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  THE DUSANTES

     THE DUSANTES

     A SEQUEL TO "THE CASTING AWAY OF MRS. LECKS
     AND MRS. ALESHINE"

     BY
     FRANK R. STOCKTON

     NEW-YORK
     THE CENTURY CO.




     COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

     ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

     THE DE VINNE PRESS.




THE DUSANTES

A SEQUEL TO "THE CASTING AWAY OF MRS. LECKS AND MRS. ALESHINE"

PART I


When the little party, consisting of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, Mr.
Enderton, my newly made wife, and myself, with the red-bearded
coxswain and the two sailor men, bade farewell to that island in the
Pacific where so many happy hours had been passed, where such pleasant
friendships had been formed, and where I had met my Ruth and made her
my wife, we rowed away with a bright sky over our heads, a pleasant
wind behind us, and a smooth sea beneath us. The long-boat was
comfortable and well appointed, and there was even room enough in it
for Mr. Enderton to stretch himself out and take a noonday nap. We
gave him every advantage of this kind, for we had found by experience
that our party was happiest when my father-in-law was best contented.

Early in the forenoon the coxswain rigged a small sail in the bow of
the boat, and with this aid to our steady and systematic work at the
oars we reached, just before nightfall, the large island whither we
were bound, and to which, by means of the coxswain's pocket-compass,
we had steered a direct course. Our arrival on this island, which was
inhabited by some white traders and a moderate population of natives,
occasioned great surprise, for when the boats containing the crew and
passengers of our unfortunate steamer had reached the island, it was
found that Mrs. Lecks, Mrs. Aleshine, and myself were missing. There
were many suppositions as to our fate. Some persons thought we had
been afraid to leave the steamer, and, having secreted ourselves on
board, had gone down with her. Others conjectured that in the darkness
we had fallen overboard, either from the steamer or from one of the
boats; and there was even a surmise that we might have embarked in the
leaky small boat--in which we really did leave the steamer--and so had
been lost. At any rate, we had disappeared, and our loss was a good
deal talked about, and, in a manner, mourned. In less than a week
after their arrival the people from the steamer had been taken on
board a sailing vessel and carried westward to their destination.

We, however, were not so fortunate, for we remained on this island for
more than a month. During this time but one ship touched there, and
she was western bound and of no use to us, for we had determined to
return to America. Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine had given up their
journey to Japan, and were anxious to reach once more their country
homes, while my dear Ruth and I were filled with a desire to found a
home on some pleasant portion of the Atlantic seaboard. What Mr.
Enderton intended to do we did not know. He was on his way to the
United States when he left the leaking ship on which he and his
daughter were passengers, and his intentions regarding his journey did
not appear to have been altered by his mishaps.

By the western-bound vessel, however, Mrs. Aleshine sent a letter to
her son.

Our life on this island was monotonous, and to the majority of the
party uninteresting; but as it was the scene of our honeymoon, Mrs.
Craig and I will always look back to it with the most pleasurable
recollections. We were comfortably lodged in a house belonging to one
of the traders, and although Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine had no
household duties to occupy their time, they managed to supply
themselves with knitting materials from the stores on the island, and
filled up their hours of waiting with chatty industry. The pipes of
our sailor friends were always well filled, while the sands of the
island were warm and pleasant for their backs, and it was only Mr.
Enderton who showed any signs of impatient repining at our enforced
stay. He growled, he grumbled, and he inveighed against the criminal
neglect of steamship companies and the owners of sailing craft in not
making it compulsory in every one of their vessels to stop on every
voyage at this island, where, at any time, intelligent and important
personages might be stranded.

At last, however, we were taken off by a three-masted schooner bound
for San Francisco, at which city we arrived in due time and in good
health and condition.

We did not remain long in this city, but soon started on our way
across the continent, leaving behind us our three sailor companions,
who intended to ship from this port as soon as an advantageous
opportunity offered itself. These men heard no news of their vessel,
although they felt quite sure that she had reached Honolulu, where
she had probably been condemned and the crew scattered. As some
baggage belonging to my wife and my father-in-law had been left on
board this vessel, I had hopes that Mr. Enderton would remain in San
Francisco and order it forwarded to him there; or that he would even
take a trip to Honolulu to attend to the matter personally. But in
this I was disappointed. He seemed to take very little interest in his
missing trunks, and wished only to press on to the East. I wrote to
Honolulu, desiring the necessary steps to be taken to forward the
baggage in case it had arrived there; and soon afterwards our party of
five started eastward.

It was now autumn, but, although we desired to reach the end of our
journey before winter set in, we felt that we had time enough to visit
some of the natural wonders of the California country before taking up
our direct course to the East. Therefore, in spite of some petulant
remonstrances on the part of Mr. Enderton, we made several trips to
points of interest.

