Produced by Kevin Handy, John Hagerson, and the PG Online DistributedProofreading Team
HALF A CHANCE
BYFREDERIC S. ISHAM
AUTHOR OFUNDER THE ROSETHE LADY OF THE MOUNT, ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BYHERMAN PFEIFER
INDIANAPOLISTHE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANYPUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT 1909THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
OCTOBER
PRESS OFBRAUNWORTH & CO.BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERSBROOKLYN, N.Y.
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CONTENTS
PART ONE
I MR. GILLETT'S CHARGE II A MESSAGE TO THE ADMIRALTY III AN UNAPPRECIATED BOUNTY
PART TWO
I THE WHEELS OF JUSTICE II AT THE OPERA III A LESSON IN BOTANY IV TIDES VARYING V IN THE PARK VI A CONFERENCE VII INCIDENTS VIII A CHANGE OF FRONT IX AWAY FROM THE TOWN X A CONTEST XI WAYS AND MEANS XII FESTIVITIES XIII THE PRINCESS SUITE XIV AN ANSWER XV CURRENTS AND COUNTER CURRENTS XVI FLIGHT XVII THE UNEXPECTEDXVIII THROUGH THE FOG XIX THE LAST SHIFT XX THE PAPER XXI A CONDITION XXII NEAR THE RIVERXXIII PAST AND PRESENT
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PART ONE
CHAPTER I
MR. GILLETT'S CHARGE
"By all means, m'deah, let's go down between decks and have a look atthem."
"Of course, if you wish, Sir Charles, although--Do you think we shall beedified, Mr. Gillett?"
"That depends, m'lady,"--and the speaker, a man with official mannersand ferret-like eyes, shifted from one foot to another,--"on whatdegree, or particular class of criminal your ladyship would beinterested in," he added. "If in the ordinary category of skittlesharper or thimblerigger," with a suspicion of mild scorn, "then I donot imagine your ladyship would find much attraction in the presentcargo. But, on the other hand," in a livelier tone, "if your ladyshiphas any curiosity, or shall we say, a psychological bent, regarding thereal out-and-outer, the excursion should be to your liking. For,"rubbing his hands, "a properer lot of cutthroats and bad magsmen, it hasnever been my privilege to escort across the equator; and this is mysixth trip to Australia!"
"How interesting! How very interesting!" The lady's voice floatedlanguidly. "Sir Charles is quite right. We must really go down. At anyrate, it will be a change, after having been shut up so long in thatterrible state-room."
"One moment, m'lady! There's a little formality that must be observedfirst."
"Formality?" And the lady, who was of portly appearance and uncertainage, gazed from the speaker standing deferentially before her, to a manof size, weight and importance seated in a comfortable chair at herside. "What does he mean, Sir Charles?"
"Regulations, m'lady--m'lord!" was the answer. "No one allowed on theprisoners' deck without the captain's permission. There he is now."
"Then be good enough to beckon to him!" said the lady.
But this Mr. Gillett, agent of the police, discreetly declined to do;Captain Macpherson was a man not to be beckoned to by any one; much lessby him. As he stood squarely in the center of the ship, he looked like amariner capable of commanding his boat and all the people aboard;indeed, some of the characteristics of his vessel seemed to have enteredinto his own make-up; the man matched the craft. Broad-nosed, wide ofbeam, big, massive, obstinate-looking, the _Lord Nelson_ plowedaggressively through the seas. With every square sail tugging hard ather sturdy masts, she smote and over-rode the waves, and, beating themdown, maintained an unvarying, stubborn poise. But although she refusedto vacillate or shuffle to the wooing efforts of the uneasy waters, sheprogressed not without noise and pother; foamed and fumed mightily atthe bow and left behind her a wake, receding almost as far as the eyesmight reach. Captain Macpherson looked after the bubbles, cast hisglance aloft at the bulging patches of white, and then condescended toobserve the agent of the police who had silently approached.
"Sir Charles and lady, and Sir Charles' party have expressed, CaptainMacpherson, the desire to obtain permission to visit the prisoners'deck."
