the story of a bad boy-第28节

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〃Shiver　my　timbers！〃　cries　that　deeply　injured　individual。　〃Do　you　suppose；　sir；　as　I　have　lived　to　sixty　year；　an'　ain't　got　no　more　sense　than　to　go　for　to　blaze　away　at　my　own　upper　riggin'？　It　doesn't　stand　to　reason。〃

It　certainly　did　not　seem　probable　that　Mr。　Watson　would　maliciously　knock　over　his　own　chimney；　and　Lawyer　Hackett；　who　had　the　case　in　hand；　'bowed　himself　out　of　the　Admiral's　cabin　convinced　that　the　right　man　had　not　been　discovered。

People　living　by　the　sea　are　always　more　or　less　superstitious。　Stories　of　spectre　ships　and　mysterious　beacons；　that　lure　vessels　out　of　their　course　and　wreck　them　on　unknown　reefs；　were　among　the　stock　legends　of　Rivermouth；　and　not　a　few　people　in　the　town　were　ready　to　attribute　the　firing　of　those　guns　to　some　supernatural　agency。　The　Oldest　Inhabitant　remembered　that　when　he　was　a　boy　a　dim…looking　sort　of　schooner　hove　to　in　the　offing　one　foggy　afternoon；　fired　off　a　single　gun　that　didn't　make　any　report；　and　then　crumbled　to　nothing；　spar；　mast；　and　hulk；　like　a　piece　of　burnt　paper。

The　authorities；　however；　were　of　the　opinion　that　human　hands　had　something　to　do　with　the　explosions；　and　they　resorted　to　deep…laid　stratagems　to　get　hold　of　the　said　hands。　One　of　their　traps　came　very　near　catching　us。　They　artfully　caused　an　old　brass　fieldpiece　to　be　left　on　a　wharf　near　the　scene　of　our　late　operations。　Nothing　in　the　world　but　the　lack　of　money　to　buy　powder　saved　us　from　falling　into　the　clutches　of　the　two　watchmen　who　lay　secreted　for　a　week　in　a　neighboring　sail…loft。

It　was　many　a　day　before　the　midnight　bombardment　ceased　to　be　the　town…talk。　The　trick　was　so　audacious　and　on　so　grand　a　scale　that　nobody　thought　for　an　instant　of　connecting　us　lads　with　it。　Suspicion　at　length　grew　weary　of　lighting　on　the　wrong　person；　and　as　conjecture…like　the　physicians　in　the　epitaph…was　in　vain；　the　Rivermouthians　gave　up　the　idea　of　finding　out　who　had　astonished　them。

They　never　did　find　out；　and　never　will；　unless　they　read　this　veracious　history。　If　the　selectmen　are　still　disposed　to　punish　the　malefactors；　I　can　supply　Lawyer　Hackett　with　evidence　enough　to　convict　Pepper　Whitcomb；　Phil　Adams；　Charley　Marden；　and　the　other　honorable　members　of　the　Centipede　Club。　But　really　I　don't　think　it　would　pay　now。







Chapter　18

A　Frog　He　Would　A…Wooing　Go



If　the　reader　supposes　that　I　lived　all　this　while　in　Rivermouth　without　falling　a　victim　to　one　or　more　of　the　young　ladies　attending　Miss　Dorothy　Gibbs's　Female　Institute；　why；　then；　all　I　have　to　say　is　the　reader　exhibits　his　ignorance　of　human　nature。

Miss　Gibbs's　seminary　was　located　within　a　few　minutes'　walk　of　the　Temple　Grammar　School；　and　numbered　about　thirty…five　pupils；　the　majority　of　whom　boarded　at　the　Hall…Primrose　Hall；　as　Miss　Dorothy　prettily　20called　it。　The　Prim…roses；　as　we　called　them；　ranged　from　seven　years　of　age　to　sweet　seventeen；　and　a　prettier　group　of　sirens　never　got　together　even　in　Rivermouth；　for　Rivermouth；　you　should　know；　is　famous　for　its　pretty　girls。

