Once Aboard the Lugger-- The History of George and his Mary

by W. W. Jacobs

  It was Angela that answered his salutation: "Oh, why _have_ you comehere? You spoil _everything_."

  "Hook!" said Bob.

  David asked: "What's hook?"

  "Run away."

  "Why?"

  "Because I tell you to."

  "Why?"

  Bob exclaimed: "Hasn't mother told you not to say 'Why' like that? Runaway and play. I want to speak to Miss Humfray."

  David swallowed the rising interrogation; substituted instead anobservant poke: "Miss Humfray doesn't want to speak to you. She hatesyou."

  The uncompromising directness of these brats, their grossill-mannerliness, was a matter of which Bob made constant complaint tohis mother. The belief that he observed a twitch at the corner of Mary'smouth served further to harden his tones.

  He said: "Look here, you run away when I tell you, or I'll see you don'tcome out here any more."

  "Why?"

  Bob swallowed. It was necessary before he spoke to clear his tongue ofthe emotions that surged upon it.

  Angela, in the pause, entreated David: "Oh, don't keep saying 'Why?',David," and before he could ask the reason she addressed Bob: "We won'tgo for you. If Miss Humf'ay tells us to go, _then_ we will go."

  Bob looked at Mary. "I only want to speak to you for a minute."

  Amongst the slippery apprehensions in which she had taken flight Maryhad struggled to the comfortable rock that Bob's appearance must havebeen chance, not deliberate--how should he have known where to seekthem? Sure ground, too, was made by the belief that it were well to takethe apology with which doubtless he had come--well to be on good terms.

  Encouraged by these supports, "Shoo!" she cried to her charges. "Don'tyou hear what your brother asks?"

  "Do _you_ want us to go?"

  "Oh, shoo! shoo!"

  Laughing, they shoo'd.

  Bob let them from earshot. "I want to say how sorry I am about Fridaynight."

  "I have forgotten all that."

  "I want to know that you have forgiven me."

  "I tell you I have forgotten it."

  "That is not enough. You can't have forgotten it." He took a seat besideher; repeated: "You can't have forgotten it. How can you have forgottena thing that only happened three days ago?"

  "In the sense that I have wiped it out--I do not choose to remember it."

  "Well, I remember it. I cannot forget it. I behaved very badly. I wantto know that you forgive me."

  She told him: "Yes, then--oh yes, yes." His persistence alarmed her, sether again to flight among her apprehensions.

  "Not when you say it like that."

  Her breath came in jerks, responsive to the unsteady flutters of herheart. She made an effort for control; for the first time turned to him:"Mr. Chater, please go."

  Her words pricked every force that had him there--desire, obstinacy,wounded vanity.

  "Why do you say that?" he asked.

  "You happened to be passing--"

  "Nothing of the kind," he told her.

  "You have come purposely?" One foothold that seemed safe was provingfalse.

  "Of course. I tell you--why won't you believe me?--that I have beenashamed of myself ever since that night. At the first opportunity I havecome straight to tell you so, I ought to be in the City. I could notrest until I had made my apology."

  "Well, you have made it--I don't mean to say that sharply. I think--Ithink it is very nice of you to be so anxious, and I freely accept yourapology. But don't you see that you are harming me by staying here? Ibeg you to go."

  "How am I harming you? Am I so distasteful to you that you can't bear menear you?"

  This was the personal note that of all her apprehensions had given Marygreatest alarm. "Surely you see that you are harming me--I mean hurtingme--I mean, yes, getting me into trouble by staying like this with me.Mrs. Chater might have turned me off on Saturday--"

  "I spoke for you."

  "Yes." The words choked her, but she spoke them--"I am grateful to youfor that. But if she found me talking to you again--especially if sheknew you came here to see me, she would send me away at once. She toldme so."

  "How is she to know?"

  "The children--"

  "I'll take care of that."

  "You can't prevent it. In any case--"

  Bob said bitterly: "In any case! Yes, that's it. In any case you hatethe sight of me."

  She cried: "Oh, why will you speak like that? I mean that in any case itis not right. I promised."

