You have all the reply I deign to give you! Now take
yourself elsewhere, you gobemouche.”
“Gobmush!” cried Lanky.
The Captain aimed at him with a volume that was lying
deeply wounded at being called those two dreadful names,
ending with “mouche.”
Left alone, the Captain twirled his moustaches, and relapsed
into gloom again. It was a splendid day of May, but
the Captain did not see the sunlight; the birds sang among
the forest boughs—the Captain did not hear them: the river
lapped upon the shore, the white-capped waves laughing for
joy: the Captain did not heed them. For the worthy fellow
was troubled; he had, for the first time, found opposed to him
a dangerous rival; he was doubtful what course to pursue,
for, perhaps, the first time in his life—that life so filled with
shocks, and blaring trumpets, and quick blows.
He remained silent and motionless for half an hour:
then his eye suddenly lighted up, and rising he opened a
drawer, took out pen, ink and paper, and dipping the goose-quill
into the inkstand, began to write, in large, heavy letters,
and with great rapidity.
Let us look over his shoulder: these words appear beneath
his flying pen:
This is an unhappy world, and devious are the
ways thereof. Man—especially a rude fellow, morbleu!—
knows not what to do often; he is puzzled; he hesitates and
stands still. Do you ask me what I mean by this small moral
discourse? Parbleu! I mean that I am the rude fellow
and the puzzled man.
“If you were an ordinary rival, basta! there would be
few words. I would solicit the honor of being allowed an
opportunity to pink you; and there 'twould end. I'd go
on in my course or fall: and so finish. But I can't well run
you through. Diable! I should say not. You are her cousin,
you are a bon compagnon, you smile when we meet.
See the difficulty.
“Ah! were you only not unfortunately so placed—for
how can I act? I put it to you as a man of sense and reason,
is there any opening? Indicate it, my dear companion
—zounds! the sword shall not touch my hand unless I am
compelled.
“See, now, I am a rude soldier, a mere war animal, a
I can venture on that general description. Well, now, what
can I do? I beg you, mon ami, to give me your ideas:—
what say you to a bargain that we shall see the charming
mademoiselle only on alternate days? to avoid collisions,
you observe. These little matters are disagreeable, and often
end in an appeal to the toasting iron, morbleu!
“For me, I don't conceal the fact that I shall prosecute
the war with vigor. I have advanced to the trenches, and
the next movement will be to hoist the ladders: then, the
trumpet and the assault. I know nothing beyond this—I'm
a mere baby—tonnere! I am as innocent as a child. Therefore,
my good companion, come to my assistance. We are
rivals—basta! don't let us have any ambiguities, or concealments.
I would conquer, I would see you defeated; Voila
tout! But I would do so without placing myself in position
—you understand—I am tired of fighting every thing out:
I am becoming decidedly a man of peace, a quiet and moral
citizen—I wish, even, as you may understand, to become a
respectable married man.
“I thought the chances were tolerable, but diable! I find
I have a rival whom I cannot despise if I would. You are a
good-looking, gallant fellow, morbleu! and just the man to interest
a woman, as a friend of mine observed lately. I honestly
confess that I'm afraid of you. Observe again! You
are her cousin; parlous adds companion: yet I do not despair.
“I write this—which I send by Lanky, simply that it
may not resemble an invitation to the duello—I write, I was
going on to say, to ask you, bon ami, bon compagnon, how we
are to arrange the matter. I'm weary of cut! thrust! and
then blood.
“Send back your answer by the Scaramouch who brings
you this. Toute à vous.
Having read this letter over hurriedly, and finding it express
his ideas with tolerable distinctness, the Captain summoned
Lanky, who made his appearance with an air of dreadful
apprehension, for the vision of himself frying had produced
a more and more disagreeable impression, the more he
that he was only wanted to officiate in the character of a
messenger—not at an auto da fe.
“Take this to Effingham Hall, and deliver it to Mr. Effingham,”
he said. “See here upon the back `Mr. Effingham,
Effingham Hall.' Then wait for an answer, you villain.”
Lanky placed the letter in his pouch, put on his hat, and
mounting the cart-horse, set off.
The Captain sat down again, listless, and venting morbleus:
and very doubtful whether his letter would answer the
desired object.
“But what could I do!” he said, “parbleu! I am checkmated.
I don't want to fight Effingham—I don't want to
have any further altercation with one related to Ma'mselle
Henrietta; ah! but I wish still less to be beaten. Morbleu!
was there ever such an unfortunate event!”
And the Captain relapsed into silence and thought.
He was aroused by the sound of hoofs, and looking out
saw Lanky dismounting. Hours had passed without his being
conscious of the fact.
“Well, well, the answer!” he cried impatiently.
“Here it is, sur,” said Lanky; and drawing forth a billet
he politely presented it to the soldier. Captain Ralph tore
it open and read:
Your letter is offensive—I will not make any derogatory
agreement with you, sir. I would rather end all at
once, and I hereby call on you to meet me, sir, this very day,
at the Banks' Cross-roads. At five o'clock this evening, I
shall await you.
“I have the honor to be, sir,
The Captain stood aghast—read the letter over, then
crushing it in his hand, fell into a rage, which caused Lanky
the most dreadful trepidation.
“Morbleu!” cried the Captain, “fighting is his forte, is
it!—he would end the matter so, would he! Very well, we
shall see.”
And seizing his sword he buckled it on, and ordered
obeyed, trembling, and in a quarter of an hour Captain Ralph
was on his way to Hamilton's, where he expected to find some
second, in case Mr. Hamilton was engaged to act for Mr.
Effingham.
| CHAPTER XXXIX.
HOW CAPTAIN WATERS WAS CHALLENGED TO MORTAL COMBAT. The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion | |