LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 664, 5 August 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE ONE AND THE OTHER. Chapter 11. ( Continued.) He paused here a long time, and hung over the thought, surveying it, like a hawk above prey, ‘ If he were dead and I were there, something might be done. Heaven might be moved in my interest —or hell. Time might help me. The very violence might plead for me, if he were gone. My wound might have eloquent persuasion. My constancy might affect. If he were dead ... If he were dead. . . . He hung over this thought as he had hung over the former one; but longer now, and with more calculation in his eye. When he resumed, his thoughts had proceeded only one step ; there had been no slurring of chains, no missing of links. ‘ And how is his death to come ? ’ Longest of all he hung over this. He lay as if fearing to breathe, lest he should disturb the supreme repose of his mind. At length he shut his eyes hastily for an instant, as though he had made an end of his speculations ; rose with stealthy care, and sat white and shivering on the edge of his berth. He got down, and stole into the main cabin and crossed it. Opening the locker where the arms were kept, he took the gun they had been using that evening. It was loaded. He looked at the deck-planks overhead, and selecting a spot, touched it cautiously with his hand. * He is asleep there ! ’ he whispered. ‘ He is asleep there! I can fancy I feel the beating of his heart against my hand. ’ He listened intently. There was no sound of footstep. He could catch the heavy breathing of the man sleeping on the deck above his head. The cold perspiration stood out on his forehead. He threw the loose portion of his coat over the lock of the gun to deaden sound, and raised the cock slowly. Then sitting down on the cushion behind him, he placed the gun across his knees and wiped his pallid face. Suddenly he dropped on his knees, raised the gun to his shoulder, and pointed it at the spot where his hand had touched the deck-planks. For a full minute he remained as if petrified. Then he rose slowly, sat down on the cushion, and placed the gun across his knees. ' He trembled as though an ague were upon him. He wiped his forehead on his coat-sleeve, and bent abjectly, like one exhausted by some terriffic physical contention, ‘I can’t afford a luxury like that again,’ he mused. ‘ How I kept my finger quiet on the trigger, I don't know. I felt the kick of the gun; I heard the smash of the bullet against the wood, and the cry and leap of him above. His last cry ! His last leap ! And then I waited, waited, waited, basking in the calm following his breathing ; seeing his pale face turned up; feeling his limbs gradually stiffen, stiffen, until something damp and warm dripped through the bullet-hole iu the plank, and fell on my forehead. I cannot afford luxuries of this kind again!’ He rose, let down the hammer, opened the locker, and taking a worm, drew out the wadding out of the gun, rolled the bullet into his hand, and put it in his pocket. Then, having replaced the gun, he went quietly to bis own room, closed the door, and fastened it. He lifted the bed-clothes out of the berth, and hung them across the door. Having doubled the towel twice, and wrapped it in a black silk handcrchief, he pinned it with two clasp-knives across the slit of glass in the deck. Then he lit a caudle diew the bullet out of his pocket, took a gimlet from

A box, and with his fingers pulled out the nail on which the towel had hung. -A-fter this he sat down and rested, with his elbow on the side of his berth and his head on his In a little time he roused up. He caught the bullet in his left hand, and holding it firmly in the circle of his thumb and forefinger, against the root of his forefinger, commenced slowly and carefully boring a hole through it with the gimlet. When this was done, he dropped the nail into this hole. The nail was of the ordinary shape—an elongated wedge. It went only partly through the bullet. The hole was not large enough to admit the thicker portion, and two-thirds projected. Forcing in the nail softly until it held securely, he placed jthe bullet under his pillow, beside the dagger, and having taken off his own clothes and put out the light, he puffed down the bedclothes from behind the door, the muffling from the slip of glass, and went to bed. Next evening the shooting at the bottle was resumed. The evening before the captain had loaded all the guns. This evening the dark man offered to load them. He suggested that the ill-success of the previous day might have arisen from the charges being improperly inserted, and he claimed to have paid a good deal of attention to the subject of charging guns. * For instance, 3 he said to his fellowpassenger, ‘you could easily have struck that bottle under fair circumstances ? ’ *1 don’t know, I am not a very good marksman even with my fist, and the blow I hit the chair has not improved my aim very much.’ Each had fired several shots. The captain’s wife was looking on, and displaying great interest in the contest. She was reproaching them with their ill-success. Her husband had attempted to divert her banter by inviting her to try a shot. She had frequently declared a conviction that she could hit the bottle. The sun was near the west. They had arranged that they would each fire one more shot, and then cease for the night. The order of the firing was, first, the captain ; then the dark man ; and, last, the other. The bottle hung from the Eort side of the fore-yard; the ammunition ky on a camp-stool at the starboard bulwark of the quarter-deck. The shots were fired from the port bulwark of the quarter-deck, on a line with the after end of the cabin skylight. When the gun was handed to the captain for his last shot his wife said to him ; ‘Well, I suppose yon intend trying to break it this time. I believe you have been only playing at taking aim. If you don’t feel sure of hitting it, give me the gun, and I'll fire your last shot. The ship’s crew must not think we are all such bad marksmen. They will mutiny.’ He handed her the gun. She raised it to her [shoulder, but her courage failed, and she returned it with a laugh. ‘As I had it covered, the ship rolled and swung it away from me —only for that I should have fired and hit.’ ‘No doubt,’ laughed the captain; ‘ but you were more afraid of the report, and your shoulder, than of missing.’ The captain fired without effect, and handed back the weapon to be re-charged. After him |the dark man fired. Stiff the bottle swung uninjured. Now it came to the last shot of the evening, and that was the tall passenger’s. The other, as he loaded the piece, kept his back to the port side, where the three stood. He put in a double quantity of powder, and then tore off the spring at the back of the snapper on the flask, ‘An accidental overcharge,’ he whispered to himself. ‘That will account for it, and here’s the flask with the spring gone, to account for the overcharge.’ Instead of taking up a buffet from among those on the canister-lid, he drew the one with the nail stiff sticking i nit out of his pocket, and dropped it down the barrel, with the head of the nail towards the muzzle. ‘Now,’ he thought, as he drove the steel ramrod with redoubled force, ‘ that buffet may leave the gun, but I think it won’t. I’ll wedge it tight, and all the explosion will take place at the breech.’ He smiled in fierce triumph at the vacant expanse of sea, and theq, calming his features, and quieting his eyes, crossed the deck and handed the weapon to the other. As the man was about to raise it to his shoulder the woman stepped forward. ‘ls this to be the last shot T she demanded. ‘Yes, the last,’ answered the man.who held the gun. ‘Then I’ll fire it, if you will allow me. I’ll show I’m not afraid of the report, or of my shoulder.’ She took the gun from his hands as he offered it. ‘You?’ cried the other. ‘You !’ ‘Yes. Do you think I’m afraid?’ She looked half angrily, half scornfully at him, and her eyes rested on his narrow, sloping shoulders. To he continued.