I was of a serious mind to take the advice. To prove this I called for
my wrap-rascal and cane, and for a fellow with a flambeau to light me.
But just then the party arrived from the assembly. I was tempted, and
I sat down again in a corner of the room, resolved to keep a check upon
myself, but to stay awhile.
The rector was the first in, humming a song, and spied me.
“Ho!” he cried, “will you drink, Richard? Or do I drink with you?”
He was already purple with wine.
“God save me from you and your kind!” I replied.
“'Sblood! what a devil's nest of fireworks!” he exclaimed, as he went
off down the room, still humming, to where the rest were gathered. And
they were soon between bottle and stopper, and quips a-coursing. There
was the captain of the Thunderer, Collinson by name, Lord Comyn and two
brother officers, Will Fotheringay, my cousin Philip, openly pleased
to be found in such a company, and some dozen other toadeaters who
had followed my Lord a-chair and a-foot from the ball, and would have
tracked him to perdition had he chosen to go; and lastly Tom Swain,
leering and hiccoughing at the jokes, in such a beastly state of
drunkenness as I had rarely seen him. His Lordship recognized me and
smiled, and was pushing his chair back, when something Collinson said
seemed to restrain him.
I believe I was the butt of more than one jest for my aloofness, though
I could not hear distinctly for the noise they made. I commanded some
French cognac, and kept my eye on the rector, and the sight of him was
making me dangerous.
I forgot the advice I had received, and remembered only the months he
had goaded me. And I was even beginning to speculate how I could best
pick a quarrel with him on any issue but politics, when an unexpected
incident diverted me. Of a sudden the tall, ungainly form of Percy
Singleton filled the doorway, wrapped in a greatcoat. He swept the room
at a glance, and then strode rapidly toward the corner where I sat.
“I had thought to find you here,” he said, and dropped into a chair
beside me. I offered him wine, but he refused.
“Now,” he went on, “what has Patty done?”
“What have I done that I should be publicly insulted?” I cried.
“Insulted!” says he, “and did she insult you? She said nothing of that.”
“What brings you here, then?” I demanded.
“Not to talk, Richard,” he said quietly, “'tis no time tonight. I came
to fetch you home. Patty sent me.”
Patty sent him! Why had Patty sent him? But this I did not ask, for I
felt the devil within me.
“We must first finish this bottle,” said I, offhand, “and then I have a
little something to be done which I have set my heart upon. After that I
will go with you.”
“Richard, Richard, will you never learn prudence? What is it you speak
of?”
I drew my sword and laid it upon the table.
“I mean to spit that eel of a rector,” said I, “or he will bear a slap
in the face. And you must see fair play.”
Singleton seized my coat, at the same time grasping the hilt of my
sword with the other hand. But neither my words nor my action had gone
unnoticed by the other end of the room. The company there fell silent
awhile, and then we heard Captain Collinson talking in even, drawling
tones.
“'Tis strange,” said he, “what hot sparks a man meets in these colonies.
They should be stamped out. His Majesty pampers these d--d Americans,
is too lenient by far. Gentlemen, this is how I would indulge them!” He
raised a closed fist and brought it down on the board.
He spoke to Tories, but he forgot that Tories were Americans. In those
days only the meanest of the King's party would listen to such without
protest from an Englishman. But some of the meaner sort were there:
Philip and Tom laughed, and Mr. Allen, and my Lord's sycophants.
Fotheringay and some others of sense shook their heads one to another,
comprehending that Captain Collinson was somewhat gone in wine. For,
indeed, he had not strayed far from the sideboard at the assembly. Comyn
made a motion to rise.
“It is already past three bells, sir, and a hunt to-morrow,” he said.
“From bottle to saddle, and from saddle to bottle, my Lord. We must have
our pleasure ashore, and sleep at sea,” and the captain tipped his flask
with a leer. He turned his eye uncertainly first on me, then on my Lord.
“We are lately from Boston, gentlemen, that charnel-house of treason,
and before we leave, my Lord, I must tell them how Mr. Robinson of the
customs served that dog Otis, in the British Coffee House. God's word,
'twas as good as a play.”
