The Unspeakable Gentleman

by John P. Marquand

  XVI

  And so it was over, over almost before I could grasp what had happened.

  The light that Brutus was holding showed me the white walls of the cabin,with charts nailed upon them. A table was secured to the deck, with twochairs beside it. These, two lockers and a berth made up the cabin'sentire furnishings. But I hardly took the time to look about me, for thesight of my father gave me a start of consternation. His blue coat,wringing wet with sea water, and still stamped with splashes of mud, washalf ripped from his shoulders. A piece of lace dangled like a dirtyribbon from his neck. The powder in his hair was clotted in littlestreaks of white. His face was like a piece of yellow parchment. His leftarm hung limp by his side, and in his right hand he still clutched anempty pistol. He tossed it carelessly to the floor, and gripped the backof the nearest chair, staring straight at Mademoiselle, who was standingopposite, his cloak still about her. Slowly he inclined his head, andwhen he looked up he was smiling.

  "You are quite all right, my lady?" he asked anxiously. "I am sorry youhave been startled. Believe me, I did not realize this little surprisewould be waiting for us. It was careless of me not to have thought, verycareless. Help her to a chair, Henry."

  "Will you always be polite?" she cried, with a little catch in her voice."Will you never think of yourself? You are wounded, Captain. And what areyou staring at?" she cried, turning to me. "Come here, sir, and help mewith his coat."

  My father sank into a chair, and his pale lips relaxed.

  "Pray do not concern yourself," he replied gravely. "I think of myself,Mademoiselle, of myself always, and now I am very fortunate, but the bluefrom my coat is running on your dress. Brutus will see to me,Mademoiselle. He is quite used to it. The rum, Brutus. You will find itin the starboard locker."

  But it was Mademoiselle who found the bottle and poured him a glass. Hedrank it quickly.

  "Again, if you please," he said, and a shade of color returned to hischeeks. "The water was uncommonly cold tonight. How much better the seawould be, if the Lord had mixed in a dash of spirits. There is a coat inthe locker, Brutus, and you may find some splints and a piece of twine. Ifear my arm is broken."

  Mademoiselle had taken Brutus' knife and was cutting away his sleeve,half soaked with blood. He sighed and smiled a little sadly.

  "So Sims hit me after all," he said. "It must be age. I was not so clumsyonce. The bandages, Brutus."

  He watched us with a mild interest, and then his mind turned to othermatters, and he seemed regardless of the pain we caused him.

  "My son," he said, turning to me, "you made a statement a while ago whichinterested me strangely. I was preoccupied, and perhaps I did not hearyou aright, but it seemed you said I should know what had become of yourmother's money. What am I to understand by that?"

  "You are hurt, sir," I replied. "Why go into a painful matter now?We have kept it quiet long enough. Only three people knew that ithappened, and one of them is dead. Let us forget it, father. I amwilling if you are."

  My father raised his eyebrows, and it seemed to me that pain had madehis face look older, and not even the smile on his lips concealed littlelines of suffering.

  "And what are we to forget?" he asked.

  "Surely you know," I said.

  "No," said my father, "I do not. Out with it--what are we to forget?"

  Was he still acting? Was it ever possible to understand him? Perhaps evennow he was turning the situation into a jest, and smiling to himself ashe watched me. And yet somehow I had ceased to hate him.

  "Do you mean," I asked "that you never took it?"

  Slowly my father's body straightened in his chair, and his lips, drawntight together, seemed to repress an exclamation.

  "So he told you that," he said. "He told you that I made off with herfortune? Gad! but he was clever, very, very clever."

  He paused, and refilled his glass, and held it steadily before him.His voice, when he spoke, was gentle, and, like his face, strung tautwith pain.

  "No wonder she never sent me word," he murmured.

  "Do you mean," I asked, "that you never took it?"

  For a second he did not reply--only looked thoughtfully before him, asif he saw something that we would never see.

  "Why go into a painful matter now?" said my father at length. "Brutus,call in Mr. Aiken."

