The Gentleman. Alfred Ollivant
The Tremendous thrashed into a swell. A spout of foam flung up, and crashed down on the deck. When the last hiss of it had died away, Boniface took up his tale.
"That was 99—after Acre. I was away nigh on six years, middlin busy too. We'd the lot atop on us one time or t'other—French, Roossians, Dons, Dutch, Swedes, Danes, and all; and Nap to thank for em. …
"Last Spring I come home to find Black Diamond cock o the Gap Gang, and better fear'd nor Boney's self in East Sussex. That'd be a day or two after they'd done Mr. Lucy."
"What was that?"
"Why, sir, Mr. Lucy, he was Coast-guard Officer of this district. One day his grey cob cantered into Lewes alone—no Mr. Lucy. Two night a'terwards a keeper chap found his body in Abbot's Wood. …
"They'd crucified him to a tree, and flogged him to the bone; then stuck an ace o diamonds on to his back, and on it
Returned with thanks."
"And that warn't all," grumbled the deep voice.
"That it warn't," came the windy chorus. "Never is with them."
"But who'd done it?" cried the boy.
"Gap Gang, sir."
"Who are they?"
"Why, sir, Birling Gap Gang it should be by rights. That's where they mostly lay rough when they're this side. And it suits them to-rights—that lonely, you see: just naked hills, cliffs, badgers, foxes, and the like.—And such a crew! God help the man or maid crosses their hawse. Fear neither God nor Devil."
"Only Black Diamond," grumbled the deep voice. "Meek as milk with him."
There was a grim chuckle all round.
"Are they smugglers?" asked the boy.
"Call emselves smugglers," replied Reuben. "But they ain't the gentlemen proper. For it's mighty little smuggling they do. Maybe run a cargo every now and then to keep in with the folk on the hill—East-dean and Friston way. But they're after bigger game, I allow."
"What's that?"
"Despatch-running for Little Boney, sir."
IV
The boy waited. There was more to come, he felt; and he was right.
In a minute Diamond's old ship-mate resumed his tale.
"Last July, I was on furlough at Alfriston. One evening I went for a bit of a stroll on the hill. Up there, under the sky, top o Snap Hill, was a look-out chap with a telescope. I knaw'd his back, and the high way with his head at first onset. It was Black Diamond.
"'Hullo, Bert,' says I, coming up behind.
"Round he jumps, terrible dark.
"I'd hardly ha know'd him—toff'd out quite the officer, bits of epaulettes, waxed moustachers, pistol and all. I'd never ha beleft it!
"'That Reube?' says he, at last, starin properly.
"'That's me, sir,' says I.
"His face cleared; and he shoved his pistol back.
"'Excuse me, Reube,' says he. 'Every man that wears that uniform is unfriends with me, with one exception—and that's yourself,' and he took my hand.
"'It's nice to look into a pair of eyes can look back at you,' he goes on, very quiet, pumping my hand. 'How are you, old mate?—We're quite strangers.'
"'I'm tidy middlin, thank-you, sir,' says I: must keep on a-sirrin him somehow. 'How's things going with you?'
"'Why,' says he, with that terrible great laugh of his, 'like God
Almighty—slow but sure.'
"'Nice crowd you've got together by all accounts, sir,' says I.
"'All picked men,' says he, mighty grim. 'But drop your voice if you're going to talk about the darlings: I've a dozen of em in the goss handy by. There's not a man sails aboard the Kite but swings in chains, if he's copp'd. Makes em wonderful nippy at a pinch,' says he, with that little smile o his. 'You wouldn't believe.'
"' Yes,' I says. 'Reg'lar man o war style aboard the Kite, they do say. Trice em up, and flog em, if everything ain't just so.'
"'That's so,' says he. 'Duchess could eat her dinner off my deck—has, too.'
"'Only wonder is they stick it,' says I.
"'Ah,' he says, 'they're my men, not my mates, see?—This ain't a free-tradin show. We ain't partners, I pay em.'
"I looked him straight in the face.
"'And who pays you, old pal?' says I—'if you'll excuse the question.'
"'The Emperor,' says he, calm as you please. 'Nice feller, too.'
"I stared a bit.
"'Knaw him then?' says I.
"'Supp'd with him night afore last,' says he, matter-of-fact like; and I knaw'd he warn't lying—'Me and the Emperor and another gentleman.' He began to laugh. 'Rare sport he was too, the gentleman! Hear him sauce the Emperor!' Then he takes a sweeping look through his glass. 'Ye see we've a little bit o business forrard, me and him and the Emperor.'
"Well, sir, I was gettin my monkey up, as you may allow. Here'd I been tow-rowin up and down the high seas at tenpence a day these six years past, doin my little bit to spoil Boney's game; and here was this chap—dismissed with ignominy, mind!—toff'd out like a dandy Admiral, flashin his French rings and sham Emperors in my face.
"Still I aren't no mug. So cardingly,
"'What's it all about, Bert?' says I, confidential-like.
"He didn't answer: kep on all the while a-squintin through the glass towards the Forest.
"'You a blockade-man, [Footnote: The blockade-men were coast-guards.]
Reube?' says he at last.
"'No,' says I, 'I'm a liberty-man from the Tremendous.'
"'Ah,' says he, queer and quiet. 'I'm glad to hear that, Reube. Mighty glad you're not a blockade-man.'
"'Why for?' says I, innocent-like.
"'Why,' says he, ''tain't healthy for blockade-chaps in these parts just now. … You heard o poor Mr. Lucy?'
"'Yes, surely,' I says, pretty spiteful—'dirty business and all.'
"He dropped the glass.
"'What's that?' says he, short-like.
"So cardingly I told him all about it.
"'That's my friend Fat George,' says he between his teeth.
"'I suppose it's news to you,' I sneers.
"He looks me in the eyes properly.
"'This is the first I've heard of it,' says he. 'Struth it is! No,' he says, 'I gave him what he gave me, no more, and no less—five hundred, crossed; while I lay among the blue-bells and counted em out for him, same as he done for me. And when it was over—"And now," I says, "to show you I'm a Christian, I'll leave the boys to put you out of your pain; and that's more than ever you done for me." And I strolled away. They must ha been up to their larks a'ter I left—mucky gaol-birds!' he says. 'Funny thing they can't be'ave like gentlemen.'
"'Well,' I says, 'as to Mr. Lucy, he play'd it down a dog's trick on you; and you got back on him. And man to man,' I says, 'no parsons bein by, I don't say no to that. But if it comes to selling your country for money—'
"He swings round all black and white and lightning.
"'Money!' he snarls. 'Steady, Reube.'
"'What