THE KNIGHT AND THE CAPTAIN.
"Captain O'Blunderbuss!" murmured Sir Christopher, in a faint tone, as
he sank back dismayed into his seat.
"Be the power-rs! and how are ye, my hearty old cock?" was the polite
salutation of the gallant gentleman, as, advancing close up to the
knight, he grasped his hand and shook it with as much energy as if he
were a policeman carrying off a starving mendicant to the station-house
for the _heinous crime_ of begging.
"Thank you, Captain—I—I'm pretty well," responded Sir Christopher.
"Well, that's a blessing, be Jasus!" cried the Captain, coolly taking a
seat. "Is it claret that you're after dhrinking, Sir-r Christopher?" he
demanded, taking up the bottle and holding it between his eyes and the
lamp. "Iligant stuff in its way—but not my lush. Have ye no potheen in
the house, Sir Christopher-r?"
"Potheen?" repeated the knight, not understanding the name nor half
liking the intrusion.
"Is it you, Sir-r Christopher, that don't know what rale Irish potheen
is?" cried the Captain. "Why, there's niver a child in ould Ir-reland
that can't spell potheen. Whiskey, Sir Christopher—whiskey! But I'll
save ye the throuble of ringing for it yourself:"—and, with these words,
Captain O'Blunderbuss applied his hand most vigorously to the bell-pull.
The footman answered the summons.
"Your masther says, sirrah," exclaimed the Captain, "that ye're to bring
up a bottle of the best Irish whiskey—rale potheen—with a tumbler, a
spoon, a lemon, hot water, and sugar and look shar-rp about it, too!"
The domestic retired, and Sir Christopher stared in amazement at the
Captain; for the worthy knight was so astounded by the free and easy
manners of his visitor, that he was not quite certain whether he, Sir
Christopher Blunt, was actually in his own house at the moment, or
whether he was in some public coffee-room where every one had a right to
order the waiter about as he chose.
"I hope you're not offinded with me, Sir Christopher-r, by making myself
at home?" said the Captain: "but it isn't me that's the boy to stand on
any ceremony."
The knight thought that his visitor could never have said a truer thing
in his life.
"Not I, be Jasus!" continued Captain O'Blunderbuss. "But thin I'm the
man to let others do the same with me; and if you should ever find
yourself in the wilds of Conamar-r-ra, Sir Christopher, jist ask the
first naked urchin ye meet with to show the way to Bluntherbuss Park,
and see if I won't trate ye as ye deserve to be trated. Blood and
murther! it's me that keeps open house save whin the sheriff's-officers
are prowling about the neighbourhood, which is generally from the 1st of
January to the 31st of December in every year."
The servant now made his appearance with the whiskey and the _et
ceteras_ which the gallant gentleman had ordered; and the said gallant
gentleman straightway began to brew himself some toddy, with the air of
an individual who had had nothing stronger than mild ale to drink all
day long.
"May I request to be informed——" began Sir Christopher, his courage
reviving now that the Captain's visit appeared to be one altogether of
an amicable nature.
"Faith! and is it to be informed ye'd be?" ejaculated O'Blunderbuss, as
he stirred his whiskey-and-water up with the spoon. "But don't alarm
yourself, Sir Christopher-r: my call this evening was merely jist to ask
ye how ye do and present ye with a little note from that rale broth of a
boy, Misther Frank Curtis."
"Frank—my nephew!" exclaimed Sir Christopher: "what can he want with me?
Surely 'tis not to congratulate——But, no—he can't have heard of _that_
yet."
Be the power-rs! and is there any thing to congratulate ye upon, Sir
Christopher?" cried the Captain. "Have ye been made a baronet—or elected
an alderman?"
"I would have you know, Captain O'Blunderbuss," said the knight, in a
solemn tone, "that I was once so unadvised as to put up for Portsoken——"
Be Jasus! have nothing to do with Port—it lies heavy on the stomach, my
frind!" interrupted the gallant officer. "Dhrink potheen—and you'll
niver grow old nor yet gray. But we were spaking of congratulations. Is
it possible that your dear wife has tumbled down stairs and broken her
neck? or has she presented ye with a pledge of her affiction?"
"Since you must know, Captain O'Blunderbuss," responded the Knight, "it
is——the latter."
"I give ye joy, old brick!" vociferated the gallant officer and seizing
Sir Christopher's hand, he subjected it to such a process of violent
shaking, that the victim almost yelled out with agony. "But from what
Frank tould me," continued the Captain, at length relinquishing the hand
which he had so unmercifully squeezed, "I thought you hadn't been
married long enough for such a happy evint to take place. However—I wish
ye joy, my frind; and now to business. Read this little bit of a note,
and ye'll be charmed with the kind way in which Frank Curtis spakes of
ye."
The knight received the letter which the Captain handed to him; but ere
he had time to break the seal, the door opened and the nurse made her
appearance.
