Лаймен Баум - Sam Steele's Adventures on Land and Sea

It was a full half hour before I saw him coming back along the path; but now he no longer strutted with proud determination. Instead, his whole stout little body drooped despondently; his hat was thrust back from his forehead, and upon his deeply wrinkled face stood big drops of perspiration.

“Sam,” said he, standing before me with a rather sheepish air, “I were wrong, an’ I beg your pardon. That woman ain’t no she–tiger. I mis–stated the case. She’s a she–devil!”

The words were laden with disgust and indignation. Uncle Naboth drew out his gorgeous handkerchief and wiped his face with it. Then he dropped upon the bench and pushed his big hands deep into his capacious pockets, with the air of a man crushed and defeated.

I sighed.

“Then she refused to give up the property?”

“Give up? She’d die first. Why, Sam, the critter tried to brain me with a gridiron! Almost, my boy, you was an orphan agin. He who fights an’ runs away may n’t get much credit for it, but he’s a durned sight safer ner a dead man. The Perkinses was allus a reckless crew; but sooner ’n face that female agin I’d tackle a mad bull!”

“Won’t the law help us?” I asked.

“The law!” cried Mr. Perkins, in a voice of intense horror. “W’y, Sam, the law’s more to be dreaded than a woman. It’s an invention of the devil to keep poor mortals from becomin’ too happy in this ’ere vale o’ tears. My boy, if ye ever has to choose between the law an’ a woman, my advice is to commit suicide at once. It’s quicker an’ less painful.”

“But the law stands for justice,” I protested.

“That’s the bluff it puts up,” said Uncle Naboth, “but it ain’t so. An’ where’s your proof agin Mrs. Ranck, anyhow? Cap’n Steele foolishly put the house in her name. If she ain’t honest enough to give it up, no one can take it from her. An’ he kep’ secret about the fortune that was left in his room, so we can’t describe the things you’ve been robbed of. Altogether, it’s jest a hopeless case. The she–devil has made up her mind to inherit your fortune, an’ you can’t help yourself.”

As I stared into the little man’s face the tears came into my eyes and blurred my sight. He thrust the red handkerchief into my hand, and I quickly wiped away the traces of unmanly weakness. And when I could see plainly again my uncle was deeply involved in one of his fits of silent merriment, and his shoulders were shaking spasmodically. I waited for him to cough and choke, which he proceeded to do before regaining his gravity. The attack seemed to have done him good, for he smiled at my disturbed expression and laid a kindly hand on my shoulder.

“Run up to the house, my lad, an’ get your bundle of clothes,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t worry over what’s gone. I’ll take care o’ you, hereafter.”

I gave him a grateful glance and clasped his big, horny hands in both my own.

“Thank you, uncle,” said I; “I don’t know what would have become of me if you had not turned up just as you did.”

“Lucky; wasn’t it, Sam? But run along and get your traps.”

I obeyed, walking slowly and thoughtfully back to the house. When I tried to raise the latch I found the door locked.

“Mrs. Ranck!” I called. “Mrs. Ranck, let me in, please. I’ve come for my clothes.”

There was no answer. I rattled the latch, but all in vain. So I sat down upon the steps of the porch, wondering what I should do. It was a strange and unpleasant sensation, to find myself suddenly barred from the home in which I had been born and wherein I had lived all my boyhood days. It was only my indignation against this selfish and hard old woman that prevented me from bursting into another flood of tears, for my nerves were all unstrung by the events of the past few hours. However, anger held all other passion in check for the moment, and I was about to force an entrance through the side window, as I had done on several occasions before, when the sash of the window in my own attic room was pushed up and a bundle was projected from it with such good aim that it would have struck my head, had I not instinctively dodged it.

Mrs. Ranck’s head followed the bundle far enough to cast a cruel and triumphant glance into my upturned face.

“There’s your duds. Take ’em an’ go, you ongrateful wretch!” she yelled. “An’ don’t ye let me see your face again until you come to pay me the money you owes for your keepin’.”

“Please, Mrs. Ranck,” I asked, meekly, “can I have my father’s watch and ring?”

“No, no, no!” she screamed, in a fury. “Do ye want to rob me of everything? Ain’t you satisfied to owe me four hundred dollars a’ready?”

“I——I’d like some keepsake of father’s,” I persisted, well knowing this would be my last chance to procure it. “You may keep the watch, if you’ll give me the ring.”

“I’ll keep’m both,” she retorted. “You’ll get nothin’ more out’n me, now or never!”

Then she slammed down the window, and refused to answer by a word my further pleadings. So finally I picked up the bundle and, feeling miserable and sick at heart, followed the path back to the little grove.

“It didn’t take you very long, but that’s all the better,” said my uncle, shutting his clasp–knife with a click and then standing up to brush the chips from his lap. “We two’ll go to the tavern, an’ talk over our future plans.”

Silently I walked by the side of Naboth Perkins until we came to the village. I knew everyone in the little town, and several of the fishermen and sailors met me with words of honest sympathy for my loss. Captain Steele had been the big man of Batteraft, beloved by all who knew him despite his reserved nature, and these simple villagers, rude and uneducated but kindly hearted, felt that in his death they had lost a good friend and a neighbor of whom they had always been proud. Not one of them would have refused assistance to Captain Steele’s only son; but they were all very poor, and it was lucky for me that Uncle Naboth had arrived so opportunely to befriend me.

Having ordered a substantial dinner of the landlord of “The Rudder,” Mr. Perkins gravely invited me to his private room for a conference, and I climbed the rickety stairs in his wake.

The chamber was very luxurious in my eyes, with its rag carpet and high–posted bed, its wash–stand and rocking–chair. I could not easily withhold my deference to the man who was able to hire it, and removing my cap I sat upon the edge of the bed while Uncle Naboth took possession of the rocking–chair and lighted a big briar pipe.

Having settled himself comfortably by putting his feet upon the sill of the open window, he remarked:

“Now, Sam, my lad, we’ll talk it all over.”

“Very well, sir,” I replied, much impressed.

“In the first place, I’m your father’s partner, as I said afore. Some years ago the Cap’n found he had more money’n he could use in his own business, an’ I’d saved up a bit myself, to match it. So we put both together an’ bought a schooner called the ‘Flipper’, w’ich I’m free to say is the best boat, fer its size an’ kind, that ever sailed the Pacific.”

“The Pacific!”

“Naterally. Cap’n Steele on the Atlantic, an’ Cap’n Perkins on the Pacific. In that way we divided up the world between us.” He stopped to wink, here, and began his silent chuckle; but fortunately he remembered the importance of the occasion and refrained from carrying it to the choking stage. “I s’pose your father never said naught to you about this deal o’ ours, any more’n he did to that she–bandit up at the house. An’ it’s lucky he didn’t, or the critter’d be claimin’ the ‘Flipper’, too, an’ then you an’ I’d be out of a job!”