diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:54:50 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:54:50 -0700 |
| commit | 144d9e92598671bcea2e46e198d9695f57b2774b (patch) | |
| tree | ab1eaa679bd387a46c741753f810b7a84a7086f8 /30954-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '30954-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 30954-h/30954-h.htm | 18648 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30954-h/images/image1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 43426 bytes |
2 files changed, 18648 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/30954-h/30954-h.htm b/30954-h/30954-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4745e87 --- /dev/null +++ b/30954-h/30954-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18648 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of the Works of Robert Louis Stevenson Volume XIII, by Robert Louis Stevenson. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body { text-align: justify; line-height: 1.4em; margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%; } + p { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent: 1em; } + p.noind { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent: 0; } + + h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; } + hr { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; width: 70%; height: 5px; background-color: #dcdcdc; border: none;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + hr.short {width: 5em; height: 2px;} + hr.art { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 40%; height: 5px; background-color: #708090; + margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 5em } + hr.foot {text-align: left; margin-left: 2em; text-align: left; width: 16%; color: black; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0; height: 1px; } + + table.nobctr { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; } + table.reg { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both; } + table p { margin-left: 1.5em; text-indent: -1.5em; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; } + + td.tc2 { padding-right: 0; padding-left: 0; text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + td.tc2b { padding-right: 0; padding-left: 0; text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + td.tc3 { padding-right: 2em; padding-left: 2.5em; text-indent: -2em; text-align: left; vertical-align: top;} + td.tc5b { padding-right: 0; padding-left: 0; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 0.75em; } + + a:link, a:visited, link {text-decoration: none} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-style: normal; } + .scs {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 85%; } + .rt {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 5%; text-align: right; font-size: 10pt; + background-color: #f5f5f5; color: #778899; text-indent: 0; + padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; font-style: normal; } + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; font-size: 0.9em; } + .fn { position: absolute; left: 12%; text-align: left; background-color: #f5f5f5; + text-indent: 0; padding-left: 0.2em; padding-right: 0.2em; } + .sp {position: relative; bottom: 0.5em; font-size: 0.7em;} + span.correction {border-bottom: 1px dashed red;} + + .figcenter {text-align: center; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} + .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .f80 { font-size: 80% } + .f90 { font-size: 90% } + + div.quote { margin-left: 2em; font-size: 90%; line-height: 1.3em; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em; } + div.quote p { margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em; } + + .pt05 {padding-top: 0.5em;} + .pt2 {padding-top: 2em;} + .pt3 {padding-top: 3em;} + + div.poemr {margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; font-size: 90%;} + div.poemr p { margin-left: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; } + div.poemr p.i05 { margin-left: 0.4em; } + div.poemr p.i2 { margin-left: 2em; } + div.poemr p.i3 { margin-left: 3em; } + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - +Swanston Edition Vol. 13 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition Vol. 13 (of 25) + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +Release Date: January 13, 2010 [EBook #30954] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF STEVENSON *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #dcdcdc; color: #696969; " summary="TN"> +<tr> +<td style="width:25%; vertical-align:top"> +Transcriber's note: +</td> +<td class="norm"> +One typographical error has been corrected. It +appears in the text <span class="correction" title="explanation will pop up">like this</span>, and the +explanation will appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the marked +passage. +<br /><br /> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<h4>THE WORKS OF</h4> + +<h3>ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</h3> + +<h4>SWANSTON EDITION</h4> + +<h5>VOLUME XIII</h5> +<div class="pt3"> </div> + +<p class="noind center"><i>Of this SWANSTON EDITION in Twenty-five<br /> +Volumes of the Works of ROBERT LOUIS<br /> +STEVENSON Two Thousand and Sixty Copies<br /> +have been printed, of which only Two Thousand<br /> +Copies are for sale.</i></p> + +<p class="noind center"><i>This is No. <span style="font-size: 60%;">............