Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood by Prest and Rymer (ereader iphone .txt) 📗
- Author: Prest and Rymer
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The admiral walked to the door in high dudgeon; when he was near to it, Varney said, in some of his most winning and gentle accents,—
"Will you not take some refreshment, sir before you go from my humble house?"
"No!" roared the admiral.
"Something cooling?"
"No!"
"Very good, sir. A hospitable host can do no more than offer to entertain his guests."
Admiral Bell turned at the door, and said, with some degree of intense bitterness,
"You look rather poorly. I suppose, to-night, you will go and suck somebody's blood, you shark—you confounded vampyre! You ought to be made to swallow a red-hot brick, and then let dance about till it digests."
Varney smiled as he rang the bell, and said to a servant,—
"Show my very excellent friend Admiral Bell out. He will not take any refreshments."
The servant bowed, and preceded the admiral down the staircase; but, to his great surprise, instead of a compliment in the shape of a shilling or half-a-crown for his pains, he received a tremendous kick behind, with a request to go and take it to his master, with his compliments.
The fume that the old admiral was in beggars all description. He walked to Bannerworth Hall at such a rapid pace, that Jack Pringle had the greatest difficulty in the world to keep up with him, so as to be at all within speaking distance.
"Hilloa, Jack," cried the old man, when they were close to the Hall. "Did you see me kick that fellow?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Well, that's some consolation, at any rate, if somebody saw it. It ought to have been his master, that's all I can say to it, and I wish it had."
"How have you settled it, sir?"
"Settled what?"
"The fight, sir."
"D—n me, Jack, I haven't settled it at all."
"That's bad, sir."
"I know it is; but it shall be settled for all that, I can tell him, let him vapour as much as he may about pinking me, and one thing and another."
"Pinking you, sir?"
"Yes. He wants to fight with cutlasses, or toasting-forks, d—n me, I don't know exactly which, and then he must have a surgeon on the ground, for fear when he pinks me I shouldn't slip my cable in a regular way, and he should be blamed."
Jack gave a long whistle, as he replied,—
"Going to do it, sir?"
"I don't know now what I'm going to do. Mind, Jack, mum is the word."
"Ay, ay, sir."
"I'll turn the matter over in my mind, and then decide upon what had best be done. If he pinks me, I'll take d——d good care he don't pink Charles."
"No, sir, don't let him do that. A wamphigher, sir, ain't no good opponent to anybody. I never seed one afore, but it strikes me as the best way to settle him, would be to shut him up in some little bit of a cabin, and then smoke him with brimstone, sir."
"Well, well, I'll consider, Jack, I'll consider. Something must be done, and that quickly too. Zounds, here's Charles—what the deuce shall I say to him, by way of an excuse, I wonder, for not arranging his affair with Varney? Hang me, if I ain't taken aback now, and don't know where to place a hand."
CHAPTER XXIV. THE LETTER TO CHARLES.—THE QUARREL.—THE ADMIRAL'S NARRATIVE.—THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.It was Charles Holland who now advanced hurriedly to meet the admiral. The young man's manner was anxious. He was evidently most intent upon knowing what answer could be sent by Sir Francis Varney to his challenge.
"Uncle," he said, "tell me at once, will he meet me? You can talk of particulars afterwards, but now tell me at once if he will meet me?"
"Why, as to that," said the admiral, with a great deal of fidgetty hesitation, "you see, I can't exactly say."
"Not say!"
"No. He's a very odd fish. Don't you think he's a very odd fish, Jack Pringle'?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"There, you hear, Charles, that Jack is of my opinion that your opponent is an odd fish."
"But, uncle, why trifle with my impatience thus? Have you seen Sir Francis Varney?"
"Seen him. Oh, yes."
"And what did he say?"
"Why, to tell the truth, my lad, I advise you not to fight with him at all."
"Uncle, is this like you? This advice from you, to compromise my honour, after sending a man a challenge?"
"D—n it all, Jack, I don't know how to get out of it," said the admiral. "I tell you what it is, Charles, he wants to fight with swords; and what on earth is the use of your engaging with a fellow who has been practising at his weapon for more than a hundred years?"
"Well, uncle, if any one had told me that you would be terrified by this Sir Francis Varney into advising me not to fight, I should have had no hesitation whatever in saying such a thing was impossible."
"I terrified?"
"Why, you advise me not to meet this man, even after I have challenged him."
"Jack," said the admiral, "I can't carry it on, you see. I never could go on with anything that was not as plain as an anchor, and quite straightforward. I must just tell all that has occurred."
"Ay, ay, sir. The best way."
"You think so, Jack?"
"I know it is, sir, always axing pardon for having a opinion at all, excepting when it happens to be the same as yourn, sir."
"Hold your tongue, you libellous villain! Now, listen to me, Charles. I got up a scheme of my own."
Charles gave a groan, for he had a very tolerable appreciation of his uncle's amount of skill in getting up a scheme of any kind or description.
"Now here am I," continued the admiral, "an old hulk, and not fit for use anymore. What's the use of me, I should like to know? Well, that's settled. But you are young and hearty, and have a long life before you. Why should you throw away your life upon a lubberly vampyre?"
"I begin to perceive now, uncle," said Charles, reproachfully, "why you, with such apparent readiness, agreed to this duel taking place."
"Well, I intended to fight the fellow myself, that's the long and short of it, boy."
"How could you treat me so?"
"No nonsense, Charles. I tell you it was all in the family. I intended to fight him myself. What was the odds whether I slipped my cable with his assistance, or in the regular course a little after this? That's the way to argufy the subject; so, as I tell you, I made up my mind to fight him myself."
Charles looked despairingly, but said,—
"What was the result?"
"Oh, the result! D—n me, I suppose that's to come. The vagabond won't fight like a Christian. He says he's quite willing to fight anybody that calls him out, provided it's all regular."
"Well—well."
"And he, being the party challenged—for he says he never himself challenges anybody, as he is quite tired of it—must have his choice of weapons."
"He is entitled to that; but it is generally understood now-a-days that pistols are the weapons in use among gentlemen for such purposes."
"Ah, but he won't understand any such thing, I tell you. He will fight with swords."
"I suppose he is, then, an adept at the use of the sword?"
"He says he is."
"No doubt—no doubt. I cannot blame a man for choosing, when he has the liberty of choice, that weapon in the use of which he most particularly, from practice, excels."
"Yes; but if he be one half the swordsman he has had time enough, according to all accounts, to be, what sort of chance have you with him?"
"Do I hear you reasoning thus?"
"Yes, to be sure you do. I have turned wonderfully prudent, you see: so I mean to fight him myself, and mind, now, you have nothing whatever to do with it."
"An effort of prudence that, certainly."
"Well, didn't I say so?"
"Come—come, uncle, this won't do. I have challenged Sir Francis Varney, and I must meet him with any weapon he may, as the challenged party, choose to select. Besides, you are not, I dare say, aware that I am a very good fencer, and probably stand as fair a chance as Varney in a contest with swords."
"Indeed!"
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