Jack Harkaway in New York; or, The Adventures of the Travelers' Club

by Bracebridge Hemyng

  CHAPTER XV.

  MR. MOLE PLAYS BASE-BALL.

  Captain Cannon and Mr. Twinkle went back to England after the famousbuffalo-hunt, feeling themselves insulted by the trick which had beenplayed upon them.

  Jack, Harvey and Professor Mole remained at the hotel.

  It may readily be imagined that Jack was in no enviable frame of mind.

  Alfred Van Hoosen was his friend and wished him to marry his sister,but Lena had promised to espouse Lord Maltravers, and so great was themother's influence that the day was already fixed.

  Jack expected every day that Alfred would come to him and proposesome plan by means of which the celebration of the marriage could beprevented.

  He waited in vain and fumed and fretted until he grew ill and pale.

  Little did he know that at the same time Lord Maltravers was as uneasyas he was himself.

  He knew nothing about the dangerous condition of the villain Bambino,and that Maltravers was standing, as it were, on a volcano which mightat any time erupt and scatter all his fond ideas to the winds, dash hishappiness to atoms and shatter the idol which he had set up for himselfto worship.

  If Bambino recovered sufficiently to speak, then all hope of a unionwith Lena Van Hoosen was at an end.

  While affairs were in this condition, Mr. Mole made the acquaintance ofa young man who was living with his parents in the hotel.

  It happened in this way.

  The Continental Hotel, on Broadway, was the caravansera which Harkawayand the members of the Travelers' Club stayed at, and the genialproprietor, Mr. Merrifield, was much interested in the eccentricprofessor.

  Meeting him in the hall one morning, seated in a chair with his legs onanother, Mr. Merrifield said:

  "I thought it was not an English custom, professor, to put your legs upat an angle of forty-five degrees?

  "My dear sir," replied Mole, "there is nothing in this country that anEnglishman cannot do and has not done in his own land."

  "Can you drink whisky straight?"

  "Try me," said Mole, with a twinkle in his eye.

  "Can you play base-ball?"

  "I think so. The fact is, I am a good cricket player, and I see noreason why I should not play the emasculated game you call base-ball."

  "Well now," said Merrifield, "I'll give you an opportunity of showingwhat you can do in that direction."

  "How?"

  "A young gentleman living in the house with his parents, whose name isMorris Hart, is captain of the Blue Stockings, and that club is goingto play the Red Stockings a match to-day."

  "Well?"

  "The Blues are short of one out of their nine. You shall take the placeof the missing man, if you like."

  "I'll do it."

  "Mind," said Mr. Merrifield, "you have said you are a good base-ballplayer."

  "Did I say so?"

  "Yes, and if you lose the match through your bad play, we shall blameyou."

  "I understand."

  "Of course," Mr. Merrifield continued, "I am not reflecting on yourveracity. I know very well that an Englishman never blows. It is onlyan American that brags about his country and says he can whip allcreation."

  "Well," replied the professor. "I don't mind repeating that I must bea good base-ball player, because it is a mild edition of what we call'Rounders,' a game which small boys play and which cannot be spoken ofin the same breath with cricket."

  "But base-ball is a dangerous game to play."

  "Oh! pshaw!"

  "People often get arms and legs broken."

  "Nonsense. You should see our swift round hand bowling. That would openyour eyes a little."

  As the professor spoke a young man approached; he was tall, well formedand handsome.

  "Ah!" said Mr. Merrifield. "You are the very man I was looking for.Professor Mole, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Morris Hart."

  They bowed and shook hands.

  "Glad to know you, sir," said Morris.

  "I am proud and happy to reciprocate that sentiment, my young friend,"replied Mr. Mole.

  "Morris," exclaimed Mr. Merrifield, "you are short of a man in yourmatch with the 'Reds' to-day, I believe?"

  "We are, and I cannot find a substitute anywhere. Guess we shall haveto play eight against nine."

  "No indeed. The professor volunteers to fill the vacant place."

  "Is that so?" replied Morris Hart. "I am real pleased to hear it, but--"

  "What?"

  "I don't want to disparage the professor's accomplishments. Yet I havealways heard that the English did not understand our national game."

  Mr. Mole smiled disdainfully.

  "Child's play," he said.

  "What is?"

  "Base-ball."

  Morris Hart bridled up at this.

  "You won't find it so," he rejoined.

  "Not much," said Mr. Merrifield. "You bet your high monkey munk."

  "Well, well," exclaimed Mr. Mole, "the proof of the pudding is in theeating. I will call base-ball a very scientific game, and with yourkind permission, I will show you how an old cricketer can play."

  "Agreed," said Morris Hart.

  This being settled, Mr. Merrifield left them together, and it wasarranged that Mr. Mole should go over to the grounds at Hoboken at acertain hour.

  Morris gave him the club clothes, blue stockings, etc., which he put ina grip sack and left him, after exacting a promise that he would be ontime.

  Mr. Mole was no sooner possessed of the cap, shirt, drawers andstockings, than he went to his room and put them on.

  Very comical indeed was his appearance, for his long, gaunt, angularform made him look like an animated scarecrow.