  Bob laughed. "If that's all, it is all right. You didn't promise forme."

  "It makes no difference. You say you are sorry--I believe you are sorry.You can only show it one way. Mr. Chater, please leave me alone."

  Her pretty appeal was fatal to her desire. It enhanced her graces.In both phrase and tone it was different from similar request in thepetulant mouths of those ladies amongst whom Bob purchased his way.Dissatisfied, they would have said "Oh, chuck it! Do!" But "Mr. Chater,please leave me alone!"--that had the effect of moving Mr. Chater adegree closer along the seat.

  He said: "You shan't have cause to blame me. Look here, you haven'tasked me to explain my conduct on Friday."

  "I don't wish you to."

  "Don't you want to know?"

  She shook her head.

  "Aren't you curious?" His voice was low with a note of intensity. Thiswas love-making, as he knew the pursuit.

  He went on: "I'm sure you're curious. Look here, I'm going to tell you."

  "I'm going," she said; made to rise.

  He caught her hand where it lay on her lap; pressed her down. "You'renot. If you do I shall follow--but I won't let you," and he pressedagain in advertisement.

  Now she was alarmed--not for the result of this interview, but for itsvery present perils. Fear strangled her voice, but she said, "Let mego."

  "You must hear me, then."

  "I wish to go."

  "You must stay to hear me." He believed a fierce assault would now winthe heights. He released her hand; but she was still his prisoner, andhe leant towards her averted head.

  "I'm going to tell you why I behaved like that that night. It wasbecause I could not contain myself any longer. You had always been soicy to me; kept me at arm's-length, barely let me speak to you; and allthe time I was burning to tell you that I loved you--there, you knowit now. On that night you were still cold when you might have been onlybarely civil and I could have contained myself. But you would not giveme a word, and at last all that was in me for you burst out and I couldnot hold myself. It was unkind; it was frightening to you, perhaps; butwas it a crime?--is it a crime to love?"

  His flow checked, waiting an impulse from her.

  She was but capable of a little "Oh!"--the crest of a gasp.

  He misread her emotion. "Has it all been pretence, your keeping me fromyou like this? I believe it has. But now that you know you will be kind.Tell me. Speak."

  Encouraged by her silence he took her hand.

  That touch acted as a cold blast upon her fevered emotions. Now she wascalm.

  She shook off his hand. "Have you done?"

  The tone more than the question warned him.

  "Well?" he said; sullen wrath gathering.

  "Well, never speak to me again."

  "You won't be friends?"

  "Friends! With you!"

  Her meaning--that he had lost--stung him; her tone--that she despisedhim--was a finger in the wound.

  He gripped her arm. "You little fool! How are you going to choose? IfI want to be friends with you, how are you going to stop it? By God,if you want to be enemies it will be the worse for you. If I can't befriends with you at home, I'll get you turned out and I'll make you befriends outside."

  She was trying to twist her arm from his grasp.

  He gripped closer. "No, I don't mean that. I love you--that's why I talkso when you rebuff me. I'll not hurt you. We shall--I will be friends."

  His right arm held her. He slipped his left around her, drew her tohim, an
d with his lips had brushed her cheek before she was aware of hisintention.

  The insult swept her free of every thought but its memory. By a suddenmotion she slipped from his grasp and to her feet; faced him.

  "You beast!" she cried. "You beast!"

  He half rose; made a half grab at her.

  She stepped back a pace; something in her action reminded him of thatstinging blow she had dealt him in the library; he dropped back to hisseat and she turned and fled up the path whither Angela and David hadtoddled.

  IV.

  It was while Bob sat gazing after her, indeterminate, that he felt ahand from behind the seat upon his shoulder; looked up to see a tallyoung man, fresh faced, but fury-browed, regarding him.

  "What's your name?" asked George.

  "What the devil's that to do with you?"

  The tone of the first question had been of passion restrained. Thepassion broke now from between George's clenched teeth, flamed in hiseyes.

  He tightened his grip upon the other's shoulder so that he pinched theflesh.

