Woven with the Ship Part 35

"What next, sir?" asked Captain Venour.

"Well, sir, I swung myself on board the _Victory_ in the action.

Captain Hardy recognized me and gave me a gun division whose lieutenant had been killed, and--and that's all. No, sir; here's a paper from Lord Collingwood, who succeeded to the command after Lord Nelson died, recommending me to be appointed post-captain, and--and--that's all, sir. May I have Dorothy now, sir?"

"You may," answered the captain, feebly, utterly overcome by the astonishing recital. "Any man who has commanded a six-million-ton rock and fought at Trafalgar can have anything he wants,--if Dorothy is willing."

Dorothy signified unmistakably that she was willing.

"Poor Nelson!" continued the old captain. He rose slowly to his feet and turned away again, saying,--

"I will turn my back once more, young people, and mind, do it softly!"

"WHEN LOVELY WOMAN STOOPS TO FOLLY"

THE FATE OF A COQUETTE OF 1815

"When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy?

What art can wash her guilt away?"

GOLDSMITH

Marian Fletcher was certainly beautiful enough to excuse the jealousy of any man who loved her,--which, by the way, most men who knew her did! She was sufficiently a woman also to realize her own beauty--indeed, did ever daughter of Eve possess a charm of which she lacked knowledge? Even the most absolute _ingenue_ is conscious that she is an _ingenue_, and Marian Fletcher was by no means that. And her wit and humor were not the least of her charms. She was gayety personified, light-hearted, healthy and red-cheeked, and joyous--quite a new woman for 1815, in fact; and that, too, in an artificial age in which languor and pallor, megrims and vapors were the fashion, "Nice customs curt'sy to"--beautiful women, and Marian had a fashion of her own. One word described the sum of her qualities,--fascination!

Even her best friends were forced to admit that she was a bit of a coquette, however. Indeed, if the truth were told, from the crown of her black hair, which brought to mind the usual simile of the raven's wing, down to her beautiful little feet, she was all of a coquette.

She loved liberty, she loved love, she loved lovers. In addition to all of these things it might be said that, in her secret heart, she loved Robert Gardner. Whether she loved him more than she did the other three was a question which she had not settled to her own satisfaction, and about which Gardner himself was fearfully undecided.

She had said--but then she made many perjuries before the laughing Jove. She had permitted him to enjoy the fleeting and most unsatisfying pleasure of pressing his lips upon her brow. He believed that this was a step farther--he would have resented furiously any suggestion to the contrary--than any other suitor had gone. It was.

She had allowed him to persuade her into a sort of an engagement, but the tie resulting was about as indefinite as could be imagined. With him--he was a sailor and his similes were nautical--it was a hempen cable which held him to her like a ship to a bower anchor. With her it was a daisy chain, ready to part at the first strain, and the strain was near at hand.

To celebrate the closing of the war of 1812, Colonel Fletcher, an old Revolutionary veteran and the father of the fair Marian, had a.s.sembled a house-party at his fine old place on the Hudson. He was a widower with a son and a daughter. The son had been an officer in Scott's army--a major--who had greatly distinguished himself in the Niagara campaign. Among others who had gladly accepted the veteran colonel's hospitality were two friends of young Major Fletcher, who had been college-mates with him at Harvard. One was Robert Gardner, a young lieutenant in the navy, and the other was John Mason, a young Virginian, who was a captain in the army. The young men had been guests of Colonel Fletcher before the war, and they had known Marian, whom they both loved, for several years. Their wooing, interrupted by the demands of the service, was at once renewed under the favorable circ.u.mstances of their meeting. Gardner was a gay, athletic, dashing young sailor,--blue-eyed, curly-haired, sunny in disposition; Mason, on the contrary, was tall and very slender, dignified and quiet, with a temper as dark as his complexion. One was impulsive, bold, impetuous; the other cool and determined, with an undercurrent of sleeping pa.s.sion in his being; both were in the highest sense gentlemen.

The relations between the two men, at first friendly, had become markedly strained as their courtship proceeded, though no open rupture had yet occurred. Mason could not but be aware of Marian's preference for Gardner; yet, as she had not allowed the latter to announce their engagement, with dogged persistency the Virginian continued to proffer his attentions. Truth to say, these latter were not so unwelcome to the fair Marian as might be imagined. She had entered into a quasi-engagement with Gardner, yet she was by no means averse to the devotion of her melancholy yet handsome suitor, and her conduct between the two was not altogether above reproach. It was a joyous and delightful game,--also a dangerous!

On the evening in question it seemed that she had gone quite too far, and that even the hempen cable would not stand the strain which tautened it. During the day a pretty little lover's quarrel, which she had wilfully brought about to test her power, had culminated in an open rupture. Laughing at Gardner's pleas, she had devoted herself to Mason,--or had allowed Mason to devote himself to her, rather,--raising that young man to the seventh heaven of delight. She had ridden with him in the afternoon, gone to supper with him at night, and danced with him most of the evening at the party which had been arranged.

Manoeuvring her out on the porch toward the close of the evening, Gardner unwisely endeavored to take her to task. Goaded beyond his power of restraint by her flirtation, he a.s.sumed an authority over her for which he had no warrant. Where he should have pleaded and entreated, he threatened and commanded. Miss Marian snapped her fingers at him metaphorically--she was too well bred to do such a thing physically. Rendered desperate by her obduracy, his anger pa.s.sed all bounds and his words followed suit. The mock quarrel on her part became a real one. She repudiated him entirely, broke her engagement flatly, declared frankly that she did not love him,--and in the act of declaration she was convinced that she did,--and with her head high in the air, a brilliant flush on her cheek, and a sparkle of defiance in her eye, left him. He leaped from the porch and disappeared under the trees; she ran right into the arms of John Mason coming out of the house to seek her.

