Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 November 1879 — UP THE RIVER WITH A LUNATIC. [ARTICLE]

UP THE RIVER WITH A LUNATIC.

i Alf Dixon, Tom Giffard and I had Sone tip the river camping out; we had one our second day s work. It was earlt morning on the third day; glorious weather. I was in the boat, getting the steering lines in order; Giffard anu Dixon were on the bank, talking to Dr. Rawle. 'As I understood it,’ the doctor was at the head of a private asylum for lunatics. He vras Giffard’s friend, not mlhV. He had been taking a constitu- * tional when he happened to fall in with us just as we were sitting down to our open-air breakfast: the chance meeting led to Giffard inviting him to share our gypsy meal. He did. He was a pleasant fellow, not too old and not too young. I liked him exceedinglv. We talked of things in general, and of lunatics in particular. Something led to his mentioning—l think it was speaking of the cunning of a certain ciass of lunatics, and the difficulty of keeping them within four walls—the fact that one of his inmates had escaped , a day or two previously, and had not; yet been retaken. This was the more singular as it was tolerably certain he had not gone far. and search had been made for him in every direction. As Giffard and Dixon were saying good-by. preparatory to getting into the boat, the doctor laughingly said: “Should you happen to come across him. I shall consider you bound to bring him back safe and sound. He’s a man of forty-four or forty-five, tall and bonv, iron-gray hair, and has a curious habit 6f showing his teeth and winking his left eye. Don't look out for a ravjrfg lunatic; for on most points he’s as right as you and I. He’s wrong in two things. Whatever you do, don’t let him lose nis temper: for whenever he does, though ever so slightlv, he invariably goes in for murder—he's all but done for two keepers already. And don’t talk to him of England or Englishmen: for if he should get upon his native land, , .he’ll favor you with some observations which will make you open voor eves.” | We laughed. Alf and" Tom shook hands with him, and got into the boat. We promised, if we should* happen to tocet him, we vjould certainly see him returned to safe custody. Alf stood up and shoved us from the shore: we sang out a last good-by, and left the doctor standing on the bank. Ii was a beautiful morning. The river was delicious, clear as crystal; we could see the bottom, and every stone ands pebble on it; just a gentle breeze fanning the surface of the waters into a little npple. We lit our pipes and took it easily. lam a good bit of a traveler, Know many lovelv nooks and crannies in foreign lands; I have lived abroad as much as at home; but 1 will match the higher reaches of our own Father Thames for beauty and for charm \ against any scenery in Europe. And on an early summer morning, after a spell of glorious weather, it is in. all its Erime; the water so cool, so clear; the anks so green, so charming; the stately trees on either side; the mansions seen over the meadows, or peeping out among the trees. You may choose your Rhine, your Garda, or vour Magoiore, or your golden Bay of Naples, but leave Cookham and old Father Thames to me. Presumably we had come for river beauties and the camping-out—presum-ably; but as a matter of fact there was - a young lady lived not so far ahead, a mutual friend, Lilian Travers. Separately and jointly we had a high opinion of Miss Travers, not only of her beauty, but of other things as well; and having come so far, we hoped we should not have to return until at least we had had a peep at her. Unfortunately, though we knew Miss Travers, we had no acquaintance with Mr.—there was no Mrs. We had met the young lady at several dances and such like; but on each occasion she was under th<c chaperonage of . old Mrs. Mackenzie. "Apparently Mr. Travers was not a party man. ■ But Lilian had promised to introduce us to him whenever she got a chance, and we were not unhopeful she would get that chance now. So you see that little excursion riverw&rd had more iu it than met the eye. We went lazily on, just dipping the oars in and out; smoking, watching- the smoke circling through the clear air. All thoughts of the doctor and his parting words had gone from our minds. We talked little, ,and that little was of Lilian and the chances of our meeting. We had gone some two or three hundred yards; we were close to the shore. Alf could almost reach it by stretching out his oar. We were dreaming anj. lazing, when suddenly some one stepped out from among the trees. He was close to us—not a dozen feet away. He was a tall man, rather over than under six feet. He was dressed in a 4iark brown suit of Oxford mixture; he had a stick jn his hand, wore a billycock hat, and his coat was buttoned right up to his throat. He had light whiskers, a heavy, drooping mustache, hair unusually long, iron-gray in color.. He might be a soldier retired from his profession, or an artist out painting; he certainly looked a gentleman. We were passing on, when he raised his stick, and shouted out, “Stop!” It was a regular shout, as though we were half a mile from him. We stopped, although it was an unusual method of

calling attention. “Gentlemen,” be said, still at the top of his voice, *• I should be obliged if you could give me a seat I have a long way to go, and I am tired.” We looked at him and at each other. • It was a free-and-easy style of asking a favor; bathe seemed a gentleman, and an elderly one, too. Common politeness dictated civility. ” I am afraid,” said Alf, “we have hardly room; she’s only built for tors£. “ Oh, that doesn’t matter,” he said”yo« can pat me anywhere, or rUtake an oar for one of you.” I was on the point of advising a pomt-black refusal, not appreciating T ; bnt