  Anxious to display himself, he went to Harkaway's room, finding Jackand Harvey engaged in conversation.

  "Say, boys," exclaimed the professor, "what do you think of me?"

  They regarded him with astonishment.

  "What lunacy is this?" inquired Jack.

  "Eh!" exclaimed Harvey, "what is it?"

  "I give it up," replied Jack.

  "Give it up?"

  "Yes. Ask me an easier one."

  "It must have escaped from a menagerie," said Harvey.

  Mr. Mole regarded them with a lofty air.

  "No doubt you think yourselves mighty funny," he remarked. "But youcan run me, all you like. I am going to show these Yankees how anEnglishman can play base-ball."

  "You going to play?"

  "Yes, boys. I am a Blue shirt, or a cap, or a stocking, I forget which,but I know I'm blue."

  "Perhaps you will be black and blue before you get through," said Jack.

  "Good for the major," ejaculated Harvey, laughing.

  "All right, boys. Have your little jokes with the old man, but you willsee how I shall paralyze the Americans with my play."

  "I wish you luck," answered Harkaway, "and would go with you, only Iexpect Van Hoosen here."

  "Is there any fresh news about the marriage?" asked Mole.

  "None. Mrs. Van Hoosen has made up her mind that Lena shall marryMaltravers," replied Jack.

  "Misguided girl!"

  "She is, indeed. I have every reason to know that she does not lovehim, and only a mistaken sense of duty to her mother makes her accepthim."

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "What can I do? The marriage is to take place to-morrow."

  "So soon?"

  "Yes. I give you my word I am nearly crazy, for I love that girl betterthan my life."

  Mr. Mole heaved a deep sigh.

  "I loved once," he said, "and my wife used to go for my scalp, whichhad the effect of destroying love's young dream."

  "I should think so," replied Harvey.

  "But, my dear sir," exclaimed Jack, "you will admit, I hope, thatmarried life is the happiest state of existence."

  "I'll admit nothing."

  "No happiness is to be found outside of the home circle."

  "It depends on a man's temperament, also on how a man
is brought up. APhiladelphian is happy at home, a New Yorker is ignorant of the meaningof the word 'Home,'" replied Mr. Mole.

  "Oh! pshaw," said Jack, impatiently. "Have sense. Tell me if there isany bliss comparable to that of having a sweet little darling always inthe house when you want her?"

  "Suppose she is there when you do not want her?"

  "I can not admit any such supposition. Go and play your game."

  "I will."

  "You and Maltravers ought to be in the same game."

  "Why?"

  "Because it is 'base.'"

  "Oh!" cried the professor. "What have I done to deserve this? You havecalled it 'base.' I must go and get a 'ball' after that."

  He walked to a closet in which he knew Jack kept sundry bottles of wineand liquors, and helped himself to a draught of brandy.

  "Well, boys," he exclaimed, "I must leave you, and you can bet yourhigh monkey munk, as friend Merrifield says, that I will do all thatlays in my power to uphold the honor of old England, and the flag thatfor a thousand years has braved the battle and the breeze."

  Waving his arm grandly he quitted the apartment, and making all hispreparations, started for the place appointed for the match.

  The Blue Stockings were a pretty strong team and had beaten the Redsthe year previously, but it was said the Reds had improved greatly, anda spirited contest was expected.

  Mr. Mole knew nothing whatever about the game, but was wise enough tokeep his mouth shut, until he was spoken to.

  His side lost the choice of innings and had to take the field.

  The professor became much interested in seeing the men run from base tobase, and did not look out keenly enough.

  What was the consequence?

  A ball struck him with fearful force below the knee.

  He ought to have stopped it or caught it, but he didn't, and he fell tothe ground with a broken leg.

  "Oh! oh!" he cried, "I'm killed."

  Morris Hart ran up to see what was the matter.

  "Why didn't you stop the ball?" he asked.

  "It came so fast, I couldn't," groaned the unhappy professor.

  "I thought you were used to fast bowling and could play the game."

  "So I thought."

  "It's my opinion you're a first-class fraud."

  "Don't abuse me, there is a good fellow," said Mole. "Send for anambulance and have me taken to the hospital: I'm in great pain andcan't walk."

  "If that is so, pardon me."

  "My leg is broken."

  "I'm sorry, but I always knew it took an American to play base-ball."

  "Give me cricket," moaned Mr. Mole. "It is a decent and respectablegame. You don't want to get your life insured before you engage in it."

  Morris Hart could not refrain from smiling; but he hurried away to geta conveyance which would take Mr. Mole to the hospital.

  He would have sent him to his hotel, but the professor wished tohave the best advice he could get, and he knew he was sure of havingexcellent treatment at a hospital.

  Accordingly he was taken to a hospital in New York and put to bed, whenthe surgeon set the broken leg and assured him that in a few weeks hewould be able to get about again on crutches.

  "Heaven help me," said Mole. "What a fool I am getting in my old age.Here am I in a strange country, and ought to have known better thanto indulge in the barbarous games of the people. Confound base-balland the man who invented it; but it serves me right. I have no one butmyself to blame."