"Well, nurse—what is it?" demanded Sir Christopher.
"Please, sir," was the reply, "missus wants to know who it was as come
with such a chemendous knock and ring that it has set her poor head
a-aching ready to split, and the blessed babby a-crying as if he was in
fits."
"Tell your misthress, nurse," exclaimed the visitor, in an imperious
tone, "that it's Captain O'Bluntherbuss, of Bluntherbuss Park,
Ir-r-reland," with an awful rattling of the r's; "and prisint my best
rispicts to your lady and the babby."
"Thank'ee, sir," replied the nurse; "but missus says, Sir Christopher,
please, that she hopes you won't make no noise in the house."
"Very well—very well, my good woman!" exclaimed the knight hastily.
"Tell your mistress I shall not be engaged long, and will come up and
see her presently."
"Wery good, sir;"—and the nurse withdrew.
Sir Christopher then proceeded to open the letter; but it was with
trembling hands,—for the visit of the nurse had thrown him into a most
unpleasant state of nervousness—he being well aware that he should
receive a blowing up on account of the Captain's call,—although no one
could possibly wish more devoutly than himself that such a call had not
taken place.
"Ye thrimble, Sir Christopher!" cried the Captain; "but there's no need
to be alar-r-med—for your nev-vy hasn't sent ye a challenge. So let your
mind be at pace—and read the little note at your leisure. I'm in no
hurry for an hour or two."
And indeed the Captain appeared to be quite comfortable; for he brewed
himself a second glass of whiskey and water—threw some coals upon the
fire—and trimmed the lamp in such a way that the flame rose above the
globe.
Meantime Sir Christopher perused the letter with great attention, and
did not altogether seem to relish its contents.
"I really cannot oblige my nephew in this respect," he said, fidgetting
the paper about in his hands. "The truth is—he has not behaved
altogether well to me—nor to Lady Blunt;—and if I was to do this for
him, Lady Blunt would be so angry. He must fight his own way in the
world, Captain O'Blunderbuss, as I did; for I have no hesitation to
admit that I rose from nothing—indeed, I glory in the fact: and having
filled the high and responsible office of Sheriff, with credit to myself
and advantage to my fellow-citizens——"
"Damn the high office of Shiriff!" exclaimed the gallant gentleman,
striking his fist upon the table. "I want my money—and it isn't Captain
O'Bluntherbuss that ye'll be afther putting off in this snaking
fashion."
"But, my dear sir," said the knight, in a tone of gentle remonstrance,
"_I_ don't owe you the money."
"Be Jasus! but your nev-vy does—and therefore it's all in the family!"
cried the Captain.
"That is a proposition I cannot agree to, my dear sir," returned the
knight.
"D' ye mane to differ from me?" demanded the Captain, looking
desperately ferocious.
"Why—as for that—I—I——"
"D' ye mane to differ from me, I repate?" vociferated Captain
O'Blunderbuss, again striking the table with his fist, but so violently
this time that the bottles and glasses danced a hornpipe: "answer me
that, Sir-r Christopher-r!"
"I don't wish to offend you, Captain—I couldn't wish to do that; but,"
added the knight, "I must beg leave most respectfully to dissent from
the proposition that I am in any way answerable for the debts of Mr.
Curtis. And since he has married a lady of fortune, let him be candid
with her at once; and——"
"Is it candid that he's to be, when the wife would kick up hell and
blazes?" cried O'Blunderbuss. "But I tell you purty frankly, my frind,
that if ye don't shell out the seven hunthred pounds——"
"Seven hundred!" ejaculated Sir Christopher. "It says only five hundred
in the letter."
"I don't care two r-raps for the letther," answered the Captain: "all I
know is that Misther Frank Curtis, your nev-vy, had seven hunthred of
me—and, be Jasus! I'll have seven hunthred of you."
"It can't be done," said Sir Christopher doggedly.
"Then, be the holy poker-r! I'll shoot ye to-morrow mornin'!"
vociferated the gallant officer: "so name your frind; and I'll take care
that ye shan't be afther shir-r-king this time as ye did when ye had to
mate my frind Morthaunt."
"Really, Captain O'Blunderbuss, this strange conduct on your
part—is—is—" stammered the knight, scarcely knowing what to say or do;
while his countenance became elongated to an awful extent.
"Sthrange!—sthrange! do ye say?" exclaimed the Captain. "Why, ye're
adding insult to injury, man. But don't desayve yourself—ye won't come
the counterfeit-crank over me, be Jasus! I'm not the boy to be bullied
afther this fashion, Sir Christopher-r. So shell out the eight
hunthred—or be the Lor-r-d Harry!——"
"Eight hundred!" murmured the miserable knight, now cruelly alarmed at
the ferocious manner and the progressive attempt at extortion on the
part of his visitor.