♦•All right,” said he; “we don’t mind, if yon don’t Steer her in. Jack.” I steered her in. No sooner were we near the shore than, quite unexpectedly, he stepped almost on my toes, rocking the boat from aide to aide. “ Hang it!” I said; “take care, or you’ll have us over.” “ What if I dor’ he retained. “ It’ll only be a swim; and who minds a swim m weather like thisP’ We stared at him; the ooohteea, not to say impertinence, of the remark, was amazing. Begging a seat in our boat knowing it was full, and then telling ns he didn’t care if he spiUpd us into the river! He seated himself by me, setting the boat seesawing again, crashing me into a corner; and without asking with your leave or by your leave, took the steering lines from my hands, and slipped them over his shoulders. “Excuse me,” I said, making a snatch at them; “bat if you’ll allow me.

“ Not at all,” he said; “ I always like something to do, and I expect you’ve had enough of it.” His coolness was amusing; he was impenetrable. 1 know I for one regretted we were such mules as to have had anything to do with him. We waited in silence a second or two. “Come,” he said, “when are you going to start?” “Perhaps,” said Alf, a bit nettled, “as you’re,in our boat a selfcinvited guest* you’ll let us choose our own time.” The stranger said nothing: he sat stolid and silent. Tom and Alf set off rowing; the stranger steered right across the stream. “Where are you going?” said Alf. V Keep us in.” “I'm going into the shade; the sun's too strong.” He had the lines; we could hardly insist on his keeping one side if he-pre-ferred the other. He took us right to the opposite bank, under the shadow of the willow-trees. For some minutes neither of us spoke. With him cramming me on my seat, aqd ramming his elbows into my side, my position was not pleasant. * At last I let him know it. “I don’t know if you are aware you are occupying all my*seat.” He turned on me short and sharp. All at once I noticed his left eye going up and down like a blinking owl; his mouth was wide.open, disclosing as ugly a set of teeth as I should care to see' Like a flash Dr. Rawle's words crossed my mind: tall, strong, about forty-five, * iron-gray hair; a habit of showing his teeth and winking his left eye. Gracious powers! was it possible we had a lunatic with us unawares? I know the possibility, nay, the probability, of such a thing made me feel more than aueer. If there is anything in the world I instinctively fear, it is mad persons, 1 know little of them—have never been in their company. Possibly my ignorance explains my dread: but the idea of sitting in the same boat and on the same seat with a man who—

Dr. Rawle’s warning, “ Don’t let him lose his temper, or murder will ensue,” made me bound from my seat like Jack-in-the-box. The boat tipped right out of the water, but I didirt care. The man was glaring at me with cruel eyes; thy muscles were strung, my fists clinched; every moment I expected him at my throat. * “ What the dickens are you up to?” said Alf. “Wbat’s the matter with you?” “Excitable temperament, hot-blooded yeuth,” said the stranger. I could have said something had I chosen, but I preferred discretion, I didn't like his eyes. “No-o—nothing,” I said. “I think Til sit in the bow.” I didn’t wait to learn if anyone had any objection, but swinging round, I scrambled past Alf, and tripped full length on to Tom’s knees. The boat went up and down like a swing; it was a miracle he wasn't over. “Is the fellAwmad?” roared Alf. At the word “mad” the stranger rose up straight as a post. “ Mad!' ’he said; “doyou know, sir—” He checked himself and sat down. “Pooh! he’s only a boy.” In passing Tom I whispered in his ear. “ The lunatic,” I said. “ What!” said Tom, right out loud. “Hold your row, you confounded donkey! It’s the man from Dr. Rawle's.” “The ” "He was going to say something naughty—l know he was; but he stopped short, and stared at him with all his eyes. Either Alf overheard me, or else the same idea occurred to him at the same moment, for he. stopped dead in the middle of a stroke, and inspected the man on the stearing seat. Tom and Alf went on staring at him for a minute or more. I kept my head turned the other way to avoid his eyes. All at once I felt the boat give a great throb. I turned: there was the stranger leaning half out of his seat, looking at Alf in a way I shouldn’t have carai to have had him look at me. “What’s the meaning of this insolence?” he said. The question was not tmwarranted; it could not have been pleasant to have been stared at as Alf and Tom were staring then. “I beg your pardon,” said Alf, cool as acucumber. “To what insolence do you refer?” Tom actually chuckled; I couldn’t have chuckled for a good deal; it seemed tome not only impudent, but risky; I couldn’t forget Dr. Rawle’s words about his homicidal tendencies. He turned red as a lobster; I never saw such an expression come over a man’s face before—perfectly demoniacal. To my surprise he sat down and spoke as calmly and deliberately as possible. \‘ Thank you,” he said; “I shall not forget this.” . There was a sound about his “ I shall not forget this” I did not relish. Alf said nothing, Tom and he set off rowing as coolly as though nothing had happened. I extemporized a seat in the bow, and tried to make things as comfortable as possible.

