University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

On the western shore of the Hudson, in the state
of New-Jersey, and directly opposite the city of New-York,
sequestered at the base of an elevated range
of hills, which at a little distance assume the dignity
and abruptness of mountains, lies the romantic village
of Hoboken.

To the resident of the metropolis its beautiful
walk, skirting the margin of the majestic stream, is
a favourite afternoon retreat, where the wearied citizen,
while listening to the waves as they break upon
the beach, or reclining beneath the broad shadows
of the willow and the tree of heaven which adorn
its banks, can behold before him, as on a map, the
giant bee-hive within whose chambers but a few

moments previously he, in common with his fellow-insects,
was industriously toiling to accumulate a
wintry store.

Passing northwardly, the gravelled path approaches
the river so nearly, that the loiterer with a side
step would, at this point, find himself ankle-deep in
the pure element; anon it ascends the bank amid
shrubbery and wild flowers, until, at the distance of
a short mile, the splendid Pavilion, whose ornamented
grounds are known as the Elysian Fields,
bursts on the view, with a prospect sufficiently captivating
to warrant their celestial appellation. In the
same direction, about two miles from Hoboken, over-looking
the river and city, the mountains of Weehawken
point their cliffs toward the sky; and in
an alcove whose area is perhaps two hundred yards
in diameter,—scooped out of their rocky base at creation's
birth, or by some subsequent convulsion of
nature,—is the celebrated duelling-ground where
Burr shot Hamilton, and to whose secluded precincts
all successive city candidates for bullets and
immortality have resorted on like occasions.

At early dawn, the day following Clifton's receipt
of the challenge, a row-boat with two oarsmen and
five passengers might be observed moving over the
placid surface of the noble river, towards this picturesque
and secluded spot; and just as the sunbeams
tipped the summit of the mountains, the party
disembarked; and Clifton, Ellingbourne, Matthison,

Shafton, and the surgeon proceeded to the execution
of their hostile purpose.

On landing, the eye of Clifton ranged over the
quiet and lonely semi-amphitheatre; and as all
traces of anger had vanished from his bosom, he
thought it little less than sacrilege to desecrate so
lovely a scene with the sanguinary evidences of
man's warring passions. From this reverie he was
aroused by Shafton, who, in an under tone, said,

“Now, Clifton, be cool and collected. If the time
will admit, reserve your fire until you have received
that of your opponent, unless you have the utmost
confidence in your capacity to execute a rapid
movement successfully. But before I leave you,
let me beseech you to dismiss from your mind the
silly determination you expressed last evening, to
throw away your fire. 'Tis absolute madness; for
I have Matthison's assurance that Ellingbourne
never was more implacable and determined on any
similar occasion; and as he has frequently acted as
his second, of course he is little likely to err. By
strictly following my instructions we shall leave the
ground with a reputation that neither malice nor
envy can dart a Shaft-on. Excusez, mon ami,
the pun would out.”

“Permit me to remark,” said Clifton, “that I by
no means authorize any resort to stratagem to secure
an advantage of position. Having voluntarily entered
the lists, I scorn the attempt to gain by man
œuvre what I lack in skill. Let the ground be

chosen, therefore, with sole reference to its general
eligibility, and not from a desire to give me an undue
advantage.”

“The age of chivalry is past,” replied Shafton;
“and as etiquette places this whole matter in my
hands, I shall take my own method of executing
the trust. If I should follow your directions, I fear
that you would shortly intrude on my province
by measuring six feet more or less of the ground
selected.”

Thus saying, our volatile friend joined Matthison,
and they proceeded to the selection of the
ground.

On reaching a favourable spot, Shafton paced off
the requisite distance in a line running north and
south, and parallel with the course of the river, leaving
Ellingbourne's position covered by a clump of
bushes, which were of course in the range of Clifton's
fire, thus affording a prominent object whereby
to direct his aim.

While his second was thus employed, Clifton, like
the eastern devotee, turned his gaze towards the
spot where sojourned that bright being who was
the object of his heart's idolatry.

The morning was peculiarly bland and lovely,
and each varied sound of the awakening city came
wafted to his ear mellowed by distance, and freighted
with the charms of memory and association.

