Winsome Winnie and other New Nonsense Novels

by Stephen Leacock

  "Sit down," said Throgton.

  "Thank you," said the sailor, "it rests my wooden leg."

  The two men looked again. One of the sailor's legs was made of wood.With a start Kent noticed that it was made of East Indian sandalwood.

  "I've just come from Java," said Kelly quietly, as he sat down.

  Kent nodded. "I see it all now," he said. "Throgton, I wronged you. Weshould have known it was a sailor with a wooden leg from Java. There isno other way."

  "Gentlemen," said Peter Kelly, "I've come to make my confession. It isthe usual and right thing to do, gentlemen, and I want to go throughwith it while I can."

  "One moment," said Kent, "do you mind interrupting yourself with ahacking cough?"

  "Thank you, sir," said Kelly, "I'll get to that a little later. Let mebegin by telling you the story of my life."

  "No, no," urged Throgton and Kent, "don't do that!"

  Kelly frowned. "I think I have a right to," he said. "You've got to hearit. As a boy I had a wild, impulsive nature. Had it been curbed----"

  "But it wasn't," said Throgton. "What next?"

  "I was the sole relative of my uncle, and heir to great wealth. Pamperedwith every luxury, I was on a footing of----"

  "One minute," interrupted Kent, rapidly analysing as he listened. "Howmany legs had you then?"

  "Two--on a footing of ease and indolence. I soon lost----"

  "Your leg," said Throgton. "Mr. Kelly, pray come to the essentialthings."

  "I will," said the sailor. "Gentlemen, bad as I was, I was notaltogether bad."

  "Of course not," said Kent and Throgton soothingly. "Probably not morethan ninety per cent."

  "Even into my life, gentlemen, love entered. If you had seen her youwould have known that she is as innocent as the driven snow. Three yearsago she came to my uncle's house. I loved her. One day, hardly knowingwhat I was doing, I took her----" he paused.

  "Yes, yes," said Throgton and Kent, "you took her?"

  "To the Aquarium. My uncle heard of it. There was a violent quarrel. Hedisinherited me and drove me from the house. I had a liking for the seafrom a boy."

  "Excuse me," said Kent, "from what boy?"

  Kelly went right on. "I ran away as a sailor before the mast."

  "Pardon me," interrupted Kent, "I am not used to sea terms. Why didn'tyou run _behind_ the mast?"

  "Hear me out," said Kelly, "I am nearly done. We sailed for the EastIndies--for Java. There a Malay pirate bit off my leg. I returned home,bitter, disillusioned, the mere wreck that you see. I had but onethought. I meant to kill my uncle."

  For a moment a hacking cough interrupted Kelly. Kent and Throgton noddedquietly to one another.

  "I came to his house at night. With the aid of my wooden leg I scaledthe wall, lifted the window and entered the billiard-room. There wasmurder in my heart. Thank God I was spared from that. At the very momentwhen I got in, a light was turned on in the room and I saw beforeme--but no, I will not name her--my better angel. 'Peter!' she cried,then with a woman's intuition she exclaimed, 'You have come to murderyour uncle. Don't do it.' My whole mood changed. I broke down and criedlike a--like a----"

  Kelly paused a moment.

  "Like a boob," said Kent softly. "Go on."

  "When I had done crying, we heard voices. 'Quick,' she exclaimed, 'flee,hide, he must not see you.' She rushed into the adjoining room, closingthe door. My eye had noticed already the trap above. I climbed up toit. Shall I explain how?"

  "Don't," said Kent, "I can analyse it afterwards."

  "There I saw what passed. I saw Mr. Throgton and Kivas Kelly come in. Iwatched their game. They were greatly excited and quarrelled over it.Throgton lost."

  The big man nodded with a scowl. "By his potting the white," he said.

  "Precisely," said Kelly, "he missed the red. Your analysis was wrong,Mr. Kent. The game ended. You started your reasoning from a falsediaeresis. In billiards people never mark the last point. The board stillshowed ninety-nine all. Throgton left and my uncle, as often happens,kept trying over the last shot--a half-ball shot, sir, with the red overthe pocket. He tried again and again. He couldn't make it. He triedvarious ways. His rest was too unsteady. Finally he made his tie into along loop round his neck and put his cue through it. 'Now, by gad!' hesaid, 'I can do it.'"