</span></i></p> +<div class="pt05"> </div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:620px; height:379px" + src="images/image1.jpg" + alt="" /> +<p class="f80">THE BACK VERANDAH AT VAILIMA</p> +</div> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<h3>THE WORKS OF</h3> +<h2>ROBERT LOUIS</h2> +<h2>STEVENSON</h2> + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<h5>VOLUME THIRTEEN</h5> +<div class="pt3"> </div> + +<h5>LONDON: PUBLISHED BY CHATTO AND<br /> +WINDUS: IN ASSOCIATION WITH CASSELL<br /> +AND COMPANY LIMITED: WILLIAM<br /> +HEINEMANN: AND LONGMANS GREEN<br /> +AND COMPANY MDCCCCXII</h5> + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<h6>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h6> + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="tc5b" colspan="3"><h4>THE WRECKER</h4></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc5b" colspan="3"><h5>PROLOGUE</h5></td></tr> + +<tr style="font-size: 70%; "> <td class="tc2"> </td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tc2">PAGE</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc3 scs" colspan="2">In the Marquesas</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page5">5</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc5b" colspan="3"><h5>THE YARN</h5></td></tr> + +<tr style="font-size: 70%; "> <td class="tc2">CHAPTER</td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tc2"> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">I.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">A Sound Commercial Education</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page19">19</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">II.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Roussillon Wine</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page32">32</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">III.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">To Introduce Mr. Pinkerton</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page43">43</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">IV.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">In which I experience Extremes of Fortune</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page58">58</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">V.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">In which I am down on my Luck in Paris</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page71">71</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">VI.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">In which I go West</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page86">86</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">VII.</td> + <td class="tc3"><span class="scs">Irons in the Fire:</span> <i>Opes Strepitumque</i></td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page102">102</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">VIII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Faces on the City Front</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page126">126</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">IX.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The Wreck of the <i>flying Scud</i></td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page139">139</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">X.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">In which the Crew vanish</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page154">154</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XI.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">In which Jim and I take Different Ways</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page179">179</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The <i>Norah Creina</i></td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page194">194</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XIII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The Island and the Wreck</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page210">210</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XIV.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The Cabin of the <i>Flying Scud</i></td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page222">222</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XV.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The Cargo of the <i>Flying Scud</i></td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page237">237</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XVI.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">In which I turn Smuggler, and the Captain Casuist</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page251">251</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XVII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Light from the Man of War</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page264">264</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XVIII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Cross-questions and Crooked Answers</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page278">278</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XIX.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Travels with a Shyster</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page294">294</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XX.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Stallbridge-le-Carthew</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page317">317</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XXI.