  He lurched into the cabin a half a minute later. His sea cloak was gone.His shirt, none too white the previous afternoon, was torn and scraped asthough it had scrubbed the deck, and he had transferred his redhandkerchief from his neck to his head, so that his tangled hair wavedaround it like some wild halo. His heavy hands, bruised and scarred, wereworking restlessly at his sides. He glanced at my father's bandaged arm,and his jaw thrust forward.

  "I warned 'em, captain," he cried hoarsely. "By heaven, I warned 'em.'Damn you,' I says, 'hell will break loose when the captain climbsaboard,' and it did, so help me. There was fifteen of 'em and now there'ssix, and the crew has 'em in the forecastle now, beating 'em, sir! Andnow, by thunder, we'll sling 'em overboard!"

  "That would be a pity," said my father. "Let them sail with us. I shallmake it more unpleasant than drowning. Which way are we heading, Ned?"

  "Due east by south," said Mr. Aiken, "and we're ready to show heels toanything. I can drop a reef off now if you want it."

  "Good," said my father. "Put on all the sail she will carry."

  Mr. Aiken grinned.

  "I thought you'd want to be moving," he said.

  "Quite right," said my father, "and put about at once and head back upthe river."

  Mr. Aiken whistled softly.

  "Well, I'll be damned!" he muttered.

  "I shall want ten men with me when I land," my father continued. "I'vedone my best to keep the crew out of my private affairs, but now it seemsimpossible."

  "They'd all like to go," said Mr. Aiken. "They've been hoping forexcitement all day, sir."

  "Ten will be quite enough," said my father.

  "What is it you are saying?" Mademoiselle asked sharply.

  "Quite nothing," he replied, "except that we are going back."

  His arm must have given him a twinge, for his face had grown very white.

  "Surely you have done enough," she said, and her voice became a softentreaty. "Here we are on board your ship. If I told you I was notentirely sorry, would you not go on? If I told you, captain, I did notcare about the paper--?"

  My father waved his hand in graceful denial.

  "Not go back? Ah, Mademoiselle," he added in grave rebuke, "can it bepossible after all, in spite of all this--let us say regrettablemelodrama--you are forgetting I am the villain of this piece, and not avery pleasant one? Even if I wished, my lady, my sense of hospitalitywould forbid it. My brother-in-law is waiting for me under my rooftonight, and I could not leave him alone. He would be disappointed, Ifeel sure, and so would I. I have had a strenuous evening. I needrecreation now. Load the pistols, Brutus."

  And he fell silent again, his eyes on the blank wall before him, hisfingers playing with his glass.

  The _Sea Tern_ had need to be a fast ship, and she lived up torequirements. The easterly wind sent her lightly before it, cutting sheerand quick through the roughened sea. With his arm in a sling of whitelinen, my father sat motionless, apparently passive and regardless of theflight of time. It was only when we veered in the wind and orders wereshouted from forward that he looked about him.

  "Your arm, Brutus," he said.

  On deck the crew was at work about the long boat, and over the port rail,perhaps a quarter of a mile away, I could see our house, with a lightburning in the window, flickering through the waving branches of the elmsthat half hid it. Nearer lay our wharf, a black, silent shadow. My fatherwatched without a word. The anchor chain growled out a sharp complaint,and the anchor splashed into the tide.

  "Mr. Aiken," said my father, "give orders to get under way in half anhour. When we land, the men will wait at the wharf, and be ready to enterthe house when you call them. You s
hall come with me, my son. I can stillshow you something amusing and instructive."

  "And I?" Mademoiselle demanded. "Shall you leave me here?"

  He seemed to hesitate for a moment.

  "Earlier in the evening, Mademoiselle," he replied, "I had given ordersfor my sloop to carry you to New Orleans. Your boxes will be taken fromthe house, and you will be taken on board from here. May you have apleasant journey, and may your friends be well when you arrive."

  "You mean it is good-by?" she asked, and her voice had a sound thatreminded me of tears. "You mean we shall not meet again?"

  He bowed low over her hand.

  "Mademoiselle will be relieved to know we shall not," said my fathergravely. "Let me hope you may always have more pleasant company."

