Young Captain Jack; Or, The Son of a Soldier by Alger and Stratemeyer (top android ebook reader .TXT) 📕

in the bank, but the young planter was a spendthrift and his mother, who doted on her son, was little better, and soon nearly every dollar which had been left by the husband and father had slipped through their fingers. More than this, St. John took but little interest in the plantation, which gradually ran down until it became almost worthless.

"St. John, my dear, we must do something," the mother would say, in her helpless way. "We cannot live like this forever."

"What shall I do?" would be the son's reply. "The plantation isn't worth working and I have no money with which to buy another place. The niggers are getting so they are not worth their keep."

"But you told me yesterday that we had less than a thousand dollars left in the bank."

"It's true, too."

"What do you propose doing when that is gone?"

"Oh! our credit is still good," was the lofty answer.

"But that won't last forever, St. John."

"Something may turn up."

"Everything seems to prosper at Alice's place," went on Mrs. Mary Ruthven, referring to the home of Marion and Jack.

"I know that."

"And we are continually running behind. St. John, you ought to get after the niggers and other help."

"I wasn't cut out for work, mother," was the sour answer.

"But we really must do something," was the half-desperate response.

"I've got an idea in my head, mother. If it works, we'll be all right."

"What is the idea?"

"I think a good deal of Marion. Why shouldn't we marry and join the two plantations? That would give us both a good living."

"I have thought of such a plan myself, St. John. But there may be an objection."

"Do you think Marion would refuse me?"

"She might. In some respects Alice's daughter is rather peculiar."

"But I don't see why she should refuse me. Am I not her equal in social position?"

"What a question! Of course you are. Still she may have her eyes set upon somebody else."

"I know of nobody. Marion is still young."

"Have you sounded her on the subject?"

"Not yet, but I will soon. She has Jack around so much I never get half a chance to talk to her."

"Always that boy! When I visited Alice last I declare she talked of that nobody the whole time,—what a wonderful man she hoped he would make,—and all that. Just as if he was her own flesh and blood!" and Mrs. Mary Ruthven tossed her head disdainfully.

"She was foolish to allow that nobody to think himself a Ruthven. But I have put a spoke into his wheel, I reckon."

"What do you mean? Did you tell Jack the truth?"

"Not exactly. But I gave a pretty broad hint to his intimate friend Darcy Gilbert, and Darcy, of course, will carry the news straight to Jack."

"Oh, St. John! that may cause trouble. Your aunt wished to keep the truth from the boy as long as possible. She told me she did not wish to hurt his feelings."

"He had to learn the truth sooner or later. Besides, I didn't want him to think himself a Ruthven and the equal of Marion and myself," went on St. John loftily.

There was a moment of silence and Mrs. Mary Ruthven gave a long sigh.

"Well, I would not delay speaking to Marion too long," she observed. "Something must be done, that's sure, and if you wait, Marion and her mother may find out how hard up we really are, and then Marion may refuse you on that account."

"I shall see her before long," answered the son.

He had his mind bent on a horseback ride, and was soon in the saddle and off on a road leading along the shore of the bay. He hoped to find Marion in the vicinity of the old boathouse, but when he arrived there nobody was in sight but Old Ben, who was mending one of his fishing nets.

"Ha, Ben! are you alone?" he said, as he dismounted and came into the boathouse.

"Yes, Massah St. John, I'm alone unless there's some ghostes hidin' around yeah!" and the old negro smiled broadly. He understood St. John's character pretty thoroughly and despised him accordingly.

"I thought Marion might be around here."

"She aint been yeah to-day, sah. She an' Jack was out on de bay in dat awful storm yesterday and I reckon it was most too much fo' dem."

"Out in that awful storm! It's a wonder the boat didn't upset."

"Da was ober to de wrack when de big blow came."

"Did they stay there?"

"I went ober after 'em an' da come in dis mornin', Massah St. John."

"Humph! I am surprised that my aunt should trust Marion with that boy."

"Why not, Massah St. John? Jack can manage a boat as well as I can."

St. John tossed his head and flung himself down upon a seat. "I think my aunt makes a fool of herself about that boy. Who is he, anyway? He's only an ocean waif; of low birth, very probably."

"Dat he isn't!" said Old Ben indignantly. "He's a young gen'man, Jack is, an' so was his father."

"Bah! what do you know about his father?"

"He couldn't be Jack's father without bein' a gen'man—dat's wot I know," went on Ben stoutly. "Why, look at de deah chile! How noble an'—an'—handsome he is!"

"Oh, pshaw, Ben! you had better stick to your nets. What do you know about a gentleman?"

"I knows one when I sees one, Massah St. John," was the somewhat suggestive response.

"Oh, do you? And I know an impudent nigger when I see one!" cried St. John angrily.

"No offense, Massah St. John."

"Then be a little more careful of what you say." St. John tugged at the ends of his stubby mustache. "I wish I had that boy under my care," he went on.

"S'posin' you had, sah?"

"I'd teach him his place. Why should he be reared as a gentleman—he, a poor waif of the sea? Probably he is the son of some low mechanic, perhaps of a Northern mudsill, and my aunt—think of it, my aunt—must bring him up as a Southern gentleman!" The young man leaped up and began to pace the boathouse floor nervously. "I suppose she'll leave him a large legacy in her will."

