A GENEROUS TIPPLER.
I was not anxious to quarrel with Colonel Wimpleton, for he carried too
many guns for me; but I followed him out of the apartment, keeping at a
respectful distance behind him. He went into the bar-room, and called
for brandy. The landlord, who was behind the counter, pretended not to
understand him, and began to speak of something else.
“Brandy!” repeated the great man, in a loud and imperative tone.
It was folly to attempt to refuse him, and the landlord promptly placed
the fire-water before his savage guest. The colonel poured out and
swallowed a large potion of the fiery fluid. Throwing down the payment
for the dram with a lordly air, he turned and departed from the room.
I stepped out of his way as he approached, concluding that my mission
was finished. I decided to take the dummy back to Middleport. The
colonel returned to his chamber, while I moved towards the outside
door. I did not wish to have a scene with him. I had, with what now
seemed to me unparalleled audacity, told him he was drunk. I expected
to be discharged from my position as captain of the steamer, and to be
annihilated at once.
“Wolf!” shouted he from his room.
I was not absolutely afraid of him, though I dreaded his violence. I
went to the door of his apartment, and entered. He sat on the bed,
and looked up at me. He did not appear to be as savage as before. The
heavy dram he had just taken was beginning to have its effect, and his
expression was rather maudlin and silly than stern.
“If you have no further occasion for me, I think I will return to
Middleport by the dummy.”
“Don’t go. I want you,” said he. “You said I was drunk.”
“Yes, sir; I did say so; but only to explain what I had done.”
“Do you mean to say I _was_ drunk, Wolf?”
“Yes, sir; I have no doubt of it,” I replied, with a candor which
astonished myself.
“You are the first person that ever told me I was drunk.”
“I hope it will be the last time any one will have occasion to say so,
sir.”
“Don’t preach to me, Wolf. You are a very proper young man, but I never
let any one preach to me. You say I _was_ drunk.”
“Yes, sir; and you are drunk now.”
“Now?” he repeated, with a silly laugh.
“Yes, sir. You fell down between the rails this afternoon, and the
train came very near backing over you. When you arrived here you
couldn’t possibly stand up,” I answered, as honestly as though I had
been his social equal.
I was amazed at my own temerity; but I had already incurred his
displeasure, and with the possibility of opening his eyes to the
scandal of his beastly conduct, I made up my mind that I might as well
be hanged for an old sheep as a lamb, and that it should not be my
fault if he did not thoroughly comprehend his disgraceful situation.
“What has become of Waddie and that girl?” he inquired.
“What girl?”
“Why, the Toppleton girl.”
“They have gone to the Horse Shoe, sir; but they were in the house when
you arrived.”
“Were they? Why didn’t you tell me of it?”
“I would not have had them see you as you were then for all you are
worth.”
He pursed up his lips, as he had a habit of doing when he was vexed or
chagrined, and gazed upon the floor.
“You think I was drunk--do you, Wolf?”
“I know you were, sir; and I took you into this room, and put you
to bed. I kept you out of sight of Waddie and Miss Minnie, and told
the landlord not to tell any one you were here,” I continued, with
considerable spirit.
“Did you say you thought I was drunk, Wolf?” repeated he again.
“I am entirely satisfied that you were--beastly drunk,” I answered,
resolved, if there was any sense at all in him, that he should not
misunderstand me.
“Wolf, bring me a pen and ink,” he added, after gazing at the floor a
while.
“Don’t you think you had better lie down and take another nap, sir?”
“Bring me a pen and ink, I say.”
“I think you had better lie down.”
“Will you bring me a pen and ink, or shall I go myself for them?” said
he, sharply.
I did not think he could use a pen if I brought one, and I could not
imagine what he wished to write. I had no success in evading his
requests, and I went to the office for pen and ink. I placed the
articles upon the table, and wondered what was to be done. The colonel
rose from his seat on the bed, and bracing up his nerves, walked
tolerably straight across the floor, seating himself at the table.
“Don’t you want some paper, sir?”
“No; bring me my coat,” he replied.
I handed him the garment, and he took from one of the pockets of it
a small, narrow book, which he opened upon the table. I was in hopes
he intended to write a temperance pledge, or something of that sort.
He dipped the pen in the ink, and, with a convulsive effort, began to
write. I saw that the little volume before him was a pocket check-book.
He wrote what I supposed to be the date, for I was not impolite enough
to look over his shoulder.
“Wolf, do you say, upon your honor, that you thought I was drunk?” said
he, turning around, and looking me full in the face, as though there
was still a doubt upon the point.
“I know you were, sir; but if you think I am mistaken, I will call the
landlord.”
“Did he see me, too?”
“He couldn’t well help seeing you.”
“It’s a mistake, Wolf. I never was drunk in my life,” muttered he, in a
lower tone, as he wrote in the check-book.
