CHAPTER XI

A BATTLE IN POLITENESS

Louis Belgrave was still seated at the table with Captain Scoble, and the skirmish of words was likely to become a pitched battle.

“You spoke just now as though you had been at sea some time in your life, my boy. It must have been since I left the Park,” continued the master of the Maud.

“I have not been on any long cruises, but I have made several trips in the Blanche; and once I went around Long Island,” replied Louis.

“The Blanche! I don’t think I ever saw her.”

“Oh, yes, you have! You remember the day the Maud went to the bottom in New York Bay. She came about just astern of you. You had discovered, with the aid of your spy-glass, that mother and I were on her deck, and you changed your course suddenly. That was the reason why the tug-boat ran into you and stove a hole under the counter of the schooner.”

“Oh! That was the way it happened, was it? I did not know how it was before, and I am glad to be informed,” replied Scoble, laughing as though it were a capital joke. “I was afraid of you, and I tried to run away?”

“Not exactly afraid of mother and me, but of the warrants in the pockets of Mr. Woolridge and Uncle Moses,” added Louis very quietly, as though he did not understand that his remark had a terrible sting in it.

“What Woolridge was that?” asked Scoble, choking down his wrath, for he was bound to keep the peace for the present.

“He is the gentleman who had thirty-five thousand dollars in the little new valise you carried on board of the steamer two years since. It was long ago, and perhaps you have forgotten the circumstance. It was he also who sent a cablegram to London that a certain deserter would arrive at Liverpool in a certain steamer.”

The commander of the Maud winced, bit his lips, and twisted about on his stool, but he still maintained his self-possession.

“I think you said you were bound to Southampton, Captain Scoble?” continued Louis.

“Undoubtedly; you shall have the chance to buy your hams.”

“I suppose there is an office there from which I can send a cable message to Uncle Moses. I shall be out of funds when I get there, and I shall have to cable him to send me twenty thousand dollars, or so,” said the passenger very glibly.

“You speak of twenty thousand dollars as though you had no great respect for such a large sum,” chuckled the captain, who was not in possession of the news from the Park for the last two months, and perhaps not for the last two years.

“A mere bagatelle,” said Louis, with supreme indifference.

“That is very juicy talk for a young fellow like you, Louis, with an income on which a country curate might starve,” returned Scoble, who could make nothing of the magnificent talk of his passenger.

“Oh, Uncle Moses would send me fifty thousand, knowing that mother is with me. Yes; he would send me a hundred thousand if my mother joined me in the request, for she is my legal guardian, you know,” continued Louis, who thought from the looks of his companion at the table that the shots he was pouring into him were rather warm, if not red-hot.

“Nonsense, Louis! You are blowing, swelling, and gassing. But you can’t make me tipsy on tepid water. That old lobster couldn’t raise twenty thousand dollars to save his mustard-seed soul from a single day’s perdition. Have another cup of coffee, my boy: it will warm you up and help you to speak the truth.”

“No, I thank you, captain. This coffee is not tepid water, and it might make me tipsy; and, judging from its effect upon you, who take it as a steady diet, I don’t believe it would help me to tell the truth.”

“Very good, Louis! You were always rather smart,” replied Scoble, as he moved back from the table, having finished his dinner.

“Thank you for your generous compliment, and especially for the sincerity with which it is bestowed.”

“Do you smoke, my boy?” asked Scoble, taking a cigar from his pocket.

“No, sir; I do not, and I never tried to do so.”

“Then you are worse than a hot potato.”

“And you are no better than a hot potato because you do smoke, for the smoke don’t make the potato any hotter. But if you have a good cigar, I should like it for a friend, who has unfortunately acquired the vicious habit,” said Louis, extending his hand to take the fragrant roll. “I did not find any cigars in the pantry where I discovered the Scotch ham, or I should have taken one for my friend.”

“Who is your friend, Louis? Do you intend to keep that cigar till you get back to America?” asked the captain, as he held out his case to the passenger, who took a cigar from it. “I am afraid it will be all dried up by that time.”

“Not at all; my friend will doubtless smoke it this afternoon.”

“But who is your friend?” persisted Scoble.

“Captain Ringgold is the one for whom I desire the cigar, for my chummy, Felix McGavonty, does not smoke any more than I do,” replied Louis in a matter-of-fact manner.

“Oh, yes! I see; Ringgold and Felix. But I beg leave to remind you that both of them are confined in the hold of the vessel; for I suppose you have found that out before this time.”

“I learned the fact very soon after I came on board myself from Mr. Frinks; but they are no longer in the hold of the Maud. I think you owe me an apology, Captain Scoble, since we are getting to be so everlastingly polite.”

“An apology! And for what can I possibly owe you an apology, my boy?” demanded the master, looking at his victim very earnestly.

