Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 May 1900 — Captain grabason [ARTICLE]

Captain grabason

BY B. M. CROKER

a/Ailit&py*

CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.) The doorway through which they had to pass was blocked for a few moments. A young man standing there evidently looked upon the right of entrance as his own exclusive property, for he was engaged in what he considered elegant audience with no less than three ladies, in apite of themselves, Ksme and Miles could not help overhearing a few scraps of conversation. “I’ll tell you what it is,” lisped the young Adonis to a pretty, bright little woman in black, who was eating an ice while he scribbled languidly on her card. “Look here, you know this sort of thing won't do, you know; the next' s time you are ao late I sha’n't be able to give you two dances!” Miles and Esme gazed at this youth in open-eyed amazement. He was not joking. No, he was perfectly serious, and the little lady was actually laughing and taking hia remark as the most natural thing in the world. “Well,” exclaimed Captain Brabnzon, fiercely, making his way through the crowd with an angry shove, "what next? ill-mannered, conceited young cub! Not he irtote to give the two dances, indeed! 1 should like to be able to take him down to the pump and give him a ducking that would wash some of the cheek out of him. ffnppostngiip had said that to you, Esme, what would you do?" looking down at her interrogatively. ““f think I should feel a burning desire to box his ears - only, of course, 1 couldn’t,” laughing, “and here is my next partner; good-by, till number twelve,” withdrawing her arm, and nodding at him coquettishly. Number twelve came in duo time, and was duly danced by the cousins, and as they paused for breath after a long round, Esme held forth in rapturous terms on the delights of the evening. “I’ve danced every dance right through and hardly missed a bar," she observed, triumphantly, “and the funny thing is, 1 don’t know half my partners’ names; people mutter so, or write so badly; these scratches on my card might be anything. The next one puzzles me. i have it— It’s Berkeley.” “And who is he? point him out, please." “There he is, pussing now, with the lady. ‘Captain Berkeley, Priuce’s Lancers,’ to give him his full title.” '"Prince's Lancers!’ " with a visible •tart, and coloring perceptibly. “Oh! if I had only known,’’ regretfully, gazing, aa she spoke, with eager interest at the swarthy little cavalryman. “However,” aa if struck liy a sudden happy thought, “just let me look at my card. 1 think I’m going to dance with him again; yes,” triumphantly. “Here it is, and is the next dance. I want to ask him about a friend of mine,” with rash indiscretion. But her eousiu was not in a merry mood, to judge by his face, which looked darker than she had ever seen it, and set and stern. “May I inquire the reason of your sudden interest in Captain Berkeley, and why the very name of his regiment sounds as music in your ears?” he asked, in a freezing tone. “Why should I tell you?” she rejoined, playfully. If Miles were gong to be disagreeable she wss not going to put up with it. “But supposing that I insist on knowing.” he said, In a low, impressive tone, standing up and facing her, with his back to the ball room. “Insist! what an ugly word! What does insist mean?” raising her pretty eyebrows, and surveying him defiantly. “It means that I'm not going to be trifled with. I’ve stood a good deal as it ik” his mind suddenly flaming up with recollections of the gate scene and the photogruph. “It means that you must and shall tell me who it is know in that fellow's regiment and what he is to you.” ** “Supposing I say I won't,” shutting her lips very tight, and looking rather white, “what then?” This was not the way to tnnke her reveal Teddy's secret, standing over her authoritatively, his voice shaking with passion, his face as dark as a thunder cloud. “Very well then, so be It,” rejoined Miles, beside himself with auger. “That puts an end to everything. Endurance has its limits—l draw the lino at your friend In the cavalry!” “My friend in tin- cavalry is infinitely obliged to you,” she returned, wi(h a little aggravating laugh. “And as to an end to everything, I don’t sec how there can he an end to what uever hud a beginning! If .you imagine that you are breaking off an engagement with me, please to bear lu mind that it never existed. I would not have believed,” now breaking down a trifle, “that you could be so rude, so suspicious; that you bad auch an awful temper. “Oh, yes,” smiling rather' constrainedly, and winking back two big tears, “our dance, ia it, Captain Berkeley?” rising as she spoke, and, throwing her bouquet ostentatiously on the sofa, she walked away wjth great dignity, leaving it and its donor aide by aide.

CHAPTER X.

