The Lost Middy Part 8

Aleck was silent, and the sailor's advice suddenly came to mind: "Tell him you won and thrashed your man."

But the words would not come, and while he remained silent Captain Donne spoke again, very sternly now:

"Do you hear me, sir?"

"Yes, uncle," said the boy, desperately.

"Then answer my question. You say it was not because you were pelted and called names. Why, then, did you degrade yourself like this and fight?"

"It was because--no, no, uncle," cried the boy, through his teeth, which were compressed tightly as if he was afraid that the simple truth would escape; "I--I can't tell you."

"Then there is something more?"

"Yes, uncle."

"What is it, then?" cried the old man, whose own temper was rapidly getting the mastery. "Speak out, sir, and let me hear whether you have any decent excuse to offer for your conduct. Do you hear?"

"Yes, uncle," faltered the lad.

"Then speak, sir."

"I--I can't, uncle. Don't ask me, please."

"What! I will and do ask you, sir," cried the old man, furiously: "and what is more, I will be told. I am the proper judge of your conduct.

How dare you refuse to speak--how dare you tell me almost to my face that you will not answer my question?"

"I don't tell you that, uncle," cried the boy, pa.s.sionately. "I only say I can't tell you."

"You obstinate young scoundrel! How dare you!" roared the old man, now almost beside himself with rage. "Tell me this instant. Why, then, did you engage in this disgraceful encounter?"

Aleck darted an imploring look at the old man, which seemed to be begging him piteously not to press for the answer, but in his furious outbreak the old man could not read it aright--could only set it down to stubbornness--and, completely overcome by the pa.s.sion bubbling up to his brain, he started to his feet and pointed to the door, but only to dash his hand down upon the table the next moment.

"No," he cried, "if you forget your duty to me, Aleck, I will not forget mine to you. I'll not be angry, but quite cool. Now, sir," he cried, with his face looking congested and his heavy grey brows drawn down over his glowing eyes, while his voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and strange. "Aleck, tell me at once. I'll have an answer before you leave this room. Why did you engage in that disgraceful fight?"

"I can't tell you, uncle," said the boy, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Ha! That means, sir, that you are obstinately determined not to speak?"

"It isn't obstinacy, uncle."

"Don't contradict me, sir. I say it is obstinacy. Now, once more, for the last time, will you answer my question?"

Aleck drew in a long, low, hissing breath and stood fast for a few moments, before saying, in a low tone, his voice quivering the while:

"I can't tell you, uncle."

There was a dead silence in the room for a few moments then; so dead was the silence, in fact, that if the proverbial pin had dropped it would have sounded loudly on the polished oaken boards.

Then the old man spoke, in a curiously suppressed tone of voice.

"Very well," he said, huskily; "it is what was bound to come sooner or later. I see I have made another of the mistakes which have blasted my existence. I must have time to think out what I shall do. One thing is very evident--you have rebelled against my rule, Aleck, and are struggling to get away to think and act, sir, for yourself. I have done my best for you, but in my isolation I have doubtless been blind and narrow. It is the natural result of our solitary life here--the young spirit seeking to soar."

"Oh, no, uncle--" began the boy.

"Silence, sir!" thundered the old man. "Hear me out. I say it is so, and I know. You resent my holding the tether longer, but you are too young yet to fly unheld. I have my duty to do for your mother's sake and for yours. I must have time to think out my plans, but in the meantime prepare yourself to go to some school or inst.i.tution for a year or two before entering upon your profession."

"But, uncle!"

"That will do, sir," said the old man, sternly. "You have struck your blow against my authority, and this painful episode in my life must end."

"If you'd only let me speak, uncle!" cried the boy, pa.s.sionately.

"I begged of you to speak, sir," said the old man, coldly. "I ordered you to speak; but in each case you refused. Well, now then, tell me simply--I ask again on principle--why did you fight those boys?"

Aleck set his teeth and hung his head.

"That will do," said the old man, in deep, husky tones. "Go to your room and get rid of as much of the traces of your encounter as you can before going down to your dinner. You need not interrupt me here again till I send for you. There--go."

The old man once more raised his hand to point towards the door, and, unable to contain himself longer, Aleck rushed out, made for his room, and shut and bolted himself in.

CHAPTER SIX.

It was some time before the boy could do anything but sit with elbows upon knees, chin upon hands, gazing straight before him into vacancy.

His head throbbed so that he could not think consistently. In his struggle on the pier he had been a good deal shaken, and that alone was enough to produce a feverish kind of excitement. Then on the way back his brain had been much troubled, while, worst of all, there had been the scene with his uncle.

It was then no wonder that he could not arrange his thoughts so as to sit in judgment upon his acts, especially that last one, in which he had stubbornly, as it seemed, refused or declined to respond to his uncle's question.

He tried, and tried hard, with a curious seething desire working in his brain, to decide upon going straight to the old man and speaking out, giving him frankly his reason for refusing to speak. But this always came to the same conclusion: "I can't--I dare not--I can't."

At last, wearied out and confused more and more by his throbbing brain, the boy rose and walked slowly to the looking-gla.s.s, where he started in dismay at the image reflected there. For a few moments it seemed to be part and parcel of some confused dream, but its truth gradually forced itself upon him, and finally he burst out into a mocking, half hysterical laugh.

"I don't wonder at uncle," he cried; "I don't wonder at his being in a rage."

With a weary sigh he went to the washstand and half filled the basin.

"I'd no idea I looked such a sight," he muttered, as he began to bathe his stiff and swollen features. "The brute!" he said, after a few moments. "I wish I'd told uncle, though, that I beat him well. But, oh, dear! what a muddle it all seems! I wish I'd hit him twice as hard," he said, with angry vehemence, half aloud. "Yes?"

For there was a gentle tapping at the door.

"Aren't you coming down to dinner, Master Aleck?"

"No, Jane; not to-day."

"But it's all over-done, my dear--been ready more than an hour. Do, do come, or it'll be spoiled."

"Go and tell uncle then. I'm not coming down."