From the last of these excursions we set out in a stage-coach, of
which we were the only occupants, towards a point on the railroad
where we expected to take a train. On the way we stopped to change
horses at a small stage station at the foot of a range of mountains;
and when I descended from the coach I found the driver and some of the
men at the station discussing the subject of our route. It appeared
that there were two roads, one of which gradually ascended the
mountain for several miles, and then descended to the level of the
railroad, by the side of which it ran until it reached the station
where we wished to take the train. The other road pursued its way
along a valley or notch in the mountain for a considerable distance,
and then, by a short but somewhat steep ascending grade, joined the
upper road.

It was growing quite cold, and the sky and the wind indicated that bad
weather might be expected; and as the upper road was considered the
better one at such a time, our driver concluded to take it. Six
horses, instead of four, were now attached to our stage, and as two of
these animals were young and unruly and promised to be unusually
difficult to drive in the ordinary way, our driver concluded to ride
one of the wheel horses, postilion fashion, and to put a boy on one of
the leaders. Mr. Enderton was very much afraid of horses, and objected
strongly to the young animals in our new team. But there were no
others to take their places, and his protests were disregarded.

My wife and I occupied a back seat, having been ordered to take this
comfortable position by Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, who had
constituted themselves a board of instruction and admonition to Mrs.
Craig, and, incidentally, to myself. They fancied that my wife's
health was not vigorous and that she needed coddling; and if she had
had two mothers she could not have been more tenderly cared for than
by these good women. They sat upon the middle seat with their faces
towards the horses, while Mr. Enderton had the front seat all to
himself. He was, however, so nervous and fidgety, continually twisting
himself about, endeavoring to get a view of the horses or of the bad
places on the road, that Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine found that a
position facing him and in close juxtaposition was entirely too
uncomfortable; and consequently, the back of their seat being
adjustable, they turned themselves about and faced us.

The ascent of the mountain was slow and tedious, and it was late in
the afternoon when we reached the highest point in our route, from
which the road descended for some eight miles to the level of the
railroad. Now our pace became rapid, and Mr. Enderton grew wildly
excited. He threw open the window and shouted to the driver to go
more slowly, but Mrs. Lecks seized him by the coat and jerked him back
on his seat before he could get any answer to his appeals.

"If you want your daughter to ketch her death o' cold you'll keep that
window open!" As she said this, she leaned back and pulled the window
down with her own strong right arm. "I guess the driver knows what he
is about," she continued, "this not bein' the first time he's gone
over the road."

"Am I to understand, madam," said Mr. Enderton, "that I am not to
speak to my driver when I wish him to know my will?"

To this question Mrs. Lecks made no answer, but sat up very straight
and stiff, with her back square upon the speaker. For some time she
and Mr. Enderton had been "out," and she made no effort to conceal the
fact.

Mr. Enderton's condition now became pitiable, for our rapid speed and
the bumping over rough places in the road seemed almost to deprive him
of his wits, notwithstanding my assurance that stage-coaches were
generally driven at a rapid rate down long inclines. In a short time,
however, we reached a level spot in the road, and the team was drawn
up and stopped. Mr. Enderton popped out in a moment, and I also got
down to have a talk with the driver.

"These hosses won't do much at holdin' back," he said, "and it worries
'em less to let 'em go ahead with the wheels locked. You needn't be
afraid. If nothin' breaks, we're all right."

Mr. Enderton seemed endeavoring to satisfy himself that everything
about the running-gear of the coach was in a safe condition. He
examined the wheels, the axles, and the whiffletrees, much to the
amusement of the driver, who remarked to me that the old chap probably
knew as much now as he did before. I was rather surprised that my
father-in-law subjected the driver to no further condemnation. On the
contrary, he said nothing except that for the rest of this down-hill
drive he should take his place on the driver's unoccupied seat. Nobody
offered any objection to this, and up he climbed.

When we started again Ruth seemed disturbed that her father should be
in such an exposed position, but I assured her that he would be
perfectly safe, and would be much better satisfied at being able to
see for himself what was going on.

We now began to go down-hill again at a rate as rapid as before. Our
speed, however, was not equal. Sometimes it would slacken a little
where the road was heavy or more upon a level, and then we would go
jolting and rattling over some long downward stretch. After a
particularly unpleasant descent of this kind the coach seemed suddenly
to change its direction, and with a twist and an uplifting of one side
it bumped heavily against something and stopped. I heard a great shout
outside, and from a window which now commanded a view of the road I
saw our team of six horses, with the drivers pulling and tugging at
the two they rode, madly running away at the top of their speed.

Ruth, who had been thrown by the shock into the arms of Mrs. Aleshine,
was dreadfully frightened, and screamed for her father. I had been
pitched forward upon Mrs. Lecks, but I quickly recovered myself, and
as soon as I found that none of the occupants of the coach had been
hurt, I opened the door and sprang out.

In the middle of the road stood Mr. Enderton, entirely uninjured, with
a jubilant expression on his face, and in one hand a large closed
umbrella.

"What has happened?" I exclaimed, hurrying around to the front of the
coach, where I saw that the pole had been broken off about the middle
of its length.

