The Personally Conducted Duel.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 440, 8 September 1904, Page 7

The Personally Conducted Duel.

BY CUTLIFFE HYNE,

SHORT STORY.

Jjj (POBUBHED BY SPECIAL ABBAXGEMEOT).

[COPYRIGHT.] 11. (Continued from last week.) THE S.S. Sultan of Borneo was runnmg merrily eastward in the roll of a short steep Channel sea. She was riving light, and the propeller was racing half its time, and on the upper bridge the elderly second mate's oil-skins were kept perpetually new varnished with the spin-drift. •J bhe lI ll * fcle chart-house Captain Kettle, with all his hospitable instincts roused, was endeavouring to entertain a couple of temporary guests. The guests were just then not at their best. A Jove would cease to be majestic if he were suffering from 'mal de mer.* But Kettle was taking this into aceount; he was kindness itself in trying to counteract the effect of wobble of sea; and he had a theory that if one keeps the mind of the sufferer thoroughly interested, the more material part of him ceases to feel its ills. And as a consequence he tried to adapt himself to the particular style of each of his guests. To M. Camille Legrand he spoke upon French politics as he himseif had observed them through the light of harbour-side conversation. He did not profess to have a thorough grasp of his subject, and he talked more as a seeker after knowledge than as its possessor. But on the topic of corruption in politics he was strong; he f" gave his views with clearness and detail; and he wound up a most eloquent diatribe by telling the bulky deputy that a splendid opening lay before him. «You get up in your parliament in Paris, sir,' said Captain Kettle, 'and say this swindling by public men has got to stop; and then you mention their names out loud and call them dirty thieves, and believe me, you're a made man. All the rest of France will look up to you. But the suggestion did not cheer M. Legrand as much as Kettle had hoped; and perhaps the fact that he had been mercilessly exposed in ' Mot de Paris' that very week for being himself the chief actor in the identical offence, had something to do with his continued depression. So the little sailor turned to Creve and approached the task of interesting him with a lighter heart. He was surer of his ground here; for were they not both (in a way) literary men, although it was true that his own poems were for the most part written in the alien tongue of English. But Captain Kettle had confidence in his powers, and to show the tunefulness of his verse, he got down the accordion and sang byway of introduction a ballad which went to the tune of« Greenland's icy mountains,' and a little • Ode to Spring,' which he had set to a pleasing ditty translated from the music halls. He offered to go through the rest of his repertoire, but the journalist said he could see from the specimens that they were beautiful; and when the little shipproposed writing a series of sonnets & .Trench to be mn through the pages of the ' Mot de Paris' at a ridiculously low rate of pay, M. Creve accepted the offer with alacrity, on the sole condition that the poet should there and then begin to fe write.

Captain Kettle murmured bashfully, * Anything to oblige, * and took up his pen at once. And he began to have a sincere regard for M. Crave from that moment, and to regret more and more that so discerning a man should suffer so acutely from the torments of «mal de mer.' But enamoured though the master of the Sultan of Borneo might be with the gentle occupation of building stanzas to a poppy, and sonnets to the eyebrow of some lady he had met in the «Family Herald,' he was not forgetful of the more weighty business which he had taken in hand. His steamboat was working up-Channel in sight of the French coast, and a dozen times he went on deck and peered through the bridge telescope at patches of beach which lay beyond the frill of surf. But none were desolate enough for his purpose, and each time he returned to- the chart-house and let his tobacco smoke wrestle with the ," frangipani and the smell of paint. His manuscript grew with strides. Never before had he felt so brilliantly inspired. The difficulties of language were as nothing. The words came to him tripping, as he drummed out the metre with his lagers on the mahogany of the chart table, and the tuneaseemed to jungle of their own accord. It was his first chance of publication, and his heart swelled within him at the thought that his opportunity had come at last. He almost .wished he had asked the «Moi de Paris' a few francs more for the right of publication. It was such good, such brilliant poetry. It was fit to make the fortune sf any newspaper. The ship's bell clanged out the halfhours, and the watches changed, but the • occupants of the chart-house did not sleep: 7 4 lbe> Frenchmen could not, and as for SBiettle," the ecstasies of composition had --whirled him to a region where sleep was a thing undreamed of. But when midnight had long passed, and eight bells pealed out dimly through the wind, the mate put his head inside the chart-house door, with a rush of cold salt air, and made an announoement. ' Very well,' said his captain. «Bing off engines, and get the port quarter-boat in the water, and a Jacob's ladder shipped. The second mate and two hands for the boat: you stay here in charge. We shall be about an hour gone.' «Ay, aye, sir,' said the mate, and closed the door, and shut off the supply of air. Kettle turned to the table and began to t page and fold his manuscript. Something that was half-groan, half-voice, addressed mm by name from behind. 'Captain.' •Yes.' • ' Are we—oh—going—ashore ?' «Ah, is that you, M. Creve? Glad to see you pulling round so nicely, sir. In thirty minutes you'll hear French shingle gritting under your feet, and in forty-five we U have your little affair with M. Legrand fixed up one way or the other. After that I believe you want to make practice on me : and I.shall be very much at your service, «-and believe me, sir, I shall feel honoured I to stand up with a gentleman so intimately connected with literature as yourself. The journalist groaned in acquiescence. _ But there's one thing I've been thinking of,' Kettle went on, * that we ought to fix up before we go any further. You see Eir, you're going to stand in the way of a good deal of shot during the next hour, and you might— er—you might have a bit of an accident. Now I am sure it would grieve you to think that these poems of mine should not be used through any misfortune of yours; and so I thought if you wrote a line to your assistant editor at the omce, it would be safer. If you like I'll just, jot it? down for you, and you can si«n it.' ° «Oh yes, anything,' said Creve, and Kettle with a glow of joy wrote the note, handed a wet pen, and had it initialled

