Fighting for the Right, Oliver Optic [easy novels to read .txt] 📗

M. Rubempré with energy. "We have come from ze France; but I was been 199 in London, and I comprehend ze money of Eengland."

"Two shillings then," replied the driver, laughing.

"We go wiz you to ze Nassau," added the Frenchman, seating himself in the carriage, his companion taking a place at his side.

"Where do you want to go, sir?" asked the negro, as he closed the door of the victoria.

"We must go to Nassau," replied the detective, mangling his pronunciation even more than his grammar.

"Yes, I know; but where in Nassau do you wish to go? Shall I drive you to a hotel? The Royal Victoria is the best in the place."

"You shall take us to zat hotel."

For the sake of appearances, rather than for any other reason, each of the visitors to Nassau had brought with him a small hand-bag, containing such articles as might be useful to them. Having these evidences that they were travellers, it would be prudent to go to a hotel, though the want of more luggage had made the landlord in Hamilton suspicious of their ability to pay their bills.

Christy found enough to do during the ride to 200 observe the strange sights presented to his gaze, even in the outskirts of the town. The people were full of interest to him, and he wondered that his father had never made a winter trip in the West Indies in former years, instead of confining his visits to the more northern islands of the ocean.

The carriage arrived at the Royal Victoria Hotel, located on a ridge which has been dignified as a hill, a short distance in the rear of the business portion of the town. M. Rubempré produced his purse, which was well stuffed with sovereigns, more for the enlightenment of the clerk who came out when the vehicle stopped, than for the information of the driver, to whom he paid four florins, which was just double his fare.

"Do you speak French?" asked the guest in that language.

"No, sir; not a word of it," though he understood the question.

"We must have two chambers for one, two, t'ree day."

"All right; we have two that were vacated this morning," replied the clerk, as he led the way to the office, where the Frenchman registered his name, and his residence as in Paris.

201 Christy wrote the name of Christophe Poireau, also from Paris. Then they chatted together in French for a moment, in order to impress the clerk and others who were standing near with the fact that they spoke the polite language. They were shown to two small chambers, well up in the air, for the hotel seemed to be as full as the clerk had suggested that it was. The blockade business made the town and the hotel very lively.

The newly arrived guests did not waste any time in their rooms, but entered at once upon the work of their mission. On the piazza they halted to size up the other visitors at the hotel. From this high point of view they could see the harbor, crowded with vessels.

202 CHAPTER XVIII AN AFFRAY IN NASSAU

Christy's first care was to look about among the guests of the hotel gathered on the piazza, in order to ascertain if there was any person there whom he had ever met before. Very few of them were what could be classed as genteel people, and some of them were such people as one would not expect to see at a first-class hotel. They were dressed in seaman's garments for the most part, though not as common sailors; and doubtless many of them were commanders or officers of the vessels in the harbor.

Putting on an indifferent air he walked about the veranda, observing every person he encountered, as well as those who were seated in groups, engaged in rather noisy conversation, intermixed with a great deal of profanity. He breathed easier when he had made the circuit of the piazzas on the first floor, though there were two others on 203 the stories above it, for he found no one he could identify as a person he had seen before.

There were quite a number of steamers in the harbor, or in that part of it which lies inside of the bar and in front of the town, with at least three times as many sailing craft. No doubt many of the latter, as well as the former, had brought cargoes of cotton from Confederate ports; for though the blockade was regarded as effective, and treated as such by foreign nations, many small vessels contrived to escape from obscure harbors on the Southern coast. Christy had been concerned in the capture of a considerable number of such. On the wharves were stacks of cotton which had been landed from these vessels, and several of them were engaged in transferring it to small steamers, for large ones were unable to cross the bar. But the visitors had no business with the vessels thus engaged, for they had completed their voyages, and were exempt from capture.

"I have taken not a few prisoners in or off Southern ports, and it would not greatly surprise me if I should meet some one I had met before," said Christy, in French, as he resumed his seat by the side of the detective.

204 "Then I fear that your coming with me was a mistake," replied M. Rubempré. "You must be extremely cautious, not only for your own protection, but because you may compromise me, and cause me to fail in the accomplishment of my mission here."

"I should be sorry to interfere with your work, and I think we had better separate," replied Christy, very much disturbed at the suggestion of his friend. "If I can do no good, I certainly do not wish to do any harm."

"No, my friend; I cannot desert you, especially if you are in peril," protested the detective. "How could I ever look your father in the face if I permitted you to get into trouble here?"

"I don't think I shall get into trouble, even if I am recognized by some person. This is not Confederate territory, though it looks very much like it; for all the people around us are talking secession, and the inhabitants sympathize with the South to the fullest extent. I could not be captured and sent to a Confederate State, or be subjected to any violence, for the authorities would not permit anything of the kind," Christy argued with energy.