During the remainder of the evening Kerne did not once «ee Mile*. lie must have left Immediately after their quarrel, and she went home in the fly undoubted belle of the ball, and acting decorously to all her sister's encomiums and expressions of delight, and yet with a heart as heavy as lead. "It was ridiculous! Hhe would not have belleted Itl” she said to herself, angrily, as, when Onssie was sleeping the sleep of the Just, she, wrapped in a shawl, leaned out of the open window, and'warched the dawd creeping over the sea. More than the dawn; the Ashing boats were oof, the sparrows were up; It was 4 o’clock. "1 did not think ! should have cared eo much,” she said to herself, aggrievediy. "He may imagine what he likes, but

I shall keep Teddy’s secret! If he had not been ao angry, I might—l might have told him; but if he really cared for me, he would not be ao ready to suspect me!”, and Miss Esme Brabazon bent her arms on the window sill, and, burying her face in them, wept bitterly. Breakfast was late, of course, and when Esme joined the family circle with pale cheeks and hollow eyes her aunt said, as she kissed her primly on cither cheek, “Dissipation docs not agree with you, .my dear! No more balls for you!” sportively, for the old lady was immensely delighted with her niece's debut, and all the compliments that had betn paid to her about the beautiful Miss Brnbazon. After breakfast Qussie and Mrs. Brabazon went off shopping, and Esme fell an easy prey to oue of the Miss Clippertons, who led her off to the parade in triumph. The sun was shining, and it was a bright, cold, day, with a very-high wind. The bathing machiues were not down, the boats were drawn up, and formidable white horses were beginning to show their crests, although but an hour ago it had been a very tolerable morning. Many were the fashionable promenaders up and down in twos and threes, but chiefly twos. There were some pretty faces to be seeu, and some pretty frocks, and not ft few yachtsmen in blue serge suits.. After our young ladies had taken one turn they came to the very end of the parade, and were surprised to see a large crowd down on a rocky part of the beach, at some distance, all looking out on the sea in one direction—at what? Miss Clipperton and Esme, true daughters of Eve, hurried down to the spot, and were in time to hear a weatherbeaten old gentleman, in a pea-jacket, asking imperiously, as be pushed and elbowed his way into the crowd, “What is the matter?” “Three poor men drowning,” returned a womuu with pallid cheeks. “They are out there,” pointing; “they were bathing and swam out, and can’t get back again. Holiday people; cheap trippers.” “Bathing such a day!” cried the old gentleman, putting his telescope to his eye. “Mildness, madness! Escaped lunatics!” “Where’s the lifeboat?” demanded a naval officer, raising his voice to a shout. “She’s under repair; and, any way, she'd never be round in time,” responded a surly voice from the crowd. "They’ll not hold out more than ten minutes,” .with’ stoic calmness. “It was only a bit roughish when they first went In," volunteered another speaker; “and they were good swimmers till the tide took them, and now they can’t make the shore at any price,” speaking from the middle of a scarlet-worsted comforter. “And must they perish before our eyes, good friends?” said an elderly clergyman, looking anxiously round the throng. “Will no one put out a hand to save our fel-low-creatures? Boatmen!” addressing himself to that compact body, “will none of you venture?” “Venture, indeed!” echoed a shrilltongued fish woman, in a cheeked shawl, with her hands on her capacious hips. “What boat could live in that sea but be smashed on the shingle ere she was launched? Our sailors’ lives are just as much to us-don’t you think?—as those strangers’ out youder. Venture, indeed!” with a snort of indignation. At this instant a man broke into the midst of them, without his cap or coat,* in a state of the utmost excitement and despair. He had beeh one of the bathers, but, fortunately for bimself, had not been carried out so far, and had gained the shore by superhuman exertions. “Will none of you put out a boat?” he demanded fiercely. “Will you stand there, not moving a finger, aud see my comrades drown before your eyes? I’ll go on my bended knees to anyone that will lend a boat and pull an oar with me!” looking eagerly about; but there was no reply in the weather-beaten, stolid countenances that surrounded him. “Shall I go, Esme?” said a voice beside her, a well-known voice, that made her start, and, glancing up, with streaming eyes, she beheld Miles, who had just appeared upon the scene. “Yes, oh, yes,” she cried, jumping to her feet, “do go!” forgetting, in the agonizing scene before her, the delicate terms on which they had last parted; “and quickly, quickly, Miles,” seizing his arms; “there la not a second to spare.” “I’m going out!” he shouted, raising his voice without hesitation and addressing the throng; “any volunteers?” No answer beyond the whistling, soughing wind aud lashing, gray-green waves. “Twenty pounds!” he continued, elbowing his way toward the center, and speaking in a clear, decisive voice. "Twenty sovereigns for a seaman and a boat! Who is coming? Don’t all speak at once.” Twenty pounds! ah, that was a consideration, though, for au instaut, there was no reply. At last«esfter a muttered discussion, there was a murmur, a move, in the crowd, and a long-armed sailor, in a blue kuitted jersey, shambled out Srom among the group of boatmen, and said: “I’m your man for twenty sovereigns. I’m game to go, and I’ve a tight boat; but I'd like so see the money flrat.” “I've only a few pounds with me, but my watch la worth double, and I’ll leave it aa a pledge,” returned Miles, unfastening it and handing It over as he spoke. “ ’Tis the price of your life, Jack Small,” said the big fish woman, Impressively. “You’ll be food for the fishes.” “Well, 'tain’t a bad price; many a man has risked his self for less, and the gentleman la venturing for nothing,” rejoined Jack, In a deep gfowl. The flah woman was understood to say that “the gentleman waa a fool,” but at any rate he was not a naan to let the grass grow under his feet. "Here, you don't stand jawing there,” taking off his coat ond flinging it to Barae. “Come along, you fair-weather sailors, lend ua a hand to above her off;