"Eight hunthred is what I lent, and eight hunthred is what I'll have
back," said the Captain, in a determined tone: "and if ye're afther
denying your debts of honour-r, Sir Christopher, I'll make such an
example of ye as shall let all the wor-rld know what ye are—as soon as
I've shot ye dead, which I'll do in the mornin'."
"You surely wouldn't commit such a crime—without—without just
provocation?" urged the knight, in a coaxing manner.
"I'll not hear another word of palthry excuse, sirrah," replied the
Captain, starting from his seat; "and if the money isn't forthcoming in
the twinkling of a bed-post, I'll flay ye first and shoot ye
aftherwards."
"Oh! dear—Oh! dear," said the wretched Sir Christopher: "what shall I
do?—I wouldn't mind the five hundred that my nephew asks for—since he
promises so faithfully to pay me again· but eight hundred——"
"Nine!" thundered the Captain. "D'ye mane to tell me as good as that I'm
a liar-r, and that I can't recollect amounts?—Be Jasus! I niver was so
insulthed in my life—and nothing but blood can wash it away!"
"Blood!" murmured Sir Christopher: "my blood! and I the father of a
family, as I may say."
"So much the more dishonour-r-able for ye to dispute a just debt, and
thry to shir-rk off in this bastely fashion!" cried the Captain,
twirling his moustache, and eyeing Sir Christopher in a way which made
the latter tremble in every limb. "I always thought that ye was a man
famous for your straight-for'ard dalings; but I'm desayved—grossly
desayved;—and I'll sind my frind to ye to-morrow mornin', before you've
had time to break the shell of your first egg at breakfast."
"Well, Captain—to oblige _you_," said Sir Christopher, "I don't mind if
I write a cheque for five hundred pounds; but I positively will give no
more—I won't indeed—I can't."
"Put down the palthry five hunthred, then, on the dhraft," exclaimed the
Captain; "and I'll make Misther Curtis fork me out the rest at his
convaynience."
The miserable Sir Christopher, though feeling that he had been
completely bullied into the settlement of the demand made upon him,
nevertheless stood in such awful dismay of the warlike Irishman, that he
wrote a cheque for the five hundred pounds, which said cheque the
Captain secured about his person, exclaiming, "And now, my frind, I'll
look over all the insulting words ye have applied to me this evening.
But, be the power-r-s! if I hadn't a great respict for ye, I'd make a
mummy of ye before ye was twelve hours oulder."
Having thus spoken, the Captain tossed off the remainder of his
whiskey-and-water, shook the knight violently by the hand once more, and
took his departure, just as the nurse was coming down to desire that Sir
Christopher would get rid of his guest and send up the keys of the
wine-cellar to her ladyship.
Now, strange as it may appear to the reader,—considering all that they
know relative to the character of Captain O'Blunderbuss,—it is
nevertheless a fact that he never once thought of appropriating to his
own use the amount just extorted from the knight. He was a man who would
not hesitate to get into debt, without the least intention of ever
paying the same,—he moreover thought that he had accomplished a highly
meritorious deed in extorting the five hundred pounds from Sir
Christopher: but he was honourable after his own fashion—that is to say,
he would scorn to perpetrate an actual robbery, or to betray the trust
reposed in him by an accomplice. He was, in fact, one of those curious,
but not uncommon beings, who might be trusted with a thousand pounds to
convey to the bank for a friend, but who would borrow eighteen-pence
without the remotest intention of ever repaying it, and who thought that
the most brilliant act a gentleman could achieve was to chouse a
creditor.
Accordingly, the clock had scarcely struck eleven, and Frank Curtis was
already beginning to get uneasy, when the Captain's thundering knock at
the front door in Baker Street, proclaimed his return; and in a few
moments the young gentleman was made acquainted with the success
experienced by his friend.
"And now, be the holy poker-r! we'll make a night of it," said the
Captain, when, the front-door having been duly secured, the two worthies
were once more seated in the dining-room: "and it's myself that'll tell
ye stories and sing ye rale Irish songs to keep ye awake, my boy."
And a night they did make of it, heaven knows!—and tremendous inroads
were effected upon the supply of gin then in the "garrison," as the
Captain now termed the house. Such lies, too, as the Captain and Frank
Curtis told each other! until the latter gentleman began to entertain
the pleasing idea that the room was spinning round, and that there were
four candles on the table instead of two. The gallant officer, on the
other hand, carried his liquor like a man who was inaccessible to its
inebriating fumes; and when Curtis fell dead drunk upon the carpet, the
Captain considerately picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder as if
he was a sack of potatoes, and thus transported him to the door of his
wife's bed-room, at which he deposited the senseless gentleman, having
intimated in stentorian tones that Mrs. Curtis would do well to rise and
look to her husband.
The Captain then went down stairs again, finished the bottle last
opened, and, throwing himself on a sofa, fell into a sound sleep.