the cruise of the jasper b[1].(杰斯帕·b·之游)-第3章
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directed towards the toolhouse door。 It was a thrust en carte； the thrust of
a brilliant swordsman； the thrust of a master； a terrible thrust。 It was
meant for as pernicious a bravo as ever infested the pages of romantic
fiction。 Cleggett had been slaying these gentry a dozen times a day for
years。 He had pinked four of them on the way across the bridge； before
McCarthy； with his stomach and his realism； stopped the lunge intended
for the fifth。 But this is not exactly the sort of thing one finds it easy to
confide to a policeman； be he ever so friendly a policeman。
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
CleggettOld Clegg； the copyreaderClegg； the commonplaceC。 J。
Cleggett； the Brooklynite…this person whom young reporters conceived of
as the staid； dry prophet of the dusty Factwas secretly a mighty reservoir
of unwritten； unacted； unlived； unspoken romance。 He ate it； he drank it；
he breathed it； he dreamed it。 The usual copyreader； when he closes his
eyes and smiles upon a pleasant inward vision； is thinking of starting a
chicken…farm in New Jersey。 But Cleggettwith gray sprinkled in his
hair； sober of face and precise of manner； as the world knew himlived a
hidden life which was one long； wild adventure。
Nobody had ever suspected it。 But his room might have given to the
discerning a clue to the real man behind the mask which he assumed
which he had been forced to assume in order to earn a living。 When he
reached the apartment； a few minutes after his encounter on the bridge；
and switched the electric light on； the gleams fell upon an astonishing
clutter of books and arms。 。 。 。
Stevenson； cavalry sabers； W。 Clark Russell； pistols； and Dumas； Jack
London； poignards； bowie knives； Stanley Weyman； Captain Marryat； and
Dumas； sword canes； Scottish claymores； Cuban machetes； Conan Doyle；
Harrison Ainsworth； dress swords； and Dumas； stilettos； daggers； hunting
knives； Fenimore Cooper； G。 P。 R。 James； broadswords； Dumas； Gustave
Aimard； Rudyard Kipling； dueling swords； Dumas； F。 Du Boisgobey；
Malay krises； Walter Scott； stick pistols； scimitars； Anthony Hope； single
sticks； foils； Dumas； jungles of arms； jumbles of books； arms of all makes
and periods； arms on the walls； in the corners； over the fireplace； leaning
against the bookshelves； lying in ambush under the bed； peeping out of the
wardrobe； propping the windows open； serving as paper weights； pictures；
warlike and romantic prints and engravings； pinned to the walls with
daggers； in the wardrobe； coats and hats hanging from poignards and
stilettos thrust into the wood instead of from nails or hooks。 But of all
the weapons it was the rapiers； of all the books it was Dumas； that he
loved。 There was Dumas in French； Dumas in English； Dumas with
pictures； Dumas unillustrated； Dumas in cloth； Dumas in leather； Dumas
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
in boards； Dumas in paper covers。 Cleggett had been twenty years
getting these arms and books together； often he had gone without a dinner
in order to make a payment on some blade he fancied。 And each weapon
was also a book to him； he sensed their stories as he handled them； he felt
the personalities of their former owners stirring in him when he picked
them up。 It was in that room that he dreamed； which is to say； it was in
that room that he lived his real life。
Cleggett walked over to his writing desk and pulled out a bulky
manuscript。 It was his own work。 Is it necessary to hint that it was a
tale essentially romantic in character？
He flung it into the grate and set fire to it。 It represented the labor of
two years； but as he watched it burn； stirring the sheets now and then so
the flames would catch them more readily； he smiled； unvisited by even
the most shadowy second thought of regret。
For why the deuce should a man with 500；000 in his pocket write
romances？ Why should anyone write anything who is free to live？ For
the first time in his existence Cleggett was free。
He picked up a sword。 It was one of his favorite rapiers。
Sometimes people came out of the bookssometimes shadowy forms
came back to claim the weapons that had been theirsand Cleggett fought
them。 There was not an unscarred piece of furniture in the place。 He
bent the flexible blade in his hands； tried the point of it； formally saluted；
brought the weapon to parade； dallied with his imaginary opponent's
sword for an instant。 。 。 。
It seemed as if one of those terrible； but brilliant； duels； with which
that room was so familiar； was about to be enacted。 。 。 。 But he laid the
rapier down。 After all； the rapier is scarcely a thing of this century。
Cleggett； for the first time； felt a little impatient with the rapier。 It is all
very well to DREAM with a rapier。 But now； he was free； reality was
before him； the world of actual adventure called。 He had but to choose！
He considered。 He tried to look into that bright； adventurous future。
Presently he went to the window； and gazed out。 Tides of night and
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
mystery； flooding in from the farther； dark； mysterious ocean； all but
submerged lower Manhattan； high and beautiful above these waves of
shadow； triumphing over them and accentuating them； shone a star from
the top of the Woolworth building； flecks of light indicated the noble
curve of that great bridge which soars like a song in stone and steel above
the shifting waters； the river itself was dotted here and there with moving
lights； it was a nocturne waiting for its Whistler； here sea and city met in
glamour and beauty and illusion。
But it was not the city which called to Cleggett。 It was the sea。
A breeze blew in from the bay and stirred his window curtains； it was
salt in his nostrils。 。 。 。And； staring out into the breathing night； he saw a
succession of pictures。 。 。 。
Stripped to a pair of cotton trousers； with a dripping cutlass in one
hand and a Colt's revolver in the other； an adventurer at the head of a
bunch of dogs as desperate as himself fought his way across the reeking
decks of a Chinese junk； to close in single combat with a gigantic one…
eyed pirate who stood by the helm with a ring of dead men about him and
a great two…handed sword upheaved。 。 。 。 This adventurer wasClement J。
Cleggett！ 。 。 。
Through the phosphorescent waters of a summer sea； reckless of
cruising sharks； a sailor's clasp knife in his teeth； glided noiselessly a
strong swimmer； he reached the side of a schooner yacht from which rose
the wild cries of beauty in distress； swarmed aboard with