Captain Macpherson looked toward Sir Charles and his lady, the otherpassengers lounging around them, a little girl, at the rail, her hair,blown windward, a splash of gold against the blue sky. "What for?" saidthe skipper bruskly.
"To have a look at the convicts, I suppose."
"What good'll that do them?" growled the commander. "Idle curiosity,that's what I call it. Well, go along. Only, I'll hold you accountable,and bear this in your mind, no tracts!"
"I don't think," replied Mr. Gillett with some asperity, "you need beapprehensive on that score, Captain Macpherson. Sir Charles and m'ladyare not that sort."
"Well, keep them away from the bars. The weather has nae improved thetempers of a few of the rapscallions, and they'd like naught better thana chance for their claws."
"Thanks for the permission, and," a little stiffly, "the admonition,which latter," turning away, "a man whose lifelong profession has beendealing with convicts is most likely to stand in need of and heed."
Captain Macpherson frowned, stumped the other way, then looked once morealoft, and, by the exercise of that ingenuity peculiarly his own, foundnew tasks for the sailors. Aboard any ship, especially a ship of thischaracter, it was his theory and practice that discipline could not betoo strictly maintained and the men on the _Lord Nelson_ knew no idlemoments.
"May I go, too?"
The child with the golden hair desisted in her occupation of watchingthe flying-fish and other _real_-winged creatures, and, leaving therail, walked toward the group that was about to follow Mr. Gillett. Shewas a very beautiful girl of ten or eleven; slim, delicately fashioned,of a definite proud type. But although she held herself erect, in anunconscious patrician sort of way, there was, also, about her somethingwayward and different from the conventional, aristocratic set. Thedisordered golden hair proclaimed it, while in the depths of the fine,blue eyes manifold changing lights told of a capriciousness out of thepale of a stiffly decorous and well-contained caste.
"May I go, too, aunt?" she repeated.
"Why, of course!" interposed a blase, cynical-appearing young man whohad just emerged from the cabin. "Don't know where she wants to go, orwhat she wants to do; but don't say she can't; really you mustn't, now."
"Well, since you insist on spoiling her, Lord Ronsdale--"
He twisted a blond mustache which adorned a handsome face that bore manymarks of what is called experience of the world. "Couldn't do that!Besides, Jocelyn and I are great chums, don't you know. We're going tobe married some day when she grows up."
"_Are_ we?" said the child. "The man _I_ marry must be very big andstrong, and must _not_ have light hair."
Lord Ronsdale laughed tolerantly.
"Plenty of time for you to change your mind, don't you know. Meanwhile,I'll not despair. Faint heart, and so on. But," turning to Sir Charles,"where is it she 'wants to go?'"
"To see the convicts."
"Convicts? Ah!" He spoke rather more quickly than usual, with accentsharper.
"You didn't know who your neighbors were going to be when you decided sosuddenly to accompany us?"
"No." His voice had a metallic sound.
Sir Charles addressed Mr. Gillett. "Tell us something more definiteabout your charges whom we are going to inspect. Meant to have found outearlier in the voyage, but been so jolly seasick, what with one galeafter another, I for one, until now, haven't much cared whether we hadClaude Duval and Dick Turpin themselves for neighbors, or whether we allwent straight to Davy Jones' locker together. A bad lot, you havealready informed us! But how bad?"
"Well, we haven't exactly M. Duval or Mr. Turpin in the pen, but we'veone or two others almost as celebrated in their way. There's BillyBurke, as desperate a cracksman as the country can produce
, with,"complacently, "a record second to none in his class. He"--and Mr.Gillett, with considerable zest entered into the details of Mr. Burke'seventful and rapacious career. "Then there's the ''Frisco Pet,' or the'Pride of Golden Gate,' as some of the sporting papers call him."
"The 'Frisco Pet!" Lord Ronsdale started; his color slightly changed;his lashes drooped over his cold eyes. "He is on board this vessel?"
"Yes; you remember him, my Lord, I dare say?"
"In common with many others," shortly.
