Chapter XXVII--Modern Duelling

by Jack London

　　Barely had Sheldon reached the Balesuna, when he heard the faintreport of a distant rifle and knew it was the signal of Tudor,giving notice that he had reached the Berande, turned about, andwas coming back. Sheldon fired his rifle into the air in answer,and in turn proceeded to advance. He moved as in a dream, absent-mindedly keeping to the open beach. The thing was so preposterousthat he had to struggle to realize it, and he reviewed in his mindthe conversation with Tudor, trying to find some clue to thecommon-sense of what he was doing. He did not want to kill Tudor.Because that man had blundered in his love-making was no reasonthat he, Sheldon, should take his life. Then what was it allabout? True, the fellow had insulted Joan by his subsequentremarks and been knocked down for it, but because he had knockedhim down was no reason that he should now try to kill him.

　　In this fashion he covered a quarter of the distance between thetwo rivers, when it dawned upon him that Tudor was not on the beachat all. Of course not. He was advancing, according to the termsof the agreement, in the shelter of the cocoanut trees. Sheldonpromptly swerved to the left to seek similar shelter, when thefaint crack of a rifle came to his ears, and almost immediately thebullet, striking the hard sand a hundred feet beyond him,ricochetted and whined onward on a second flight, convincing himthat, preposterous and unreal as it was, it was nevertheless soberfact. It had been intended for him. Yet even then it was hard tobelieve. He glanced over the familiar landscape and at the seadimpling in the light but steady breeze. From the direction ofTulagi he could see the white sails of a schooner laying a tackacross toward Berande. Down the beach a horse was grazing, and heidly wondered where the others were. The smoke rising from thecopra-drying caught his eyes, which roved on over the barracks, thetool-houses, the boat- sheds, and the bungalow, and came to rest onJoan's little grass house in the corner of the compound.

　　Keeping now to the shelter of the trees, he went forward anotherquarter of a mile. If Tudor had advanced with equal speed theyshould have come together at that point, and Sheldon concluded thatthe other was circling. The difficulty was to locate him. Therows of trees, running at right angles, enabled him to see alongonly one narrow avenue at a time. His enemy might be coming alongthe next avenue, or the next, to right or left. He might be ahundred feet away or half a mile. Sheldon plodded on, and decidedthat the old stereotyped duel was far simpler and easier than thisprotracted hide-and-seek affair. He, too, tried circling, in thehope of cutting the other's circle; but, without catching a glimpseof him, he finally emerged upon a fresh clearing where the youngtrees, waist-high, afforded little shelter and less hiding. Justas he emerged, stepping out a pace, a rifle cracked to his right,and though he did not hear the bullet in passing, the thud of itcame to his ears when it struck a palm-trunk farther on.

　　He sprang back into the protection of the larger trees. Twice hehad exposed himself and been fired at, while he had failed to catcha single glimpse of his antagonist. A slow anger began to burn inhim. It was deucedly unpleasant, he decided, this being pepperedat; and nonsensical as it really was, it was none the less deadlyserious. There was no avoiding the issue, no firing in the air andgetting over with it as in the old-fashioned duel. This mutualman-hunt must keep up until one got the other. And if oneneglected a chance to get the other, that increased the other'schance to get him. There could be no false sentiment about it.Tudor had been a cunning devil when he proposed this sort of duel,Sheldon concluded, as he began to work along cautiously in thedirection of the last shot.

　　When he arrived at the spot, Tudor was gone, and only his foot-prints remained, pointing out the course he had taken into thedepths of the plantation. Once, ten minutes later, he caught aglimpse of Tudor, a hundred yards away, crossing the same avenue ashimself but going in the opposite direction. His rifle half-leapedto his shoulder, but the other was gone. More in whim than in hopeof result, grinning to himself as he did so, Sheldon raised hisautomatic pistol and in two seconds sent eight shots scatteringthrough the trees in the direction in which Tudor had disappeared.Wishing he had a shot-gun, Sheldon dropped to the ground behind atree, slipped a fresh clip up the hollow butt of the pistol, threwa cartridge into the chamber, shoved the safety catch into place,and reloaded the empty clip.

　　It was but a short time after that that Tudor tried the same trickon him, the bullets pattering about him like spiteful rain,thudding into the palm trunks, or glancing off in whiningricochets. The last bullet of all, making a double ricochet fromtwo different trees and losing most of its momentum, struck Sheldona sharp blow on the forehead and dropped at his feet. He waspartly stunned for the moment, but on investigation found nogreater harm than a nasty lump that soon rose to the size of apigeon's egg.