I know not how many got to their feet at that, for the story of the
cowardly beating of Mr. Otis by Robinson and the army officers had swept
over the colonies, burning like a flame all true-hearted men, Tory and
Whig alike. I wrested my sword from Singleton's hold, and in a trice
I had reached the captain over chairs and table, tearing myself from
Fotheringay on the way. I struck a blow that measured a man on the
floor. Then I drew back, amazed.
I had hit Lord Comyn instead! The captain stood a yard beyond me.
The thing had been so deftly done by the rector of St. Anne's--Comyn
jostled at the proper moment between me and Collinson--that none save me
guessed beyond an accident; least of all my Lord Comyn himself. He was
up again directly and his sword drawn, addressing me.
“Bear witness, my Lord, that I have no desire to fight with you,” said
I, with what coolness I could muster. “But there is one here I would
give much for a chance to run through.”
And I made a step toward Mr. Allen with such a purpose in my face and
movements that he could not mistake. I saw the blood go from his face;
yet he was no coward to physical violence. But he (or I?) was saved by
the Satan's luck that followed him, for my Lord stepped in between us
with a bow, his cheek red where I had struck him.
“It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel,” he cried.
“As you please, my Lord,” said I.
“It boots not who crosses with him,” Captain Collinson put in. “His
Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that
he is opposed by a loyal servant of the King.”
I wheeled on him for this.
“I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and
murder, sir,” I answered, “nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes
cannot be loyal save through interest.”
He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the
quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother
as against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been
reared.
“Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn,” cried the captain, with
an oath. “He seems to think his importance sufficient.”
But Comyn would brook no interference. He swore that no man should
strike him with impunity, and in this I could not but allow he was
right.
“You shall hear from me, Mr. Carvel,” he said.
“Nay,” I answered, “and fighting is to be done, sir, let us be through
with it at once. A large room upstairs is at our disposal; and there is
a hunt to-morrow which one of us may like to attend.”
There was a laugh at this, in which his Lordship joined.
“I would to God, Mr. Carvel,” he said, “that I had no quarrel with you!”
“Amen to that, my Lord,” I replied; “there are others here I would
rather fight.” And I gave a meaning look at Mr. Allen. I was of two
minds to announce the scurvy trick he had played, but saw that I would
lose rather than gain by the attempt. Up to that time the wretch had not
spoken a word; now he pushed himself forward, though well clear of me.
“I think it my duty as Mr. Carvel's tutor, gentlemen, to protest against
this matter proceeding,” he said, a sneer creeping into his voice. “Nor
can I be present at it. Mr. Carvel is young and, besides, is not himself
with liquor. And, in the choice of politics, he knows not which leg he
stands upon. My Lord and gentlemen, your most humble and devoted.”
He made a bow and, before the retort on my lips could be spoken, left
the tavern. My cousin Philip left with him. Tom Swain had fallen asleep
in his chair.
Captain Collinson and Mr. Furness, of the Thunderer, offered to serve
his Lordship, which made me bethink that I, too, would have need of some
one. 'Twas then I remembered Singleton, who had passed from my mind.
He was standing close behind me, and nodded simply when I asked him. And
Will Fotheringay came forward.
“I will act, Richard, if you allow me,” he said. “I would have you know
I am in no wise hostile to you, my Lord, and I am of the King's party.
But I admire Mr. Carvel, and I may say I am not wholly out of sympathy
with that which prompted his act.”
It was a noble speech, and changed Will in my eyes; and I thanked
him with warmth. He of all that company had the courage to oppose his
Lordship!
Mr. Claude was called in and, as is the custom in such cases, was told
that some of us would play awhile above. He was asked for his private
room. The good man had his suspicions, but could not refuse a party
of such distinction, and sent a drawer thither with wine and cards.
Presently we followed, leaving the pack of toadies in sad disappointment
below.
We gathered about the table and made shift at loo until the fellow had
retired, when the seconds proceeded to clear the room of furniture, and
Lord Comyn and I stripped off our coats and waistcoats. I had lost my
anger, but felt no fear, only a kind of pity that blood should be shed
between two so united in spirit as we. Yes, my dears, I thought of
Dorothy. If I died, she would hear that it was like a man--like a
Carvel. But the thought of my old grandfather tightened my heart. Then
the clock on the inn stairs struck two, and the noise of harsh laughter
floated up to us from below.
