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Captain Rogers · The Lady of the Barge and other Stort Stories

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Section seven of the Lady of the Barge. This is a LibriVox recording.
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All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
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please visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Christine Rucker. The Lady of
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the Barge by W. W. Jacobs, Captain Rodgers. A man came
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slowly over the old stone bridge, and, averting his gaze from the dark
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river with its silent craft, looked with some satisfaction toward the feeble lights of
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a small town on the other side. He walked with the painful, forced
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step of one who has already trudged far. His worsted hose, where they
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were not darned, were in holes, and his coat and knee breeches were
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rusty with much wear. But he straightened himself as he reached the end of
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the bridge and stepped out bravely to the taverns, which stood in a row
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facing the quay. He passed the Queen Anne, a mere beer shop,
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without pausing, and after a glance a piece at the Royal George and the
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trusty anchor, kept on his way to where the golden key hung out a
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gilded emblem. It was the best house in riverstone and patronized by the gentry.
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But he adjusted his faded coat and with a swaggering air, entered and
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walked boldly into the coffee room. The room was empty, but a bright
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fire afforded a pleasant change to the chill October air outside. He drew up
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a chair, and, placing his feet on the fender, exposed his tattered
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souls to the blaze, as a waiter who had just seen him enter the
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room came and stood aggressively inside the door. Brandy in water, said the
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stranger. Hot. The coffee room is four gentlemen staying in the house,
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said the waiter. The stranger took his feet from the fender, and,
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rising slowly, walked toward him. He was a short man and thin,
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but there was something so menacing in his attitude, and something so fearsome in
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his stony brown eyes, that the other, despite his disgust for ill dressed
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people, moved back uneasily. Brandy and water hot, repeated the stranger,
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And plenty of it, d'ye hear. The man turned slowly to depart,
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Stop, said the other, imperiously. What's the name of the landlord here?
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Mullet? Said the fellow sulkily. Send him to me, said the
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other, resuming his seat, and hark you, my friend, more civility,
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or twill be the worse for you. He stirred the log on the
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fire with his foot until a shower of sparks whirled up the chimney. The
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door open and the landlord, with the waiter behind him, entered the room,
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but he still gazed placidly at the glowing embers. What do you want,
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demanded the landlord in a deep voice. The stranger turned a little weazened
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yellow face and grinned at him familiarly. Send that that rascal of yours away,
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he said slowly. The landlord started at his voice and eyed him closely.
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Then he signed to the man to withdraw, and, closing the door
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behind him, stood silently watching his visitor. You didn't expect to see me,
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Rogers, said the latter. My name is Mullet, said the other
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sternly. What do you want all? Mullet said the other, in surprise.
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I'm afraid I've made a mistake. Then I thought you were my old
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shipmate, Captain Rogers. It's a foolishness steak of mine, as I've no
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doubt Rogers was hanged years ago. You never had a brother named Rogers,
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did you. I say again, what do you want? Demanded the other,
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advancing upon him. Since you're so good, said the other, I
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want new clothes, food and lodging of the best, and my pockets filled
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with money. You had better go and look for all those things, then,
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said Mullett. You won't find them here, I said the other,
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rising well, well, there was a hundred guineas on the head of my
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old shipmate, Rogers, some fifteen years ago. I'll see whether it has
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been earned yet. If I gave you a hundred guineas, said the innkeeper,
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repressing his passion by a mighty effort, you would not be satisfied.
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Reads like a buck, said the stranger, in of pretended delight. What
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a man it is. He fell back as he spoke, and, thrusting
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his hand into his pocket, drew forth a long pistol as the innkeeper,
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a man of huge frame, edged toward him. Keep your distance, he
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said, in a sharp, quick voice. The innkeeper, in no wise
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disturbed at the pistol, turned away calmly, and ringing the bell, ordered
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some spirits. Then, taking a chair, he motioned to the other to
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do the same, and they sat in silence until the staring waiter had left
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the room again. The stranger raised his glass. My old friend, Captain
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Rogers, he said, solemnly, and may he never get his desserts from
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What jail have you come, inquired Mullet, sternly pon my soul, said
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the other. I have been in so many looking for Captain Rogers that I
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almost forgot the last. But I am just tramped from London two hundred and
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eighty odd miles for the pleasure of seeing your damned ugly figurehead again, and
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now I've found it, I'm going to stay. Give me some money.