with a feeble scrawl. Then he put it with the other papers, sealed and addressed the envelope, and gently slipped it into the inner breast pocket of the journalist's froci coat.

In case of accidents,' he murmured gently. 'You'll pardon me, I'm sure And now, gentlemen, if you please, here'; my ma*e come to tell us the boat is ready and we'll be getting off ashore.' But prayerfully as the two Frenchman had wished once more to press their mother earth, when the opportunity came for regaining her, they could not move. The fetters of their disease chained them in a deadly lethargy: a bombardment would not have roused them; and thev were finally carried to the outer air in the callous arms of quarter-masters. It was obviously impossible to expect them to enter the lunging quarter-boat by that fly's staircase, the Jacob's ladder: so a chair was bent to a derrick chain, and steam given to the winch, and they were hoisted out and stowed away on the wet gratings of the boat just as though they had been (to quote the mate's smile) two carcases of New Zealand mutton. Then Kettle slipped nimbly down and took the tiller, the second mate and the two deck hands threw out their oars, and the quarter-boat crawled slowly off over the roaring Channel seas towards the low French shore.

The landing was made stem-on, and through a wet surf. The boat was full to the thwarts when she hit the beach. And two passengers lay on the stern gratings with the swill of brine going over them as it pleased. But once the thrill of the earth came to them through the quarter boat's timbers, a change set in; and from that moment they began to return to life and mischief. They roused of their own accord and began to recoil from one another. They rose to their feet. They left the boat at different sides. 'At last!' the journalist hissed from between his white lips. • Now, poltroon, you shall not escape me,' snarled the Deputy, as he pressed a wet, scentless handkerchief to his chilly nose.

' If only wo had seconds—' 'lf we but had seconds and a doctor, I would not permit you to leave this ground alive. This fight should be 'a 1' outrance.' I would insist on my right to fire on you so long as breath remained in my body.' 'Goit!' said Captain Kettle, cheerfully. 'That's your sort. I'll have things all fixed up in a minute, and then you can wade in handsomely. This is a rare good pistol of yours ; not a drop of wet has got inside.' ' You waste time, Captain,' said Legrand. 'We cannot fight here now. We have no seconds. It would be irregular.' ' Not a bit of it,' said Kettle. ' I will be second to both of you.' 'lt is not permitted by our laws of duelling,' said Creve. 'Each principal must have at least one friend to watch his interests.' - ' Bight o,' said Captain Kettle. ' Here's my second mate quite handy, and a most worthy man, gentlemen. He holds a master's ticket, and has commanded his own ship before he met with misfortune. He'll hold the handkerchief for one of you whilst I give a knee to the other. M. Legrand frowned and shook his bullet head. 'But, Captain,' he said, 'you forget; we have no doctor.' •I,' said Kettle, 'am a competent surgeoa for temporary bandaging; and,' he added sourly, ' I could offer my services as undertaker if I thought they would be needed.' 'Sir,' said Legrand, 'your remark is suited to my adversary, but to me it is an insult.' 1 Then please log it down as such and remember it when you and I stand up together after this affair is over. Please, sir, to plant yourself here and take this pistol. By James 1 do you hear me? I'm bossing this fight now, and it's got to be carried through as I say. The man who doesn't do as he's bid will be »hot in very quick time. It's all South Shields to a tin-tack I lose my berth on that steamer for putting in here at all. So I'm not inclined to stick at trifles. Now, Mr Mate, you bring up your man, and give him his gun, and put him by that green stone yonder. The Deputy's voice rose to a scream. ' But this is most irregular. He is no more than ten yards away. This is murder !'

