A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others | Page 6

Jack to his own apartments, dragging up the most comfortable
chair in the room, forcing him into it, and tucking a cushion under his
head, or ringing up Jefferson every few moments for some new luxury.
These he would catch away from that perfectly trained servant's tray,
serving them himself, rattling on all the time as to how sorry he was
that he did not know the exact hour at which Jack would arrive, that he
might have had breakfast on the table--how hot had it been on the
road--how well he was looking, etc.
It was specially interesting, besides, after the proper introductions had
been made, to note the way in which Jack's friends, inoculated with the
contagion of the major's mood, and carried away by his breezy,
buoyant enthusiasm, encouraged the major to flow on, interjecting little
asides about his horses and farm stock, agreeing to a man that the
two-year old colt--a pure creation on the moment of the major--would
certainly beat the record and make the major's fortune, and inquiring
with great solicitude whether the major felt quite sure that the addition
to the stables which he contemplated would be large enough to
accommodate his stud, with other similar inquiries which, while
indefinite and tentative, were, so to speak, but flies thrown out on the
stream of talk,--the major rising continuously, seizing the bait, and
rushing headlong over sunken rocks and through tangled weeds of the
improbable in a way that would have done credit to a Munchausen of
older date. As for Jack, he let him run on. One plank in the platform of
his hospitality was to give every guest a free rein.
Before the men separated for the day, the major had invited each
individual person to make Crab Island his home for the balance of his
life, regretting that no woman now graced his table since Mrs.
Slocomb's death,--"Major Talbot's widow--Major John Talbot of
Pocomoke, suh," this impressively and with sudden gravity of
tone,--placing his stables, his cellar, and his servants at their disposal,
and arranging for everybody to meet everybody else the following day
in Baltimore, the major starting that night, and Jack and his friends the
next day. The whole party would then take passage on board one of the
Chesapeake Bay boats, arriving off Crab Island at daylight the
succeeding morning.

This was said with a spring and joyousness of manner, and a certain
quickness of movement, that would surprise those unfamiliar with
some of the peculiarities of Widow Talbot's second husband. For with
that true spirit of vagabondage which saturated him, next to the
exquisite luxury of lying sprawled on a lounge with a noiseless servant
attached to the other end of an electric wire, nothing delighted the
major so much as an outing, and no member of any such junketing
party, be it said, was more popular every hour of the journey. He could
be host, servant, cook, chambermaid, errand-boy, and grand seigneur
again in the same hour, adapting himself to every emergency that arose.
His good-humor was perennial, unceasing, one constant flow, and
never checked. He took care of the dogs, unpacked the bags, laid out
everybody's linen, saw that the sheets were dry, received all callers so
that the boys might sleep in the afternoon, did all the disagreeable and
uncomfortable things himself, and let everybody else have all the fun.
He did all this unconsciously, graciously, and simply because he could
not help it. When the outing ended, you parted from him with all the
regret that you would from some chum of your college days. As for
him, he never wanted it to end. There was no office, nor law case, nor
sick patient, nor ugly partner, nor complication of any kind,
commercial, social, or professional, which could affect the major. For
him life was one prolonged drift: so long as the last man remained he
could stay. When he left, if there was enough in the larder to last over,
the major always made another day of it.
II
The major was standing on the steamboat wharf in Baltimore,
nervously consulting his watch, when Jack and I stepped from a cab
next day.
"Well, by gravy! is this all? Where are the other gentlemen?"
"They'll be down in the morning, major," said Jack. "Where shall we
send this baggage?"
"Here, just give it to me! Po'ter, po'ter!" in a stentorian voice. "Take
these bags and guns, and put 'em on the upper deck alongside of my

luggage. Now, gentlemen, just a sip of somethin' befo' they haul the
gang-plank,--we've six minutes yet."
The bar was across the street. On the way over, the major confided to
Jack full information regarding the state-rooms, remarking that he had
selected the "fo' best on the upper deck,"