"Many of the gentry and titled classes did honor him with theirattention, I believe."
"Why," asked Jocelyn, whose blue eyes were fastened very intently on theface of the police agent, "did they call him such a funny name, the'Frisco Pet?"
"Because he's a yankee bruiser, prize-fighter, or was, before the drinkgot him," explained Mr. Gillett. "And originally, I believe, he hailedfrom the land of the free. Some one brought him to London, found outabout his 'talents' and put him in training. He was a low, ignorantsailor; could scarcely write his own name; but he had biceps and a thickhead. Didn't know when he was whipped. I can see him yet, as he used tolook, with his giant shoulders and his swagger as he stepped into thering. There was no nonsense about him--or his fist; could break a boardwith that. And how the shouts used to go up; 'the pet!' 'a quid on thepet!' 'ten bob on the stars and stripes!' meaning the costume he wore.Oh, he was a favorite in Camden Town! But one night he failed them; metsome friends from the forecastle of a Yankee trader that had droppeddown the Thames. Went into the ring with a stagger added to the swagger.Well, they took him out unconscious; never was a man worse punished. Henever got back to the sawdust, and the sporting gentlemen lost a brightand shining light."
"Broke his heart, I suppose," observed Sir Charles.
"How could that break his heart?" asked the child wonderingly. "Ithought when people had their hearts broken--"
"Jocelyn, don't interrupt!" said the wife of Sir Charles. "Although," toher husband, in a lower tone, "I must confess these details a littletiresome!"
"Not a bit!" Sir Charles' voice rose in lively protest. "I remember outin Australia reading about the fellow in the sporting papers from home,and wondering what had become of him. So that was it? Go on, Mr.Gillett! With your permission, m'love!"
The police agent proceeded. "After that it was a case of the rum and thetoss-pots, and when he was three sheets in the wind, look out forsqualls! He got put in quad, broke out, overpowered and nearly killedtwo guards. Took to various means of livelihood, until they got himagain. Trouble in prison; transferred to the solitary with a littlepunishment thrown in for a reminder. When he got out of limbo again, helived in bad company, in one of the tunnels near the Adelphi; hard placefor the police to rout a cove from. Then followed a series of roughbungling jobs he was supposed to have been mixed up in. At any rate, hegot the credit. More hazards than loot! He had too heavy fingers foranything fine; but he made it quite interesting for the police, quiteinteresting! So much so, he attracted _me_, and I concluded to take ahand, to direct the campaign against him, as it were."
Mr. Gillett paused; obviously in his case egotism allied to enthusiasmmade his duties a pleasure; he seemed now briefly commending himself inhis own mind. "Up to this time," he resumed, "our friend, theex-pugilist, had never actually killed any one, but soon after I engagedmyself to look after him, word was brought to the department that a poorwoman had been murdered, a cheap music-hall dancer. She had seen betterdays, however."
Lord Ronsdale, who had been looking away, yawned, as if finding thepolice agent "wordy," then strolled to the rail.
"Suspicion pointed strongly in his direction; and we got him after astruggle. It was a hard fight, without a referee, and maybe we used hima little rough, but we had to. Then Dandy Joe was brought in. Joe's aplain, mean little gambler and race-track follower, with courage not bigenough for broad operations. But he had a wide knowledge of what we termthe thieves' catacombs, and, well, he 'peached' on the big fellow. Gavetestimony that was of great service to the prosecution. The case seemedclear enough; there was some sort of contrary evidence put in, but itdidn't amount to anything. His record was against him and he got a heavysentence, with death as a penalty, if he ever sets foot in Englandagain."
"What," asked Mr. Gillett's youngest listener, "is 'peached'?"
"In school-girl parlance, it is, I believe, to 'tell on' some one."
"You mean a tattle-tale?" scornfully. "I hate them."
"They have their uses," he answered softly. "And I'm rather partial tothem, myself. But if you are ready, m'lord--m'lady--"
"Quite! Egad! I'm curious to have a look at the fellow. Used to like tosee a good honest set-to myself occasionally, before Ibecame--ahem!--governor!" And rising with alacrity, Sir Charles assistedhis lady from her chair. "Coming, Ronsdale?"
