CHAPTER LXXV.

THE KNIGHT AND THE CAPTAIN.

"Captain O'Blunderbuss!" murmured Sir Christopher, in a faint tone, as he sank back dismayed into his seat.

"Be the power-rs! and how are ye, my hearty old cock?" was the polite salutation of the gallant gentleman, as, advancing close up to the knight, he grasped his hand and shook it with as much energy as if he were a policeman carrying off a starving mendicant to the station-house for the _heinous crime_ of begging.

"Thank you, Captain—I—I'm pretty well," responded Sir Christopher.

"Well, that's a blessing, be Jasus!" cried the Captain, coolly taking a seat. "Is it claret that you're after dhrinking, Sir-r Christopher?" he demanded, taking up the bottle and holding it between his eyes and the lamp. "Iligant stuff in its way—but not my lush. Have ye no potheen in the house, Sir Christopher-r?"

"Potheen?" repeated the knight, not understanding the name nor half liking the intrusion.

"Is it you, Sir-r Christopher, that don't know what rale Irish potheen is?" cried the Captain. "Why, there's niver a child in ould Ir-reland that can't spell potheen. Whiskey, Sir Christopher—whiskey! But I'll save ye the throuble of ringing for it yourself:"—and, with these words, Captain O'Blunderbuss applied his hand most vigorously to the bell-pull.

The footman answered the summons.

"Your masther says, sirrah," exclaimed the Captain, "that ye're to bring up a bottle of the best Irish whiskey—rale potheen—with a tumbler, a spoon, a lemon, hot water, and sugar and look shar-rp about it, too!"

The domestic retired, and Sir Christopher stared in amazement at the Captain; for the worthy knight was so astounded by the free and easy manners of his visitor, that he was not quite certain whether he, Sir Christopher Blunt, was actually in his own house at the moment, or whether he was in some public coffee-room where every one had a right to order the waiter about as he chose.

"I hope you're not offinded with me, Sir Christopher-r, by making myself at home?" said the Captain: "but it isn't me that's the boy to stand on any ceremony."

The knight thought that his visitor could never have said a truer thing in his life.

"Not I, be Jasus!" continued Captain O'Blunderbuss. "But thin I'm the man to let others do the same with me; and if you should ever find yourself in the wilds of Conamar-r-ra, Sir Christopher, jist ask the first naked urchin ye meet with to show the way to Bluntherbuss Park, and see if I won't trate ye as ye deserve to be trated. Blood and murther! it's me that keeps open house save whin the sheriff's-officers are prowling about the neighbourhood, which is generally from the 1st of January to the 31st of December in every year."

The servant now made his appearance with the whiskey and the _et ceteras_ which the gallant gentleman had ordered; and the said gallant gentleman straightway began to brew himself some toddy, with the air of an individual who had had nothing stronger than mild ale to drink all day long.

"May I request to be informed——" began Sir Christopher, his courage reviving now that the Captain's visit appeared to be one altogether of an amicable nature.

"Faith! and is it to be informed ye'd be?" ejaculated O'Blunderbuss, as he stirred his whiskey-and-water up with the spoon. "But don't alarm yourself, Sir Christopher-r: my call this evening was merely jist to ask ye how ye do and present ye with a little note from that rale broth of a boy, Misther Frank Curtis."

"Frank—my nephew!" exclaimed Sir Christopher: "what can he want with me? Surely 'tis not to congratulate——But, no—he can't have heard of _that_ yet."

Be the power-rs! and is there any thing to congratulate ye upon, Sir Christopher?" cried the Captain. "Have ye been made a baronet—or elected an alderman?"

"I would have you know, Captain O'Blunderbuss," said the knight, in a solemn tone, "that I was once so unadvised as to put up for Portsoken——"

Be Jasus! have nothing to do with Port—it lies heavy on the stomach, my frind!" interrupted the gallant officer. "Dhrink potheen—and you'll niver grow old nor yet gray. But we were spaking of congratulations. Is it possible that your dear wife has tumbled down stairs and broken her neck? or has she presented ye with a pledge of her affiction?"

"Since you must know, Captain O'Blunderbuss," responded the Knight, "it is——the latter."

"I give ye joy, old brick!" vociferated the gallant officer and seizing Sir Christopher's hand, he subjected it to such a process of violent shaking, that the victim almost yelled out with agony. "But from what Frank tould me," continued the Captain, at length relinquishing the hand which he had so unmercifully squeezed, "I thought you hadn't been married long enough for such a happy evint to take place. However—I wish ye joy, my frind; and now to business. Read this little bit of a note, and ye'll be charmed with the kind way in which Frank Curtis spakes of ye."

