Fighting for the Right Part 20

[Ill.u.s.tration: "His blood was boiling with indignation at the unprovoked a.s.sault."

Page 207.]

As he pa.s.sed a drinking-saloon a torrent of loud talk, spiced with oaths, flowed out from the place. Before he had fairly pa.s.sed the door a violent hand 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 a.s.saulted 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 a.s.sailant; but the fellow held on, and he found it impossible to detach his grasp.

His blood was boiling with indignation at the unprovoked a.s.sault, 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 a.s.sailant reeled, and released his hold, for his head must have whirled around like a top under the cras.h.i.+ng 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 wound upon it. One glance was enough to satisfy Christy as to the ident.i.ty of the ruffian.

It was Captain f.l.a.n.g.er, 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 f.l.a.n.g.er 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, f.l.a.n.g.er!" shouted one of the 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.

f.l.a.n.g.er 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 Rubempre rushed in between them, struck the a.s.sailant 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 feet. The Na.s.sau officers doubtless had a great deal of this sort of quarrelling, for drinking strong liquors was the princ.i.p.al occupation of the officers and crews of the blockade-runners while in port and on sh.o.r.e.

"What is all this about? Who began this quarrel?" demanded one of them, as he looked from one party to the other in the battle.

"I was pa.s.sing the door of this saloon, and did not even look into it, when that man rushed upon me, and seized me by the collar," replied Christy. "I tried to shake him off, but I could not, and then I struck him in the side of the head."

"Look here, you n.i.g.g.e.r!" shouted Captain f.l.a.n.g.er. "It's none of your business who began it."

"I shall arrest you for a breach of the peace," said the policeman.

"I don't reckon you will. Do you see my nose? Look at it! Don't you see that it is knocked into a c.o.c.ked hat?" said f.l.a.n.g.er fiercely.

"I see it is; but what has that to do with this matter?" asked the negro officer.

"That man shot my nose off!" roared f.l.a.n.g.er. "I am going to kill him for it, if it costs me my head!"

"You shall not kill him here," protested the guardian of the peace. "You have been drinking too much, sir, and you must go with me and get sobered off."

The two policemen walked up to him with the intention of arresting him; but he showed fight. He was too tipsy to make an effectual resistance.

His companions in the saloon huddled around him, and endeavored to compel the policemen to let go their hold of him; but they held on to their prisoner till two more officers came, and f.l.a.n.g.er was dragged out into the street, and then marched to the jail.

Christy was very much surprised that nothing was said to him by the officers about the affair in which he had been one of the princ.i.p.al actors. He had expected to be summoned as a witness against the prisoner they had taken, but not a word was said to him. He looked about to see if the detective was in sight, but he had disappeared.

"That was an ugly-looking man," said a gentleman in the street, after the carousers had returned to the saloon. "I hope he has not injured you."

"Not at all, sir; he was too drunk to do all he could have done if he had been in full possession of his faculties, for he is a much heavier person than I am," replied Christy. "Why was I not summoned as a witness at his examination?"

"Oh, bless you, sir! they will not examine or try him; they will sober him off, and then discharge him. He is the captain of that little steamer near the public wharf. She is called the Snapper, and will sail for the States on the high tide at five o'clock."

"Do you know to what port she is bound?" asked Christy.

"Mobile."

The young officer walked down to the public wharf to see the Snapper.

CHAPTER XIX

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

The Snapper was quite a small craft, and looked like an old vessel; for she was a side-wheeler, though she had evidently been built for a sea-going craft. Whether f.l.a.n.g.er had escaped from the Bellevite after being transferred to her from the Bronx, or had been regularly exchanged as a prisoner of war, Christy had no means of knowing. It made little difference; he was in Na.s.sau, and he was thirsting for revenge against him.

The young officer did not feel that the brutal wretch had any reasonable cause to complain of him, and especially no right to revenge himself for an injury received while his a.s.sailant was the aggressor. He had done his duty to his country. He had been compelled to act promptly; and he had not aimed his revolver particularly at the nose of his dangerous a.s.sailant. f.l.a.n.g.er was engaged in a foolhardy enterprise; and the mutilation of his nasal member had resulted very naturally from his folly.

His enemy was probably a good sailor, and he was a bold ruffian. Christy had captured the steamer loaded with cotton, in which he was all ready to sail from St. Andrew's Bay; and doubtless this was his first reason for hating the young officer. But no soldier or sailor of character would ever think of such a thing as revenging himself for an injury received in the strife, especially if it was fairly inflicted. The business of war is to kill, wound, and capture, as well as for each side to injure the other in person and property to the extent of its ability.

"Want a boat, sir?" asked a negro, who saw that Christy was gazing at the Snapper, even while he was thinking about his quarrel with Captain f.l.a.n.g.er.

"Where is your boat?" asked the officer.

"Right here, sir," replied the boatman, pointing to the steps at the landing-place. "The best sailboat in the harbor, sir."

"I want to sail about this bay for a couple of hours," added Christy, as he stopped on the upper step to examine the craft.

It was built exactly like the Eleuthera, though not quite so large.

"I saw you looking at the steamer there," said the boatman, pointing to the vessel in which Christy was interested. "Do you wish to go on board of her, sir?"

"No; I desire only to sail about the harbor, and perhaps go outside the bar. Can you cross it in this boat?"

"Yes, sir; no trouble at all about crossing it in the Dinah. Take you over to Eleuthera, if you like."

"No; I only want to sail about the harbor, and look at the vessels in port," replied Christy.

While he was looking at the boat, he became conscious that a young man, who was standing on the capsill of the wharf, was looking at him very earnestly. He only glanced at him, but did not recognize him. He had taken the first step in the descent of the stairs, when this person put his hand upon his shoulder to attract his attention. Christy looked at him, and was sure that he had seen him before, though he failed to identify him.

"How are you, Christy?" said the stranger. "Don't you know me?"

"Your face has a familiar look to me, but I am unable to make you out at first sight," replied the young officer, more puzzled as he examined the features of the young man, who appeared to be about twenty years old.

"You and I both have grown a great deal in the last two years, since we first met on this very wharf; but I am Percy Pierson, and you and I were fellow-voyagers in the Bellevite."

"I think you have changed in that time more than I have, or I should have recognized you," answered Christy very coldly, for he was not at all pleased to be identified by any person.

"You are a good deal larger than when I saw you last time, but you look just the same. I am glad to see you, Christy, for you and I ran a big rig over in Mobile Bay," continued Percy, as he extended his hand to the other.