  "Ha!" said Kent. "Fool that I was."

  "Exactly," continued Kelly. "In the excitement of watching my uncle Iforgot where I was, I leaned too far over and fell out of the trap. Ilanded on uncle, just as he was sitting on the table to shoot. He fell."

  "I see it all!" said Kent. "He hit his head, the loop tightened, the cuespun round and he was dead."

  "That's it," said Kelly. "I saw that he was dead, and I did not dare toremain. I straightened the knot in his tie, laid his hands reverentlyacross his chest, and departed as I had come."

  "Mr. Kelly," said Throgton thoughtfully, "the logic of your story iswonderful. It exceeds anything in its line that I have seen publishedfor months. But there is just one point that I fail to grasp. The twobullet holes?"

  "They were old ones," answered the sailor quietly. "My uncle in hisyouth had led a wild life in the west; he was full of them."

  There was silence for a moment. Then Kelly spoke again:

  "My time, gentlemen, is short." (A hacking cough interrupted him.) "Ifeel that I am withering. It rests with you, gentlemen, whether or not Iwalk out of this room a free man."

  Transome Kent rose and walked over to the sailor.

  "Mr. Kelly," he said, "here is my hand."

  CHAPTER X

  SO DO I

  A few days after the events last narrated, Transome Kent called at theboarding-house of Miss Alice Delary. The young Investigator wore a lightgrey tweed suit, with a salmon-coloured geranium in his buttonhole.There was something exultant yet at the same time grave in hisexpression, as of one who has taken a momentous decision, affecting hisfuture life.

  "I wonder," he murmured, "whether I am acting for my happiness."

  He sat down for a moment on the stone steps and analysed himself.

  Then he rose.

  "I am," he said, and rang the bell.

  "Miss Delary?" said a maid, "she left here two days ago. If you are Mr.Kent, the note on the mantelpiece is for you."

  Without a word (Kent never wasted them) the Investigator opened the noteand read:

  "Dear Mr. Kent,

  "Peter and I were married yesterday morning, and have taken an apartment in Java, New Jersey. You will be glad to hear that Peter's cough is ever so much better. The lawyers have given Peter his money without the least demur.

  "We both feel that your analysis was simply wonderful. Peter says he doesn't know where he would be without it.

  "Very sincerely,

  "Alice Kelly.

  "P.S.--I forgot to mention to you that I saw Peter in the billiard-room. But your analysis was marvellous just the same."

  That evening Kent sat with Throgton talking over the details of thetragedy.

  "Throgton," he said, "it has occurred to me that there were points aboutthat solution that we didn't get exactly straight somehow."

  "So do I," said Throgton.

  V

  BROKEN BARRIERS

  OR, RED LOVE ON A BLUE ISLAND

  (_The kind of thing that has replaced the good Old Sea Story_)

  _V.--Broken Barriers; or, Red Love on a Blue Island._

  It was on a bright August afternoon that I stepped on board the steamer_Patagonia_ at Southampton outward bound for the West Indies and thePort of New Orleans.

  I had at the time no presentiment of disaster. I remember remarking tothe ship's purser, as my things were being carried to my state-room,that I had never in all my travels entered upon any voyage with solittle premonition of accident. "Very good, Mr. Borus," he answered."You will find your state-room in the starboard aisle on the right." Idistinctly recall remarking to the Captain that I had never, in any ofmy nu
merous seafarings, seen the sea of a more limpid blue. He agreedwith me so entirely, as I recollect it, that he did not even trouble toanswer.

  Had anyone told me on that bright summer afternoon that our ship wouldwithin a week be wrecked among the Dry Tortugas, I should have laughed.Had anyone informed me that I should find myself alone on a raft in theCaribbean Sea, I should have gone into hysterics.