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">Face to Face</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page330">330</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XXII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The Remittance Man</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page338">338</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XXIII.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">The Budget of the <i>Currency Lass</i></td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page363">363</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XXIV.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">A Hard Bargain</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page388">388</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2">XXV.</td> + <td class="scs tc3">A Bad Bargain</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page402">402</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc5b" colspan="3"><h5>EPILOGUE</h5></td></tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc3 scs" colspan="2">To Will H. Low</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page427">427</a></td> </tr> +</table> + + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>1</span></p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE WRECKER</h2> +<h5>WRITTEN IN COLLABORATION WITH</h5> +<h3>LLOYD OSBOURNE</h3> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>2</span></p> +<div class="pt3"> </div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>3</span></p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PROLOGUE</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>4</span></p> +<div class="pt3"> </div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>5</span></p> +<h2>THE WRECKER</h2> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>PROLOGUE</h3> + +<h5>IN THE MARQUESAS</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> was about three o’clock of a winter’s afternoon in +Tai-o-hae, the French capital and port of entry of the +Marquesas Islands. The Trades blew strong and squally; +the surf roared loud on the shingle beach; and the fifty-ton +schooner of war, that carries the flag and influence +of France about the islands of the cannibal group, rolled +at her moorings under Prison Hill. The clouds hung low +and black on the surrounding amphitheatre of mountains; +rain had fallen earlier in the day, real tropic rain, a waterspout +for violence; and the green and gloomy brow of +the mountain was still seamed with many silver threads +of torrent.</p> + +<p>In these hot and healthy islands winter is but a name. +The rain had not refreshed, nor could the wind invigorate, +the dwellers of Tai-o-hae: away at one end, indeed, the +commandant was directing some changes in the residency +garden beyond Prison Hill; and the gardeners, being all +convicts, had no choice but to continue to obey. All +other folks slumbered and took their rest: Vaekehu, the +native Queen, in her trim house under the rustling palms; +the Tahitian commissary, in his beflagged official residence; +the merchants, in their deserted stores; and +even the club-servant in the club, his head fallen forward +on the bottle-counter, under the map of the world and +the cards of navy officers. In the whole length of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>6</span> +single shoreside street, with its scattered board houses +looking to the sea, its grateful shade of palms and green +jungle of puraos, no moving figure could be seen. Only, +at the end of the rickety pier, that once (in the prosperous +days of the American rebellion) was used to groan under +the cotton of John Hart, there might have been spied +upon a pile of lumber the famous tattooed white man, the +living curiosity of Tai-o-hae.</p> + +<p>His eyes were open, staring down the bay. He saw +the mountains droop, as they approached the entrance, +and break down in cliffs: the surf boil white round the +two sentinel islets; and between, on the narrow bight of +blue horizon, Ua-pu upraise the ghost of her pinnacled +mountain-tops. But his mind would take no account of +these familiar features; as he dodged in and out along +the frontier line of sleep and waking, memory would serve +him with broken fragments of the past: brown faces and +white, of skipper and shipmate, king and chief, would +arise before his mind and vanish; he would recall old +voyages, old landfalls in the hour of dawn; he would +hear again the drums beat for a man-eating festival; perhaps +he would summon up the form of that island princess +for the love of whom he had submitted his body to the +cruel hands of the tattooer, and now sat on the lumber, +at the pier-end of Tai-o-hae, so strange a figure of a +European. Or perhaps, from yet further back, sounds +and scents of England and his childhood might assail him: +the merry clamour of cathedral bells, the broom upon the +foreland, the song of the river on the weir.</p> + +<p>It is bold water at the mouth of the bay; you can +steer a ship about either sentinel, close enough to toss a +biscuit on the rocks. Thus it chanced that, as the tattooed +man sat dozing and dreaming, he was startled into wakefulness +and animation by the appearance of a flying jib +beyond the western islet. Two more headsails followed; +and before the tattooed man had scrambled to his feet, +a topsail schooner of some hundred tons had luffed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>7</span> +about the sentinel, and was standing up the bay, close-hauled.