And Comyn,--of what was he thinking? Of some fair home set upon the
downs across the sea, of some heroic English mother who had kept her
tears until he was gone? Her image rose in dumb entreaty, invoked by
the lad before me. What a picture was he in his spotless shirt with the
ruffles, his handsome boyish face all that was good and honest!
I had scarce felt his Lordship's wrist than I knew I had to deal with a
pupil of Angelo. At first his attacks were all simple, without feint
or trickery, as were mine. Collinson cursed and cried out that it was
buffoonery, and called on my Lord not to let me off so easily; swore
that I fenced like a mercer, that he could have stuck me like a
pin-cushion twenty and twenty times. Often have I seen two animals
thrust into a pit with nothing but good-will between them, and those
without force them into anger and a deadly battle. And so it was,
unconsciously, between Comyn and me. I forgot presently that I was not
dealing with Captain Collinson, and my feelings went into my sword.
Comyn began to press me, nor did I give back. And then, before it came
over me that we had to do with life and death, he was upon me with a
volte coupe, feinting in high carte and thrusting in low tierce, his
point passing through a fold in my shirt. And I were not alive to write
these words had I not leaped out of his measure.
“Bravo, Richard!” cried Fotheringay.
“Well made, gads life!” from Mr. Furness.
We engaged again, our faces hot. Now I knew that if I did not carry the
matter against him I should be killed out of hand, and Heaven knows
I was not used to play a passive part. I began to go carefully, but
fiercely; tried one attack after another that my grandfather and Captain
Daniel had taught me,--flanconnades, beats, and lunges. Comyn held me
even, and in truth I had much to do to defend myself. Once I thought I
had him in the sword-arm, after a circular parry, but he was too quick
for me. We were sweating freely by now, and by reason of the buzzing in
my ears I could scarce hear the applause of the seconds.
What unlucky chance it was I know not that impelled Comyn to essay again
the trick by which he had come so near to spitting me; but try it
he did, this time in prime and seconde. I had come by nature to that
intuition which a true swordsman must have, gleaned from the eyes of
his adversary. Long ago Captain Daniel had taught me the remedy for this
coupe. I parried, circled, and straightened, my body in swift motion and
my point at Comyn's heart, when Heaven brought me recollection in the
space of a second. My sword rang clattering on the floor.
His Lordship understood, but too late. Despairing his life, he made one
wild lunge at me that had never gone home had I held to my hilt. But the
rattle of the blade had scarce reached my ears when there came a sharp
pain at my throat, and the room faded before me. I heard the clock
striking the half-hour.
I was blessed with a sturdy health such as few men enjoy, and came to
myself sooner than had been looked for, with a dash of cold water. And
the first face I beheld was that of Colonel Washington. I heard him
speaking in a voice that was calm, yet urgent and commanding.
“I pray you, gentlemen, give back. He is coming to, and must have air.
Fetch some linen!”
“Now God be praised!” I heard Captain Daniel cry.
With that his Lordship began to tear his own shirt into strips, and the
captain bringing a bowl and napkin, the colonel himself washed the wound
and bound it deftly, Singleton and Captain Daniel assisting. When Mr.
Washington had finished, he turned to Comyn, who stood, anxious and
dishevelled, at my feet.
“You may be thankful that you missed the artery, my Lord,” he said.
“With all my heart, Colonel Washington!” cried his Lordship. “I owe my
life to his generosity.”
“What's that, sir?”
Mr. Carvel dropped his sword, rather than run me through.”
“I'll warrant!” Captain Daniel put in; “'Od's heart! The lad has skill
to point the eye of a button. I taught him myself.”
Colonel Washington stood up and laid his hand on the captain's arm.
“He is Jack Carvel over again,” I heard him say, in a low voice.
I tried to struggle to my feet, to speak, but he restrained me. And
sending for his servants, he ordered them to have his baggage removed
from the Roebuck, which was the best bed in the house. At this moment
the door opened, and Mr. Swain came in hurriedly.
“I pray you, gentlemen,” he cried, “and he is fit to be moved, you will
let me take him to Marlboro' Street. I have a chariot at the door.”