“Are you two going to fight? I am not sorry! I wish I could have that
cat Ferguson out.”
“I hope---oh---I am sure, Mr. Wynne, it cannot be. How dreadful!” said
Darthea.
“Nonsense!” cried my aunt. “A man cannot stand everything like a woman.”
I said plainly, seeing how vain my aunt had made concealment, that there
had been some words, but that I trusted no harm would come of it.
“But there will! there will!” said Miss Peniston.
“Mercy upon us!” cried my aunt; for here was Darthea on the floor, and
burnt feathers and vinegar at hand, servants running about, my aunt
ordering “Cut her stay-strings!” as I was turned out, hearing my aunt
declare, “I do believe she is in love with all the men. Is it you or the
captain? What a shameless monkey to tumble all of a heap that way! It is
hardly decent. Do go away, you goose! ‘Tis a way she has. Did never you
see a woman faint?”
I never did, and I was scared faint myself. What between Darthea’s
fainting spell, and this quarrel not of my seeking, I was uncomfortable
enough. I had no one but Jack to appeal to; and here was a pair of
Quaker lads, just over twenty-two, in a proper scrape. I had not the
least intention of getting out of it, save in one way. The sneer at
my aunt was more than I could endure. What my father would think was
another matter.
Mr. Wilson used to say: “When you are in difficulties dispose of the
worst first;” and so I resolved, as I must fight the man, and that was
the imminent matter, to set aside all thought of my parent, until I was
done with Mr. Woodville. Jack I took for granted, and so left a note
with the servant asking my opponent’s friend to call on Jack at an hour
when he was like to be alone. Before I could leave to warn him of what
was on hand my aunt came to me.
“I sent that girl home in the chaise. It was her fear lest some one may
be hurt, but she really has no excuse. She talked quite wild as she came
to--I mean of you and Arthur Wynne--just mere babble. And, O Hugh! I am
a drivelling old maid, and have taught you all manner of nonsense, and
now I have got you into trouble. Don’t let him kill you, Hugh. Cannot
it be stopped? I told Darthea to hold her tongue, and I am so miserable,
Hugh; and when I think of your dead mother, and all I promised, what
shall I do?” And the kind old lady penitently wept over me, as if I were
run through already.
I felt, as you may imagine, the embarrassment and doubt a young man
feels when about to protest by a single act against the creed of conduct
which he has been taught to follow since he could remember. I smiled,
too, as I recalled our first school duel, and how Jack and I ran away.
My aunt, seeing there was nothing more to be done, and having said quite
enough, retired, I am sure to pray for me, and for herself as the main
cause of my coming risk. She would have liked to see me well out of
the affair, but I do believe would not have had me excuse myself to my
lieutenant, let what might occur. Indeed, she did her best to keep Miss
Darthea from betraying what, but for my aunt’s rash outburst, would not
have gone beyond those immediately concerned.
It was late in the afternoon, when I found Jack writing in his father’s
house. I must have looked grave, for he rose quickly and, coming to meet
me, set a hand on each of my shoulders--a way he had, but only with me.
“What is it?” he said; “not the news?”
“No.” In fact, it had clean gone out of my mind.
“I have had trouble with Mr. Woodville, and now I must fight him.” And
on this I related the whole adventure, Jack listening intently.
“Thou shouldst have an older man than I, Hugh. These affairs may often
be mended, I learn, without coming to violence.” He seemed a little
embarrassed, and reddened, hesitating as he spoke, so that, stupidly not
comprehending him as I should have done, I said hastily that the man had
insulted my aunt, and that there was but one way out of it, but that I
could try to get some one else, if to act as my friend was not to his
taste.
“At this time,” he writes, “when Hugh came so near to hurting me, I was
really going through in my mind what he had already disposed of in his.
At Pike’s we heard of nothing but duels. I had long been Pike’s pupil.
The duel had come to seem to us, I fear, the natural and inevitable
ending of a quarrel. Such was the belief of my good friend Mistress
Wynne’s set, and of the officers whose opinions as to social matters we
had learned to regard as final.
“And yet the absurdity of two Quaker lads so trapped struck me as it did
not Hugh. The man must surely have thought him older than he was, but
so did most. I feared that I should not do my friend justice; and then I
thought of dear Mistress Gainor, whom I now loved, and for whom to lose
Hugh would be as death in life; and so, quickly turning it over for one
mad moment, I wondered if I could not someway get this quarrel on to my
own shoulders. When I answered Hugh I must have made him misunderstand
me, or so I think from what he said. When he exclaimed he could get some
one else, I made haste to put myself right. We had little time, however,
to discuss the matter, for at this moment came a Captain Le Clere with
Hugh’s note.
