THE DESTRUCTION OF A PROMINENT FACIAL MEMBER
The cabin steward had two feather dusters, one of which was very large,
and the other of medium size. He had used the big one so industriously
that very little was left of the feathers except the bare quills that
were inserted in a cylinder of hard wood, too heavy for the use of a
delicate female, though Dave had wielded it till it was in better
condition to be thrown overboard than to be used on the panels and
furniture of the cabin.
Captain Flanger was at the critical point in his operations, and he
was too busy with the commander to give any attention to the negro, whom
he regarded with the contempt begotten of his Southern education. Dave
was intelligent enough to understand the situation accurately, and he
realized that it was rapidly becoming critical. He knew that Christy was
unarmed, and that the whole attention of the pirate was concentrated
upon him, so that he could do nothing to help himself.
He knew also that if he attempted to leave the cabin to procure
assistance, Flanger would shoot him with as little remorse as he would
kill a coon in the woods. Watching his opportunity without trying to get
behind the intruder till the decisive moment came, he sprang into the
position he had selected in advance, and brought down the heavy head of
the feather duster upon the temple of the privateersman.
Probably it was the shock quite as much as the force of the blow that
brought down the steward's victim. But it was a heavy stroke, for the
wood of the feather duster was split into many pieces, and the stumps of
the feathers were scattered all over the table. The onslaught could not
fail to be very confusing to the ideas of the intruder, and he seemed to
be tangled up in the arm-chair in which he had been seated.
Captain Flanger was a man of stalwart proportions, and Christy realized
that he was no match for him in a hand to hand encounter, even with the
aid of the steward, for the ruffian would not fail to use his revolvers.
Dave was not satisfied with what he had done, and as his foe went over
in the chair, he sprang upon him, and tried to wrest the pistol from his
hand, and a struggle on the floor was begun, the result of which could
not be foreseen. Christy took in the situation at a glance, and while
the steward and his victim were rolling and writhing on the floor, he
darted into his stateroom, the door of which had been open all the time,
and took his heavy revolvers from the drawer where he kept them, charged
for immediate use.
When he rushed back to the cabin, Flanger had got the better of his
foe, and had risen to his feet, with his grasp upon the throat of the
steward. Then he hurled him from him with a vigorous movement with his
left hand, while he raised the right with the evident intention of
shooting him. The commander saw the imminent peril of Dave; he took a
hasty aim and fired before the intruder had time to do so. He was a good
shot with the navy revolver, for he had taken lessons and practised a
good deal with the weapon.
He had aimed at the head of Flanger, and he saw that he had hit him, for
his face was instantly covered with blood. He did not think it necessary
to fire a second shot, but he was careful not to let the opportunity
pass by if it was needed to reduce the privateersman to subjection.
Flanger dropped his weapon instantly, and Dave as instantly picked it
up. It was clear to Christy then that the battle had been fought and
won, though the defeated party had another revolver in his pocket.
In spite of his claim that he was a religious man, he indulged in a
volley of profane language which made the commander's blood run cold
in his veins. His right hand, from which he had dropped one of his
revolvers, was pressed upon his nose, as though this organ was the seat
of his injury. He stood behind the table, and continued to swear like a
pirate in a passion. His face and his hand were absolutely covered with
blood.
Both Christy and Dave kept their positions, each with a revolver in his
hand, ready to finish the victim if he exhibited any symptoms of further
violence. This was the tableau presented in the captain's cabin when
the door was suddenly opened by the first lieutenant, who rushed in,
followed by the second lieutenant and Quartermaster Vincent. Mr. Flint
had been on the quarter-deck, and had heard the report of Christy's
revolver when he fired. Calling Mr. Camden and the quartermaster, he has
come to ascertain the cause of the fracas; and the sight was certainly
impressive when he entered.
"Any orders, Captain Passford?" asked the first lieutenant, as he saw
that Christy appeared to be master of the situation.
"Stand by to secure that man," replied the commander, pointing at the
wounded man behind the table. "He has a revolver in his left coat
pocket."
The three officers promptly obeyed the order, and laid violent hands
on Captain Flanger, Mr. Flint taking the weapon from his pocket. They
seized him by the collar of his coat, and the executive officer held
his left arm, with the handcuffs on the wrist. The victim of the affray
still held on to his nose, though Mr. Camden took possession of the arm.
"You appear to be wounded, Captain Flanger?" said Christy, approaching
the table.
"Wounded, you"--
The oaths and epithets he used need not soil our page; but the prisoner
seemed to be suffering more from his wrath than from his wound.
"You have shot off by dose, you!"--groaned Flanger. "The ball welt
straight through it."
"Then you are not dangerously wounded," added Christy. "I was afraid it
had gone through your head."
"I wish it had! You have bade a scarecrow of be for life!" he gasped.
"What's the trouble here, Captain Passford?" asked Dr. Connelly,
presenting himself at the door of the cabin. "Didn't I hear the report
of a firearm in this direction just now?"