  We had hardly entered the waters of the Caribbean when a storm ofunprecedented violence broke upon us. Even the Captain had never, so hesaid, seen anything to compare with it. For two days and nights weencountered and endured the full fury of the sea. Our soup plates weresecured with racks and covered with lids. In the smoking-room ourglasses had to be set in brackets, and as our steward came and went, wewere from moment to moment in imminent danger of seeing him washedoverboard.

  On the third morning just after daybreak the ship collided withsomething, probably either a floating rock or one of the dry Tortugas.She blew out her four funnels, the bowsprit dropped out of its place,and the propeller came right off. The Captain, after a briefconsultation, decided to abandon her. The boats were lowered, and, thesea being now quite calm, the passengers were emptied into them.

  By what accident I was left behind I cannot tell. I had been talking tothe second mate and telling him of a rather similar experience of minein the China Sea, and holding him by the coat as I did so, when quitesuddenly he took me by the shoulders, and rushing me into the desertedsmoking-room said, "Sit there, Mr. Borus, till I come back for you." Thefellow spoke in such a menacing way that I thought it wiser to comply.

  When I came out they were all gone. By good fortune I found one of theship's rafts still lying on the deck. I gathered together such articlesas might be of use and contrived, though how I do not know, to launch itinto the sea.

  On my second morning on my raft I was sitting quietly polishing my bootsand talking to myself when I became aware of an object floating in thesea close beside the raft. Judge of my feelings when I realized it to bethe inanimate body of a girl. Hastily finishing my boots and stoppingtalking to myself, I made shift as best I could to draw the unhappy girltowards me with a hook.

  After several ineffectual attempts I at last managed to obtain a hold ofthe girl's clothing and drew her on to the raft.

  She was still unconscious. The heavy lifebelt round her person must (soI divined) have kept her afloat after the wreck. Her clothes weresodden, so I reasoned, with the sea-water.

  On a handkerchief which was still sticking into the belt of her dress, Icould see letters embroidered. Realizing that this was no time forhesitation, and that the girl's life might depend on my reading hername, I plucked it forth. It was Edith Croyden.

  As vigorously as I could I now set to work to rub her hands. My idea was(partly) to restore her circulation. I next removed her boots, whichwere now rendered useless, as I argued, by the sea-water, and began torub her feet.

  I was just considering what to remove next, when the girl opened hereyes. "Stop rubbing my feet," she said.

  "Miss Croyden," I said, "you mistake me."

  I rose, with a sense of pique which I did not trouble to conceal, andwalked to the other end of the raft. I turned my back upon the girl andstood looking out upon the leaden waters of the Caribbean Sea. The oceanwas now calm. There was nothing in sight.

  I was still searching the horizon when I heard a soft footstep on theraft behind me, and a light hand was laid upon my shoulder. "Forgiveme," said the girl's voice.

  I turned about. Miss Croyden was standing behind me. She had, so Iargued, removed her stockings and was standing in her bare feet. Thereis something, I am free to confess, about a woman in her bare feet whichhits me where I live. With instinctive feminine taste the girl hadtwined a piece of seaweed in her hair. Seaweed, as a rule, gets me everytime. But I checked myself.

  "Miss Croyden," I said, "there is nothing to forgive."

  At the mention of her name the girl blushed for a moment and seemedabout to say something, but stopped.

  "Where are we?" she queried presently.

  "I don't know," I answered, as cheerily as I could, "but I am going tofind out."

  "How brave you are!" Miss Croyden exclaimed.

  "Not at all," I said, putting as much heartiness into my voice as I wasable to.

  The girl watched my preparations with interest.

  With the aid of a bent pin hoisted on a long pole I had no difficulty inascertaining our latitude.

  "Miss Croydon," I said, "I am now about to ascertain our longitude. Todo this I must lower myself down into the sea. Pray do not be alarmed oranxious. I shall soon be back."

  With the help of a long line I lowered myself deep down into the seauntil I was enabled to ascertain, approximately at any rate, ourlongitude. A fierce thrill went through me at the thought that thislongitude was our longitude, hers and mine. On the way up, hand overhand, I observed a long shark looking at me. Realizing that the fellowif voracious might prove dangerous, I lost but little time--indeed, Imay say I lost absolutely no time--in coming up the rope.

