Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ and sending you to sleep under that wall was not the worst turn of the two. Ship your oars there, boy, and let us see if you are as handy a surgeon as you are a sailor! Try and bind up these wounded fingers of mine, for they begin to smart with the cold night air.”

      “Wait an instant,” cried he; “we are safe now, so you may light this lantern;” and he took from his pocket a small and most elegantly fashioned lantern, which he immediately lighted.

      I own it was with a most intense curiosity I waited for the light to scan the features of my singular companion; nor was my satisfaction inconsiderable when, instead of the terrific-looking fellow – half bravo, half pirate – I expected, I perceived before me a man of apparently thirty-one or two, with large but handsome features and gentlemanly appearance. He had an immense beard and moustache, which united at either side of the mouth; but this, ferocious enough to one unaccustomed to it, could not take off the quiet regularity and good-humor of his manly features. He wore a large-brimmed slouched felt hat that shaded his brows, and he seemed to be dressed with some care, beneath the rough exterior of a common pilot-coat, – at least, he wore silk stockings and shoes, as if in evening-dress. These particulars I had time to note, while he unwound from his crippled hand the strips of a silk handkerchief which, stiffened and clotted with blood, bespoke a deep and severe wound.

      If the operation were often painful even to torture, he never winced, or permitted the slightest expression of suffering to escape him. At last the undressing was completed, and a fearful gash appeared, separating the four fingers almost entirely from the hand. The keenness of the cut showed that the weapon must have been, as the fellow averred, sharp as a razor. Perhaps the copious loss of blood had exhausted the vessels, or the tension of the bandage had closed them; for there was little bleeding, and I soon succeeded, with the aid of his cravat, in making a tolerable dressing of the wound, and by filling up the palm of the hand as I had once seen done by a country surgeon in a somewhat similar case. The pain was relieved by the gentle support afforded.

      “Why, you are a most accomplished vagrant!” said he, laughing, as he watched the artistic steps of my proceeding. “What’s your name? – I mean, what do you go by at present? for of course a fellow like you has a score of aliases.”

      “I have had only one name up to this,” said I, – “Con Cregan.”

      “Con Cregan! sharp and shrewd enough it sounds too!” said he. “And what line of life do you mean to follow, Master Con? for I suspect you have not been without some speculations on the subject.”

      “I have thought of various things, sir; but how is a poor boy like me to get a chance? I feel as if I could pick up a little of most trades; but I have no money, nor any friends.”

      “Money – friends!” exclaimed he, with a burst of bitterness quite unlike his previous careless humor. “Well, my good fellow, I had both one and the other, – more than most people are supposed to have of either; and what have they brought me to?” He held up his maimed and blood-clotted hand as he spoke this with a withering scorn in every accent.

      “No, my boy; trust one who knows something of life, – the lighter you start, the easier your journey! He that sets his heart on it, can always make money; and friends, as they are called by courtesy, are still more easily acquired.”

      This was the first time I had ever heard any one speak of the game of life as such; and I cannot say what intense pleasure the theme afforded me. I am certain I never stopped to consider whether his views were right or not, whether the shrewd results of a keen observer, or the prejudices of a disappointed man. It was the subject, the matter discussed, delighted me.

      My companion appeared to feel that he had a willing listener, and went freely on, canvassing the various roads to success, and with a certain air of confidence in all he said that to me seemed quite oracular. “What a fellow am I,” said he at last, “to discourse in this strain to a street urchin whose highest ambition is to outrun his ragged competitors, and be first ‘in,’ for the sixpence of some cantering cornet! Pull ahead, lad, there’s the light at last; and hang me if they’re not two miles out.”

      The contemptuous tone of the last few words effectually repressed any desire I might have had for further colloquy; and I rowed away in silence, putting forth all my strength and skill, so that the light skiff darted rapidly and steadily through the water.

      CHAPTER IX. SIR DUDLEY BROUGHTON

      Steadily, and with all the vigor I could command, I pulled towards the light. My companion sat quietly watching the stars, and apparently following out some chain of thought to himself; at last he said, “There, boy, breathe a bit; there’s no need to blow yourself; we ‘re all safe long since; the ‘Firefly’ is right ahead of us, and not far off either. Have you never heard of the yacht?”

      “Never, sir.”

      “Nor of its owner, Sir Dudley Broughton?”

      “No, sir, I never heard the name.”

      “Well, come,” cried he, laughing, “that is consolatory. I ‘m not half so great a reprobate as I thought myself! I did not believe till now that there was an urchin of your stamp living who could not have furnished at least some anecdotes for a memoir of me! Well, my lad, yonder, where you see the blue light at the peak, is the ‘Firefly,’ and here, where I sit, is Sir Dudley Broughton. Ten minutes more will put us alongside, so, if you’re not tired, pull away.”

      “No, Sir Dudley,” said I, for I was well versed in the popular tact of catching up a name quickly, “I am able to row twice as far.”

      “And now, Master Con,” said he, “we are going to part. Are you too young a disciple of your craft for a glass of grog; or are you a follower of that new-fangled notion of pale-faced politicians, who like bad coffee and reason better than whiskey and fun?”

      “I’ll take nothing to drink, Sir Dudley,” said I. “I have dined and drunk well to-day, and I’ll not venture further.”

      “As you please; only I say you ‘re wrong not to victual the ship whenever you stand in-shore. No matter; put your hand into this vest pocket, – you ‘ll find some shillings there: take them, whatever they be. You’ll row the boat back with one of my people; and all I have to say is, if you do speak of me, as no doubt you will and must, don’t say anything about these smashed fingers; I suppose they’ll get right one of these days, and I ‘d rather there was no gossip about them.”

      “I ‘ll never speak of it – I – ”

      “There, now, that’s enough; no swearing, or I know you’ll break your promise. Back water a little; pull the starboard oar, – so; here we are alongside.”

      Sir Dudley had scarce done speaking when a hoarse voice from the yacht challenged us. This was replied to by a terrific volley of imprecations on the stupidity of not sooner showing the light, amid which Sir Dudley ascended the side and stood upon the deck. “Where’s Halkett?” cried he, imperiously. “Here, sir,” replied a short, thickset man, with a sailor-like shuffle in his walk. “Send one of the men back with the gig, and land that boy. Tell the fellow, too, he’s not to fetch Waters aboard, if he meets him: the scoundrel went off and left me to my fate this evening; and it might have been no pleasant one, if I had not found that lad yonder.”

      “We have all Sam Waters’ kit on board, Sir Dudley,” said Halkett; “shall we send it ashore?”

      “No. Tell him I’ll leave it at Demerara for him; and he may catch the yellow fever in looking after it,” said he, laughing.

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