"Very likely you did, if your hearing is good," replied Christy with a
smile, for the large revolver, discharged in the small cabin, made a
tremendous noise. "The gentleman behind the table, who is holding on to
his nose, requires some of your professional skill. He was proceeding to
capture the Bronx, and had gone to the point where you find him."
"I dol't walt any Yalkee surgeod at work od be," protested Captain
Flanger, whose speech was badly affected by the injury to his nasal
organ, or by the pressure he applied to it with his hand.
"You can consult your own inclination as to that, my excellent friend.
I shall not force you to be treated by him," added Christy, "But I must
suggest that this farce has been carried far enough in my cabin."
"Farce! Do you cod this a farce?" demanded the wounded man indignantly.
"You have shot off by dose!"
In fact, Captain Flanger seemed to be more disturbed at the accident to
his proboscis, than by the failure of his quixotic scheme to capture the
Bronx. He was certainly a very good-looking man, and took good care of
his person, as indicated by the care bestowed upon his hair and beard.
"The farce came to an end when you menaced me with death if I declined
to sign the order you dictated, and the steward played the first scene
in the tragedy. I am sure it was a farce up to that time," replied
Christy. "Mr. Flint, have the prisoner put in irons, and remove him to
the quarters of the men forward. Give him a berthsack and a blanket, and
place a hand to stand guard over him."
The executive officer sent Mr. Camden on deck for a pair of handcuffs
and a couple of men to execute the order. Flanger still retained his
standing position behind the table, holding on to his nose, which
continued to bleed very freely. The surgeon went over to him, and
endeavored to obtain a sight of the mutilated member.
"I think you had better let me stanch the blood," suggested Dr.
Connelly.
"Do!" exclaimed the patient. "You will take off what is left of by
dose."
"As you please," replied the surgeon, as the second lieutenant returned
attended by two stout seamen.
"Remove the handcuff from his left wrist, and fit him out with a new
pair," said Mr. Flint, who still held the left arm of the prisoner.
Mr. Camden took off the irons, for he had a key to them, and enclosed
the wrist in the new pair. Then the two men were directed to take his
right arm, which they did, and drew his hand from his nose. This act
roused the ire of Flanger, and he began to struggle; but powerful as he
was, the two seamen were too much for him, and he was fairly handcuffed.
The second lieutenant was the officer of the deck, and he was sent back
to his post of duty. Flanger's face was so covered and daubed with the
gore from his wound that the condition of his prominent facial member
could not be determined.
"I protest agailst this brutal treatmelt!" stormed the prisoner, as he
continued to writhe in his irons. "I am a woulded plisoler!"
"I see you are; but you decline to permit the surgeon to dress your
wound. I have no more time to fool with you, and the men will put you
on a berthsack forward. If you want the surgeon to attend to your wound,
you have only to say so."
"It is a bad wound though not a dangerous one," said Dr. Connelly, who
had approached the victim of his own conspiracy near enough to obtain a
view of the injured nose. "The ball has torn away the middle of the
member, and it hangs in pieces from the wound."
"I have had enough of him; remove him to the quarters," added Christy.
"You took splendid aim, Captain Passford," said the surgeon, smiling.
"I did not aim at his nose, but at his head in a general way," replied
the commander. "I fired in a hurry, and I meant to reach his brains, if
he had any. Take him away; I am disgusted."
"The fortules of war are agailst me, Captail Passford; but if you ever
fall ilto my halds, I will cut your dose off cleal to your face," howled
the prisoner, boiling over with wrath.
"Take him away!" added Christy with energy; and the two seamen dragged
him out of the cabin, leaving only Mr. Flint, the surgeon, and the
steward in the cabin. "Dave," he continued, stepping up to the last, and
taking him by the hand, "you have behaved remarkably well, and I thank
you for the good service you have rendered to me and the cause of your
country."
"I done do what I thought was right, Captain Passford, though folks like
that fellow think a poor nigger is no account," replied the steward,
putting every tooth in his head on exhibition.
"Perhaps he will change his mind after this. If you have not saved my
life, Dave, you have saved my self-respect, for your prompt action,
quite as soon as it was prudent for you to act, redeemed me from any
further submission, and I expected to throw away my life rather than
sign that order. I think he would not have killed me, for that would
have blocked his game; but he would have wounded me in two minutes more.
I thank you with all my heart, Dave, and I shall not forget what you
have done."
"Thank you, Captain Passford," replied the steward.
"I do not fully understand this affair, captain," said Mr. Flint.
"Sit down, take a seat, doctor, and I will tell you all about it. You
may go forward, Dave, and report to me the condition of the prisoner,"
added Christy, as he seated himself at the table, and began to tell the
story of the intruder's visit to his cabin.
He finished the narrative, and the officers were discussing it when
there was a knock at the door.
"Sail on the port bow, sir," reported a quartermaster.