I could form no very accurate idea of the current of thought which was
passing in his mind. The fury of his wrath had suddenly abated, though
I had told him the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I could not
imagine for what purpose he was drawing a check, unless it was to pay
my wages, and discharge me from his service. He wrote very rapidly, and
by jerks, apparently taking advantage of momentary periods, when his
nerves were more quiet. He finished the writing, after he had regularly
made the memoranda in the margin to indicate the amount and the payee
of the check. It was marvellous to me that he could write at all, and
especially so that he was able to go through all the business forms so
correctly. He tore the check from the book, and with a very peculiar
smile on his face, thrust it out at arm’s length towards me.
“Take that, Wolf,” said he, the drunken leer on his face becoming more
intense.
“What is it, sir?”
“Take it.”
I obeyed him. It was a check for ten thousand dollars, payable to Wolf
Penniman or bearer. I was astonished and bewildered.
“What is this for, sir?” I inquired.
“You can draw the money at the Centreport Bank,” he replied.
“I do not understand you, Colonel Wimpleton.”
“I make you a present of ten thousand dollars, Wolf; can’t you
understand that;” said he, the leer on his face deepening to a laugh.
“What is it for, sir?”
“That’s what I owe you, Wolf.”
“I think not.”
“O, I do,” protested he, vehemently; “you saved my life once, but I
never gave you a dollar for it.”
“But you gave me the command of the steamer, sir.”
“No matter for that. You beat the Lake Shore Line in her, and put twice
that sum of money into my pocket by it. The money is yours, Wolf. Now
don’t say another word about it.”
What was the magnate thinking about? What had given him this sudden fit
of generosity? A few moments before, he had been angry with me; now he
had gone to the other extreme. But the man was intoxicated. I did not
regard the check as mine, for it was the gift of a man not in his right
mind. It was a princely sum for a young person in my situation; but the
thought that the money would ever come into my possession did not occur
to me.
“Now, Wolf, you are my friend,” said he. “If you think I’m drunk, a
friend must bear a friend’s infirmities--humor them, and try to hide
them. Do you understand me, Wolf?”
“Is this the price of my silence in regard to the events of to-day?”
I asked, beginning to think that this was the solution of his
extraordinary generosity.
“No, no; by no means!” protested he. “It’s only just what I ought to do
for all you have done for me, and for Waddie.”
“But I cannot take this, sir. Your secret, so far as it is a secret, is
safe in my keeping. I have prevented you from being seen by Waddie and
Minnie.”
“I say, Wolf, you shall keep it,” he replied, with an oath, as he
brought his fist down upon the table with such force as to make the ink
fly from the inkstand.
It was useless to contend, and I did not attempt to oppose him.
“I would rather have your name to another paper than to this one,”
I replied, rather jocosely, as I laid the check upon the table, and
pointed to it with my finger.
“What’s that, Wolf?” he demanded, with excited interest. “Bring the
paper. Let me see it.”
I took the blank sheet of a letter from my pocket, and wrote as
follows: “I promise, on the honor of a man and a gentleman, to abstain
entirely from the use of intoxicating drinks, unless prescribed by a
physician.” I pushed the paper across the table to him. Adjusting his
eye-glass, he read it.
“I would rather have your name to that paper than to this,” I repeated,
pointing to the check, and pushing it towards him.
“Do you mean to insult me, Wolf?” demanded he, sternly.
“By no means, sir,” I replied, fearful that I had gone too far. “I mean
exactly what I say.”
Taking the paper from the table, he indignantly tore it into very small
pieces, and then, rushing to the window, threw them out.
“I am not an idiot! I am not a child!” protested he. “I know what I am
about, you see.”
“I did not mean to offend you, sir.”
“You have the check. We will change the subject,” he added, with an
attempt to put on his dignity. “I am not offended. Now, where is
Waddie?”
“On the Horse Shoe, I suppose, unless he has left for home.”
“Is the Toppleton girl with him?”
“I believe she is.”
“Courting!” sneered he. “I won’t have it! No, I won’t!”
“I assure you, sir, that you are entirely mistaken. I have seen Tom
Walton, who has been with them all day, and he says Waddie behaves like
a gentleman to Miss Toppleton, and nothing more.”
“But they are together.”
“You have nothing to fear from Waddie, if they are.”
“I am going over to the Horse Shoe, Wolf. I’m going to stop this thing
before it goes any farther,” said he, rising, and putting on his coat.
“I hope you will not, sir,” I interposed.
“I will.”
“I cannot keep your secret, if you expose yourself.”
“I am as regular as you are, Wolf;” and he went out of the room by the
door opening into the entry.
I followed him, determined that he should not go to the Horse Shoe, if
I could possibly prevent him from doing so.