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The innkeeper, without a word, drew a little gold and silver from his
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pocket, and, placing it on the table, pushed it toward him enough
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to go on with, said the other, pocketing in future it is Halves,
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do you hear me? Halves? And I'll stay here and see I
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get it. He sat back in his chair, and, meeting the other's
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hatred with a gaze as steady as his own, replaced his pistol. A
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nice nug harbor. After our many voyages, he continued, ship mates we
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were, ship mates will be. While nick gun is alive. You shall
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never want for company. Lord, do you remember the Dutch brig and the
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fat frightened mate? I have forgotten it, said the other, still eyeing
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him steadfastly. I have forgotten many things. For fifteen years I have lived
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a decent, honest life. Pray God for your own sinful soul that the
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devil in me does not wake again. Fifteen years is a long nep,
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said Gun carelessly. What a godsend it'll be for you to have me by
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you, to remind you of all times why you're looking smug man the honest
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innkeeper to the Lifegad, who's the girl? He rose and made a clumsy
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bow as a girl of eighteen. After a moment's hesitation at the door,
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crossed over to the innkeeper. I'm busy, my dear, said the latter,
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somewhat sternly. Our business, said Gun, with another bow, is
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finished. This is your daughter. Ride mullet, my step daughter, was
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the reply. Gun placed a hand which lacked two fingers on his breast and
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bowed again. Want of bear father's oldest friends, he said, smoothly,
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and fallen on evil days. I'm sure your gentle heart will be pleased to
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hear that your good father has requested me for a time to make his house
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my home. Any friend of my father's is welcome to me, sir,
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said the girl coldly. She looked from the innkeeper to his odd looking guest,
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and, conscious of something strained in the air, gave him a little
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bow and quitted the room. You insist upon staying, then, said Mullet,
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after a pause. More than ever, replied Gun, with a leer
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toward the door. Why you don't think, I'm afraid, captain, You
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should know me better than that wife. Is sweet, said the other,
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I assented, Gun, so sweet that you will share things with me to
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keep it. No, said the other, with great calm. I am
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man enough to have a better reason. No psal, I'm singing, said
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Gun coarsely. And look cheerful, you old buccaneer. You look as a
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man should look who has just met an old friend, never to lose him
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again. He eyed his man expectantly and put his hand to his pocket again.
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But the innkeeper's face was troubled, and he gazed stolidly at the fire.
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See what fifteen years, honest, decent life does for us, grinned
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the intruder. The other made no reply, but rising slowly, walked to
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the door without a word. Landlord cried, Gun, bringing him his maimed
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hands sharply down on the table. The innkeeper turned and regarded him. Send
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me in some supper, said Gun, the best you have, and plenty
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of it, and have a room prepared the best. The door closed silently
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and was opened a little later by the dubious George, coming in to set
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a bountiful repast. Gun, after cursing him for his slowness and awkwardness,
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drew his chair to the table and made the meal of one seldom able to
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satisfy his hunger. He finished at last, and, after sitting sometimes smoking
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with his legs sprawled on the fender, rang for a candle and demanded to
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be shown to his room. His proceedings when he entered it were but a
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poor compliment to his host. Not until he had poked and pried into every
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corner did he close the door. Then, not content with locking it,
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he tilted a chair beneath the handle, and, placing his pistol beneath his
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pillow, fell fast asleep. Despite his fatigue, he was earli astir next
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morning, Breakfast was laid for him in the coffee room, and his brow
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darkened. He walked into the hall, and, after trying various doors,
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entered a small sitting room where his host and daughter sat at breakfast, and
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with an easy assurance, drew a chair to the table. The innkeeper helped
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him without a word, but the girl's hands shook under his gaze as she
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passed him some coffee. As soft a bed as I ever slept in,
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he remarked, I hope that you slept well, said the girl, civilly
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like a child, said Gunn, gravely and easy, conscious a mullet.