There　were　tall　girls　and　short　girls；　rosy　girls　and　pale　girls；　and　girls　as　brown　as　berries；　girls　like　Amazons；　slender　girls；　weird　and　winning　like　Undine；　girls　with　black　tresses；　girls　with　auburn　ringlets；　girls　with　every　tinge　of　golden　hair。　To　behold　Miss　Dorothy's　young　ladies　of　a　Sunday　morning　walking　to　church　two　by　two；　the　smallest　toddling　at　the　end　of　the　procession；　like　the　bobs　at　the　tail　of　a　kite；　was　a　spectacle　to　fill　with　tender　emotion　the　least　susceptible　heart。　To　see　Miss　Dorothy　marching　grimly　at　the　head　of　her　light　infantry；　was　to　feel　the　hopelessness　of　making　an　attack　on　any　part　of　the　column。

She　was　a　perfect　dragon　of　watchfulness。　The　most　unguarded　lifting　of　an　eyelash　in　the　fluttering　battalion　was　sufficient　to　put　her　on　the　lookout。　She　had　had　experiences　with　the　male　sex；　this　Miss　Dorothy　so　prim　and　grim。　It　was　whispered　that　her　heart　was　a　tattered　album　scrawled　over　with　love…lines；　but　that　she　had　shut　up　the　volume　long　ago。

There　was　a　tradition　that　she　had　been　crossed　in　love；　but　it　was　the　faintest　of　traditions。　A　gay　young　lieutenant　of　marines　had　flirted　with　her　at　a　country　ball　（A。D。　1811）；　and　then　marched　carelessly　away　at　the　head　of　his　company　to　the　shrill　music　of　the　fife；　without　so　much　as　a　sigh　for　the　girl　he　left　behind　him。　The　years　rolled　on；　the　gallant　gay　Lothario…which　wasn't　his　name…married；　became　a　father；　and　then　a　grandfather；　and　at　the　period　of　which　I　am　speaking　his　grandchild　was　actually　one　of　Miss　Dorothy's　young　ladies。　So；　at　least；　ran　the　story。

The　lieutenant　himself　was　dead　these　many　years；　but　Miss　Dorothy　never　got　over　his　duplicity。　She　was　convinced　that　the　sole　aim　of　mankind　was　to　win　the　unguarded　affection　of　maidens；　and　then　march　off　treacherously　with　flying　colors　to　the　heartless　music　of　the　drum　and　fife。　To　shield　the　inmates　of　Primrose　Hall　from　the　bitter　influences　that　had　blighted　her　own　early　affections　was　Miss　Dorothy's　mission　in　life。

〃No　wolves　prowling　about　my　lambs；　if　you　please；〃　said

Miss　Dorothy。　〃I　will　not　allow　it。〃

She　was　as　good　as　her　word。　I　don't　think　the　boy　lives　who　ever　set　foot　within　the　limits　of　Primrose　Hall　while　the　seminary　was　under　her　charge。　Perhaps　if　Miss　Dorothy　had　given　her　young　ladies　a　little　more　liberty；　they　would　not　have　thought　it　〃such　fun〃　to　make　eyes　over　the　white　lattice　fence　at　the　young　gentlemen　of　the　Temple　Grammar　School。　I　say　perhaps；　for　it　is　one　thing　to　manage　thirty…five　young　ladies　and　quite　another　thing　to　talk　about　it。

But　all　Miss　Dorothy's　vigilance　could　not　prevent　the　young　folks　from　meeting　in　the　town　now　and　then；　nor　could　her　utmost　ingenuity　interrupt　postal　arrangements。　There　was　no　end　of　notes　passing　between　the　students　and　the　Primroses。　Notes　tied　to　the　heads　of　arrows　were　shot　into　dormitory　windows；　notes　were　tucked　under　fences；　and　hidden　in　the　trunks　of　decayed　trees。　Every　thick　place　in　the　boxwood　hedge　that　surrounded　the　seminary　was　a　possible　post…office。