"I 'spect you is right, Massah St. John; dat boy will be pervided for, suah as my name's Ben."

"You talk as if you already knew something of this?" said St. John quickly.

"I does know somet'ing, sah."

"Has my aunt ever spoken to you on the subject, Ben?"

"I don't know as I ought to answer dat dar question, Massah St. John."

"Then she has spoken. What did she say?"

The colored man hesitated.

"As I said befo', sah, I don't rackon I ought to answer dat dar question."

"But you must answer me, Ben—to keep silent is foolish. Rest assured I have the best interests of my aunt and Marion at heart. Now what did she say?"

"Well, sah, if yo' must know, she said as how she was gwine to leave Massah Jack half de prop'ty."

St. John leaped back in amazement.

"You don't mean that, Ben!" he gasped.

"Yes, sah, I does mean it."

"Half the property?"

"Yes, sah."

"He doesn't deserve it!"

At this the old negro shrugged his huge shoulders.

"Rackon de missus knows what she wants to do."

"But it is not right—to give the boy half the estate. I suppose the other half will go to Marion."

"Yes, sah."

The young man's face grew pale, and he began to pace the floor again.

"She never mentioned me in connection with this, did she?"

"No, sah."

"And yet I am her nephew."

"Rackon she dun thought yo' was rich enough, Massah St. John."

"Perhaps I am, Ben. But it is strange that my own flesh and blood should forget me, to take up with a nobody. Did my aunt ever speak of the particulars of what she intended to do?"

"No, sah."

"Humph! It's strange. I must look into this." And a few minutes later St. John Ruthven was off on horseback, in a frame of mind far from pleasant.

CHAPTER VI.

MRS. RUTHVEN'S STORY.

"I am so glad to see you both back, safe and sound!"

It was Mrs. Alice Ruthven who spoke, as she embraced first her daughter and then Jack.

"And we are glad enough to get back, mother," answered Marion.

"I was so frightened, even after Old Ben went after you. We watched the lightning, and when it struck the wreck——" Mrs. Ruthven stopped speaking and gave a shiver.

"We weren't in such very great danger," answered Jack. Then he looked at the lady curiously.

"What is it, Jack? You have something on your mind," she said quickly.

The youth looked at Marian, who turned red.

"I—I—that is, mother, Jack knows the truth," faltered the girl.

"The truth?" repeated Mrs. Ruthven slowly.

"Yes, Marion has told me the truth," said Jack, in as steady a voice as he could command. "And so I—I—am not your son." He could scarcely speak the words.

"Oh, Jack!" The lady caught him in her arms. "So you know the truth at last?" She kissed him. "But you are my son, just as if you were my own flesh and blood. You are not angry at me for keeping this a secret so long? I did it because I did not wish to hurt your feelings."

"No, I am not angry at you, Mrs. Ruth——"

"Call me mother, Jack."

"I am not angry, mother. You have been very kind to me. But it is so strange! I can't understand it all," and he heaved a deep sigh.

"You have been a son to me in the past, Jack; I wish you to continue to be one."

"But I have no real claim upon you."

"Yes, you have, for my late husband and myself adopted you."

"Marion told me that you never heard one word regarding my past."

"She told the truth. We tried our best, but every effort ended in failure. Your mother called you Jack ere she died, and that was all."

"What of our clothing? Was none of it marked, or had she nothing in her pocket?"

"No, the clothing was not marked, and she had nothing in her pocket but a lace handkerchief, also unmarked. That handkerchief I have kept, with the clothing. And I have also kept a ring she wore upon one of her fingers."

"Was that marked?"

"It had been, but it was so worn that we could not make out the marking, nor could the two jewelers by whom we had the ring inspected."

"I would like to see the ring."

"I will get it," returned Mrs. Ruthven, and left the room. Soon she came back with a small jewel casket, from which she took a ring and a very dainty lace handkerchief.

"Here is the ring," she said, as she passed it over to Jack.

"It looks like a wedding ring," said the youth, as he gazed at the circlet of gold.

"I believe it is a wedding ring."

Jack looked inside and saw some markings, but all were so faint that it was impossible to make out more than the figures 1 and 8.

"Those figures stand for eighteen hundred and something, I imagine," said Mrs. Ruthven. "They must give the year when your mother was married."

"I suppose you are right."

"The ring belongs to you, Jack. I would advise you to be careful of it."

"If you please, I would like to have you keep it for the present."

"I will do that willingly."

The handkerchief was next examined. But it seemed to be without markings of any kind, and was soon returned to the jewel case along with the ring.

"Now tell me how Marion came to tell you of the past," said Mrs. Ruthven, after putting the jewel case away.

"I made her tell me the truth," said Jack.

"But how did you suspect this at first?"

"Because of something St. John said to Darcy Gilbert."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter much—now, mother. He told Darcy I wasn't your son."

"What else did he say?"

"Oh, I think I had better not say."

"But you must tell me, Jack; I insist upon knowing."

"He told Darcy that I was a nobody, and that I would have to go away some day."

At these words Mrs. Ruthven's face flushed angrily.

"St. John is taking too much upon his shoulders," she cried. "This is no