you are not afraid to do that, are yoaTI “I would not give a pinch of salt foe their lives,” said an old woman in a large black bonnet. “Jack Small’ll never have the spending of that twenty poupd.” “And the young gentleman that went / for nothing!” said a milder voice, compassionately. “Nay, the girl bid him go,” exclaimed ♦ho virago in the cheeked shawl, darting as she spoke a vindictive glance at Esme, who stood as close as she dared to the water’s edge, trembling and shivering l with excitement. “Heaven help yon then, yonng woman,” said a bath-chair man, piously. "You never meant it, but you just sent him to his death. No boas could live in such a sea; there, see that!” his voice rising to a shriek, as a vast wave came tumbling over the others and entirely hid the boat from sight. “She’s foundered," shouted the crowd, hoarsely. “She's not! she’s through it safe this time,” bawled an old gentleman with a telescope under his arm, and there, sure enough, was the Mary Ann still afloat, still lighting her way, conquering every Inch of water by sheer determination and muscle alone. “Sent him.to his death!” and the words rang in Esme's ears as she looked out over the awful sea, with eyes nearly glazed with terror. She felt that the wdmnu was right, she had sent him to his death. Oh! was it too late to recall him? They hud only made n little way. Flying to the very edge of the water, regardless of, wet and spray, regardless of the gaping crowd, she stretched out her arms and cried: “Come back, come back. Miles, you will be drowned, too!” But the wind and the waves roared in partnership, and mocked her entreaties, and drowned her feeble voice, and the fluttering figure, gesticulating wildly, at the water's edge, was wholly unnoticed in the boat. And now the boat js among the surf, and the hush of suspense denotes that everyone is aware that this is the critical moment of life or death. Which will it, be? It will be life; after various ineffectual struggles, after being on the brink of capsizing twice, after bringing everyone's heart into their mouths about half a dozen times, they grate on the beach, are landed far up on the shingle, on the crest of a monstrous wave, the rescued ones aboard. The Mary Ann was almost swallowed up by a surging, clamorous crowd; the half-drowned men were carefully wrapped up in eonts and jackets and carried out first; and then a roar of acclamation greeted Miles and Jack Small. The feat had been accomplished bravely and successfully* and many contemptuous glances were now leveled at the little knot of boatmen, who looked more sullen than ever. Indeed, one bold, loud-voiced young woman loudly declared “that had a barrel of beer been anchored out there beyond for them, they’d have pulled to it smart enough.” Miles, quickly seizing his coat, whispered to Jack that if he came up to the Grand he would find his twenty pounds; and was about to hurry away, leaving him to receive both shares of the popular ovation, but Jack could not part from his fellow-boatman in this fashion. “If I may make bold, sir,” he said, bashfully, “I'd like to shake hands with you,” tendering a horny paw. “We have been partners together for half an hour, and a rare half hour it were. I never wish a better mate.” Miles wrung the proffered hand, and leaving Jack to expound, and talk, and swagger, once more made an effort to escape. He dreaded, horribly dreaded, being remarked or spoken to, with the hatred of notoriety common to his class, and felt that he would sooner take to the sea again than listen to a speech. In short, he was as shy and frightened as a girl. On the edge of the crowd he encountered Esme, pale, dishevripd and breathless. “Oh, Miles, Miles!” was all she could gasp. “What in the world has happened to you?” he said, pausing and surveying her blankly, their quarrel of the previous evening now apparently entirely forgotten by both. “However,” eagerly holding out his hand, “don’t let us stay here; come along, come along,” hurrying his cousin up the beach, goaded by his fears, and before anyone could realize the fact he was gone. (To be continued.)