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The innkeeper nodded and went on eating. The other after another remark or two
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followed his example, glancing occasionally with warm approval at the of the girl who
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sat at the head of the table. A sweet girl, he remarked,
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as she withdrew at the end of the meal. And no mother, I
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presume no mother, repeated the other. Gun sighed and shook his head.
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A sad case, truly, he murmured, no mother, and such a
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guardian, poor soul. If she but knew well, we must find her
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a husband. He looked down as he spoke, and catching sight of his
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rusty clothes and broken shoes, clapped his hand to his pocket, and,
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with a glance at his host sallied out to renew his wardrobe. The innkeeper,
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with an inscrutable face, watched him down the quay. Then, with
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bent head, he returned to the house and fell to work on his accounts.
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In this work, Gun, returning an hour later, clad from head
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to foot in new apparel, offered to assist him. Mullet hesitated, but
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made no demure. Neither did he join in the ecstasies which his new partner
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displayed. At the sight of the prophets, Gun put more gold into his
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new pockets, and, throwing himself back in a chair, called loudly to
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George to bring him some drink. In less than a month, the intruder
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was the virtual master of the Golden Key. Resistance on the part of the
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legitimate owner became more and more feeble, the slightest objection on his part,
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drawing from the truculent Gun, dark allusions to his past and threats against his
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future, which for the sake of his daughter he could not ignore. His
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health began to fail, and Joan watched with perplexed terror the growth of a
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situation, which was in a fair way of becoming unbearable. The arrogance of
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gun knew no bounds. The maids learned to tremble at his polite grin or
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his worst freedom, and the men shrank appalled from his profane wrath. George,
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after ten years of service, was brutally dismissed, and, refusing to
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accept dismissal from his hands, appealed to his master. The innkeeper confirmed it,
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and, with lackluster eyes, fenced feebly when his daughter, regardless of
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Gun's present, indignantly appealed to him. The man was rude to my friend,
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my dear, he said, dispiritedly. If he was rude, it
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was because mister Gunn deserved it, said Joan hotly. Gun laughed uproariously.
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Gad, my dear, I like you, he cried, slapping his leg.
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You're a girl of spirit. Now I will make you a fair offer.
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If you ask for George to stay, stay, he shall as a
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favor to your sweet self. The girl trembled. Who is master here,
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she demanded, turning a full eye on her father. Mullet laughed uneasily.
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This is business, he said, trying to speak lately, and women can't
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understand it. Gun is valuable to me, and George must go unless you
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plead for him, sweet one, said Gun. The girl looked at her
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father again, but he turned his head away and tapped on the floor with
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his foot. Then, in perplexity, akin to tears, she walked from
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the room, carefully drawing her dress aside as Gun held the door for her.
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A fine girl, said Gun, his thin lips working a fine spirit.
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Twill be pleasant to break it. But she does not know who is
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master here. She's young yet, said the other, hurriedly. I will
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soon age her if she looks like that at me again, said Gun.
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Bye. I'll turn out the whole crew into the street and her with them,
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and I wish it. I'll lie in my bed warm on nights and
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think of her huddled on a doorstep. His voice rose and his fists clenched,
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but he kept his distance and watched the other wearily. The innkeeper's face
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was contorted and his brow grew wet. For one moment, something peeped out
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of his eyes. The next he sat down in his chair again and nervously
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fingered his chin. I have but to speak, said Gun, regarding him
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with much satisfaction, and you will hang and your money go to the crown.
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What will become of her, then, think you? The other laughed
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nervously. Twould be stopping the golden eggs, he ventured. Don't think too
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much of that, said Gun, in a hard voice. I was never
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one to be balked, as you know. Come comb let us be friends,
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said Mullet. The girl is young and has had her way. He
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looked almost pleadingly at the other, and his voice trembled. Gun drew himself
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up and regarded him with the satisfied sneer quitted the room without a word.