　　The hunt went on. Once, coming to the edge of the grove near thebungalow, he saw the house-boys and the cook, clustered on the backveranda and peering curiously among the trees, talking and laughingwith one another in their queer falsetto voices. Another time hecame upon a working-gang busy at hoeing weeds. They scarcelynoticed him when he came up, though they knew thoroughly well whatwas going on. It was no affair of theirs that the enigmaticalwhite men should be out trying to kill each other, and whateverinterest in the proceedings might be theirs they were careful toconceal it from Sheldon. He ordered them to continue hoeing weedsin a distant and out-of-the-way corner, and went on with thepursuit of Tudor.

　　Tiring of the endless circling, Sheldon tried once more to advancedirectly on his foe, but the latter was too crafty, takingadvantage of his boldness to fire a couple of shots at him, andslipping away on some changed and continually changing course. Foran hour they dodged and turned and twisted back and forth andaround, and hunted each other among the orderly palms. They caughtfleeting glimpses of each other and chanced flying shots which werewithout result. On a grassy shelter behind a tree, Sheldon cameupon where Tudor had rested and smoked a cigarette. The pressedgrass showed where he had sat. To one side lay the cigarette stumpand the charred match which had lighted it. In front lay ascattering of bright metallic fragments. Sheldon recognized theirsignificance. Tudor was notching his steel-jacketed bullets, orcutting them blunt, so that they would spread on striking--inshort, he was making them into the vicious dum-dum prohibited inmodern warfare. Sheldon knew now what would happen to him if abullet struck his body. It would leave a tiny hole where itentered, but the hole where it emerged would be the size of asaucer.

　　He decided to give up the pursuit, and lay down in the grass,protected right and left by the row of palms, with on either handthe long avenue extending. This he could watch. Tudor would haveto come to him or else there would be no termination of the affair.He wiped the sweat from his face and tied the handkerchief aroundhis neck to keep off the stinging gnats that lurked in the grass.Never had he felt so great a disgust for the thing called"adventure." Joan had been bad enough, with her Baden-Powell andlong-barrelled Colt's; but here was this newcomer also looking foradventure, and finding it in no other way than by lugging a peace-loving planter into an absurd and preposterous bush-whacking duel.If ever adventure was well damned, it was by Sheldon, sweating inthe windless grass and fighting gnats, the while he kept closewatch up and down the avenue.

　　Then Tudor came. Sheldon happened to be looking in his directionat the moment he came into view, peering quickly up and down theavenue before he stepped into the open. Midway he stopped, as ifdebating what course to pursue. He made a splendid mark, facinghis concealed enemy at two hundred yards' distance. Sheldon aimedat the centre of his chest, then deliberately shifted the aim tohis right shoulder, and, with the thought, "That will put him outof business," pulled the trigger. The bullet, driving withmomentum sufficient to perforate a man's body a mile distant,struck Tudor with such force as to pivot him, whirling him halfaround by the shock of its impact and knocking him down.

　　"'Hope I haven't killed the beggar," Sheldon muttered aloud,springing to his feet and running forward.

　　A hundred feet away all anxiety on that score was relieved byTudor, who made shift with his left hand, and from his automaticpistol hurled a rain of bullets all around Sheldon. The latterdodged behind a palm trunk, counting the shots, and when the eighthhad been fired he rushed in on the wounded man. He kicked thepistol out of the other's hand, and then sat down on him in orderto keep him down.

　　"Be quiet," he said. "I've got you, so there's no use struggling."

　　Tudor still attempted to struggle and to throw him off.

　　"Keep quiet, I tell you," Sheldon commanded. "I'm satisfied withthe outcome, and you've got to be. So you might as well give inand call this affair closed."

　　Tudor reluctantly relaxed.

　　"Rather funny, isn't it, these modern duels?" Sheldon grinned downat him as he removed his weight. "Not a bit dignified. If you'dstruggled a moment longer I'd have rubbed your face in the earth.I've a good mind to do it anyway, just to teach you that duellinghas gone out of fashion. Now let us see to your injuries."

　　"You only got me that last," Tudor grunted sullenly, "lying inambush like--"

　　"Like a wild Indian. Precisely. You've caught the idea, old man."Sheldon ceased his mocking and stood up. "You lie there quietlyuntil I send back some of the boys to carry you in. You're notseriously hurt, and it's lucky for you I didn't follow yourexample. If you had been struck with one of your own bullets, acarriage and pair would have been none too large to drive throughthe hole it would have made. As it is, you're drilled clean--anice little perforation. All you need is antiseptic washing anddressing, and you'll be around in a month. Now take it easy, andI'll send a stretcher for you."