by Mayne Reid
man use a knife?" I asked. "Could the insult not havebeen resented without that?"
I was told that men had no business to fight at all, if they could avoidit; but when they did, each had a right to be in earnest, and do all theharm he could to the other.
I was also admonished that I had better not let "Red Ned" hear me talkas I was doing, or I might probably get served as bad as the sailor, whohad offended him that same day.
I thus learnt, for the first time, that the man who had wounded Stormywas "Red Ned," and from what I had heard of this ruffian already, I wasnot the less determined that Stormy should be avenged.
I knew, moreover, that if "Red Ned" was to receive punishment, it wouldhave to be inflicted by myself.
He was not in the tavern at the time; or, perhaps, he might havereceived it on the instant.
I returned to Stormy; and passed that night by his side.
He was in great pain most part of the night. The distress of my mind atthe poor fellow's sufferings, determined me to seek "Red Ned" the nextmorning; and, as Stormy would have said, "teach him manners."
When the day broke, the wounded man was in less pain, and able toconverse--though not without some difficulty.
"Rowley," said he, "we must attend to business, before it be too late.I know I shan't live through another night, and must make up myreckoning to-day. I've got about one hundred and eighty ounces; andit's all yours, my boy. I don't know that I have a relation in theworld; and there is no one to whom I care to leave anything butyourself. I can die happy now, because I know that the little I leavewill belong to you. Had this happened before our meeting in Sonora, mygreatest sorrow at going aloft would have been, to think some strangerwould spend what I have worked hard to make, while my little Rowleymight be rolling hungry round the world."
At Stormy's request, the landlord of the lodging was called in; andcommanded to produce the bag of gold which the sailor had placed in hiskeeping.
At this the man, apparently an honest fellow, went out of the room; andsoon returned with the treasure, which, in the presence of the landlordand a miner who had come in, its owner formally presented to me. It wasa bequest rather than a present--the act of a dying man.
"Take it, Rowley," said he, "and put it with your own. It was got in anhonest manner, and let it be spent in a sensible one. Go to Liverpool,marry the girl you told me of; and have a home and family in your oldage. I fancy, after all, that must be the way to be happy: for beingwithout home and friends I know isn't. Ah! it was that as made me livethe wretched roaming life, I've done."
The exertion of talking had made Stormy worse. I saw that he began tobreathe with difficulty; and seemed to suffer a great deal of pain. Sogreat was his agony, that it was almost equal agony for me to stand byhis side; and I stole out, leaving him with the surgeon--who hadmeanwhile arrived--and the miner before mentioned.
I stole out _upon an errand_.
Volume Two, Chapter VII.
MY COMRADE AVENGED.
Perhaps ere this my errand may have been conjectured. If not I shalldisclose it. I left the bedside of Stormy to seek Red Ned.
I went direct to the tavern--knowing that the bully frequented theplace, and that if not there, some one could probably tell me where hemight be found.
As I entered the bar-room, a tall, slender man, with red hair, wastalking, in a loud voice, to a knot of others collected in front of thebar.
"Let him dare tell me that it was murder," said the red-haired man, "andI'll serve him in the same way I did the other. Murder indeed! Why,there was a dozen men by, who can prove that I listened for ten minutesto the man insulting and abusing me in the most beastly manner. Couldflesh and blood stand it any longer? What is a man worth who'll notprotect his character? Whoever says I acted unfair is a liar; and hadbetter keep his cheek to himself."
As soon as I heard the speaker's voice, and had a fair look at him, Irecognised him as an old acquaintance.
It was Edward Adkins, first mate and afterwards captain of the ship"Lenore"--the man who had discharged me in New Orleans after the deathof Captain Hyland--the man who had accused me of ingratitude and theft!Yes, it was Adkins, my old enemy.
I knew that _he_ was a coward of the most contemptible kind, and a bullyas well.