  "A lot to do with me," he cried. "Is it Chater?"

  "What if it is? Let me go, damn you!"

  "Let you go! I've been itching for you for weeks! What have you beensaying to Miss Humfray?"

  "Damn you! Take off your hand! She's a friend of yours, is she?"

  My furious George choked: "Engaged to me." Further bit upon his passionhe could not brook. He brought his free hand down with a crash uponthe face twisted up at him; relaxed his hold; ran round the seat--thosebrown hands clenched.

  If Bob Chater at no time had aching desire for a brawl, he was at leastno coward: here the events he had suffered well sufficed to whiphis blood to action. He sprang to his feet, was upon them as George,sideways to him, came round the arm of the seat; lunged furiously andlanded a crack upon the cheekbone that spun George staggering up thepath.

  It was a good blow, a lusty blow--straight from the shoulder and withbody and leg work behind it; a blow that, happier placed, might wellhave won the battle.

  A ring upon Bob's finger cut the flesh he struck, and he gave a savage"Ha!" of triumph as he saw George go spinning and the red trickle comebreaking down his cheek.

  A great ridge in the gravel marked the thrust of foot with which Georgestayed his stagger, from which he impelled the savage spring thatbrought him within striking distance.

  There was no science. This was no calmly prepared fight with cool brainsdirecting attack, searching weak points, husbanding strength, deft indefence. Here was only the animal instinct to get close and wound; tograpple and wound again.

  George it was that provoked this spirit. Till now he had not seen thisflushed face before him. But he had for many days conjured it up inhis fancy--sharpening upon it the edge of his wrath, bruising himselfagainst the wall of wise conduct that kept him from meeting and visitingupon it the distress his Mary had endured.

  Now that he saw it in the flesh (and it was not unlike his conception),he came at it with the impulse of one who, straining against a rope,rushes headlong forward when a knife parts the bond.

  The impulse thus given more than countered the greater bulk and reachthat should have told in Bob's scale. Bob felt his wits and his couragesimultaneously deserting him before the pell-mell of blows that cameraining against his guard. Whensoever he effected a savage smash thatmomentarily checked the fury, it served but to bring back this seeminglydemented young man with a new rush and ardour.

  Bob gave step by step, struck short-arm, felt the faint saltness ofblood upon his lips, staggered back before a tremendous hit between theeyes, stumbled, tripped, fell.

  "Get up!" George bellowed; waited till Bob came rushing, and sent himreeling again with a broken tooth that cut the brown knuckles.

  Bob lacked not courage and had proved it, for he was sorely battered.But the pluck in him was whipped and now venom alone bade him make whathurt he could.

  His heavy stick was leaning against the seat. He seized it; swung ithigh; crashed a blow that must have split the head it aimed.

  George slipped aside; the blow missed. He poised himself as Bob,following the impulse, went staggering by; put all his weight behind acrashing hit and sent him spinning prone with a blow that was fittinglyfinal to the exhibition of lusty knocks.

  Bob propped himself on one arm, rose to his feet; glared;hesitated--then fell to brushing his knees.

  It was a masterly white flag.

  "Had enough?" George panted. "Had enough? Are you whipped, you swine?"

  Bob assiduously brushed.

  "When you're better, let me know," George cried; turned and hurried upthe path whither Mary had disappeared.

  The forced draught of fury, pain, and exertion sent Bob's breath roaringin and out in noisy blasts--now long and laboured, now spasmodic quick.

  He examined his bill of health and damage. Face everywhere tender to thetouch; clothes dust-covered and torn; both knees of trousers rent; silkhat stove in when in a backward rush he had set his foot upon it. Histongue discovered a broken tooth, his handkerchief a bleeding nose, hisfingers blood upon his chin, trickling to his shirt front.

  So well as might be he brushed his person; straightened his hat; clappedhandkerchief to his mouth; past staring eyes, grinning faces, hurriedout of the Park to bury himself in a cab.

  V.

  From a window Mrs. Chater saw the bruised figure of her darling boyalight; with palpitating heart rushed to greet him.