</p> + +<p>The sleeping city awakened by enchantment. Natives +appeared upon all sides, hailing each other with the magic +cry “Ehippy”—ship; the Queen stepped forth on her +verandah, shading her eyes under a hand that was a +miracle of the fine art of tattooing; the commandant +broke from his domestic convicts and ran into the residency +for his glass; the harbour-master, who was also +the gaoler, came speeding down the Prison Hill; the +seventeen brown Kanakas and the French boatswain’s +mate, that make up the complement of the war-schooner, +crowded on the forward deck; and the various English, +Americans, Germans, Poles, Corsicans and Scots—the +merchants and the clerks of Tai-o-hae—deserted their +places of business, and gathered, according to invariable +custom, on the road before the club.</p> + +<p>So quickly did these dozen whites collect, so short are +the distances in Tai-o-hae, that they were already exchanging +guesses as to the nationality and business of the +strange vessel, before she had gone about upon her second +board towards the anchorage. A moment after, English +colours were broken out at the main truck.</p> + +<p>“I told you she was a Johnny Bull—knew it by her +headsails,” said an evergreen old salt, still qualified (if +he could anywhere have found an owner unacquainted +with his story) to adorn another quarter-deck and lose +another ship.</p> + +<p>“She has American lines, anyway,” said the astute +Scots engineer of the gin-mill; “it’s my belief she’s a +yacht.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” said the old salt, “a yacht! look at her +davits, and the boat over the stern.”</p> + +<p>“A yacht in your eye!” said a Glasgow voice. “Look +at her red ensign! A yacht! not much she isn’t!”</p> + +<p>“You can close the store, anyway, Tom,” observed a +gentlemanly German. “<i>Bon jour, mon Prince!</i>” he added, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>8</span> +as a dark, intelligent native cantered by on a neat chestnut. +“<i>Vous allez boire un verre de bičre?</i>”</p> + +<p>But Prince Stanila Moanatini, the only reasonably busy +human creature on the island, was riding hotspur to view +this morning’s landslip on the mountain road; the sun +already visibly declined; night was imminent; and if he +would avoid the perils of darkness and precipice, and the +fear of the dead, the haunters of the jungle, he must for +once decline a hospitable invitation. Even had he been +minded to alight, it presently appeared there would be +difficulty as to the refreshment offered.</p> + +<p>“Beer!” cried the Glasgow voice. “No such a thing; +I tell you there’s only eight bottles in the club! Here’s +the first time I’ve seen British colours in this port! and +the man that sails under them has got to drink that +beer.”</p> + +<p>The proposal struck the public mind as fair, though +far from cheering; for some time back, indeed, the very +name of beer had been a sound of sorrow in the club, +and the evenings had passed in dolorous computation.</p> + +<p>“Here is Havens,” said one, as if welcoming a fresh +topic.—“What do you think of her, Havens?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think,” replied Havens, a tall, bland, cool-looking, +leisurely Englishman, attired in spotless duck, +and deliberately dealing with a cigarette. “I may say +I know. She’s consigned to me from Auckland by Donald +and Edenborough. I am on my way aboard.”</p> + +<p>“What ship is she?” asked the ancient mariner.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t an idea,” returned Havens. “Some tramp +they have chartered.”</p> + +<p>With that he placidly resumed his walk, and was soon +seated in the stern-sheets of a whaleboat manned by uproarious +Kanakas, himself daintily perched out of the way +of the least maculation, giving his commands in an unobtrusive, +dinner-table tone of voice, and sweeping neatly +enough alongside the schooner.</p> + +<p>A weather-beaten captain received him at the gangway. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>9</span></p> + +<p>“You are consigned to us, I think,” said he. “I am +Mr. Havens.”</p> + +<p>“That is right, sir,” replied the captain, shaking hands. +“You will find the owner, Mr. Dodd, below. Mind the +fresh paint on the house.”</p> + +<p>Havens stepped along the alley-way, and descended +the ladder into the main cabin.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dodd, I believe,” said he, addressing a smallish, +bearded gentleman, who sat writing at the table.—“Why,” +he cried, “it isn’t Loudon Dodd?”</p> + +<p>“Myself, my dear fellow,” replied Mr. Dodd, springing +to his feet with companionable alacrity. “I had a half-hope +it might be you, when I found your name on the +papers. Well, there’s no change in you; still the same +placid, fresh-looking Britisher.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t return the compliment; for you seem to have +become a Britisher yourself,” said Havens.</p> + +<p>“I promise you, I am quite unchanged,” returned +Dodd. “The red tablecloth at the top of the stick is +not my flag; it’s my partner’s. He is not dead, but +sleepeth. There he is,” he added, pointing to a bust +which formed one of the numerous unexpected ornaments +of that unusual cabin.</p> + +<p>Havens politely studied it. “A fine bust,” said he; +“and a very nice-looking fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he’s a good fellow,” said Dodd. “He runs +me now. It’s all his money.”