  She seemed about to speak again, but she did not. Instead, she turnedsilently away and left him, and a second later I saw her disappear in theshadow of the main-mast.

  "Ah," said my father, "there is a woman for you. My son, in the sidepocket of my coat you will find a snuff box. Would you kindly open it forme and permit me to take a pinch? And you, perhaps? No? It is a pleasantsedative."

  He took a step nearer the rail, and the men about the long boat stiffenedto attention.

  "Get them into the boat, Mr. Aiken," he said, "You and I will sit in thestern, my son. Your arm, Brutus, so."

  "Stand by to lower away," directed Mr. Aiken in a harsh undertone; andthe blocks creaked and we were in the river.

  The oars had been muffled, so that we moved to the wharf in silence.

  "Land the men, and tell them to wait," said my father. "You shall comewith us, Mr. Aiken, and you, my son, and you, Brutus."

  We walked silently up the path, with Brutus and my father in the lead.Once he paused and listened, and then proceeded forward.

  "I believe," said my father, "he is quite alone. Ha!"

  He had stopped dead, and Brutus had leapt forward, crashing into a densethicket of overgrown bushes.

  "Put up your pistol, Ned," said my father. "Brutus has him."

  There was a moment's silence, followed by a faint cry.

  "Bring him here, Brutus," said my father. The bushes cracked again, andBrutus was back.

  "Now who the devil may you be?" inquired my father, striding towards thefigure that Brutus was holding, and then he paused, and in the dark Ifancied he was reaching for his coat lapel.

  "Lunacy, thy name is woman," said my father softly. "Will they neverstay where they are placed?"

  It was Mademoiselle whom Brutus had thrust before him.

  "I came in the boat," she stammered brokenly. "I--"

  "You wanted to see the end, my lady?" my father inquired. "Surely youshould have known better, but it is too late now. You are going to bepresent at a harrowing scene, which I hoped to save you. Mr. Aiken, helpthe lady over the path."

  And we proceeded to the house together. A minute later we made our wayover the rough, unkempt grass which once marked our brick terrace.Brutus opened the door and we were in the dark hall, lighted by a squareof candle light from the morning room. He paused again and listened, andthen strode across the threshold. A blaze was burning high in themorning fireplace, and six candles were lighted on the center table, andseated before it, examining my father's papers, were my Uncle Jason andMr. Lawton.

  "Ha!" cried Mr. Lawton, springing to his feet and eyeing my fatherintently. "So you are here, Shelton, and every card in the deck."

  He paused to nod and rub his hands.

  "Yes, b'gad! There's the girl and there's the boy and there's the nigger.It was Sims' idea your getting on the boat. He's bright as a trap, Jason.I told you he was."

  My father sighed a little sadly.

  "He was indeed," he admitted.

  My uncle surveyed him with his broadest smile, and his eyes twinkled witha malign amusement, that was not wholly pleasant.

  "So here you are, George," he cried in a voice that seemed to shakewith excitement. "God help you, but I won't or your son either, no, orthe lady."

  "Indeed?" inquired my father. "Pray go on, Jason. I had forgotten youwere diverting, or is it one of your latest virtues."

  A slight crease appeared between my uncle's eyes, and his face became atrifle redder.

  "So you still are jovial," he said. "I admire you for it, George. Yes, Iadmire you, because of course you know what is going to happen to you,George, and to your son also. Perhaps you will wipe away that smirk ofyours when a French firing squad backs you against a wall."

  My father adjusted the bandage on his arm, and smiled, but his eyes hadbecome bright and glassy.

  "So you have quite decided to send me to France, Jason?" he inquiredpleasantly. "Of course, I suspected it from the first. I knew you hatedme, and naturally my son. I knew you never felt the same after ourlittle falling out, when I found you forging--what am I saying?--readingthe letter I sent to Mr. Aiken. Gad! but your face was pasty then, yously dog--"

  He paused and took a step toward him. He was a different man when hecontinued. It seemed as though some resistance in him was breaking down,as though the years of repression were falling away. A hot, dull red hadcome into his cheeks, and burned there like a fever. His whole bodytrembled, shaken by some emotion which I could not fathom. His voice grewsharp and discordant, his words hot and triumphant.

