Young Captain Jack; Or, The Son of a Soldier, Alger and Stratemeyer [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

was gratified so far as seeing Harry Powell was concerned, for the young surgeon dashed up on horseback early in the morning.

"I could not keep away," he said, after shaking hands with Mrs. Ruthven and his cousin. "I heard that the fight was fierce in this neighborhood, and I wanted to learn if you had suffered."

"We had a cannon ball go through the sitting room," answered Mrs. Ruthven.

"And was anybody hurt?"

"One of the wounded soldiers was hit. He has now a high fever in consequence."

"Thank God the cannon ball did not hit you or Marion!" ejaculated Harry Powell, and gave Marion a look that made the girl blush deeply. "Somebody said the Ruthven place had been on fire."

"That was at St. John's place," answered Marion. "But the fire was put out before great damage was done."

"I am happy to see that you were not hurt, Harry," said Mrs. Ruthven. "You must have been in peril many times."

"I was in peril, aunt, and I did not escape wholly. I was wounded in the shoulder, although the hurt is of small consequence."

"I am glad that you escaped," cried Marion. And she gave him a look that meant a good deal.

"Poor Colonel Stanton was not so fortunate," went on the young surgeon. "He was shot through the breast, and now lies between life and death."

"Jack saw him shot, from a distance," said Mrs. Ruthven.

"Did he? And where is Jack now?"

"He has disappeared," and the lady of the plantation gave her nephew some of the particulars.

Harry was invited into the house, and he remained to lunch, in the meantime telling of the general progress of the war.

"Frankly, I wish it was at an end," he said. "I hate to see one section of our glorious country fighting the other. It is not right."

During the talk it developed that Colonel Stanton was lying at a house about half a mile distant, up the bay road.

"He acts very queerly," said Harry Powell, "just as if his wound had affected his mind."

"Can we do anything for him?" asked Mrs. Ruthven.

"I do not know of anything now. But perhaps I'll think of something later, aunt. I do not wish the colonel to suffer any more than is necessary. He is a thorough gentleman."

"I feel you are right, Harry. He has given me an entirely different idea of Yankees from what I had before," returned Mrs. Ruthven warmly.

The lady of the plantation became deeply interested in the wounded colonel's case, and when the young surgeon went away she had one of the negroes of the place hitch up a horse to the carriage and drive her over to where the wounded officer lay.

The colonel was in something of a fever, and hardly recognized her. For a long time he kept muttering to himself, but she could not catch his words.

"The ship is doomed!" he cried suddenly. "We are going to pieces on the rocks!" And then he began to speak of the army and of the terrible battle through which he had gone.

"What can he mean by saying the ship is doomed?" was the question which Mrs. Ruthven asked herself. "Can it be that he was once in a shipwreck?"

For a long while after this the colonel lay silent. Then he opened his eyes and stared around wildly.

"All drowned, you say?" he exclaimed. "No! no! Laura must be saved! Save my wife—never mind me! How high the waves are running! Where is the child? Captain, why don't you put out to sea? Don't you see the rebels? They are luring us to the coast! See, that rebel is stealing my child, my darling Jack! Ha! we have struck, and I am drifting. Laura, where are you? Save Jack! Look, look, they are retreating! The battle is won! Oh, what a storm—can nothing be saved?" And then the poor man sank back, completely exhausted.

Mrs. Ruthven drank in the spoken words like one in a dream. What was this the wounded officer was saying? Something about a storm, about a wife Laura, and a child named Jack!

"Can it be possible that he is speaking of our boy Jack?" she asked herself, and then looked at the colonel's face more closely than ever. The resemblance was more than striking, it was perfect. Give Jack that heavy mustache and those wrinkles, and the faces would be exactly alike.

"He must be Jack's father!" she went on. "How wonderful! But what does this mean? Why did he not claim Jack long ago?"

For over an hour she sat by the colonel's side, but he made no further efforts to speak. In the meantime a surgeon came in to attend to the officer's wound.

"If you can have him taken to my house, I will see to it that he has the best of care," said Mrs. Ruthven.

"Why, are you not a Southern woman, madam?" questioned the surgeon, in pardonable surprise.

"I am, but I know Colonel Stanton, and do not wish to see him suffer any more than is necessary."

"He is a friend?"

"Something of a friend, yes."

"And who are you, if I may ask?"

"I am Mrs. Alice Ruthven, owner of the plantation half a mile from here. Dr. Harry Powell, whom you may know, is my nephew."

"I know Dr. Powell well, and if he says it is all right, I'll have Colonel Stanton removed to your home without delay."

"When will you see Dr. Powell?"

"To-day. This is not a nice place, and I would like to see the colonel have better quarters."

A little later Mrs. Ruthven left and drove home with all speed.

"Marion, I have wonderful news!" she exclaimed, on entering the room where the girl sat making bandages for the wounded soldiers.

"What is it, mamma; is Jack found?"

"No, but I am almost sure that I have found Jack's father?"

"Oh, mamma! Of course you don't mean that horrid Dr. Mackey?"

"No, I mean Colonel Stanton."

