Читать книгу The Young Lieutenant; or, The Adventures of an Army Officer - Oliver 1822-1897 Optic - Страница 10

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Captain de Banyan sauntered gracefully up the saloon, with Somers at his side. He appeared to be perfectly at home, and to have all the ease and finish of a thorough man of the world. His movements were calculated to make a sensation; and, as he passed along, old topers and gay young bloods paused to glance at him. If the captain had been in command of the Army of the Potomac, his elevated position would hardly have justified a more extensive flourish than he made.

Lieutenant Somers was duly impressed by the magnificence of his companion, though the surroundings of the place created some painful misgivings in his mind. The captain sat down at one of the little tables where the frequenters of the saloon who were disposed to prolong the enjoyment of their drams discussed “juleps,” “cobblers,” and other villainous compounds.

Somers could not do less than seat himself at the other side of the table. He was ill at ease, even while he was endeavoring to seem indifferent and at home. I am sorry to say he was haunted by that abominable bugbear which often takes possession of the minds of young men when they find themselves in the presence of those who are adepts in the arts of vice—a fear of being thought “green,” “verdant,” or being measured by some other adjective used in fast circles to caricature the innocence of a soul unsullied by contact with the vices and follies of the city. He half expected that some of the dissolute young wretches who were drinking, swearing, and pouring the filth of a poisoned mind from their lips, would ask him if “his mother knew he was out.” He tried to maintain his self-possession, and to seem at home where ruin was rioting in the souls of young men. If he did not entirely succeed, it was all the more to his credit.

“What will you take?” demanded Captain de Banyan, after they had sat at the table long enough to examine the prominent features of the saloon.

“Take a walk,” replied Lieutenant Somers.

“No, no! What will you drink?”

“Nothing, thank you. I’ve just been to supper, and don’t want anything.”

“Yes; but people who come in here, and listen to the music, are expected to patronize the establishment. I’m going to have a brandy smash: shall I order one for you?”

“No, I thank you.”

“But I can’t drink alone.”

“I never drink.”

“Nonsense! A lieutenant in our regiment, and not drink! I see! You haven’t learned yet; but it won’t take you long. Your case is exactly my own. I was about your age when I went to the Crimea, and didn’t know wine from brandy. After the battle of Balaclava, where I did some little thing which excited the admiration of the nobs in command, Lord Raglan sent for me, and invited me to take a glass of wine with him. Of course, I could not refuse his lordship, especially as he was in the very act of complimenting me for what he was pleased to call my gallant conduct. I drank my first glass of wine then. It was Sicily Madeira, and light, sweet wine; and, my dear fellow, you shall begin with the same, and we will drink the health of Senator Guilford and his fair daughter. Waiter, one brandy smash and one Sicily Madeira.”

“Really, Captain de Banyan, you must excuse me,” stammered Somers, completely bewildered by the eloquent and insinuating manners of his brilliant companion, who had spoken loud enough to attract the attention of a dozen idlers greedy for excitement of any kind, and to whom the latter part of his remarks seemed to be addressed, rather than to the timid young man in front of him.

Captain de Banyan appeared to have a point to carry; which was nothing less than to overcome the conscientious scruples of the young officer. He had spoken loud enough to attract the attention of these miserable tipplers, that Somers might be over-awed by their presence, and intimidated by their sneers, and thus compelled to taste the intoxicating cup. The squad of fast men who had taken positions near the table were interested in the scene, and impatient to see the pure soul tumbled from its lofty eminence.

“Here’s the nectar!” almost shouted the captain as the waiter placed the drinks upon the table. “Wine for you; brandy for me. You will be promoted to brandy one of these days, my boy, when your head is stronger and your nerves stiffer. Lieutenant Somers, here’s to the health of the patriot statesman, Senator Guilford, and his lovely daughter;” and the captain pushed aside the straw in the vile compound, and raised the glass to his lips.

Somers was embarrassed at his position, and bewildered by the dashing speeches of his companion. A dozen pair of leering eyes were fixed upon him; a dozen mouths were wrinkled into sottish smiles, called up by his sufferings at that critical moment. He reached forth his hand, and grasped the slender stem of the wine-glass; but his arm trembled more than that of the most hardened toper in the group before him. He had been trembling in the presence of that squad of tyrants—those leer-eyed grinning debauchees, who seemed to be opening the gate of hell, and bidding him enter.

“Tom Somers,” said the still small voice which had spoken to him a thousand times before in the perils and temptations through which he had passed, “you have behaved yourself very well thus far. You have been promoted for bravery on the battlefield; and now will you cower in the presence of this brilliant brawler, and these weak-minded, cowardly tipplers? What would your mother say if she could see you now, with your shaking hand fastened to the wine-cup? What would Lilian Ashford say? Dare you drink the health of Emmie Guilford in such a place as this? You should have smote the lips that mentioned her name in such a presence!”

He drew back his hand from the glass. His muscles tightened up, as they had on the bloody field of Williamsburg. Tom Somers was himself again.

“Come, Somers, you don’t drink,” added the captain sarcastically.

“No, I thank you; I never drink,” he answered resolutely, as he cast a steady glance of pity and contempt at the bloated crew who had been reveling in his embarrassment.

“You won’t refuse now?”

“Most decidedly.”

“Lieutenant Somers, I took you for a young man of pluck. I’m disappointed. You will pardon me, my dear fellow; but I can’t help regarding your conduct as rather shabby.”