What I had witnessed of his conduct on the Lenore, during many years'service with him, had fully convinced me of this. A thorough tyrantover the crew, while cringing in the presence of Captain Hyland--who wasoften compelled to restrain him, from practising his petty spite uponthose under his command. It did not need that last interview I had hadwith him in Liverpool--in the house of Mrs Hyland--to strengthen mybelief that Edward Adkins was a despicable poltroon.
In answer to the question he had put: "What's a man worth who'll notprotect his character?" I walked up to him and said:--"You have nocharacter to protect, and none to lose. You are a cowardly ruffian.You purposely started a quarrel with an inoffensive man; and drew yourknife upon him when you knew he was helpless with drink."
"Hell and damnation! Are you talking to me?" inquired Adkins, turningsharply round, his face red with rage.
But his features suddenly changed to an expression that told me hewished himself anywhere else, than in the presence of the man to whom hehad addressed the profane speech.
"Yes! I'm talking to you," said I, "and I wish all present to listen towhat I say. You are a cowardly wretch, and worse. You have taken thelife of a harmless, innocent man, unable to protect himself. You, totalk of resenting an insult, and protecting your character--yourcharacter indeed!"
Had we two been alone, it is possible that Adkins would not have thoughthimself called upon to reply to what I had said; but we were in thepresence of two score of men, in whose hearing he had just boasted--howhe would serve the man who had been slandering him. That man wasmyself.
"Now!" I cried impatient for action, "you hear what I've said! Youhear it, all of you?"
The bully had been brought to bay.
"Gentlemen!" said he, addressing the crowd who had gathered around,"what am I to do? I was driven yesterday to an act I now regret; andhere is another man forcing me into a quarrel in the same way. Take myadvice," said he, turning to me, "and leave the house, before my bloodgets up."
"There is not the least danger of your blood getting up," said I; "yourheart's gone down into your heels. If I was so drunk, as to be justable to keep my legs, no doubt you would have the courage to attack me.You haven't got it now."
The greatest coward in the world can be driven to an exhibition ofcourage--whether sham or real; and Adkins, seeing that he could nolonger in California lay claim to the title of a _dangerous man_,without doing something to deserve it, cried out--
"Damnation! if you want it, you shall have it!"
As the words passed from his lips, I saw him stoop suddenly--at the sametime jerking his foot upward from the floor. I divined his intention,which was to draw his bowie out of his boot; and while his leg was stillraised, and before he could fairly lay hold of the knife, I dealt him ablow that sent him sprawling upon the floor. The knife flew out of hishand; and, before he could regain his feet, I stepped between him andthe place where it was lying.
I have neglected to tell the reader, that I could no longer withpropriety be called "The _little_ Rolling Stone," though Stormy stillcontinued to address me occasionally by that appellation. At the timeof this--my last encounter with Adkins--I was six feet _without_ myboots; and was strong and active in proportion. I have called it my_last_ encounter with this ruffian--it was so. Before he was in aposition to attack me a second time, I drew my own knife from itssheath; and threw it on the floor alongside his. I did this, to showthat I scorned to take any advantage of an unarmed man--as my cowardlyopponent had done with poor Stormy Jack. I did not at the moment thinkof the wrongs Adkins had done to myself--of my imprisonment in a commongaol--of the falsehoods he had told to Mrs Hyland--of his attempt towin Lenore. I thought only of poor Stormy.
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p; Adkins again rushed on me; and was again knocked down. This time heshowed a disposition for remaining on the floor--in the hopes that someof his friends might come between us, and declare the fight to be over;but I kicked him, until he again got up, and once more closed with me.
I met the third attack, by picking him up in my arms--until his heelswere high in the air, and then I allowed him to fall down again on thecrown of his head. He never rose after that fall--his neck was broken.
Before I left the room, every man in it came up and shook hands withme--as they did so, telling me that I had done a good thing.
Volume Two, Chapter VIII.
STORMY TRANQUIL AT LAST.
When I returned to Stormy he was worse; and I saw that he had not muchlonger to live. He was not in so much pain as when I
