the cruise of the jasper b.-第1节
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The Cruise of the Jasper B。
by Don Marquis
TO ALL THE COPYREADERS ON ALL THE NEWSPAPERS OF AMERICA
CHAPTER I
A BRIGHT BLADE LEAPS FROM A RUSTY SCABBARD
On an evening in April； 191…； Clement J。 Cleggett walked sedately
into the news room of the New York Enterprise with a drab…colored
walking…stick in his hand。 He stood the cane in a corner；
changed his sober street coat for a more sober office jacket；
adjusted a green eyeshade below his primly brushed grayish hair；
unostentatiously sat down at the copy desk； and unobtrusively
opened a drawer。
From the drawer he took a can of tobacco； a pipe； a pair of
scissors； a paste…pot and brush； a pile of copy paper； a penknife
and three half…lengths of lead pencil。
The can of tobacco was not remarkable。 The pipe was not
picturesque。 The scissors were the most ordinary of scissors。
The copy paper was quite undistinguished in appearance。 The lead
pencils had the most untemperamental looking points。
Cleggett himself； as he filled and lighted the pipe； did it in
the most matter…of…fact sort of way。 Then he remarked to the head
of the copy desk； in an average kind of voice：
〃H'lo； Jim。〃
〃H'lo； Clegg；〃 said Jim； without looking up。 〃Might as well begin
on this bunch of early copy； I guess。〃
For more than ten years Cleggett had done the same thing at the
same time in the same manner； six nights of the week。
What he did on the seventh night no one ever thought to inquire。
If any member of the Enterprise staff had speculated about it at
all he would have assumed that Cleggett spent that seventh
evening in some way essentially commonplace； sober； unemotional；
quiet； colorless； dull and Brooklynitish。
Cleggett lived in Brooklyn。 The superficial observer might have
said that Cleggett and Brooklyn were made for each other。
The superficial observer！ How many there are of him！ And how
much he misses！ He misses； in fact； everything。
At two o'clock in the morning a telegraph operator approached the
copy desk and handed Cleggett a sheet of yellow paper； with the
remark：
〃Cleggettpersonal wire。〃
It was a night letter； and glancing at the signature Cleggett saw
that it was from his brother who lived in Boston。 It ran：
Uncle Tom died yesterday。 Don't faint now。
He splits bulk fortune between you and me。
Lawyers figure nearly 500；000 each。 Mostly
easily negotiable securities。 New will made
month ago while sore at president temperance
outfit。 Blood thicker than Apollinaris after all。
Poor Uncle Tom。
Edward。
Despite Edward's thoughtful warning； Cleggett did nearly faint。
Nothing could have been less expected。 Uncle Tom was an
irascible prohibitionist； and one of the most deliberately
disobliging men on earth。 Cleggett and his brother had long
ceased to expect anything from him。 For twenty years it had been
thoroughly understood that Uncle Tom would leave his entire
estate to a temperance society。 Cleggett had ceased to think of
Uncle Tom as a possible factor in his life。 He did not doubt
that Uncle Tom had changed the will to gain some point with the
officials of the temperance society； intending to change it once
again after he had been deferred to； cajoled； and flattered
enough to placate his vanity。 But death had stepped in just in
time to disinherit the enemies of the Demon Rum。
Cleggett read the wire through twice； and then folded it and put
it into his pocket。 He rose and walked toward the managing
editor's room。 As he stepped across the floor there was a little
dancing light in his eyes； there was a faint smile upon his lips；
that were quite foreign to the staid and sober Cleggett that the
world knew。 He was quiet； but he was almost jaunty； too； he felt
a little drunk； and enjoyed the feeling。
He opened the managing editor's door with more assurance than he
had ever displayed before。 The managing editor； a pompous； tall；
thin man with a drooping frosty mustache； and cold gray eyes in a
cold gray face that somehow reminded one of the visage of a
walrus； was preparing to go home。
〃Well？〃 he said； shortly。
He was a man for whom Cleggett had long felt a secret antipathy。
The man was； in short； the petty tyrant of Cleggett's little
world。
〃Can you spare me a couple of minutes； Mr。 Wharton？〃 said
