Young Captain Jack | Page 4

a low upstart anyway, with no
real claim on the Ruthvens."
"He said that, did he?" Jack drew a long breath and set his teeth hard.
"Did he try to prove his words?"
"I didn't give him a chance. I was so upset I merely told him I didn't
believe him, and came away."
"And where did he go?"
"He started off toward town."
"When he comes back I'm going to find out the truth of this matter."
"I don't believe his story, Jack, and I wouldn't worry myself about it."
"But supposing it were true, Darcy--that I was a--a--nobody, as he
says?"
"I should think just as much of you," answered the other lad quickly.
"Thank you for that."
"St. John always talks too much--don't mind him."
"But I shall. If he tells the truth I want to know it--and, if not, I shall
take steps to make him take back the stories he is circulating."
"It's a wonder he hasn't gone to the war. Why doesn't he enlist, like the
rest of the young men in this neighborhood?"
"He says he must stay with his mother. But the real reason is, I think,

that he is a coward."
"Perhaps you are right. I remember once, when there was a cry of mad
dog in the town, he hid in a warehouse and was almost scared to death."
"Yes, I remember that, and I remember, too, when Big Bill, the slave,
ran away and threatened to kill the first white man he met, St. John hid
in the mansion and didn't come outside the door for a week."
"Such a coward wouldn't be above circulating falsehoods."
"I wish I knew just where to find him. I would have it out with him in
short order," concluded Jack.
The youth was in no humor for further fishing and soon wound up his
line and started for home.
As he passed along over the plantation road his thoughts were busy.
Could there be any truth in what St. John Ruthven had said? Was he
really a nobody, with no claim upon the lady he called mother and the
girl he looked upon as his sister? A chill passed down his backbone,
and, as he came in sight of the stately old mansion that he called home,
he paused to wipe the cold perspiration from his forehead.
"I will go to mother and ask her the truth," he told himself. "I can't wait
to find out in any other way." Yet the thought of facing that
kind-hearted lady was not a pleasant one. How should he begin to tell
her of what was in his mind?
"Is my mother in?" he asked of the maid whom he met in the hallway.
"No, Massah Jack, she dun went to town," was the answer of the
colored girl.
"Did she say when she would be back?"
"No, sah."
"Do you know if my sister is around?"

"She dun gone off not five minutes ago, Massah Jack."
"Where to?"
"I heard her say she was gwine down to Ole Ben's boathouse. I 'spect
she dun t'ought yo' was dar."
Jack said no more, but giving the colored girl the fish, to take around to
the cook, he ran upstairs, washed and brushed up, and sallied forth to
find Marion.
The boathouse which had been mentioned was an old affair, standing
upon the shore of a wide bay overlooking the Atlantic ocean. It
belonged to a colored man called "Old Ben," a fellow who had once
been a slave on the Ruthven plantation.
As Jack approached it he saw Marion sitting on a bench in the shade,
with a book in her lap. Instead of reading, however, the girl was gazing
out to sea in a meditative way.
"Marion, I was looking for you."
"Oh, Jack! is that you? I thought you had gone fishing for the day."
"I just got home, after catching a pretty good mess. Want to go rowing
with me?"
"Yes, I'd like that very much. I was wishing you or Old Ben would
come."
"Or, perhaps, St. John?" said Jack inquiringly.
"No; I didn't wish for him, you tease."
"I am glad of it, Marion. I don't want you to give me up for St. John."
"I do not intend to, Jack. But why are you looking so serious. Have you
anything on your mind? I never saw you look so thoughtful before."

"Yes, I have a lot on my mind, Marion. Come, I'll tell you when we are
out on the bay."
A rowboat was handy and oars were in the rack in the boathouse, and
soon the pair were out on the water. Although but a boy, Jack took to
the water naturally and handled the oars as skillfully as the average