"Believe I won't go down," drawled the nobleman at the rail. "Air betterup here," he explained.
Sir Charles laughed, got together the other members of his party and allfollowed Mr. Gillett to a narrow companion way. There a strong iron doorstopped their progress, but, taking a key from his pocket the policeagent thrust it into a great padlock, gave it a turn, and swung back thebarrier. Before them stretched a long aisle; at each end stood asoldier, with musket; on one side were the cells, small, heavily-barred.The closeness of the air was particularly and disagreeably noticeable;here sunlight never entered, and the sullen beating of the waves againstthe wooden shell was the only sound that disturbed the tomb-likestillness of the place.
One or two of the party looked soberer; the child's eyes were large withawe and wonder; she regarded, not without dread, something moving, ashape, a human form in each terrible little coop. But Mr. Gillett's faceshone with livelier emotions; he peered into the cells at his chargeswith a keen bright gaze that had in it something of the animal tamer'szest for his part.
"Well, how are we all to-day?" he observed in his most animated mannerto the guard. "All doing well?"
"Number Six complained of being ill, but I say it's only the dumps.Number Fourteen's been garrulous."
"Garrulous, eh? Not a little flighty?" The guard nodded; Mr. Gillettwhispered a few instructions, asked a number of other questions.Meanwhile the child had paused before one of the cells and, fascinated,was gazing within. What was it that held her? the pity of the spectacle?the terror of it? Her blue eyes continued to rest on the convict, ayoung fellow of no more than one-and-twenty, of magnificent proportions,but with face sodden and brutish. For his part he looked at her,open-mouthed, with an expression of stupid surprise at the sight of thefigure so daintily and slenderly fashioned, at the tangles of brightgolden hair that seemed to have imprisoned some of the sunshine fromabove.
"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered hoarsely. "Where'd you come from? Lookslike one o' them bally Christmas dolls had dropped offen some counter inFleet Street and got in here by mistake!"
A mist sprang to the blue eyes; she held her white, pretty fingers tightagainst her breast. "It must be terrible--here"--she said falteringly.
The convict laughed harshly. "Hell!" he said laconically.
The child trembled. "I'm sorry," she managed to say.
The fierce dark eyes stared at her. "What for?"
"Because--you have to stay here--"
"Well, I'm--" But this time he apparently found no adequate adjective."If this ain't the rummiest Christmas doll!"
She put out her hand. "Here's something for you, poor man," she said, assteadily as she could. "It's my King George gold piece, date 1762, andbelonged to my father who wore it on his watch chain and who is dead.Perhaps they'll let you buy something with it."
He looked at the hand. "If she ain't stickin' out her duke to me, rightthrough the bars. Blamed if she ain't! Looks like a lily! A bally whitelily!" he repeated wonderingly. "One of them kind we wonst run acrostwhen the Cap. turned us adrift on an island, jest to waller in greengrass!"
"Don't you want it?" said the child.
He extended a great
, coarse hand hesitatingly, as if half-minded to andhalf-minded not to touch the white finger-tips.
"You ain't afraid?"
The golden head shook ever so slightly; again the big hand went towardthe small one, then suddenly dropped.
"Right this way m'lord--m'lady!" The face of the convict abruptlychanged; fury, hatred, a blind instinct to kill were unmistakablyrevealed in his countenance as he heard the bland voice of the policeagent. From the child's hand the gold disk fell and rolled under thewooden slab that served as a couch in the cell.
"Jocelyn!" The expostulating tones of the governor's wife preceded theapproach of the party. "What are you doing, child, so near the bars?"
"Good heavens!" Mr. Gillett seized the girl's arm and abruptly drew heraway. "My dear little lady!" he said. "Really you don't know the dangeryou run. And near that cell of all of them!"
"That cell?" observed Sir Charles. "Then that is--"
"The convict I was telling you about! The 'Pet of 'Frisco.' The 'Prideof Golden Gate.'"
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Half A Chance Page 1