  "Bob! My boy! My boy! What has happened?"

  Her boy brushed past; bounded to his room. Laboriously, sick with fear,the devoted mother toiled in pursuit--found him in his room tearing offhis coat.

  "My boy! My boy!"

  Her boy bellowed: "_Hot water!_"

  Can a mother's tender care cease towards the child she bare?

  Oh! needless to ask such a question, you for whom is pictured thisdevoted woman plunging at breakneck speed for the bathroom, screaming asshe runs: "Susan! Kate! Jane! Jane! Kate! Susan!"

  Doors slammed, cries echoed, stairs shook, as trembling servants rushedresponsive.

  Crashing of cans, rushing of water, called them to the bathroom.

  "Oh, m'am! What is it?"

  Water flew in sprays as the agonised mother tested its temperature withher hands; cans rattled as she kicked them from where, in dragging onefrom the shelf, the others had clattered about her feet.

  Jane, Kate, and Susan clustered in alarm about the door: "Oh, m'am!M'am! Whatever is it?"

  Mrs. Chater gave no reply. Her can full, she plunged through them. Thisway and that they dodged to give her passage; dodge for dodge, demented,hysterical, she gave them--slopping boiling water on to agonised toes;bursting through at last; thundering up the stairs.

  The three plunged after her: "Oh, m'am! M'am! Whatever is it?"

  The devoted woman paused at the head of the stairs; screamed downorders: "Sticking-plaster! Lint! Cotton-wool! Mr. Bob has had anaccident! Hot-water bottles! Ice! Doctor! Go for the doctor, one ofyou!"

  A figure with battered face above vest and pants bounded from its room."No!" Bob roared. "No!"

  "No!" Mrs. Chater echoed, not knowing to what the negative applied, buthysterically commanding it.

  "No!" screamed the agitated servants, one to another.

  "No! no doctor!" bellowed Bob; grabbed the can from his mother; shotback to his room.

  "No doctor!" Mrs. Chater screamed to the white-faced pack upon thestairs; fled after him.

  "My boy! Tell me!"

  Her boy raised his dripping face from the basin. "For God's sake shutthe door!" he roared.

  She did. "Tell me!" she trembled.

  "It's that damned girl."

  "That girl?"

  "Miss Humfray!"

  "Miss Humfray! Done that to you! Oh, your poor face! Your poor face!"

  "No!--no! Do be quiet, mother! Some infernal man she goes about with inthe Park! I spoke to him and he set on me!"

  "The infamous creature! The wicked, infamous
girl! A bad girl, I knewit!--"

  Agitated tapping at the door: "The cotton-wool m'am." "Sticking-plaster,m'am." "'Ot bottle, m'am."

  "Go away!" roared Bob. "Go away! O-oo, my face!" He hopped in wrath andpain. "Send those damned women away!"

  Mrs. Chater rushed to the door. Passing, she for the first time caughtfull sight of her son's face now that the hot water had exposed itswreck. "Oh, your eyes! Your poor eyes! They're closing up!"

  Bob staggered to the mirror; discovered the full horror of his marredbeauty. "Curse it!" he groaned and gave an order.

  Mrs. Chater flew to the telephone.

  In the office of Mr. Samuel Hock, purveyor of meat, by appointment, tothe Prince of Wales, the telephone bell sharply rang. Mr. Hock steppedto the receiver, listened, then bellowed an order into the shop:

  "One of beefsteak to 14 Palace Gardens, sharp!"

  CHAPTER VI.

  A Cab For 14 Palace Gardens.

  I.

  With tremendous strides, with emotion roaring in and out his nostrils ingusty blasts of fury, my passionate George encompassed the Park this wayand that until he came at length upon his trembling Mary.

  Save for that first blow where Bob's ring had marked his cheek he hadsuffered but little in the fight--sufficiently, notwithstanding, coupledwith his colossal demeanour, for Mary's eyes to discover that somethingwas amiss.

  She came to him; cried at a little distance: "Oh, dearest, I--I couldnot meet you at the seat."