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Affairs at the Golden Key grew steadily worse and worse. Gun dominated the place,
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and his vile personality hung over it like a shadow. Appeals to the
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innkeeper were in vain. His health was breaking fast, and he moodily declined
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to interfere. Gun appointed servants of his own, choosing brazen maids and foul
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mouthed men. The old patron ceased to frequent the Golden Key, and its
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bedrooms stood empty. The maids scarcely deemed to take an order from Joan,
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and the men spoke to her familiarly. In the midst of all this,
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the innkeeper, who had complained once or twice of vertigo, was seized,
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with a fit Joan flying to him for protection against the brutal advances of Gun,
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found him lying in a heap behind the door of his small office,
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and in her fear called loudly for assistance. A little knot of servants collected
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and stood regarding him. Stupidly, one made a brutal jest. Gun,
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pressing through the throng, turned the senseless body over with his foot, and,
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cursing vilely, ordered them to carry it upstairs until the surgeon came.
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Joan, kneeling by the bed, held on to the senseless hand as her
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only protection against the evil faces of Gun and his proteges. Gun himself was
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taken aback the Innkeeper's death at that time by no means suiting his aims.
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The surgeon was a man of few words and fewer attainments, but under his
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ministrations the innkeeper, after a long interval, rallied. The half closed eyes
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opened and he looked in a dazed fashion at his surroundings. Gun drove the
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servants away and questioned the man of medicine. The answers were vague and interspersed
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with Latin. Freedom from noise and troubles of all kinds was insisted upon,
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and Joan was installed as a nurse with a promise of speedy assistance. The
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assistants arrived late in the day in the shape of an elderly woman whose spartan
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treatment of her patience had helped many along the silent road. She commenced her
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reign by punching the sick man's pillows, and, having shaken him into consciousness
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by this means, gave him a dose of her physic after first tasting it
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herself from the bottle. After the first rally, the innkeeper began to fail
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slowly. It was seldom that he understood what was said to him, and
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pitiful to the beholder to see in his intervals of consciousness his timid anxiety to
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earn the good will of the all powerful gun. His strength declined until assistance
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was needed to turn him in the bed, and his great sinewing hands were
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forever trembling and fidgeting on the coverlet Joan, pale with grief and fear,
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tended him assiduously. Her stepfather's strength had been a proverb in the town,
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and many a hasty citizen had felt the strength of his arm. The increasing
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lawlessness of the house filled her with dismay, and the coarse attentions of Gun
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became more persistent than ever. She took her meals in the sickroom and divided
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her time between that and her own. Gun himself was in a dilemma.
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With Mullet dead, his power was at an end, and his visions of
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wealth dissipated. He resolved to feather his nest immediately and interviewed the surgeon.
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The surgeon was ominously reticent. The nurse cheerfully foolish. Four days I give
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him, she said, calmly, poor blessed days, not but what he
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might slip away at any moment. Gun Let one day of the four pass
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and then, choosing a time when Joan was from the room, entered it
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for a little quiet conversation. The innkeeper's eyes were open, and what was
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more to the purpose intelligent, you're cheating the hangman, after all, snarled
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Gun, I'm off to swear the information. The other, by a great
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effort, turned his heavy head and fixed his wistful eyes on him. Mercy,
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he whispered for her sake, give me a little time to slip your
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cable, I suppose, quoth Gun. Where's your money? Where's your hoard?
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You miser Mullets closed his eyes. He opened them again slowly and strove
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to think, while Gun watched him nearly. When he spoke, his utterance
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was thick and labored. Come tonight, he muttered, slowly, give me
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time. I will make your your fortune. But the nurse watches. I'll
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see to her, said Gun with a grin. But tell me now,
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lest you die first, you will let Joan have a share, panted the
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innkeeper. Yes, yes, said Gun hastily. The innkeeper strove to raise
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himself in the bed, and then fell back again, exhausted. As Joan's
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step was heard on the stairs, Gun gave a savage glance of warning at
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him, and, barring the progress of the girl at the door, attempted
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to salute her. Joan came in, pale and trembling, and, falling
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on her knees by the bedside, took her father's hand in hers and wept
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over it. The innkeeper gave a faint groan, and a shiver ran through
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his body. It was nearly an hour after midnight that Nick Gunn, kicking
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off his shoes, went stealthily out onto the landing. A little light came
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from the partly open door of the sickroom, but all else was in blackness.
