the cruise of the jasper b[1].(杰斯帕·b·之游)-第1章
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
THE CRUISE OF THE
JASPER B。
BY DON MARQUIS
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
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
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
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
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
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
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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。
W