The knight received the letter which the Captain handed to him; but ere he had time to break the seal, the door opened and the nurse made her appearance.

"Well, nurse—what is it?" demanded Sir Christopher.

"Please, sir," was the reply, "missus wants to know who it was as come with such a chemendous knock and ring that it has set her poor head a-aching ready to split, and the blessed babby a-crying as if he was in fits."

"Tell your misthress, nurse," exclaimed the visitor, in an imperious tone, "that it's Captain O'Bluntherbuss, of Bluntherbuss Park, Ir-r-reland," with an awful rattling of the r's; "and prisint my best rispicts to your lady and the babby."

"Thank'ee, sir," replied the nurse; "but missus says, Sir Christopher, please, that she hopes you won't make no noise in the house."

"Very well—very well, my good woman!" exclaimed the knight hastily. "Tell your mistress I shall not be engaged long, and will come up and see her presently."

"Wery good, sir;"—and the nurse withdrew.

Sir Christopher then proceeded to open the letter; but it was with trembling hands,—for the visit of the nurse had thrown him into a most unpleasant state of nervousness—he being well aware that he should receive a blowing up on account of the Captain's call,—although no one could possibly wish more devoutly than himself that such a call had not taken place.

"Ye thrimble, Sir Christopher!" cried the Captain; "but there's no need to be alar-r-med—for your nev-vy hasn't sent ye a challenge. So let your mind be at pace—and read the little note at your leisure. I'm in no hurry for an hour or two."

And indeed the Captain appeared to be quite comfortable; for he brewed himself a second glass of whiskey and water—threw some coals upon the fire—and trimmed the lamp in such a way that the flame rose above the globe.

Meantime Sir Christopher perused the letter with great attention, and did not altogether seem to relish its contents.

"I really cannot oblige my nephew in this respect," he said, fidgetting the paper about in his hands. "The truth is—he has not behaved altogether well to me—nor to Lady Blunt;—and if I was to do this for him, Lady Blunt would be so angry. He must fight his own way in the world, Captain O'Blunderbuss, as I did; for I have no hesitation to admit that I rose from nothing—indeed, I glory in the fact: and having filled the high and responsible office of Sheriff, with credit to myself and advantage to my fellow-citizens——"

"Damn the high office of Shiriff!" exclaimed the gallant gentleman, striking his fist upon the table. "I want my money—and it isn't Captain O'Bluntherbuss that ye'll be afther putting off in this snaking fashion."

"But, my dear sir," said the knight, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, "_I_ don't owe you the money."

"Be Jasus! but your nev-vy does—and therefore it's all in the family!" cried the Captain.

"That is a proposition I cannot agree to, my dear sir," returned the knight.

"D' ye mane to differ from me?" demanded the Captain, looking desperately ferocious.

"Why—as for that—I—I——"

"D' ye mane to differ from me, I repate?" vociferated Captain O'Blunderbuss, again striking the table with his fist, but so violently this time that the bottles and glasses danced a hornpipe: "answer me that, Sir-r Christopher-r!"

"I don't wish to offend you, Captain—I couldn't wish to do that; but," added the knight, "I must beg leave most respectfully to dissent from the proposition that I am in any way answerable for the debts of Mr. Curtis. And since he has married a lady of fortune, let him be candid with her at once; and——"

"Is it candid that he's to be, when the wife would kick up hell and blazes?" cried O'Blunderbuss. "But I tell you purty frankly, my frind, that if ye don't shell out the seven hunthred pounds——"

"Seven hundred!" ejaculated Sir Christopher. "It says only five hundred in the letter."

"I don't care two r-raps for the letther," answered the Captain: "all I know is that Misther Frank Curtis, your nev-vy, had seven hunthred of me—and, be Jasus! I'll have seven hunthred of you."

"It can't be done," said Sir Christopher doggedly.

"Then, be the holy poker-r! I'll shoot ye to-morrow mornin'!" vociferated the gallant officer: "so name your frind; and I'll take care that ye shan't be afther shir-r-king this time as ye did when ye had to mate my frind Morthaunt."

"Really, Captain O'Blunderbuss, this strange conduct on your part—is—is—" stammered the knight, scarcely knowing what to say or do; while his countenance became elongated to an awful extent.

"Sthrange!—sthrange! do ye say?" exclaimed the Captain. "Why, ye're adding insult to injury, man. But don't desayve yourself—ye won't come the counterfeit-crank over me, be Jasus! I'm not the boy to be bullied afther this fashion, Sir Christopher-r. So shell out the eight hunthred—or be the Lor-r-d Harry!——"

"Eight hundred!" murmured the miserable knight, now cruelly alarmed at the ferocious manner and the progressive attempt at extortion on the part of his visitor.