“For doing me a serious injustice, captain. Do you take me for a young man with no bowels of compassion, no stomach for the duty of a Christian, no liver, heart, lungs, backbone, or gizzard to feel for the misfortunes of others?”

“Well, well! What has broke loose now?” queried the captain.

“My sense of justice, right, and duty broke loose pretty soon after I came on board of this craft. You have done me the injustice to believe that I had forgotten my friends, and left them to languish in the dark, damp, and gloomy hold of this vessel. You wronged me; for I have taken second-class passage for them, and dined them very nearly as well as you have dined yourself, though they had none of that excellent coffee.”

“What do you mean by all this tirade of nonsense?” demanded Scoble, the wrinkles beginning to gather on his forehead again.

“Isn’t my explanation plain enough? If it isn’t, I will take the liberty to add that, as politeness is the order of the day,--and it was very impolite to keep a dignified gentleman like Captain Ringgold, or even my less dignified chummy Felix, in such a gloomy hole as the hold of this vessel,--I assumed the responsibility of letting them out. You were busy reefing the sails, and it was not convenient to consult you as the commander of the schooner.”

“Do you mean to say that you have opened the hold and released Ringgold and that imp of Scarburn’s?” cried the captain, shaking with rage.

“Pried off the hatch-bar and let them out, captain. But I thought we were to be polite. As you ask me a question, I feel obliged to answer it whether your courtesy is exhausted or not,” replied Louis, unmoved by the increasing wrath of the commander. “As you were engaged at the time, I felt it to be incumbent upon me to do the honors of the vessel. I not only released my friends, but I invited them to occupy the second cabin, where they will doubtless be contented till I can procure accommodations for them in the main cabin.”

“Then you intend to invite them into the first cabin, do you?” demanded the captain, with a curling sneer, and a sarcastic smile on his lips; but the passenger made such a long and deliberate speech that he had time to realize that he was ruining his case near his wife.

“It would be more proper, and therefore more courteous, for the highest authority on board of the Maud to extend the invitation, and conduct my friends to the first cabin. If you insist upon doing the honors of the vessel in this respect, I shall certainly step aside in your favor, for you are entitled to perform the ceremonies in person.”

“As they are friends of yours, Louis, you shall do the honors; but you must not be impatient, for it may be a month before they come into this cabin,” replied Scoble with an oath, which did not sound pretty to the young man, or to his mother, who could not help hearing it.

“Thank you, Captain Scoble, for taking such a pleasant and sensible view of the subject,” added the passenger, bowing as politely as a French dancing-master.

At this moment the sick lady opened the door of the stateroom, and came out into the cabin, supporting herself against the partition till her son went to her assistance. She had heard the angry words of Scoble, and could no longer remain in her berth. She bestowed a single glance upon him who had been her husband. It was the first time in two years that they had met face to face.

In spite of the fact that they had been separated so long, Louis was glad to see that his mother manifested no decided emotion. It was evident to him she had so schooled her mind and heart that she had banished him from her affections. He appeared to be no more to her than any other person.

As to any affection on the part of Scoble, Louis did not believe any had ever existed. Though he pretended to be greatly moved by the sight of the lady, her son could understand that it was nothing but a pretence. He had no doubt the jockey had married his mother to get nearer to the lost million which she would leave behind if she became childless.

When Mrs. Belgrave came into the cabin, the captain sprang to his feet as though a whirlwind of emotion had swept through his being. He clasped his hands, and looked unutterably affectionate. He was better fitted for comedy than for tragedy; and his acting produced no impression upon the lady, who did not bestow a second glance upon him. She gave all her attention to her son. Louis supported her, for she was hardly able to stand on account of the uneasy motion of the vessel, and conducted her to a divan near the stern windows of the cabin.

Scoble, still standing by the table with clasped hands, gazed at her earnestly, though his expression was rather that of a sick monkey than of a man worthy of such a woman. He would have given all the cigars in his case if he could have got rid of Louis for a single hour, and something handsomer for a longer time.

Aside from his presence at this inconvenient time, the young millionaire was an enormous nuisance to him, an obstacle, a high wall in his path. The young man had defeated his first and grandest scheme by depriving him both of his wife and his stolen fortune, and had ruined his second when he struck him down in the boat. That he hated Louis is stating the case very mildly. He had looked upon his stepson at first with contempt; but he had learned that he was to be feared, and not despised.

Mr. Frinks came down to dinner, and his presence seemed to freeze all the parties for the time. Scoble left his place near the table, and moved farther aft, nearer to Mrs. Belgrave and her son. Either the mate was not very hungry, or he did not approve the viands set before him, and in a few minutes he had finished his meal. He did not speak a word, but, after looking at the persons in the cabin, he retired.

There was no one else to dine at the cabin table; and Bickling, in his capacity of steward, cleared the table, washing the dishes in the pantry, so that he was out of hearing of those at the after end of the cabin.