“Hugh was now in one of his quiet, smiling moods, when from his face you
would have said there was some jest or wager in question, and from his
talk, which had a kind of intensity of distinct articulation, that it
was, as I thought it, most serious. He was coldly civil to Mr. Le Clere,
and to me apart said, ‘Small swords, and the governor’s woods by the
spring’ as if he were arranging a quite familiar and every-day affair.
“I frankly declared that I was new to an office of this kind, and must
trust to Mr. Le Clere’s honour and courtesy. He seemed pleased at
this, and thought a pity of so young a man to have such a difficulty,
expressing his hopes of accommodation, which I knew Hugh too well to
think possible.
“As soon as we had arranged the needed preliminaries, and Mr. Le Clere
had gone, I went to borrow small swords of Pike, arranging to come
for them after dark. Duels were common enough even in our Quaker town,
especially among gentlemen of his Majesty’s service. Although illegal,
so strongly was it felt that for certain offences there was no other
remedy possible, that it was difficult to escape the resort to weapons
if those involved were of what we who are of it like to call the better
class.
“At daybreak Hugh and I were waiting in the woods where--near to what
Mr. Penn meant as a public square, a little east of Schuylkill-Eighth
street--was an open space, once a clearing, but now disused, and much
overgrown. We were first on the ground, and I took occasion to tell Hugh
of Pike’s counsels--for he had at once guessed what we were about--to
watch his opponent’s eyes, and the like. Hugh, who was merry, and had
put aside such thoughts of the future as were troubling me, declared
that it was the mouth a man should watch, which I think is the better
opinion. I said, of course, nothing of what Pike told me as to Mr.
Woodville being a first-rate player, and only advised my friend to be
cautious.
“Mr. Woodville, who came with Le Clere and a surgeon, was a short lump
of a man, and an odd contrast to his friend, who was long and lank. The
pair of them looked like Don Quixote and his squire. The short man I
felt quite confident Hugh could handle, and was surprised, seeing his
build, that Pike should have declared him a good blade. Mr. Le Clere was
very civil, and I followed his directions, knowing, as I have said, but
little of such affairs.
“Our men being stripped to the shirt, and ready, Mr. Le Clere and I drew
away some twenty feet. Then, to my surprise, the lean officer said to
me, ‘Mr. Warder, shall I have the honour to amuse you with a turn? Here
are our own swords of a length, as you see.’
“I was anything rather than amused. I had heard of this foolish English
custom of the friends also engaging. I knew that it was usual to make
the offer, and that it was not needful to accept; but now, as I saw my
Hugh standing ready with his sword upon the ground, I began to shake all
over, and to colour. Such hath always been my habit when in danger,
even from my boyhood. It is not because I am afraid. Yet, as it seems
to another like fear, to feel it sets me in a cold rage, and has many
times, as on this occasion, led me into extremes of rashness.
“I suppose Mr. Le Clere saw my condition, and unhappily let loose on his
face a faint smile. ‘At your service,’ I said, and cast off my coat.
“‘It is not necessary, sir,’ he replied, a bit ashamed to engage a
fellow like me, who shook and blushed, and looked to be about seventeen.
“‘We are losing time,’ said I, in a fury, not over-sorry to be thus or
in any way distracted from Hugh’s peril. In truth, I need have had small
fear for him. For two years Hugh and I had fenced almost daily, and what
with Pike and Arthur Wynne, knew most of the tricks of the small sword.
“The next moment Le Clere cried, ‘On guard, gentlemen!’ and I heard the
click of the blades as they met. I had my hands full, and was soon aware
of Le Clere’s skill. I was, however, as agile as a cat, and he less
clever with his legs than his arm. Nor do I think he desired to make
the affair serious. In a few minutes--it seemed longer--I heard an oath,
and, alarmed for Hugh, cast a glance in his direction. I saw his foe
fall back, his sword flying some feet away. My indiscretion gave my man
his chance. His blade caught in my rolled-up sleeve, bent, and, as I
drove my own through his shoulder, passed clean through the left side
of my neck. With a great jet of blood, I fell, and for a little knew no
more.”
