With Force and Arms: A Tale of Love and Salem Witchcraft

by Howard Roger Garis

CHAPTER XXII.
A DUEL ON THE SANDS.

My legs and arms were stiff from long sitting, and with the cold. When I was out on the sands, away from Lucille, I ran up and down the beach to start my blood. I beat my arms about my body to limber them, and rubbed my hands and wrists. Then when I was glowing from the exercise, I dashed the sea water over my face and neck until I tingled all over. On I hurried now to the place of meeting. I could see Sir George walking slowly along the beach, and I marked that Simon was left behind, near to where they had kindled their watch-fire the night before. As I went along I looked out on the sea, which had turned to a rosy golden color under the rays of the sun. The waves glistened and sparkled before they broke in foam and bubbles on the shelving beach, hissing as they rushed up the incline, and then, chasing each other back into the ocean again, they dragged with them bits of sea weed, little stones and tiny pieces of tinted shells. I walked just on the edge of the wet sand, for it was easier going there, being firm from the beating of the waves, and I saw that Sir George coming toward me did likewise.

Now I had fought many duels, but never such a deliberately planned one as this was. Usually it was when my blood and that of my companion was hot. It was a blow, a curse, a rush to a secluded spot where we could indulge in a bit of sword play and not be interrupted, and in a little while a body with a sword thrust, lying on the sward. The slayer being hurried off to a wine house with his friends. At most times, too, there had been seconds, and a few onlookers, though, when occasion forbade them, we made shift to do without.

There was the time I had met de Gloise, back of the chapel that stands on the left of the road, as you leave the northern road from Paris. We had no attendants then, but were able to accomplish some pretty sword strokes. He gave me a thrust in the shoulder, while, by some chance, my weapon went into his throat, and he never sang any more of those funny French songs.

And there was Gandes, who was accounted an excellent blade. He and I had it out, early one morning. ’Twas about whether he or I could drink the most red wine, if I recall the cause of the quarrel, for I was rather wild those days.

Neither of us was sober enough to do more than a slouchy bit of work with the weapons, for we had spent the night together at the Owl and Peacock, before we quarreled, as to which was the wiser bird of the twain painted above the inn door. We went out into the yard, where only the stable boys were rubbing their sleepy eyes, and crossed swords. Poor Gandes. I thrust him through the body, though, sober, I would not have harmed him so much, as he was my best friend. He gave me a hasty cut in the side which made me stiff for many a day.

Then there was the time when I trod on a stranger’s toes, in Munich, he being, at the time, about to call on a lady. He called me a clumsy lout, and I replied with hot words. So we had it out there in the moonlight, behind a church. He was a most delightful man with a sword, and it was a real honor to engage him, for he had several passes that quite puzzled me for a time. But I managed to reach under his guard, and give him a wound in the arm pit, which must have prevented him from holding a blade for some time. On his side, he came near to catching me unawares, and, the result was a lunge, that, had it been six inches lower, must have ended my fighting days. As it was, I bear the scar on my left cheek yet.

Thus I mused as I walked along to meet Sir George. I knew this would be no boys’ affair, and I resolved to attempt none of those niceties of the fence, of which I am capable. For I was not in the mind to take chances on my life now, since it had become precious to me from yester eve, when I found my love again. I would let slip no chance, though, to kill my foe, as only his death could wipe out the insult to Lucille.

We had now come so near that we could greet each other. I saluted with my sword, and Sir George returned the compliment gravely. The next instant we were both looking over the ground, whereon we were to engage.

The place we had selected the night before, was on a sort of sandy knoll, and the height of it above the surrounding beach prevented the waves from washing up on it, save when the tide was full. The ground there seemed to be dry and rather shifting, offering no secure foot-hold.