第 43 节
作者:
孤独半圆 更新:2021-02-24 22:24 字数:9321
I had had any idea that you were going to demand rapiers I should have
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warned you before。〃
Cleggett was amused at the great detective's anxiety。 〃It appears that
the fellow handles the rapier pretty well; eh?〃 he said easily。
〃Cleggett〃 began Barnstable。 And then he paused and groaned
and mopped his brow。 Presently he controlled his agitation and
continued。 〃Cleggett;〃 he said; 〃the man is an expert swordsman。 I have
been on his trail; I know his life for years past。 He was once a maitre
d'armes。 He gave lessons in the art。〃
〃Yes?〃 said Cleggett; laughing and flexing his wrist。 〃I am glad to
hear that! It will be really interesting then。〃
〃Cleggett;〃 said Barnstable; 〃I beg of youname pistols。 This is the
man who invented that diabolical thrust with which Georges Clemenceau
laid low so many of his political opponents。 If you must go on with this
mad duel; name pistols!〃
〃Barnstable;〃 said Cleggett; 〃I know what I am about; believe me。
Your anxiety does me little honor; but I am willing to suppose that you are
not deliberately insulting; and I pass it over。 I intend to kill this man。 It
is a duty which I owe to society。 And as for the rapierbelieve me;
Barnstable; I am no novice。 And my blood tingles and my soul aches
with the desire to expunge that man from life with my own hand。 Come;
we have talked enough。 There is a case of swords in the cabin。 Will
you do me the favor to bring them on deck?〃
Loge's irons were unlocked。 He rose to his feet and stretched himself。
He removed his coat and waistcoat。 Then he took off his shirt; revealing
the fact that he wore next his skin a long…sleeved undershirt of red flannel。
Cleggett began to imitate him。 But as the commander of the Jasper B。
began to pull his shirt over his head he heard a little scream。 Everyone
turned in the direction from which it had emanated。 They beheld Miss
Genevieve Pringle perched upon the top of the cabin; whither she had
mounted by means of a short ladder。 This lady; perhaps not quite aware
of the possibly sanguinary character of the spectacle she was about to
witness; had; nevertheless; sensed the fact that a spectacle was toward。
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Miss Pringle had with her a handsome lorgnette。
〃Madam;〃 said Cleggett; hastily pulling his shirt back on again and
approaching the cabin; 〃did you cry out?〃
〃Mr。erCleggett;〃 said Miss Pringle; pursing her lips; 〃if you will
kindly hold the ladder for me I think I will descend and retire at once to
the cabin。〃
〃As you wish;〃 said Cleggett politely; complying with her wish; but at
a loss to comprehend her。
〃I beg you to believe; Mr。 Cleggett;〃 said Miss Pringle; averting her
face and flushing painfully; while she turned the lorgnette about and about
with embarrassed fingers; 〃I beg you to believe that in electing to witness
this spectacle I had no idea of its exceedingly informal nature。〃
With these words she passed into the cabin; with the air of one who
has sustained a mortal insult。
〃Ef you was to ask me what she's tryin' to get at;〃 piped up Cap'n
Abernethy; 〃I'd say it's her belief that it ain't proper for gents to sword
each other with their shirts off。 She's shocked; Miss Pringle is。〃
〃In great and crucial moments;〃 said Cleggett soberly; pulling off his
shirt again and picking up a sword; 〃we may dispense with the minor
conventions without apology。〃
Loge chose a weapon with the extreme of care and particularity; trying
the hang and balance of several of them。 He looked well to the weight;
bent the blade in his hands to test the spring and temper; tried the point
upon his thumb。 He handled the rapier as if he had found an old friend
again after a long absence; he looked around upon his enemies with a sort
of ferocious; bantering gayety。
〃And now;〃 said Loge; 〃if this is to be a duel indeed; Mr。 Cleggett and
I will need plenty of room; I suggest that the rest of you retire to the
bulwarks and give us the deck to ourselves。〃
〃For my part;〃 said Cleggett; 〃I order it。〃
〃And;〃 said Wilton Barnstable; drawing his pistol; 〃Mr。 Black will
please note that while I am standing by the bulwarks I shall be watching
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indeed。 Should he make an attempt to escape from the vessel I shall
riddle him with bullets。〃
〃Come; come;〃 said Loge; 〃all this conversation is a waste of time!〃
〃That is my opinion also;〃 said Cleggett。
They saluted formally; and engaged their blades。
With Cleggett; swordsmanship was both a science and an art。 And
something more。 It was also a passion。 A good swordsman can be
made; a superior swordsman may be born; the real masters are both born
and made。 It was so with Cleggett。 His interest in fencing had been
keen from his early boyhood。 In his teens he had acquired unusual
practical skill without great theoretical knowledge。 Then he had
recognized the art for what it is; the most beautiful game on earth; and
had made a profound and thorough study of it; it appealed to his
imagination。
He became; in a way; the poet of the foil。
Cleggett seldom fenced publicly; and then only under an assumed
name; he abhorred publicity。 But there was not a teacher in New York
City who did not know him for a master。 They brought him their half
worked out visions of new combinations; new thrusts; he perfected them;
and simplified; or elaborated; and gave back the finished product。
They were the workmen; the craftsmen; the men of talent; he was the
originator; the genius。
And he was especially lucky in not having been tied down; in his
younger years; to one national tradition of the art。 The limitations of the
French; the Spanish; the Italian; or the Austrian schools had not enslaved
him in youth and hampered the free development of his individuality。 He
had studied them all; he chose from them all their superiorities; their
excellences he blended into a system of his own。
It might be called the Cleggett System。
The Frenchman is an intellectual swordsman; the basis of his art is a
thorough knowledge of its mathematics。 Upon this foundation he
superimposes a structure of audacity。 But he often falls into one error or
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another; for all his mental brilliancy。 He may become rigidly formal in
his practice; or; in a revolt from his own formalism; be seduced into a
display of showy; sensational tricks that are all very well in the studio but
dangerous to their practitioner on the actual dueling ground。
The Italian; looser; freer; less formal; more individual in his style;
springing from a line of forbears who have preferred the thrust to the cut;
the point to the edge; for centuries; is a more instinctive and less
intellectual swordsman than the Frenchman。 It is in his blood; he uses
his rapier with a wild and angry grace that is feline。
The Frenchman; even when he is thoroughly serious in his desire to
slay; loves a duel for its own sake; he is never free from the thought of the
picture he is making; the art; the science; the practical cleverness; appeal
to him independently of the bloodshed。
The Italian thinks of but one thing; to kill。 He will take a severe
wound to