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t seem to be particularly short of it,” added +the other, peering with growing wonder round the cabin.</p> + +<p>“His money, my taste,” said Dodd. “The black +walnut bookshelves are old English; the books all mine—mostly +Renaissance French. You should see how the +beach-combers wilt away when they go round them, looking +for a change of seaside library novels. The mirrors +are genuine Venice; that’s a good piece in the corner. +The daubs are mine—and his; the mudding mine.”</p> + +<p>“Mudding? What is that?” asked Havens. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>10</span></p> + +<p>“These bronzes,” replied Dodd. “I began life as a +sculptor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I remember something about that,” said the +other. “I think, too, you said you were interested in +Californian real estate.”</p> + +<p>“Surely I never went so far as that,” said Dodd. +“Interested? I guess not. Involved, perhaps. I was +born an artist; I never took an interest in anything but +art. If I were to pile up this old schooner to-morrow,” +he added, “I declare I believe I would try the thing +again!”</p> + +<p>“Insured?” inquired Havens.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” responded Dodd. “There’s some fool in +’Frisco who insures us, and comes down like a wolf on +the fold on the profits; but we’ll get even with him +some day.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose it’s all right about the cargo,” said +Havens.</p> + +<p>“O, I suppose so!” replied Dodd. “Shall we go into +the papers?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll have all to-morrow, you know,” said Havens; +“and they’ll be rather expecting you at the club. <i>C’est +l’heure de l’absinthe</i>. Of course, Loudon, you’ll dine with +me later on?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dodd signified his acquiescence; drew on his white +coat, not without a trifling difficulty, for he was a man +of middle age, and well-to-do; arranged his beard and +moustaches at one of the Venetian mirrors; and, taking +a broad felt hat, led the way through the trade-room into +the ship’s waist.</p> + +<p>The stern, boat was waiting alongside—a boat of an +elegant model, with cushions and polished hardwood fittings.</p> + +<p>“You steer,” observed Loudon. “You know the best +place to land.”</p> + +<p>“I never like to steer another man’s boat,” replied +Havens. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>11</span></p> + +<p>“Call it my partner’s, and cry quits,” returned Loudon, +getting nonchalantly down the side.</p> + +<p>Havens followed and took the yoke lines without +further protest.</p> + +<p>“I am sure I don’t know how you make this pay,” +he said. “To begin with, she is too big for the trade, to +my taste; and then you carry so much style.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that she does pay,” returned Loudon. +“I never pretend to be a business man. My partner +appears happy; and the money is all his, as I told you—I +only bring the want of business habits.”</p> + +<p>“You rather like the berth, I suppose?” suggested +Havens.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Loudon; “it seems odd, but I rather +do.”</p> + +<p>While they were yet on board, the sun had dipped; +the sunset gun (a rifle) had cracked from the war-schooner, +and the colours had been handed down. Dusk was deepening +as they came ashore; and the <i>Cercle International</i>(as +the club is officially and significantly named) began to +shine, from under its low verandahs, with the light of +many lamps. The good hours of the twenty-four drew +on; the hateful, poisonous day-fly of Nukahiva was +beginning to desist from its activity; the land-breeze came +in refreshing draughts; and the club-men gathered together +for the hour of absinthe. To the commandant himself, +to the man whom he was then contending with at +billiards—a trader from the next island, honorary member +of the club, and once carpenter’s mate on board a Yankee +war-ship—to the doctor of the port, to the Brigadier of +Gendarmerie, to the opium-farmer, and to all the white +men whom the tide of commerce, or the chances of +shipwreck and desertion, had stranded on the beach of +Tai-o-hae, Mr. Loudon Dodd was formally presented; +by all (since he was a man of pleasing exterior, smooth +ways, and an unexceptionable flow of talk, whether in +French or English) he was excellently well received; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>12</span> +presently, with one of the last eight bottles of beer on a +table at his elbow, found himself the rather silent centrepiece +of a voluble group on the verandah.</p> + +<p>Talk in the South Seas is all upon one pattern; it +is a wide ocean, indeed, but a narrow world: you shall +never talk long and not hear the name of Bully Hayes, +a naval hero whose exploits and deserved extinction left +Europe cold; commerce will be touched on, copra, shell, +perhaps cotton or fungus; but in a far-away, dilettante +fashion, as by men not deeply interested; through all, +the names of schooners and their captains will keep coming +and going, thick as may-flies; and news of the last shipwreck +will be placidly exchanged and debated. To a +stranger, this conversation will at first seem scarcely brilliant +but he will soon catch the tone; and by the time +he shall have moved a year or so in the island world, and +come across a good number of the schooners, so that every +captain’s name calls up a figure in pyjamas or white duck, +and becomes used to a certain laxity of moral tone which +prevails (as in memory of Mr. Hayes) on smuggling, ship-scuttling, +barratry, piracy, the labour trade, and other +kindred fields of human activity, he will find Polynesia +no less amusing and no less instructive than Pall Mall or +Paris.