  "Almost as pasty as when you challenged me to produce those damned balesof fur. Do you remember, Jason? The party here at this house--the music,the flowers? Oh, they were all there! And of course I had put theshavings on my boat. You could prove it, and you could too, Lawton, doyou remember? And you could swear to it, and you could swear I hadcheated you before, that I had stolen your card money. Oh, you caught me.You brought the wolf to bay and drew the sword of justice!"

  Mr. Lawton half started from his seat.

  "Be still, Shelton," he snapped, "or I'll have them gag you."

  My father clenched his fist, drew a deep breath, and his voice lost itsstrident note.

  "Ah, Lawton, Lawton," he said. "Will you always be impetuous? Will younever be subtle, but always crude, always the true rough diamond with thekeen edge? No, you won't gag me, Lawton.

  "And so you will send me to France, Jason, and my son too, criminals tojustice. It is thoughtful of you to think of justice, but tell me, Jason.Is it I you hate, or my wife's money that you love? Tell me, Jason, Ihave often wondered."

  My uncle's face also became a flaming red; the veins stood out on histemples. He tried to speak, but his words choked him.

  "Sims," shouted Mr. Lawton. "Sims! Take him out! Take him away!"

  My father raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed.

  "Ah Lawton," he said. "Is it possible that you did not know it? Can itbe that you do not understand? Poor Sims is dead, Lawton, a brave man,but not of good physique. The evening was quite too much for him. Do nottake it so hard, man! We all must die, you among the rest. You shouldhave known me better, Lawton. You should have known I would not allowmyself to be taken prisoner."

  "What!" shouted Mr. Lawton. "What the devil are you then?"

  The scene appeared to move my father, for he sighed again, and paused,the better to enjoy it.

  "Only a poor man," he said, "only a poor chattel of the Lord's, a poorfrail jug that has gone too often to the well. A poor man of a blackenedreputation, who has been set upon by spies of France, and threatened inhis own house, but who has managed to escape--" and his voice becamesharp and hard.

  "Take Mr. Lawton's pistol, Ned."

  There fell a moment's silence in the room while my father, a little inadvance of the rest of us, stared fixedly into my uncle's eyes.

  "Set upon by spies," he said, "persecuted and driven. It has set methinking, Jason. As I walked back here tonight, I still was thinking, andcan you imagine what was on my mind? It was you, Jason, you and Lawton.And as I thought of you, my mind fell, as it naturally would, on holythings, and a piece of the Scripture came back to me. Think of it, Jason,a piece of the Holy Writ. Would you care to h
ear it?"

  My father paused to adjust a wrinkle in his coat, and then his voicebecame solemn and sonorous, and he spoke the words with metricalprecision.

  "'To everything'," said my father, "there is a season, and a time toevery purpose under the heaven. A time to be born and a time to die'."

  He paused long enough to nod from one to the other.

  "'A time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted'."

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling again, and placed the tips of hisfingers together.

  "And 'a time to kill'," he concluded gently. His words died softly awayin the quiet room.

  "I have often thought of that passage," he continued. "Many and many anight I have repeated it to myself, under stars and under roof, andsometimes I have prayed, Jason. Oh yes, we all pray sometimes. SometimesI have prayed for the time to come."

  The red had gone out of my uncle's face, and Mr. Lawton was sitting rigidin his chair, his eyes glued on the slender figure before him.

  "And now," said my father, in a tone that was as near to the pious as Iever heard him utter, "now it is here, and I thank thee, Lord."

  "Good God!" gasped Mr. Lawton, in a voice that rose only a little above awhisper. "Do you mean to murder us?"

  My father still stood motionless, but when he spoke again his voice hadrelapsed to its old genial courtesy.

  "What a word for gentlemen to use!" he exclaimed in polite rebuke."Murder you? Of course not, Lawton. I am simply about to propose a game.That is all, an exciting little game. Only one of us will die. Clear thelarge table of the papers, Ned. Toss them on the floor."