"Nothing has happened, sir," replied Mr. Enderton. "You cannot speak
of a wise and discreet act, determinately performed, as a thing which
has happened. We have been saved, sir, from being dashed to pieces
behind that wild and unmanageable team of horses; and I will add that
we have been saved by my forethought and prompt action."

I turned and looked at him in astonishment. "What do you mean?" I
said. "What could you have had to do with this accident?"

"Allow me to repeat," said Mr. Enderton, "that it was not an accident.
The moment that we began to go down-hill I perceived that we were in a
position of the greatest danger. The driver was reckless, the boy
incompetent, and the horses unmanageable. As my remonstrances and
counsels had no effect upon the man, and as you seemed to have no
desire to join me in efforts to restrain him to a more prudent rate of
speed, I determined to take the affair into my own hands. I knew that
the first thing to be done was to rid ourselves of those horses. So
long as we were connected with them disaster was imminent. I knew
exactly what ought to be done. The horses must be detached from the
coach. I had read, sir, of inventions especially intended to detach
runaway horses from a vehicle. To all intents and purposes our horses
were runaways, or would have become so in a very short time. I now
made it my object to free ourselves from those horses. I got out at
our first stop and thoroughly examined the carriage attachments. I
found that the movable bar to which the whiffletrees were attached was
connected to the vehicle by two straps and a bolt, the latter having a
ring at the top and an iron nut at the bottom. While you and that
reckless driver were talking together and paying no attention to me,
the only person in the party who thoroughly comprehended our danger, I
unbuckled those straps, and with my strong, nervous fingers, without
the aid of implements, I unscrewed the nut from the bolt. Then, sir, I
took my seat on the outside of the coach and felt that I held our
safety in my own hands. For a time I allowed our vehicle to proceed,
but when we approached this long <DW72> which stretches before us, and
our horses showed signs of increasing impetuosity, I leaned forward,
hooked the handle of my umbrella in the ring of the bolt, and with a
mighty effort jerked it out. I admit to you, sir, that I had
overlooked the fact that the other horses were attached to the end of
the pole, but I have often noticed that when we are discreet in
judgment and prompt in action we are also fortunate. Thus was I
fortunate. The hindermost horses, suddenly released, rushed upon
those in front of them, and, in a manner, jumbled up the whole team,
which seemed to throw the animals into such terror that they dashed to
one side and snapped off the pole, after which they went madly tearing
down the road, entirely beyond the control of the two riders. Our
coach turned and ran into the side of the road with but a moderate
concussion, and as I looked at those flying steeds, with their riders
vainly endeavoring to restrain them, I could not, sir, keep down an
emotion of pride that I had been instrumental in freeing myself, my
daughter, and my traveling companions from their dangerous proximity."

The speaker ceased, a smile of conscious merit upon his face. For the
moment I could not say a word to him, I was so angry. But had I been
able to say or do anything to indicate the wild indignation that
filled my brain, I should have had no opportunity, for Mrs. Lecks
stepped up to me and took me by the arm. Her face was very stern, and
her expression gave one the idea of the rigidity of Bessemer steel.

"I've heard what has been said," she remarked, "and I wish to talk to
this man. Your wife is over there with Mrs. Aleshine. Will you please
take a walk with her along the road? You may stay away for a quarter
of an hour."

"Madam," said Mr. Enderton, "I do not wish to talk to you."

"I didn't ask you whether you did or not," said Mrs. Lecks. "Mr.
Craig, will you please get your wife away as quick and as far as you
can?"

I took the hint, and, with Ruth on my arm, walked rapidly down the
road. She was very glad to go, for she had been much frightened, and
wanted to be alone with me to have me explain to her what had
occurred. Mrs. Lecks, imagining from the expression of his countenance
that Mr. Enderton had, in some way, been at the bottom of the trouble,
and fearing that she should not be able to restrain her indignation
when she found how he had done it, had ordered Mrs. Aleshine to keep
Ruth away from her father. This action had increased the poor girl's
anxiety, and she was glad enough to have me take her away and tell her
all about our accident.

I did tell her all that had happened, speaking as mildly as I could of
Mr. Enderton's conduct. Poor Ruth burst into tears.

"I do wish," she exclaimed, "that father would travel by himself! He
is so nervous, and so easily frightened, that I am sure he would be
happier when he could attend to his safety in his own way; and I
know, too, that we should be happier without him."

I agreed most heartily with these sentiments, although I did not deem
it necessary to say so, and Ruth now asked me what I supposed would
become of us.

"If nothing happens to the driver and the boy," I replied, "I suppose
they will go on until they get to the station to which we were bound,
and there they will procure a pole, if such a thing can be found, or,
perhaps, get another coach, and come back for us. It would be useless
for them to return to our coach in its present condition."

"And how soon do you think they will come back?" she said.

"Not for some hours," I replied. "The driver told me there were no
houses between the place where we last stopped and the railroad
station, and I am sure he will not turn back until he reaches a place
where he can get either a new pole or another vehicle."

Ruth and I walked to a