“I never drink, as I have said before, and I do not intend to begin now. If I have been shabby, I hope you will excuse me.”

“Certainly I will excuse you, when you atone for your folly, and drink with me.”

The spectators laughed, and evidently thought the captain had made a point.

“Then I can never atone for my folly, as you call it,” replied Somers, his courage increasing as the trial demanded it.

“What would Lord Raglan have said if I had refused to drink his Sicily Madeira?”

“Very likely he would have said just what you said; but there would have been no more sense in it then than now.”

“Bully for young ’un!” said a seedy dandy, whose love of fancy drinks had made a compromise with his love of dress.

“I will leave it to these gentlemen to decide whether I have not spoken reason and good sense.”

“I will leave you and these gentlemen to settle that question to suit yourselves, and I will bid you good-evening,” said Somers, rising from his chair.

The unpleasant emphasis which he placed upon the word “gentlemen” created a decided sensation among the group of idlers; and, as he stepped from behind the table, he was confronted by a young man with bloodshot eyes and bloated cheeks, but dressed in the extreme of fashion.

“Sir, you wear the colors of the United States Army,” said the juvenile tippler; “but you can’t be permitted to insult a gentleman with impunity.”

Lieutenant Somers wanted to laugh in the face of this specimen of bar-room chivalry, for he forcibly reminded him of a belligerent little bantam-rooster that paraded the barnyard of his mother’s cottage at Pinchbrook; but he was prudent enough not to give any further cause of offense. Bestowing one glance at this champion of the tippler’s coterie, he turned aside, and attempted to move towards the door.

“Stop, sir,” continued the young man, who plainly wanted to make a little capital out of a fight, in defense of the dignity of his friends. “You can’t go without an apology, or—or a fight,” added the bully, shaking his head significantly, as he placed himself in front of the young lieutenant.

“What am I to apologize for?” asked Somers.

“You insulted the whole party of us. You intimated that we were no gentlemen.”

“I haven’t spoken to any of you since I came in,” protested Somers. “I never had anything to do with you, and I don’t know whether you are gentlemen or not.”

“You hear that, gentlemen!” added the bully.

“I think I have said all that is necessary to say; with your leave I will go,” said Somers.

“Stop, sir!” snarled the young ruffian, putting his hand on the lieutenant’s collar.

“Take your hand off!” said he sternly.

The fellow complied.

“This thing has gone far enough, sir,” said Captain de Banyan, stepping between Somers and his assailant. “Lieutenant Somers is my friend; and, if you put the weight of your little finger upon him, I’ll annihilate you quicker than I did a certain Austrian field-marshal at the battle of Solferino. Gentlemen, permit me to apologize for my inexperienced friend if he has uttered any indiscreet word.”

“He must apologize!” blustered the young ruffian. “He says we are no gentlemen. Let him prove it.”

“You have proved it yourself, you little ape,” replied the captain, as he stepped up to the bar, and paid his reckoning, bestowing no more attention upon the ruffled little bully than if he had been a very small puppy; which perhaps he was not, by a strict construction of terms.

“I demand satisfaction!” roared the flashy little toper. “Apologize, or fight!”

“Neither, my gay and festive lark,” said the captain with abundant good humor, as he took Somers’s arm, and sauntered leisurely towards the door. “Now, my dear fellow, we will go and hear what Lieutenant-Colonel Staggerback has to say about the battle of Bull Run. I was in that action, and rallied the Fire Zouaves when Colonel Ellsworth was killed.”

“Colonel Ellsworth! He wasn’t killed at Bull Run!” exclaimed Somers, astonished beyond measure at the singular character which his companion was developing.

“You are right; he was killed at Ball’s Bluff.”

“I think not; but were you at Bull Run?”

“Certainly I was. I was on General Frémont’s staff.”

“Were you, indeed? Whew!”

“What may be the precise meaning of that whistle? Do you think I was not there?”

“Well, I don’t remember to have seen you there?”

“Very likely you did not; but you will call to mind the fact, that things were rather mixed up in that action. But never mind that: we will talk those things over when we get down upon the Peninsula, and have nothing else to think about. Do you really mean to say, my dear fellow, that you never drink at all?”

“I do not.”

“Well, I have heard of a man climbing up to the moon on a greased rainbow; but I never heard of an officer before that didn’t drink.”

“I’m afraid you haven’t been very careful in the choice of your companions. I know a great many that never taste liquor under any circumstances.”

“It may be so; and I am willing to confess that I have found one. I wouldn’t have believed it before if I had read it in the Constitution of the United States. I owe you an apology, then, for letting on in that saloon. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, my dear fellow; but I thought you were joking.”

“I hope you will not repeat the experiment, then; though I shall consider myself fair game if I ever enter another rum-shop,” replied Somers.

They proceeded to the place designated for the lecture; and Captain de Banyan betrayed his interest in that memorable battle, where he had served on the staff of General Frémont, by going to sleep before the eloquent “participant” had got half-way through the exordium. Lieutenant Somers listened attentively until he was satisfied that Colonel Staggerback either was not in the battle, or that he had escorted “Bull Run Russell” off the field.

When the lecture was finished, Somers awakened his edified companion, and they returned to the hotel; though the captain hinted several times on the way that the “elephant” could be seen to better advantage in New York than in any other city in the Union. The young lieutenant had an utter disgust for the elephant, and took no hints. Before he retired that night, he thanked God, more earnestly and devoutly than usual, that he had been enabled to pass unscathed through the fires of temptation. He was still in condition to look his mother in the face.