</p> + +<p>Mr. Loudon Dodd, though he was new to the group +of the Marquesas, was already an old, salted trader; he +knew the ships and the captains; he had assisted, in +other islands, at the first steps of some career of which +he now heard the culmination, or (<i>vice versā</i>) he had +brought with him from further south the end of some +story which had begun in Tai-o-hae. Among other matters +of interest, like other arrivals in the South Seas, he had +a wreck to announce. The <i>John T. Richards</i>, it appeared, +had met the fate of other island schooners.</p> + +<p>“Dickinson piled her up on Palmerston Island,” Dodd +announced.</p> + +<p>“Who were the owners?” inquired one of the clubmen. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>13</span></p> + +<p>“O, the usual parties!” returned Loudon, “Capsicum +and Co.”</p> + +<p>A smile and a glance of intelligence went round the +group; and perhaps Loudon gave voice to the general +sentiment by remarking—</p> + +<p>“Talk of good business! I know nothing better than +a schooner, a competent captain, and a sound reliable +reef.”</p> + +<p>“Good business! There’s no such a thing!” said the +Glasgow man. “Nobody makes anything but the missionaries—dash +it!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said another; “there’s a good deal +in opium.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a good job to strike a tabooed pearl-island—say, +about the fourth year,” remarked a third, “skim +the whole lagoon on the sly, and up stick and away before +the French get wind of you.”</p> + +<p>“A pig nokket of cold is good,” observed a German.</p> + +<p>“There’s something in wrecks, too,” said Havens. +“Look at that man in Honolulu, and the ship that went +ashore on Waikiki Reef; it was blowing a kona, hard; +and she began to break up as soon as she touched. Lloyd’s +agent had her sold inside an hour; and before dark, when +she went to pieces in earnest, the man that bought her +had feathered his nest. Three more hours of daylight, and +he might have retired from business. As it was, he built +a house on Beretania Street, and called it after the ship.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there’s something in wrecks sometimes,” said +the Glasgow voice; “but not often.”</p> + +<p>“As a general rule, there’s deuced little in anything,” +said Havens.</p> + +<p>“Well, I believe that’s a Christian fact,” cried the +other. “What I want is a secret, get hold of a rich man +by the right place, and make him squeal.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you know it’s not thought to be the +ticket,” returned Havens.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care for that; it’s good enough for me,” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>14</span> +cried the man from Glasgow, stoutly. “The only devil +of it is, a fellow can never find a secret in a place like +the South Seas: only in London and Paris.”</p> + +<p>“M’Gibbon’s been reading some dime novel, I suppose,” +said one club-man.</p> + +<p>“He’s been reading ‘Aurora Floyd,’” remarked +another.</p> + +<p>“And what if I have?” cried M’Gibbon. “It’s all +true. Look at the newspapers! It’s just your confounded +ignorance that sets you snickering. I tell you, it’s as +much a trade as underwriting, and a dashed sight more +honest.”</p> + +<p>The sudden acrimony of these remarks called Loudon +(who was a man of peace) from his reserve. “It’s rather +singular,” said he, “but I seem to have practised about +all these means of livelihood.”</p> + +<p>“Tit you effer find a nokket?” inquired the inarticulate +German, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“No. I have been most kinds of fool in my time,” +returned Loudon, “but not the gold-digging variety. +Every man has a sane spot somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” suggested some one, “did you ever +smuggle opium?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did,” said Loudon.</p> + +<p>“Was there money in that?”</p> + +<p>“All the way,” responded Loudon.</p> + +<p>“And perhaps you bought a wreck?” asked another.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Loudon.</p> + +<p>“How did that pan out?” pursued the questioner.</p> + +<p>“Well, mine was a peculiar kind of wreck,” replied +Loudon. “I don’t know, on the whole, that I can recommend +that branch of industry.”</p> + +<p>“Did she break up?” asked some one.</p> + +<p>“I guess it was rather I that broke down,” says Loudon. +“Head not big enough.”</p> + +<p>“Ever try the blackmail?” inquired Havens.</p> + +<p>“Simple as you see me sitting here!” responded Dodd. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>15</span></p> + +<p>“Good business?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not a lucky man, you see,” returned the +stranger. “It ought to have been good.”</p> + +<p>“You had a secret?” asked the Glasgow man.</p> + +<p>“As big as the State of Texas.”</p> + +<p>“And the other man was rich?”</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t exactly Jay Gould, but I guess he could +buy these islands if he wanted.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what was wrong, then? Couldn’t you get +hands on him?”