I- noticed, although Alf and Tom were f° cooU they hardly took their eyes off him for more than a second at a time. His behavior before their furtive glances was peculiar; he saw he was being watched; he couldn’t sit still; he looked first at one bank, then at the other; his eyes traveled everywhere, resting nowhere; his hands fidgeted and trembled; he seemed all of a quiver. I expected him to break into a paroxysm every second. If I hadn’t called out he would have run us right into the shore; when I called he clutched the other string violently, jerking the boat almost round. I heartily mshed him at Jericho before he had come near us. No one spoke. We went slowly along, watching each other. At last he said something “I—l will get out,” he said, in an odd, nervous way. ' “With pleasure,” said Alf; “in a minute.” ’ “Why not now? Why not now, sir?” he said, seeming to shake from head to foot.

Where are you going to gets-into the nver?” I admired Alf s coolness; I envied him. I only hoped he wouldn't let it carry him too far. The man glowered at him; for a moment he looked him full In the face. I never saw a look in a man’s eyes iike tkat in his. Alf returned look for look. Slightly, almost imperceptibly, he quickened his stroke. A little lower down was a little hamlet with a well-known uw and a capital landing-stage. When

we came alongside, the stranger said, “This will do: I’ll get out here?’ He turned the boat inshore. No sooner were we near enough than he rose in his seat and sprang on to the beach. There were several people about, watermen and others. Alf was after him in an instant; he rose almost simultaneously and leaped on shore; he touched him on the shoulder. “ Now come,” he said, “don’t be foolish; we know all about it.” The other turned on him like a flash of lightning. “What do you mean?” But Tom was too auick for him; he was on the other side, and took his arm. “Come,” he said, “don’t let’s Ipve a raw.” The stranger raised himself to his full height and shook off Tom with ease. He then hit oht right and left in splendid style. Tom and Alf went down like ninepins. But my blood was up. I scrambled on shore and ran into nim, dodged his blows, and closed. ' I am pretty strong. He was old enough to oe my father; but I found I had met my match, and more. I was like a baby in his arms; he lifted me clean off my feet and threw me straight into the river. It was a splendid exhibition of strength. Tom and Alf, finding their feet, made for him together, ana scrambling out as beet I could, I followed suit. You never such a set-out. We dung to him like leeches. The language ne used was awful, his strength magnificent; though we were three to one, ne waa a match for all of us. Of course, the bystanders, seeing a row, came up; they interfered and pulled us off. “Here’s a pretty go!” said one. “ What’s all this?”

.“Stop him! lay hold of him!” said Alf; “ he’s a lunatic.” “ A what?” said the man. “ He’s a lunatic, escaped from Dr. Rawle’s asylum.” Instead of lending a hand, the man went off into a roar of laughter, and the others joined. The stranger looked literally frantic with rage. A gentleman stepped out from the crowd. “There’s some mistake,” he said; “this gentleman is Mr. Travers, of Tollhurst Hall.” You could have knocked us all three down with a feather, I do believe. Could it be possible? Could we have been such consummate idiots as to have mistaken a sane man for a lunatic? and that man Lilian Travers’ father! I could have shrunk into my boots; I could have run away and hid myself in bed. To think that we should have dogged, and watched, and insulted, and assaulted the man of all others in whose good books we wished to stand—Lilian Travers’ father! Never did three men look such fools as we did then. We were so confoundedly in earnest about it; that was the worst of all. I don’t care what you say; you may think it a first-rate joke; but he must have been an eccentric sort of elderly gentleman. If he had behaved sensibly, if he had made one sensible remark, he. would have blown our delusions to the winds.

We tendered our apologies as best we could to the man we had so insulted; but; he treated us and them with loftiest scorn; and we got one after another into the boat amidst the gibes and jeers of an unsympathetic crowd. And as we rowed from the wretched place as fast as our oars would take us, we each of us in our secret heart declared we should never forget our adventure up the river with a lunatic. And we haven’t. From that dav to this I have never seen Lilian Travers, nor do I wish to. Harper's Weekly.