The Gentleman: A Romance of the Sea Part 114

For a time he whimpered tearlessly. He was too weak to weep, and not strong enough to contain himself.

The Parson bent over him.

"Your heroism has not been in vain, my brave fellow," he said. "But for you Lord Nelson would be now in the hands of the French."

"Blast Nelson!" snarled the little rifleman. "What's Nelson to me? Blame fool that I were."

The heroic soul was quenched for the moment. He was flesh distraught--no more.

A flask of brandy was on the window-sill. The Parson poured from it into a gla.s.s and gave it him.

Knapp revived.

The Parson took down the shutters, and the evening light streamed in, calm and healing.

"Take your time," said the Parson gently. "Tell us what you can when you can."

Knapp sipped his brandy.

"It was the knives--when they closed. That done me up. Ow, my G.o.d!" He shuddered. "If it hadn't been for the Genelman."

"Yes?" said Kit eagerly.

A glow lit the man's eye. The yellow of his cheek flushed ever so faintly.

"I'd die for im," he said, "only he's died for me--what pull his nose and all."

"Is he dead then?" asked Kit.

"Who's tellin this tale?--you or me?"

He put down his gla.s.s.

"That there's a genelman."

His eyes were down, and his hands upon his knees. He began to tell the story over in his own mind, but only here and there his tongue took fire and flashed a light upon the tale for the outsider to read by.

"Drew em off o me.... I couldn't tell you.... Cursin em and killin em....

Down on his knees, aside o me.... Give me his arm same as I might ha been a lady....

"So we goes back to the cottage, me no better nor dead meat on his arm.... I can't tell you.... I don't know.... I'll never forget it."

He drew the back of his hand across his eyes.

"They kep d.o.g.g.i.n on him--unduds on em.... Sich faces on em.... Ow, my G.o.d!--I sees em now." He s.h.i.+vered and glanced behind him. "And he talkin back at em, easy as you please, chaffin em like.... Seem they dursn't go for to touch him.... Round to the back door.... Old Piper."

Parson and boy were hanging over him.

"Slipp'd out of his chair ... layin on the ground ... all anyhow ... no legs and all.

"'Ullo, Sailor!' says the Genelman. 'Ow are ye?'

"'I'm done, sir,' says pore old Pipes, smotherified. He were layin on his face.

"'Done, be d'd!' says the Genelman, and whips round sudden with his sword.

"Course they run,--curs!

"Round he come again, quick as light, catches old Piper under the arm-pits, and pops him in his chair.

"'Run him in, Soldier!' says he. 'Sharp's the word. I'll keep em off.'

"So I run him in best I could. I weren't stiff yet, so every twitch tears you."

"'Don't bother about me,' says old Pipes. 'Back to the door, Knapp.

They're all on to him.'

"Back I obbles all I knoo.... Ah, I'll never forget it."

He lifted his face to the Parson.

"They used to say in the rigimint you was the best sword in Europe, sir." He laid a finger on the other's arm. "This mornin you was the second-best."

"I'm sure of it," says the Parson quietly.

Knapp stumbled on.

"He stood just outside the door.... I did a bit behind him with the baynit, when they got inside his guard.... He kep on killin em.... It was like the Lord Amighty makin lightnins out of His eyes and blastin em....

I never see the like--blessed if I did!"

The long-lost tears poured down his cheek. He was living again.

"They couldn't make nothing of it, and drew back a bit.

"'What!' cries the Genelman, laughin. 'A round dozen of you, and wopp'd by one! I wonder what Black Diamond'd think o you?'

"At that Fat George truss Dingy Joe by the arms.

"'Ow's this?' he squeals, and runs him on the Genelman's blade, dodgin back himself into Red Beard's arms.

"'Good idee!' kughs old Red Beard, and he throws his arms round the fat chap.

"'This'll smother him!' he roars. 'Now, boys, follow up!'

"And down he charge on the Genelman, Fat George in his arms."

For a moment the ghost of the old Knapp walked.

"Fat George weren't for avin it, Fat George weren't," he sn.i.g.g.e.red, shaking his head. "And I don't blame Fat George neether. Talk!--talk o talkin!--and the face on him!"