He saw her agitation, of course, and in her anger she let slip words which gave him a perfect clew to the cause of it. Before she realized what she did, she said that which she would have given worlds to recall--afterwards; then she was too much excited and indignant to care. Gardner had insulted her. She hated him.

"I hate him, too," said Mason, bending his head, his black eyes aflame in the shadow of the porch, "and the depth of my hatred is proportioned by my love for you, Marian. Give me leave, dearest, to make your cause mine."

His voice with its soft Southern tones was very persuasive and thrilling in the moonlight; there was such pa.s.sion and yet such respect and adoration in its accents. He bent before her so deferentially and so pleadingly. There was such a contrast in his gentleness to the hectoring she had just undergone, that she yielded in spite of herself. With bent head she murmured words--she hardly knew what. Faintly resisting him, he swept her to his breast and pressed a kiss, not upon her forehead, but upon her lips.

At the instant a step on the porch interrupted them. Marian, already repentant, sprang from Mason's encircling arms and turned to see Gardner coming toward them. He had wandered about the grounds miserably after they had parted and had returned to sue for pardon, but what he had just seen had changed his mind. His face was convulsed with pa.s.sion. Disregarding Marian, he stepped toward Mason, his hand upraised as if he would strike him down. There was murder in his heart. The girl screamed and then turned and fled in dismay. She had broken her engagement with a man whom she now realized she loved with all her heart, and she had promised herself to a man whom she knew she did not love. She had been bitterly unjust, in her folly, to both men.

The dancing for the evening was already over. The women of the party were retiring to their rooms, and Marian, sick at heart, slipped away and sought her chamber also. Throwing herself dressed upon her bed, she thought it over. Nothing would happen until the morning, she reasoned, and then she would make a clean breast of it to her father.

He would extricate her from her difficulties.

Mason on the porch was already master of himself.

"Don't strike me!" he said to Gardner, "or I shall kill you where you stand! Besides, 'tis not necessary. I understand your feelings and I intend to give you satisfaction, but the cause of our quarrel must not be known. The reputation of the woman--I intend to make my wife must not be the subject of public comment. Control yourself, sir, I beg of you," he added, smiling triumphantly, as the other stamped his foot.

"Let us repair to the house. The ladies will have retired, and we can easily manufacture sufficient public cause for a quarrel. I will take it upon myself. Come no nearer!" he said, thrusting his hand into the pocket of his coat as Gardner swayed toward him. "I warn you that I am armed. On my word, I will shoot you like a mad dog! I will submit to nothing from you. I am giving you a chance for your life and affording you every satisfaction as it is."

Gardner controlled himself with a mighty effort.

"You are right," he gasped; "'tis not through fear that I do not strike you, but, as you say, Miss Fletcher's name must not become the subject of gossip. You shall never marry her! I intend to kill you!"

"That's as may be," answered the other; "let us not come to blows about it. I am not used to such. 'Tis vulgar brawling. Control yourself. I take your arm, so. Though 'tis hateful to both of us, we must appear to be on friendly terms."

Arm in arm the two rivals entered the hall and no one dreamed of the deadly hatred which sundered them. After the departure of the women Colonel Fletcher and his guests sat down to spend the rest of the evening--morning rather--between cards and the bottle. Chance, or their own contrivance, made Mason and Gardner partners. Neither of the two partook of the wine. As the heat of Gardner's pa.s.sion abated, he realized the necessity for acquiring his wonted calmness. He was a famous shot with the pistol, a weapon with which Mason was not so familiar, and he believed that if he had an opportunity he could kill him. He fully intended to do so.

It was an age in which duels were common and life was cheap. Mason was to afford the provocation and give the challenge. He said he would do so and he was a man of his word. Then, as the challenged party, Gardner would have the choice of weapons. As the game proceeded, Mason, who had made several irritating remarks upon his partner's playing, finally remarked, sneeringly:

"That's a cowardly deal, Gardner. Why don't you play more boldly, sir?"

"Cowardly!" cried Gardner, rising.

"That's what I said. But then what could you expect from a man who had been an officer on the _Chesapeake_?"

The allusion, of course, was to the capture of the American frigate _Chesapeake_ by the British frigate _Shannon_, which was almost the solitary instance of English naval success in the war, but for which Gardner was in no way responsible.

"By gad, sir!" shouted Gardner, "if I play like a coward, you play like a b.o.o.by! Your tactics are what one would naturally expect from a soldier whose chief exploit was in leading the flying troops from Bladensburg!" another American defeat and a disgraceful one at that, although Mason had there fought bravely until wounded.

"You shall wipe out this insult, sir!" responded Mason, rising in his turn.

"Yes," said the other, "in the only possible way."

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" interrupted some of the others.

"What's this?" exclaimed the colonel, leaving his table and approaching them. "Brawling in my house among my guests? I will have none of it!"

"Sir," cried Gardner, "you are a soldier. You are all soldiers here; I alone am a sailor. This person called me a coward, taunted me with the loss of the _Chesapeake_. By heavens, he shall apologize!"

"What?" said the colonel. "Did you make use of such intemperate language, Captain Mason?"

"I did, sir," responded the other, coolly, "and I may add that he accused me of leading the retreat at Bladensburg, which is a d.a.m.nable lie, sir! I challenge him instantly!"

"He but antic.i.p.ates my own desire," said Gardner. "You see, sir, the matter must be arranged. As the challenged party I name pistols, and if the time is agreeable I appoint this moment for the encounter.

Major Fletcher will perhaps honor me by acting as my second."

"And Captain Lee," said Mason, turning to one of the others, "will, I am sure, act for me."

"Gentlemen," said the colonel, retiring with the seconds, "cannot this unhappy affair be arranged?"