' You came here for murder, didn't you ?' said Kettle. ' I'm not going to look on whilst you pop off these humbugging little toys down a rifle range. Here's your weapon, loaded and cocked ; and mind not to fire till you hear the word. Now, Matey, stand wide. And listen here, you other two, you've to blaze away when I sing 'Three,' and not before, and not after; and the one who breaks that rule will get a shot in him that will mean a funeral.' Captain Kettle stepped back, and ostentatiously pulled a revolver from his back pocket and cocked it. 'Now,' he said, ' ready ? One!—two !—three! The shots came almost together, and each of the duellists staggered, and each evidently marvelled to find himself alive. The journalist pulled himself together the first. 'I am not hurt,' he said. 'Load my pistol again.' Captain Kettle stepped forward with a courteous smile. 'Certainly,' he said. ' Gentlemen, I am glad to see you are warming up to your work. Matey, just have the kindness to load up for M. Legrand. There you are. No, cock ib, cock it before you shoot. And wait for the word. One!—two ! —three !' •Again there was a miss on both sides, and the Second Mate whistled with cheerful contempt. But at the third discharge a patch of red showed on the thumb of M. Crjeve's left hand, and the Deputy was quick to see it, 'Ah!' he cried. ' I have wounded him. My honour is satisfied!' f Then your honour must be a mighty small thing,' granted Captain Kettle. f You do not understand, said M. Legrand. • I am tender of heart. I do not wish to see him suffer more. I will embrace him, and all shall be forgiven.' •No,'said Creve. 'lt is merely a nail scratch. I demand another shot.'

•Bravo, Spectacles !' shouted Captain Kettle. 'I always did think there was good in you. Here, you fat man, get back to your mark. By James, sir, get back, or I'll kick you to it. And take this gun Don't splutter. It you've any remarks to address to me, reserve them for afterwards. I can tell you you're not through with this first affair yet.' A fourth cartridge was wasted on each side, a fifth, and a sixth, but in the seventh round the journalist hit M. Camille Legrand in the right shoulder, and that worthy fell to the ground howling that death was upon him. Kettle went up and made a quick examination. 'Yes,' he said; 'bullet in at one side and out at the other. No bones touched, and scarcely any haemorrhage. You'll be sound again in a fortnight, and you can go on with the game now if you like.' ' No,' said M. Legrand ; 'lam wounded to the death. The pain I suffer is frightful. But I die in defence of my principles! Let that be known by the papers : ' in defence of my principles I'' Then he fainted, and ' sheer funk' was Captain Kettle's summing up of the situation. 'He is not a fighting man,' said the journalist. 'He was pressed into this affair by the custom of our country.' • Then more fool he,'said Kettle. 'But

b-e should go about ta.es3splutter on his tongue, or cmecne will be kicking him, one of these days. And now, sir, as I believe you want to parade me, I must ask you to get along. My time is short.' The tall man in the baggy clothes placed a hand over his heart and bowed. * Sir,' he said, ' I used hasty words to you when I was a stranger to your qualities. Since then I have learnt that you are not only a gentleman, but also—er—also a man of letters. It would go against my heart to fight you now, but if you insist ' 'Not at all,'said Kettle. 'I should he very sorry to make cold meat of a gentleman who said suoh pleasant things about my poetry. Er—you know, some of these verses rnay want a bit of the spelling altered and a stop or two put in, but you keep a man in the office to do that, don't you?' ' Several men,-' said the journalist. ' And you'll send the cheque to care of my owners ? Thanks, Ah, there's Mr Legrand coming round. I wonder if he wants to have his shot at me before I go ? 1 am quite willing we should both hold our guns with the left hand.' But M. Camille Legrand cherished no more warlike feelings. He was full of forgiveness; he bubbled with it ; and he wept in most affectionate style on the journalist's neck and made a lengthy speech, which he insisted that M. Creve should take down verbatim on his paper block. At this point, however, Captain Kettle went away, and was rowed out by the Second Mate and the two deck hands to where the Sultan of Borneo wallowed wetly in the troughs of the Channel seas. But he steered the quarter-boat like a man in a dream. He had seen many fights, but none like this; he had watched many men in anger, but none like these ; and if anyone had asked him before, if things could fall out as he had seen them then, he would have replied emphatically ' no.' It was all queer to him past understanding. But he smiled with pleasure, and blushed at one memory vvhich clung to him. ~He had found a road now by which his poems —his scoffed-at poems—could be given to the world.