"Eight hunthred is what I lent, and eight hunthred is what I'll have back," said the Captain, in a determined tone: "and if ye're afther denying your debts of honour-r, Sir Christopher, I'll make such an example of ye as shall let all the wor-rld know what ye are—as soon as I've shot ye dead, which I'll do in the mornin'."

"You surely wouldn't commit such a crime—without—without just provocation?" urged the knight, in a coaxing manner.

"I'll not hear another word of palthry excuse, sirrah," replied the Captain, starting from his seat; "and if the money isn't forthcoming in the twinkling of a bed-post, I'll flay ye first and shoot ye aftherwards."

"Oh! dear—Oh! dear," said the wretched Sir Christopher: "what shall I do?—I wouldn't mind the five hundred that my nephew asks for—since he promises so faithfully to pay me again· but eight hundred——"

"Nine!" thundered the Captain. "D'ye mane to tell me as good as that I'm a liar-r, and that I can't recollect amounts?—Be Jasus! I niver was so insulthed in my life—and nothing but blood can wash it away!"

"Blood!" murmured Sir Christopher: "my blood! and I the father of a family, as I may say."

"So much the more dishonour-r-able for ye to dispute a just debt, and thry to shir-rk off in this bastely fashion!" cried the Captain, twirling his moustache, and eyeing Sir Christopher in a way which made the latter tremble in every limb. "I always thought that ye was a man famous for your straight-for'ard dalings; but I'm desayved—grossly desayved;—and I'll sind my frind to ye to-morrow mornin', before you've had time to break the shell of your first egg at breakfast."

"Well, Captain—to oblige _you_," said Sir Christopher, "I don't mind if I write a cheque for five hundred pounds; but I positively will give no more—I won't indeed—I can't."

"Put down the palthry five hunthred, then, on the dhraft," exclaimed the Captain; "and I'll make Misther Curtis fork me out the rest at his convaynience."

The miserable Sir Christopher, though feeling that he had been completely bullied into the settlement of the demand made upon him, nevertheless stood in such awful dismay of the warlike Irishman, that he wrote a cheque for the five hundred pounds, which said cheque the Captain secured about his person, exclaiming, "And now, my frind, I'll look over all the insulting words ye have applied to me this evening. But, be the power-r-s! if I hadn't a great respict for ye, I'd make a mummy of ye before ye was twelve hours oulder."

Having thus spoken, the Captain tossed off the remainder of his whiskey-and-water, shook the knight violently by the hand once more, and took his departure, just as the nurse was coming down to desire that Sir Christopher would get rid of his guest and send up the keys of the wine-cellar to her ladyship.

Now, strange as it may appear to the reader,—considering all that they know relative to the character of Captain O'Blunderbuss,—it is nevertheless a fact that he never once thought of appropriating to his own use the amount just extorted from the knight. He was a man who would not hesitate to get into debt, without the least intention of ever paying the same,—he moreover thought that he had accomplished a highly meritorious deed in extorting the five hundred pounds from Sir Christopher: but he was honourable after his own fashion—that is to say, he would scorn to perpetrate an actual robbery, or to betray the trust reposed in him by an accomplice. He was, in fact, one of those curious, but not uncommon beings, who might be trusted with a thousand pounds to convey to the bank for a friend, but who would borrow eighteen-pence without the remotest intention of ever repaying it, and who thought that the most brilliant act a gentleman could achieve was to chouse a creditor.

Accordingly, the clock had scarcely struck eleven, and Frank Curtis was already beginning to get uneasy, when the Captain's thundering knock at the front door in Baker Street, proclaimed his return; and in a few moments the young gentleman was made acquainted with the success experienced by his friend.

"And now, be the holy poker-r! we'll make a night of it," said the Captain, when, the front-door having been duly secured, the two worthies were once more seated in the dining-room: "and it's myself that'll tell ye stories and sing ye rale Irish songs to keep ye awake, my boy."

And a night they did make of it, heaven knows!—and tremendous inroads were effected upon the supply of gin then in the "garrison," as the Captain now termed the house. Such lies, too, as the Captain and Frank Curtis told each other! until the latter gentleman began to entertain the pleasing idea that the room was spinning round, and that there were four candles on the table instead of two. The gallant officer, on the other hand, carried his liquor like a man who was inaccessible to its inebriating fumes; and when Curtis fell dead drunk upon the carpet, the Captain considerately picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder as if he was a sack of potatoes, and thus transported him to the door of his wife's bed-room, at which he deposited the senseless gentleman, having intimated in stentorian tones that Mrs. Curtis would do well to rise and look to her husband.

The Captain then went down stairs again, finished the bottle last opened, and, throwing himself on a sofa, fell into a sound sleep.