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He moved along and peered in. The nurse was sitting in a high
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backed oak chair by the fire. She had slipped down in the seat,
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and her untidy head hung on her bosom. A glass stood on the small
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oak table by her side, and a solitary candle on the high mantelpiece diffused
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a sickly light. Gun entered the room, and, finding that the sick
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man was dozing, shook him roughly. The innkeeper opened his eyes and gazed
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at him blankly. Wake you fool, said Gun, shaking him again.
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The other roused and muttered something incoherently. Then he stirred slightly the nurse.
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He whispered, she's safe, and now said Gun, I've seemed to that.
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He crossed the room slightly, and, standing before the unconscious woman,
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inspected her closely and raised her in the chair. Her head fell limply over
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the arm. Dead, inquired mullet in a fearful whisper, drogged, said
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Gun shortly. Now speak up and be lively. The innkeeper's eyes again traveled
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in the direction of the nurse. The men. He whispered the servants dead,
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drunk and asleep, said Gun, biting the words the last day would
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hardly rouse them. Now will you speak, Damn you? I must take
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care of Joan, said the father. Gun shook his clenched hand at him.
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My money is, said the other. Promise me on your oath,
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Joan, I, I growled Gun. How many more times I'll marry her
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and she shall have what I choose to give her. Speak. I'p you
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fool. It's not for you to make terms. Where is it? He
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bent over, But Mullets, exhausted with his efforts, had closed his eyes
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again and half turned his head. Where is it, damn you, said
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Gun from between his teeth. Mullets opened his eyes again, glanced fearfully around
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the room, and whispered. Gun with a stifled oath, bent his ear
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almost to his mouth, and the next moment his neck was in the grip
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of the strongest man in Riverstone, and an arm like a bar of iron
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over his back pinned him down across the bed, You dog, hissed the
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fierce voice in his ear. I got you, Captain Rogers at your service,
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and now you may tell his name to all you can. Shout it,
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you spawn of hell, shout it. He rose in bed and with
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a sudden movement, flung the other over on his back. Gun's eyes were
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starting from his head, and he writhed convulsively. I thought you were a
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sharper man, Gun said Rogers, still in the same hot whisper, as
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he relaxed his grip a little. You are too simple, you hound.
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When you first threatened me, I resolved to kill you. Then you threaten
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my daughter. I wish that you had nine lives, that I might take
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them all. Keep still, gave a half glance over his shoulder at the
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silent figure of the nurse, and put his weight on the twisting figure on
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the bed. You drugged the hag. Good Gun, he continued. Tomorrow
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morning, Gun, they will find you in your room. And if one
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of the scum you brought into my house be charged with a murder, so
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much the better. When I am well, they will go. I am
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already feeling a bit stronger, Gun, as you see, and in a
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month I hope to be about again. He averted his face and for a
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time gazed sternly and watchfully at the door. Then he rose slowly to his
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feet, and, taking the dead man in his arms, bore him slowly
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and carefully to his room, and laid him a huddled heap on the floor.
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Swiftly and noiselessly, he put the dead man's shoes on, and turned
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his pockets inside out, kicked a rug out of place, and put a
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guinea on the floor. Then he stole cautiously downstairs and set a small door
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at the back open. A dog barked frantically, and he hurried back to
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his room. The nurse, still slumbered by the fire. She awoke in
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the morning, shivering with the cold, and, being jealous of her reputation,
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rekindled the fire, and, measuring out the dose which the invalid should
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have taken, threw it away. On these unconscious preparations for an alibi,
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Captain Rogers gazed through half closed lids, and then, turning his groom face
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to the wall, waited for the inevitable alarm end of Section seven.