It　was　a　terrible　shock　to　Miss　Dorothy　the　day　she　unearthed　a　nest　of　letters　in　one　of　the　huge　wooden　urns　surmounting　the　gateway　that　led　to　her　dovecot。　It　was　a　bitter　moment　to　Miss　Phoebe　and　Miss　Candace　and　Miss　Hesba；　when　they　had　their　locks　of　hair　grimly　handed　back　to　them　by　Miss　Gibbs　in　the　presence　of　the　whole　school。　Girls　whose　locks　of　hair　had　run　the　blockade　in　safety　were　particularly　severe　on　the　offenders。　But　it　didn't　stop　other　notes　and　other　tresses；　and　I　would　like　to　know　what　can　stop　them　while　the　earth　holds　together。

Now　when　I　first　came　to　Rivermouth　I　looked　upon　girls　as　rather　tame　company；　I　hadn't　a　spark　of　sentiment　concerning　them；　but　seeing　my　comrades　sending　and　receiving　mysterious　epistles；　wearing　bits　of　ribbon　in　their　button…holes　and　leaving　packages　of　confectionery　（generally　lemon…drops）　in　the　hollow　trunks　of　trees…why；　I　felt　that　this　was　the　proper　thing　to　do。　I　resolved；　as　a　matter　of　duty；　to　fall　in　love　with　somebody；　and　I　didn't　care　in　the　least　who　it　was。　In　much　the　same　mood　that　Don　Quixote　selected　the　Dulcinea　del　Toboso　for　his　lady…love；　I　singled　out　one　of　Miss　Dorothy's　incomparable　young　ladies　for　mine。

I　debated　a　long　while　whether　I　should　not　select　two；　but　at　last　settled　down　on　one…a　pale　little　girl　with　blue　eyes；　named　Alice。　I　shall　not　make　a　long　story　of　this；　for　Alice　made　short　work　of　me。　She　was　secretly　in　love　with　Pepper　Whitcomb。　This　occasioned　a　temporary　coolness　between　Pepper　and　myself。

Not　disheartened；　however；　I　placed　Laura　Rice…I　believe　it　was　Laura　Rice…in　the　vacant　niche。　The　new　idol　was　more　cruel　than　the　old。　The　former　frankly　sent　me　to　the　right　about；　but　the　latter　was　a　deceitful　lot。　She　wore　my　nosegay　in　her　dress　at　the　evening　service　（the　Primroses　were　marched　to　church　three　times　every　Sunday）；　she　penned　me　the　daintiest　of　notes；　she　sent　me　the　glossiest　of　ringlets　（cut；　as　I　afterwards　found　out；　from　the　stupid　head　of　Miss　Gibbs's　chamber…maid）；　and　at　the　same　time　was　holding　me　and　my　pony　up　to　ridicule　in　a　series　of　letters　written　to　Jack　Harris。　It　was　Harris　himself　who　kindly　opened　my　eyes。

〃I　tell　you　what；　Bailey；〃　said　that　young　gentleman；　〃Laura　is　an　old　veteran；　and　carries　too　many　guns　for　a　youngster。　She　can't　resist　a　flirtation；　I　believe　she'd　flirt　with　an　infant　in　arms。　There's　hardly　a　fellow　in　the　school　that　hasn't　worn　her　colors　and　some　of　her　hair。　She　doesn't　give　out　any　more　of　her　own　hair　now。　It's　been　pretty　well　used　up。　The　demand　was　greater　than　the　supply；　you　see。　It's　all　very　well　to　correspond　with　Laura；　but　as　to　looking　for　anything　serious　from　her；　the　knowing　ones　don't。　Hope　I　haven't　hurt　your　feelings；　old　boy；〃　（that　was　a　soothing　stroke　of　flattery　to　call　me　〃old　boy；〃）　〃but　it　was　my　duty　as　a　friend　and　a　Centipede　to　let　you　know　who　you　were　dealing　with。〃

Such　was　the　advice　given　me　by　that　time…stricken；　careworn；　and　embittered　man　of　the　world；　who　was　sixteen　years　old　if　he　was　a　day。

I　dropped　L