The Sea-Witch, Maturin Murray Ballou [nonfiction book recommendations txt] 📗

took every occasion to disparage the character of Captain Ratlin, and even before Miss Huntington’s own face, declared him no gentleman.

“You are very severe, Captain Bramble,” said the lady, “upon a person whom you acknowledge you have not yet known a single calendar month.”

“It is long enough, quite long enough, Miss Huntington, to read the character of such an unprincipled fellow as this nondescript captain.”

“I have known him about twice as long as you, Captain Bramble,” replied Miss Huntington, calmly, “and I have not only formed a very different opinion of him, but have good reasons to feel satisfied of the correctness of my judgment.”

“I perceive that Miss Huntington has taken him under her protection,” replied the discomfited officer, sarcastically, as he seized his hat and left her.

While in this spirit, the two rivals met in the open space before the hose of Don Leonardo, when the English officer vented some coarse and scurrillous remarks upon Captain Ratlin, whose eyes flashed fire, and who seized his traducer by the throat and bent him nearly double to the earth, with an ease that showed his superior physical strength to be immense, but as though impressed with some returning sense, Captain Ratlin released his grasp and said:

“Rise, sir, you are safe from my hand; but fortunate it is for you that you can call this lady whose name you have just referred to, friend; the man whom she honors by her countenance is safe from any injury I can inflict.”

“A very chivalric speech,” replied the enraged and brow-beaten officer. “But you shall answer for this, sir, and at once. This is not the spot—you must give me satisfaction for this base insult, or by the heaven above us I will shoot you like a dog!”

“As you will, sir. I have spoken openly, and I shall abide by my word. I am no boaster, nor do I expect any especial favor at the hands of the lady whom you have named; but I repeat, sir, that my respect for her renders her friend safe from any injury that I might otherwise, in just indignation, inflict.”

Little did either know that the object of their remarks had been a silent but trembling witness of the entire scene, from the first taunting word Captain Bramble had spoken.

Early the subsequent morning, even before the sun had risen, a boat might have been seen pulling from the side of the English sloop-of-war, propelled by the stout arms of a couple of seamen, while two persons sat in the stern, a closer examination of whom would have revealed them to be the captain of the ship and surgeon. At the same moment there shot out from a little nook or bay in the rear of the barracoons, a light skiff propelled by a single oarsman, who rowed his bark in true seamen style, cross-handed, while a second party sat in the stern. The rower was Captain Ratlin, and his companion was the swarthy and fierce-looking Don Leonardo. That the same purpose guided the course of either boat was apparent from the fact that both were headed for the same jutting point of land that formed a sort of cape on the harbor’s southern side.

“That is the fellow, he who pulls the oars,” said Captain Bramble to his surgeon.

“He must be a vulgar chap, and pulls those instruments as though bred to the business.”

“Not so very vulgar, either,” said the other; “the fellow has seen the world and has his notions of honor, and knows how to behave, that is plain enough.”

“Egad, he shoots that skiff ahead like an arrow; the fellow could make his fortune as a ferryman,” continued the surgeon, facetiously.

“Give way, lads, give way,” said the English captain, impatiently, to his men, as he saw that the skiff would reach the point long before he got there himself.

A short half-hour found the two rivals standing opposite to each other at some twelve paces distance, each with a pistol in his hand. The preliminaries had been duly arranged between the surgeon and Don Leonardo, the latter of whom had not ceased up to the last moment to strive and effect a reconciliation. Not that he dreaded bloodshed, it was a pastime to him, but because it jarred so manifestly with his interests to have his friend run the risk of his life. Both of the principals were silent. Captain Bramble was exceedingly red in the face, and evidently felt the bitterness of anger still keenly upon him; while the open, manly features of his opponent wore the same placid aspect as had characterized them while he leaned over the side of his own ship, or gazed idly into the rippling waters that laved the dark hull.

It had been arranged that both parties should aim and fire between the commencement and end of pronouncing the words, “one, two, three,” by the surgeon; and that individual, having placed his box of instrument with professional coolness upon the ground, took his position to give the signal agreed upon, when he said, in a preparatory tone:

“Gentlemen, are you ready?”

To which both answered by an inclination of the head, and then immediately followed:

“One, two, three!”

Almost before the first word was fairly articulated, the sharp quick report of Captain Bramble’s pistol was heard, and the next moment he was observed gazing intently upon his adversary, to see whether he had wounded him, and observing that he had not, he dashed his weapon to the ground, uttering a fierce oath at his luck.

In the meantime Captain Ratlin had not moved an inch, not even a muscle; his hand containing the pistol had hung quietly at his side, and his face still remained undisturbed. He had kept his word, and would not fire upon the friend of the woman whom he truly respected, and earnestly, devotedly, though hopelessly loved.