This account from Jack’s journal is a better statement of this sad
business than I could have set down. I saw with horror Jack and Le
Clere salute, and then was too full of business to see more, until I had
disarmed Mr. Woodville, badly wounding his sword-hand, a rare accident.
And here was my Jack dead, as I thought. I think I can never forget that
scene; Mr. Le Clere, gaunt and thin, lifting his late foe, the surgeon
kneeling and busy, my own man hot and wrathful, cursing like mad, and
wrapping his hand about with a handkerchief, clearly in pain, and I
waiting for the word of death or life.
At last the doctor said, “It is bad--bad, but not fatal. How came it,
Le Clere? You told me that neither you nor Mr. Woodville meant anything
serious.”
I was kneeling by Jack, and was not intended to hear what all were too
hot and excited to guard by bated breath.
“Damn it, doctor!” returned Le Clere. “It is no use to talk. I never
imagined that youngster would take me at my word.”
“You will be in hot water here,” said the doctor. “I would advise you to
get away, and soon.”
“And we shall supply amusement to every mess in the army,” said
Woodville, with an abundance of bad language. “Quakers indeed!”
Jack’s eyes opened, and he said, “Thou art not hurt, Hugh?”
“No, no!” I answered, and, relieved a little, turned to Mr. Le Clere:
“We shall, I fear, have to ask thy chaise of thee. We came afoot. I will
send it back at once.”
Le Clere said, “Of course; with all my heart.”
“Thou wilt pardon me,” said I, “if I advise thee to accept the doctor’s
advice, and get away with all speed. I should be sorry if thou wert
arrested. The feeling against gentlemen of thy profession is unhappily
strong just now.”
Le Clere looked me over with a quick glance of something like curiosity,
and said, as he gave his hand, “You are a gallant gentleman, Mr. Wynne.
You will permit an older man to say so. I trust we may meet again. Are
all Quakers as clever at swordplay?”
I said a civil word, seeing Jack smile as he lay with my bloody coat
under his head. Then, as I remembered that perhaps Mr. Woodville might
not be satisfied, I went up to him and said, “I am at thy service, sir,
if thou art not contented to let us be quit of this matter.”
“It must needs rest now,” he replied. “Damn your tricks!”
“Sir!” said I.
“Holloa!” says Le Clere; “this won’t do. Keep your temper. This way, Mr.
Wynne.” And he drew me aside.
It was full time; I was beginning to get my blood up, and was in a rage.
“This comes,” he said, “of going out with a fellow that has risen from
the ranks. Why do your ladies receive every one who wears a red coat?
Let me help you with your friend. I am most sorry. For my share, I
have a neat reminder in the shoulder. Mr. Warder has the wrist of a
blacksmith”--which was true, and for good reason.
There is no need to tell of the wrath and incapacity of poor Jack’s
father, I got away as soon as Dr. Rush arrived, and, promising to return
in an hour, went off with a smile from my Jack, and a “Thank God! Hugh,
that it was not thou who had the worst of it.”
It was about seven as I knocked at my aunt’s door, and, passing the
black page, ran upstairs. My aunt was in the breakfast-room; she came to
meet me in a morning gown, and to my astonishment was very tranquil, but
with eyes that looked anxious, and far more red than common.
“Sit down, sir. I want to hear about this ridiculous business.”
“It may seem so to thee,” said I; “I am glad if it amuses thee.”
“Stuff! Talk decent English, man. That was like your father. Is--are
you--is any one hurt?”
I said that was what we went for, and so told her the whole sorry
business.
“And it was for me, sir!” she cried; “for me! And my dear brave
girl-boy! Is it dangerous?”
I hoped not. We had both left our marks on the English officers. That
she liked. Then she was silent awhile.
“Here is come a note from the kitten. Will you have it? It may be all
you will ever get of her. She says she has held her tongue; I can’t--I
don’t believe her--and asks me to let her know if any are hurt. I
will. Does she suppose gentlemen go out just to look at one another?
Ridiculous!”
I spoke at last of my father; of how he would take this matter, of his
increasing acerbity, and of my own unhappy life, where I found nothing
to replace my mother’s love. My last disaster and poor Jack’s wound
seemed like enough to widen the gap between me and my parent, and my
Aunt Gainor was troubled.
“You must be first to tell him,” said my aunt. “I think he will say but
little. He has given you up as a sheep lost in the darkness of iniquity,
and too black to be found easily.”