



Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)








                             THE O'RUDDY

                             _A ROMANCE_


                                  BY

                            STEPHEN CRANE

            _Author of "The Red Badge of Courage," "Active
                Service," "Wounds in the Rain," etc._

                                 AND

                             ROBERT BARR

            _Author of "Tekla," "In the Midst of Alarms,"
               "Over the Border," "The Victors," etc._



                        _With frontispiece by_

                            C. D. WILLIAMS





                               NEW YORK

                     FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

                              PUBLISHERS





                          _Copyright, 1903,_

                    BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

       *       *       *       *       *




THE O'RUDDY

CHAPTER I


My chieftain ancestors had lived at Glandore for many centuries and
were very well known. Hardly a ship could pass the Old Head of Kinsale
without some boats putting off to exchange the time of day with her,
and our family name was on men's tongues in half the seaports of
Europe, I dare say. My ancestors lived in castles which were like
churches stuck on end, and they drank the best of everything amid the
joyous cries of a devoted peasantry. But the good time passed away
soon enough, and when I had reached the age of eighteen we had nobody
on the land but a few fisher-folk and small farmers, people who were
almost law-abiding, and my father came to die more from disappointment
than from any other cause. Before the end he sent for me to come to
his bedside.

"Tom," he said, "I brought you into existence, and God help you safe
out of it; for you are not the kind of man ever to turn your hand to
work, and there is only enough money to last a gentleman five more
years.

"The 'Martha Bixby,' she was, out of Bristol for the West Indies, and
if it hadn't been for her we would never have got along this far with
plenty to eat and drink. However, I leave you, besides the money, the
two swords,--the grand one that King Louis, God bless him, gave me,
and the plain one that will really be of use to you if you get into a
disturbance. Then here is the most important matter of all. Here are
some papers which young Lord Strepp gave me to hold for him when we
were comrades in France. I don't know what they are, having had very
little time for reading during my life, but do you return them to him.
He is now the great Earl of Westport, and he lives in London in a
grand house, I hear. In the last campaign in France I had to lend him
a pair of breeches or he would have gone bare. These papers are
important to him, and he may reward you, but do not you depend on it,
for you may get the back of his hand. I have not seen him for years. I
am glad I had you taught to read. They read considerably in England, I
hear. There is one more cask of the best brandy remaining, and I
recommend you to leave for England as soon as it is finished. And now,
one more thing, my lad, never be civil to a king's officer. Wherever
you see a red coat, depend there is a rogue between the front and the
back of it. I have said everything. Push the bottle near me."

Three weeks after my father's burial I resolved to set out, with no
more words, to deliver the papers to the Earl of Westport. I was
resolved to be prompt in obeying my father's command, for I was
extremely anxious to see the world, and my feet would hardly wait for
me. I put my estate into the hands of old Mickey Clancy, and told him
not to trouble the tenants too much over the rent, or they probably
would split his skull for him. And I bid Father Donovan look out for
old Mickey Clancy, that he stole from me only what was reasonable.

I went to the Cove of Cork and took ship there for Bristol, and
arrived safely after a passage amid great storms which blew us so near
Glandore that I feared the enterprise of my own peasantry. Bristol, I
confess, frightened me greatly. I had not imagined such a huge and
teeming place. All the ships in the world seemed to lie there, and the
quays were thick with sailor-men. The streets rang with noise. I
suddenly found that I was a young gentleman from the country.

I followed my luggage to the best inn, and it was very splendid, fit
to be a bishop's palace. It was filled with handsomely dressed people
who all seemed to be yelling, "Landlord! landlord!" And there was a
little fat man in a white apron who flew about as if he were being
stung by bees, and he was crying, "Coming, sir! Yes, madam! At once,
your ludship!" They heeded me no more than if I had been an empty
glass. I stood on one leg, waiting until the little fat man should
either wear himself out or attend all the people. But it was to no
purpose. He did not wear out, nor did his business finish, so finally
I was obliged to plant myself in his way, but my speech was decent
enough as I asked him for a chamber. Would you believe it, he stopped
abruptly and stared at me with sudden suspicion. My speech had been so
civil that he had thought perhaps I was a rogue. I only give you this
incident to show that if later I came to bellow like a bull with the
best of them, it was only through the necessity of proving to
strangers that I was a gentleman. I soon learned to enter an inn as a
drunken soldier goes through the breach into a surrendering city.

Having made myself as presentable as possible, I came down from my
chamber to seek some supper. The supper-room was ablaze with light and
well filled with persons of quality, to judge from the noise that they
were making. My seat was next to a garrulous man in plum-colour, who
seemed to know the affairs of the entire world. As I dropped into my
chair he was saying--

"--the heir to the title, of course. Young Lord Strepp. That is
he--the slim youth with light hair. Oh, of course, all in shipping.
The Earl must own twenty sail that trade from Bristol. He is posting
down from London, by the way, to-night."

You can well imagine how these words excited me. I half arose from my
chair with the idea of going at once to the young man who had been
indicated as Lord Strepp, and informing him of my errand, but I had a
sudden feeling of timidity, a feeling that it was necessary to be
proper with these people of high degree. I kept my seat, resolving to
accost him directly after supper. I studied him with interest. He was
a young man of about twenty years, with fair unpowdered hair and a
face ruddy from a life in the open air. He looked generous and kindly,
but just at the moment he was damning a waiter in language that would
have set fire to a stone bridge. Opposite him was a clear-eyed
soldierly man of about forty, whom I had heard called "Colonel," and
at the Colonel's right was a proud, dark-skinned man who kept looking
in all directions to make sure that people regarded him, seated thus
with a lord.

They had drunk eight bottles of port, and in those days eight bottles
could just put three gentlemen in pleasant humour. As the ninth bottle
came on the table the Colonel cried--

"Come, Strepp, tell us that story of how your father lost his papers.
Gad, that's a good story."

"No, no," said the young lord. "It isn't a good story, and besides my
father never tells it at all. I misdoubt it's truth."

The Colonel pounded the table. "'Tis true. 'Tis too good a story to be
false. You know the story, Forister?" said he, turning to the
dark-skinned man. The latter shook his head.

"Well, when the Earl was a young man serving with the French he rather
recklessly carried with him some valuable papers relating to some
estates in the North, and once the noble Earl--or Lord Strepp as he
was then--found it necessary, after fording a stream, to hang his
breeches on a bush to dry, and then a certain blackguard of a wild
Irishman in the corps came along and stole--"

But I had arisen and called loudly but with dignity up the long table,
"That, sir, is a lie." The room came still with a bang, if I may be
allowed that expression. Every one gaped at me, and the Colonel's face
slowly went the colour of a tiled roof.

"My father never stole his lordship's breeches, for the good reason
that at the time his lordship had no breeches. 'Twas the other way. My
father--"

Here the two long rows of faces lining the room crackled for a moment,
and then every man burst into a thunderous laugh. But I had flung to
the winds my timidity of a new country, and I was not to be put down
by these clowns.

"'Tis a lie against an honourable man and my father," I shouted. "And
if my father hadn't provided his lordship with breeches, he would have
gone bare, and there's the truth. And," said I, staring at the
Colonel, "I give the lie again. We are never obliged to give it twice
in my country."

The Colonel had been grinning a little, no doubt thinking, along with
everybody else in the room, that I was drunk or crazy;