Cleggett。 But he did not say it with the air of a person who
really sues for a hearing。
〃Yes； yesgo on。〃 Mr。 Wharton； who had risen from his chair；
sat down again。 He was distinctly annoyed。 He was ungracious。
He was usually ungracious with Cleggett。 His face set itself in
the expression it always took when he declined to consider
raising a man's salary。 Cleggett； who had been refused a raise
regularly every three months for the past two years； was familiar
with the look。
〃Go on； go onwhat is it？〃 asked Mr。 Wharton unpleasantly；
frowning and stroking the frosty mustache； first one side and
then the other。
〃I just stepped in to tell you；〃 said Cleggett quietly； 〃that I
don't think much of the way you are running the Enterprise。〃
Wharton stopped stroking his mustache so quickly and so amazedly
that one might have thought he had run into a thorn amongst the
hirsute growth and pricked a finger。 He glared。 He opened his
mouth。 But before he could speak Cleggett went on：
〃Three years ago I made a number of suggestions to you。 You
treated me contemptuouslyvery contemptuously！〃
Cleggett paused and drew a long breath； and his face became quite
red。 It was as if the anger in which he could not afford to
indulge himself three years before was now working in him with
cumulative effect。 Wharton； only partially recovered from the
shock of Cleggett's sudden arraignment； began to stammer and
bluster； using the words nearest his tongue：
〃You d…damned im…p…pertinent〃
〃Just a moment；〃 Cleggett interrupted； growing visibly angrier；
and seeming to enjoy his anger more and more。 〃Just a word more。
I had intended to conclude my remarks by telling you that my
contempt for YOU； personally； is unbounded。 It is boundless；
sir！ But since you have sworn at me； I am forced to conclude
this interview in another fashion。〃
And with a gesture which was not devoid of dignity Cleggett drew
from an upper waistcoat pocket a card and flung it on Wharton's
desk。 After which he stepped back and made a formal bow。
Wharton looked at the card。 Bewilderment almost chased the anger
from his face。
〃Eh；〃 he said； 〃what's this？〃
〃My card； sir！ A friend will wait on you tomorrow！〃
〃Tomorrow？ A friend？ What for？〃
Cleggett folded his arms and regarded the managing editor with a
touch of the supercilious in his manner。
〃If you were a gentleman；〃 he said； 〃you would have no difficulty
in understanding these things。 I have just done you the honor of
challenging you to a duel。〃
Mr。 Wharton's mouth opened as if he were about to explode in a
roar of incredulous laughter。 But meeting Cleggett's eyes； which
were； indeed； sparkling with a most remarkable light； his jaw
dropped； and he turned slightly pale。 He rose from his chair and
put the desk between himself and Cleggett； picking up as he did
so a long pair of shears。
〃Put down the scissors；〃 said Cleggett； with a wave of his hand。
〃I do not propose to attack you now。〃
And he turned and left the managing editor's little office；
closing the door behind him。
The managing editor tiptoed over to the door and； with the
scissors still grasped in one hand； opened it about a quarter of
an inch。 Through this crack Wharton saw Cleggett walk jauntily
towards the corner where his hat and coat were hanging。 Cleggett
took off his worn office jacket； rolled it into a ball； and flung
it into a waste paper basket。 He put on his street coat and hat
and picked up the drab…colored cane。 Swinging the stick he moved
towards the door into the hall。 In the doorway he paused； cocked
his hat a trifle； turned towards the managing editor's door；
raised his hand with his pipe in it with the manner of one who
points a dueling pistol； took careful aim at the second button of
the managing editor's waistcoat； and clucked。 At the cluck the
managing editor drew back hastily； as if Cleggett had actually
presented a firearm； Cleggett's manner was so rapt and fatal that
it carried conviction。 Then Cleggett laughed； cocked his hat on
the other side of his head and went out into the corridor
whistling。 Whistling； and； since faults as well as virtues must
be told； swaggering just a little。
When the managing editor had heard the elevator come up； pause；
and go down again； he went out of his room and said to the city
editor：
〃Mr。 Herbert； don't ever let that man Cle