"Mamma!" And Marion leaped up, scattering the bandages in all directions.

"Did you ever notice how much Jack and the colonel resembled each other?"

"I did."

"The colonel is in a fever, and while I was there he cried out about a shipwreck, and asked that his wife Laura and his son Jack be saved."

"Didn't you always think Jack's mother was named Laura?"

"I did—although I wasn't sure."

"But why didn't he come to claim Jack?"

"That's the mystery. I have asked that the colonel be brought here, and as soon as he is well enough to stand being questioned I am going to learn the truth of the matter."

"I hope he is Jack's father," murmured Marion. "But if so, what of Dr. Mackey?"

"That's another mystery."

"He must know something of the colonel's past."

"Undoubtedly."

"I wonder if the two ever met in this vicinity?"

"There is no telling. I am impatient to question the colonel. But of course nothing can be done until he is better and in his right mind."

That evening there was the rattle of wagon-wheels on the gravel road leading up to the Ruthven mansion, and, looking out, Marion and her mother saw an ambulance approaching. The colonel was inside, and they hastened to prepare a bedroom for his accommodation.

"Is he better?" asked Mrs. Ruthven of the surgeon in charge.

"A trifle," was the answer. "What he needs is rest and quiet. He has a strong constitution, and that is in his favor."

It did not take long to transfer Colonel Stanton to the bedchamber prepared for his reception, and once he was in the house Mrs. Ruthven did all in her power to make him comfortable. The ride had somewhat exhausted the officer, and he slept heavily until far into the next morning.

CHAPTER XXVI.

DR. MACKEY SHOWS HIS HAND.

"Well, what do these fellows intend to do with me, anyway?"

It was Jack who asked himself the question, as he sat up, after quite a long sleep.

He was a close prisoner in a little cabin far up the mountain side. His hands were bound tightly behind him and were made fast to a heavy wooden stake driven into the hard mud flooring.

Night had come and gone, and all of the Confederates had left him. Now it was almost night again.

"If they would only give me something to eat and to drink," he went on. He was very dry, and his stomach was empty.

Half an hour later a footstep sounded outside, and Dr. Mackey appeared, carrying a knapsack filled with provisions, and a canteen of water.

"Sorry I had to keep you waiting. Jack," he said, as he set the articles down and proceeded to liberate our hero. "But I had the whole affair to smooth over, and I had also to get Gendron out of the muss," and he smiled grimly.

"Dr. Mackey, why do you treat me in this fashion?" demanded Jack.

"Because I want you to come to your senses and understand that I am your father."

"Do you think you are treating me as a father should?"

"A son who will not obey must be made to obey. Here, I have brought you something to eat and to drink. Fall to and make the most of it."

It would have been foolish to refuse the invitation, and our hero began to eat without delay. The surgeon watched him curiously.

"Jack, don't you think you are acting the part of a fool?" said the man presently.

"No, I do not."

"I offer you a name, a good home, and your share of a large fortune, and yet you turn your back on me and my offers."

"Have you a large fortune coming to me?"

"There is a large fortune coming to both of us. You shall have your full share of it—providing you will do as I wish."

"And what do you wish?"

"Well, in the first place, I wish you to let the world know that you are fully satisfied that I am your father."

"And after that?"

"After that I will resign my commission as a surgeon in the Confederate army and take the necessary steps to claim the fortune which awaits us."

"Why haven't you claimed the fortune before?"

"Because I had to prove that my wife had been drowned, and had also to prove that you were either alive or dead. Had you been dead, I could have taken the fortune for my own. But you are not dead, and so I am willing you shall have your share."

"Where is this fortune?"

"Never mind about that now. I will give you my word that, if all goes well, you shall have your full share."

"And how much will that be?"

"Not less than fifty or sixty thousand dollars. The whole fortune is worth over a hundred thousand dollars."

It must be confessed that our hero was staggered for a moment. The sum was certainly a large one—a good deal more than the Ruthven plantation was worth.

"It's a lot of money," he said, at last.

"Indeed it is, my boy. We can be happy on that amount for the rest of our lives."

"But you haven't proved to me that you are my father," went on Jack abruptly.

The crafty face of the surgeon fell, and he bit his lip.

"What more proof do you require?" he said coldly. "Do you suppose I would wish to divide that fortune with a stranger?"

"I presume not, nor would I wish to divide any fortune that was coming to me with a stranger."

"Ha! what do you mean?" gasped the medical man.

"I mean just this: That fortune may be coming to me, and you may be trying to gain possession of it by palming yourself off as my father."

The shot told, and Dr. Mackey staggered back and turned pale.

"Jack, you think you are smart, but you don't know what you are saying," he stormed.

"Perhaps I do, Dr. Mackey. One thing I do know—you are not to be trusted."

"What? This to my face?"

"You took the part of Gendron, when you knew he was nothing but a guerrilla and a horse-thief."

"I know nothing of the kind. Gendron has a good record behind him. He was shot, and that may have hurt his brain."

"I don't believe that fairy tale. To my mind, you sided with him because you were afraid