“Beautiful and prosperous island city,” thus he
mused, “queen of the western world, within whose

sea-girt boundaries my buoyant imagination first
spread her pinions towards the bright realms of poetry
and romance! Years in their ceaseless flight will
continue to pour their tribute of wealth and abundance
into thy lap, but perchance the eyes that now
gaze on thee will in a few brief moments be veiled
by the films of death.

“And what, if, before yon rising luminary
quenches his glowing fires in the western ocean,
my summer friends shall have exhausted the shallow
fountain of their sympathies at my sudden exit,
and the busy multitudes within whose circle I have
lived and moved, pass to their ephemeral schemes of
pleasure or ambition, as if no such event had rippled
along the surface of their recollections,—at least, the
bright being with whom my fate is linked, and my
beloved foster-parents, will mourn my unhappy departure.
And Thou, merciful author of my being!
who hast been to me `the cloud by day and the
pillar of fire by night,' if it be consistent with thy
wise decrees, vouchsafe to deliver me from the peril
of this awful hour; but if it is my self-appointed
doom to rush uncalled for into Thy august and holy
Presence, forgive the rash and criminal act, for the
sake of Him who is our Mediator at Thy throne.”

With this mental ejaculation, Clifton braced his
nerves to meet, with becoming calmness and fortitude,
the eventful crisis, which he now viewed with
far different sentiments from those which actuated

him when he precipitated the hostile meeting by a
voluntary insult to his antagonist.

While occupied in these reflections, Ellingbourne,
who, in the pursuit of his disreputable calling,
had become a perfect adept in detecting the latent
feeling through the index of the countenance, at
once perceived that the heart of his opponent, although
shadowed with melancholy, quailed not at
the danger which he was to encounter.

“I like not,” thought the gambler, “the cool,
dispassionate determination, depicted in Clifton's
features. I have certainly underrated his courage;
and although inexperienced in affairs of honour,
there is no little danger to be apprehended from the
fire of one whose steady nerves are the faithful ministers
of his will. It behooves me to review Matthison's
selection of the ground, lest I be compelled to
take an unfavourable position.”

Just at this moment Matthison had reached the
point at which Shafton proposed to station Ellingbourne,
while the punster occupied the spot assigned
to Clifton.

As yet Matthison had not objected to Shafton's
selection; but the sharp significant cough of his
principal attracted his attention, and perceiving by
his countenance that he was dissatisfied with some
portion of the arrangements, he reviewed the capabilities
of the ground, and soon saw the decided advantage
it afforded Clifton. Passing, therefore, to
the side of Shafton, he said,

“My dear sir, by the merest accident, you have
placed my principal directly in the range of that
small cluster of shrubbery, which your experienced
eye will at once perceive forms a prominent background
in the line of Mr. Clifton's fire. Surely my
stomach is somewhat deranged, or I should sooner
have observed this difficulty.”

“Oh,” replied Shafton, carelessly, “if there is any
advantage of position, I have no objection to change
the direction of our principals, although, permit me
to say, that by your assent to the proposed arrangement,
I have an undoubted right to insist on its
being adhered to. As I have, however, every confidence
in Mr. Clifton's coolness and gallantry, I
will, from courtesy, reverse the stations in a line
from east to west, placing my friend with his back
to the river; and by glancing your eye over the
ground, you will observe that neither tree, rock, nor
shrub, is in the range of Mr. Ellingbourne.”

“That will do,” said Matthison, placing himself
in a situation to examine the ground; “and with
your permission, we will now station our principals.”

Thus saying, the combatants were assigned to the
places selected, and the seconds proceeded to load
the pistols. While thus occupied, the sunbeams,
which had gradually descended the brow of the
mountain, poured their light in Ellingbourne's face,
and Matthison too late perceived that the change of

ground had been the reverse of favourable to his
principal.

That his chagrin at being thus over-reached
was fully shared by Ellingbourne, cannot be a matter
of surprise; and the latter, who at first considered
the meeting rather in the light of a morning's
amusement than a dangerous combat, in which his
life might be hazarded, now viewed the subject in a
more serious mood, and mentally determined to
exercise all his acknowledged skill, in revenging
the insult he had received, and foiling Shafton in his
wily manœuvre.