Captain Bramble paced back and forth like a caged lion, until at last, coming opposite and near to his adversary, he coarsely remarked:

“It is much easier for a trembling hand to retain a perpendicular position than to assume a horizontal one!”

Captain Ratlin understood the taunt, and stepping to where the English officer had thrown his discharged weapon, he threw it high in the air, and at the exact moment when the power of gravitation turned the piece towards the earth, he quickly raised his arm and fired, sending the bullet in his own pistol completely through the wooden stock of the other. Then turning coolly to Captain Bramble, he said:

“A trembling hand, sir, is hardly so sure of its aim as that.”

“This fellow is the evil one himself,” whispered the surgeon to his principal. “Come, let us on board, if he should insist upon at second shot, we should be obliged to give him the chance, since he did not fire at you, and he would drop you spite of fate.”

“Curse his luck; I am sure I had him full in the breast—such a miss, and I, who am so sure at a dozen paces;” and the English officer continued to chafe and growl until he had got into his boat, and was out of hearing from the shore.

Captain Ratlin and Don Leonardo quietly pulled back towards the barracoons, and as they neared the shore they saw the form of a female, which both at once recognized to be that of Miss Huntington, who stood there pale as death, and who gazed intently at the young commander as he drew nearer and nearer, and as he jumped upon the shore, said, hastily:

“You have been on a fearful errand. Have either of you been hurt?”

“Nay, lady, it was but a bit of morning sport,” said Captain Ratlin, pleasantly.

“Answer me, was he injured, for I see you are not?”

“There has been no harm done to flesh and blood, lady.”

“Heaven be praised!” said the half-fainting girl, as she leaned upon the young commander’s proffered arm, and they together approached the house of Don Leonardo.

There had been another witness of the affair, one who was secreted on the very spot where the meeting took place, one who had overheard the arrangements for the same, and one who had secretly repaired thither with hopes to have seen the blood of one, if not both, flow, even unto death. And this was Maud, poor deluded, revengeful girl, who had permitted one passion to fill her every thought, and who now lived and dreamed only for revenge upon one who was as innocent of any intended slight or wrong to her as he was to the being he really loved.

Maud, with the fleetness of an antelope, had ran by the land-path from the spot of the contest, and reached home nearly as quick as the boat containing her father and Captain Ratlin had done, and now, as she saw her hated white rival leaning upon his arm, so pale, so confiding, and he addressing her with such tender assurance, a fresh wound to her already rankled and goaded feelings was imparted, and once more she swore a fearful and quick revenge.

Captain Bramble, too much chagrined to make his appearance, at least for a few days, did not soon land from his vessel, but mused alone in the solitude of his cabin upon the obduracy of Miss Huntington’s heart, and the good luck which had saved his rival’s life.

 

CHAPTER XI.

THE HUES OF LOVE.

 

CAPTAIN BRAMBLE did not long remain contented on board his ship. This he could not do while he realized that Miss Huntington was so near upon the shore; for, so far as such a being could really love, he did love the lady; and yet his sentiment of regard was so mixed up with selfishness and bitterness of spirit, and pride at being refused, that the small germ of real affection which had found birth in his bosom was too much corroded with alloy to be identified. He felt that he had been overreached by Captain Ratlin, and also that he had good grounds of suspecting his successful rival of being either directly or indirectly engaged in the illegal trade of the coast, and, determined, if possible, to discover his secret, he again became a frequent visitor of Don Leonardo’s house, where he was sure to meet him constantly.

There were two spirits whom we have introduced to the reader in this connection, who were fitting companions for each other; but they had not as yet been brought together by any chance so as to understand one another. We refer to Captain Bramble and Maud the Quadroon. Both now hated Captain Ratlin, and would gladly have been revenged in any way for the gratification of their feelings upon her whom he so fondly loved. With this similarity of sentiment it was not singular that they should ere long discover themselves and feelings to each other. Indeed Maud, who had been a secret witness of the deed, already realized that Captain Bramble was the enemy of him whom she had once loved, and whom she now so bitterly despised.

Untutored in the ways of the world and fashionable intrigue, yet the Quadroon saw very clearly that through Captain Bramble she might consummate that revenge which she had so signally failed in doing by the agency of the hostile negro tribes she had treacherously brought to her father’s doors. He had not been long at the factory, therefore, on landing after the duel, before Maud sought a private interview with him, on pretext of communicating to him some information that should be of value to him in connection with his official duty. To this, of course, the English officer responded at once, shrewdly suspecting at least a portion of the truth, and he therefore met Maud at an appointed spot in the jungle hard