205 "I am not so sure of that."

"I have no doubt in regard to my own safety; but if you appear to be connected with me in any manner, and I were identified as a United States naval officer, of course it would ruin your enterprise. For this reason I insist that we separate, and I will take a room at another hotel."

Christy was determined, and in the end the detective had to yield in substance to him, though it was agreed, for reasons that seemed to be good, that M. Rubempré should change his hotel. They arranged to meet after dark in the grounds in the rear of the Royal Victoria, to consult in regard to the future.

"In the mean time I will do what I can to obtain information in regard to steamers bound to Confederate ports. I will still claim to be a Frenchman, and talk pigeon English," continued Christy.

"If any misfortune happens to you, Christophe, I shall blame myself for it," added the Frenchman.

"You cannot fairly do that, for it will not be through any fault of yours. If I fail to meet you as agreed, you can look for me. If you cannot find me, you must leave at the time agreed upon 206 with Captain Chantor, whether I go with you or not. But I have no idea that anything will happen to prevent me from returning to the ship with you."

"I could not leave without you," said the detective moodily.

"If you do not, you will be likely to get the Chateaugay into trouble; for if we did not return to her, she would probably come into this port after us."

"I will consider the matter before I assent to it," returned M. Rubempré, rising from his chair.

Christy was fully resolved not to endanger the mission of his companion, and he left the hotel. He walked slowly down Parliament to Bay Street, which is the principal business avenue of the town, running parallel to the shore. It was lined with shops, saloons, and small hotels on one side, and with the market and wharves on the other. He desired to see what he could of the place, and pick up all the information that would be serviceable to an officer of the navy.

"His blood was boiling with indignation at the unprovoked assault." (Page 207)

As he passed a drinking-saloon a torrent of loud talk, spiced with oaths, flowed out from the place. Before he had fairly passed the door a violent hand 207 was laid upon him, seizing him by the collar with no gentle grasp. The ruffian had fallen upon him from the rear, and he could not see who it was that assaulted him. The man attempted to drag him into the saloon; but he was evidently considerably affected by his potations in the place, and his legs were somewhat tangled up by the condition of his brain.

Christy attempted, by a vigorous movement, to shake off his assailant; but the fellow held on, and he found it impossible to detach his grasp. His blood was boiling with indignation at the unprovoked assault, and his two fists were clinched so tight that iron could hardly have been harder and tougher. He levelled a blow at the head of the ruffian, who still kept in his rear, and delivered it with all the power of his strong arm.

The assailant reeled, and released his hold, for his head must have whirled around like a top under the crashing blow it had sustained. Christy turned so that he could see the ruffian. He was a stalwart fellow, at least fifty pounds heavier than the young lieutenant. His nose was terribly disfigured, not by the blow of the young officer, for, twisted as it was, there was no sign of a fresh 208 wound upon it. One glance was enough to satisfy Christy as to the identity of the ruffian.

It was Captain Flanger, whose steamer Christy had captured, with a boat expedition sent out from the Bronx, in St. Andrew's Bay. He was a prisoner, but had escaped, and invaded the cabin of the Bronx, where he attempted to make Christy sign an order which would have resulted in delivering the steamer to the enemy. The heroic young commander, preferring death to dishonor, had refused to sign the order. The affair had culminated in a sort of duel in the cabin, in which Christy, aided by his faithful steward, had hit Flanger in the nose with his revolver.

The ruffian had sworn to be revenged at the time, and he seemed to have chosen the present occasion to wreak his vengeance upon the destroyer of his nasal member. The blow his victim had struck was a set-back to him; but he presently recovered the balance of his head which the shock had upset. It was plain enough that he had not given up the battle, for he had drawn back with the evident intention of using his clinched fists upon his adversary.

"Hit him again, Flanger!" shouted one of the 209 brutal occupants of the saloon, who now filled the doorway.

The affair was rapidly becoming serious, and Christy was debating with himself whether or not he should draw a revolver he carried in his pocket; but he was cool enough to realize that he was on neutral ground, and that it would be very imprudent to be the first to resort to deadly weapons. He could not run away, for his self-respect would not permit him to do so. He braced himself up to meet the onslaught of the ruffian.

Flanger charged upon him, and attempted to plant a blow with his fist in the face of his intended victim; but the young officer parried it, and was about to follow up the movement with a blow, when Monsieur Rubempré rushed in between them, struck the assailant such a blow that he went over backwards. In fact, the man was too much intoxicated to stand without considerable difficulty.

At this moment a couple of colored policemen rushed in between the combatants. The tipplers in the saloon picked up their comrade, and stood him on his