The words “one, two, three,” were the signal, at
whose utterance the leaden heralds were to wing their
dangerous flight; and the first had scarcely been pronounced,
when the sharp ring of Ellingbourne's
weapon echoed from cliff to cliff, and was succeeded
by the report of Clifton's; and the groan that burst
from the gambler, and his sudden spring into the
air, gave instant proof that the shot had taken effect.
Dr. Searle at once ran to the assistance of the
wounded man, and, on removing his clothing, it
was ascertained that he had received the ball in the
left side, between the short ribs; and the grave
looks of the surgeon indicated Ellingbourne's critical
situation.

“Doctor,” said our hero, with the utmost agony
depicted in his countenance, “is the wound dangerous?
Inform me, I beseech you; for, should it

prove mortal, I have reached the last happy moment
of my existence.”

“Be calm, my friend,” replied the professional
gentleman; “as yet I cannot determine the precise
nature of the injury.”

Then taking Shafton's arm and drawing him
aside, he whispered, “Let Mr. Clifton seek safety in
flight. Life and death are certainly in the keeping
of Providence, but I will not insure Mr. Ellingbourne's
existence for an hour. I perceive that you
have provided a second boat; and if Mr. Clifton is
wise, he will, without a moment's delay, secure a
safe retreat.”

While the surgeon and Shafton were conversing,
Clifton caught the hand of Ellingbourne, who was
supported in a sitting position by Matthison, saying,
“My dear sir, can you forgive me for this rash and
dreadful act? Indeed, indeed, I bore you no malice,
and trust I am pardoned for the injury I have
inflicted. Would to Heaven I could recall this morning's
fearful proceedings.”

Ellingbourne, who, although pale and evidently
apprehensive that his wound would prove fatal, yet
preserved his accustomed calmness of manner, replied:
“Mr. Clifton, most cheerfully do I bear witness
to your courage and gallantry; if you proffer
a reconciliation I surely will not reject it. There is
my hand, and although my strength will not permit
me to press yours with the ardour I would desire,
yet the will is not wanting. If I live and have an

opportunity to explain matters which to you are still
shrouded in mystery, you will find the error under
which you have laboured in relation to my agency
in certain transactions which have recently occurred.
If otherwise, I must refer you to that hour in which
all secrets will be revealed.”

At this moment Shafton beckoned Clifton, saying,
“Time is short; Ellingbourne's wound is decidedly
mortal; the surgeon has just informed me
that he cannot live an hour. Under these circumstances,
we must take to the boat I have placed in
reserve, and run for life. Fortunately the oarsmen
are two expert Whitehallers, and will land us in
the city in the twinkling of an eye. So allons,
mon ami.”

Our hero's first impulse was to await the issue of
his antagonist's wound, before securing his own
safety; but the solemn assurance of Shafton and
the surgeon that no time was to be lost if he wished
to avoid arrest and imprisonment, and the reflection
that his presence could be of no avail in averting the
fatal consequences of Ellingbourne's injury, at
length determined him to listen to the advice of his
friend. Before leaving the ground, he again entreated
Ellingbourne's forgiveness, who, with much apparent
feeling, besought him not to suffer his mind
to dwell on a calamity which might have been, by
the merest accident, transferred to himself.

“If I should recover,” said the gambler, feebly,
“it is well: but if not, why the leap into the unknown

and unexplored futurity is but a few years
in anticipation of that to which I am destined by
the ordinary operation of nature. And why should
I repine? The bright visions of my youth have
already vanished; and it matters little how soon I
am removed from a scene where neither friends nor
kindred shed the sunshine of their affection on my
cheerless way.”

Here a deep groan arrested his utterance; but
whether it was caused by the anguish of his wound,
or by grief of heart, we can only conjecture. Dashing
a tear from his eye, he resumed:

“Curse the wound, it makes me play the woman.
Adieu, Mr. Clifton; God bless you; wherever you
go, remember my assurances of innocence in all that
relates to the injurious imputations on your character.”

“Farewell, my brave antagonist,” was Clifton's
reply, in a voice almost stifled with emotion, when
he slowly proceeded with Shafton to the boat, and
in a few moments the slender skiff with its freight
was leaping on the blue waters, under the powerful
and steady pull of the athletic and skilful oarsmen.