  The girl was waiting for me.

  "Oh, I am so glad you have come back," she exclaimed, clasping herhands.

  "It was nothing," I said, wiping the water from my ears, and speaking asmelodiously as I could.

  "Have you found our whereabouts?" she asked.

  "Yes," I answered. "Our latitude is normal, but our longitude is, Ifear, at least three degrees out of the plumb. I am afraid, MissCroyden," I added, speaking as mournfully as I knew how, "that you mustreconcile your mind to spending a few days with me on this raft."

  "Is it as bad as that?" she murmured, her eyes upon the sea.

  In the long day that followed, I busied myself as much as I could withmy work upon the raft, so as to leave the girl as far as possible toherself. It was, so I argued, absolutely necessary to let her feel thatshe was safe in my keeping. Otherwise she might jump off the raft and Ishould lose her.

  I sorted out my various cans and tins, tested the oil in my chronometer,arranged in neat order my various ropes and apparatus, and got myfrying-pan into readiness for any emergency. Of food we had for thepresent no lack.

  With the approach of night I realized that it was necessary to makearrangements for the girl's comfort. With the aid of a couple of uprightpoles I stretched a grey blanket across the raft so as to make acomplete partition.

  "Miss Croyden," I said, "this end of the raft is yours. Here you maysleep in peace."

  "How kind you are," the girl murmured.

  "You will be quite safe from interference," I added. "I give you myword that I will not obtrude upon you in any way."

  "How chivalrous you are," she said.

  "Not at all," I answered, as musically as I could. "Understand me, I amnow putting my head over this partition for the last time. If there isanything you want, say so now."

  "Nothing," she answered.

  "There is a candle and matches beside you. If there is anything that youwant in the night, call me instantly. Remember, at any hour I shall behere. I promise it."

  "Good night," she murmured. In a few minutes her soft regular breathingtold me that she was asleep.

  I went forward and seated myself in a tar-bucket, with my head againstthe mast, to get what sleep I could.

  But for some time--why, I do not know--sleep would not come.

  The image of Edith Croyden filled my mind. In vain I told myself thatshe was a stranger to me: that--beyond her longitude--I knew nothing ofher. In some strange way this girl had seized hold of me and dominatedmy senses.

  The night was very calm and still, with great stars in a velvet sky. Inthe darkness I could hear the water lapping the edge of the raft.

  I remained thus in deep thought, sinking further and further into thetar-bucket. By the time I reached the bottom of it I realized that I wasin love with Edith Croyden.

  Then the thought of my wife occurred to me and perplexed me. Our unhappymarriage had taken place three years before.
We brought to one anotheryouth, wealth and position. Yet our marriage was a failure. My wife--forwhat reason I cannot guess--seemed to find my society irksome. In vain Itried to interest her with narratives of my travels. They seemed--insome way that I could not divine--to fatigue her. "Leave me for alittle, Harold," she would say (I forgot to mention that my name isHarold Borus), "I have a pain in my neck." At her own suggestion I hadtaken a trip around the world. On my return she urged me to go roundagain. I was going round for the third time when the wrecking of thesteamer had interrupted my trip.

  On my own part, too, I am free to confess that my wife's attitude hadaroused in me a sense of pique, not to say injustice. I am not in anyway a vain man. Yet her attitude wounded me. I would no sooner begin,"When I was in the Himalayas hunting the humpo or humped buffalo," thanshe would interrupt and say, "Oh, Harold, would you mind going down tothe billiard-room and seeing if I left my cigarettes under thebilliard-table?" When I returned, she was gone.

  By agreement we had arranged for a divorce. On my completion of my thirdvoyage we were to meet in New Orleans. Clara was to go there on aseparate ship, giving me the choice of oceans.

  Had I met Edith Croyden three months later I should have been a man freeto woo and win her. As it was I was bound. I must put a clasp of iron onmy feelings. I must wear a mask. Cheerful, helpful, and full ofnarrative, I must yet let fall no word of love to this defenceless girl.