</p> + +<p>“It took time, but I had him cornered at last; and +then——”</p> + +<p>“What then?”</p> + +<p>“The speculation turned bottom up. I became the +man’s bosom friend.”</p> + +<p>“The deuce you did!”</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t have been particular, you mean?” asked +Dodd pleasantly. “Well, no; he’s a man of rather large +sympathies.”</p> + +<p>“If you’re done talking nonsense, Loudon,” said +Havens, “let’s be getting to my place for dinner.”</p> + +<p>Outside, the night was full of the roaring of the surf. +Scattered lights glowed in the green thicket. Native +women came by twos and threes out of the darkness, +smiled and ogled the two whites, perhaps wooed them +with a strain of laughter, and went by again, bequeathing +to the air a heady perfume of palm-oil and frangipani +blossom. From the club to Mr. Havens’s residence was +but a step or two, and to any dweller in Europe they must +have seemed steps in fairyland. If such an one could but +have followed our two friends into the wide-verandahed +house, sat down with them in the cool trellised room, +where the wine shone on the lamp-lighted tablecloth; +tasted of their exotic food—the raw fish, the bread-fruit, +the cooked bananas, the roast pig served with the inimitable +miti, and that king of delicacies, palm-tree salad; +seen and heard by fits and starts, now peering round the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>16</span> +corner of the door, now railing within against invisible +assistants, a certain comely young native lady in a sacque, +who seemed too modest to be a member of the family, +and too imperious to be less; and then if such an one +were whisked again through space to Upper Tooting, or +wherever else he honoured the domestic gods, “I have +had a dream,” I think he would say, as he sat up, rubbing +his eyes, in the familiar chimney-corner chair, “I have +had a dream of a place, and I declare I believe it must +be heaven.” But to Dodd and his entertainer, all this +amenity of the tropic night, and all these dainties of the +island table, were grown things of custom; and they fell +to meat like men who were hungry, and drifted into idle +talk like men who were a trifle bored.</p> + +<p>The scene in the club was referred to.</p> + +<p>“I never heard you talk so much nonsense, Loudon,” +said the host.</p> + +<p>“Well, it seemed to me there was sulphur in the air, +so I talked for talking,” returned the other. “But it +was none of it nonsense.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say it was true?” cried Havens—“that +about the opium and the wreck, and the black-mailing, +and the man who became your friend?”</p> + +<p>“Every last word of it,” said Loudon.</p> + +<p>“You seem to have been seeing life,” returned the +other.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s a queer yarn,” said his friend; “if you +think you would like, I’ll tell it you.”</p> + +<p>Here follows the yarn of Loudon Dodd, not as he told +it to his friend, but as he subsequently wrote it.</p> + + + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>17</span></p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE YARN</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>18</span></p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>19</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + +<h5>A SOUND COMMERCIAL EDUCATION</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> beginning of this yarn is my poor father’s character. +There never was a better man, nor a handsomer, nor (in +my view) a more unhappy—unhappy in his business, in +his pleasures, in his place of residence, and (I am sorry +to say it) in his son. He had begun life as a land-surveyor, +soon became interested in real estate, branched off into +many other speculations, and had the name of one of the +smartest men in the State of Muskegon. “Dodd has a +big head,” people used to say; but I was never so sure +of his capacity. His luck, at least, was beyond doubt +for long; his assiduity, always. He fought in that daily +battle of money-grubbing, with a kind of sad-eyed loyalty +like a martyr’s; rose early, ate fast, came home dispirited +and over-weary, even from success; grudged himself all +pleasure, if his nature was capable of taking any, which +I sometimes wondered; and laid out, upon some deal in +wheat or corner in aluminium, the essence of which was +little better than highway robbery, treasures of conscientiousness +and self-denial.</p> + +<p>Unluckily, I never cared a cent for anything but art, +and never shall. My idea of man’s chief end was to enrich +the world with things of beauty, and have a fairly good +time myself while doing so. I do not think I mentioned +that second part, which is the only one I have managed +to carry out; but my father must have suspected the +suppression, for he branded the whole affair as self-indulgence.</p> + +<p>“Well,” I remember crying once, “and what is your +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>20</span> +life? You are only trying to get money, and to get it +from other people at that.”</p> + +<p>He sighed bitterly (which was very much his habit), +and shook his poor head at me.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Loudon, Loudon!” said he, “you boys think +yourselves very smart. But, struggle as you please, a +man has to work in this world. He must be an honest +man or a thief, Loudon.”</p> + +<p>You can see for yourself how vain it was to argue with +my father. The despair that seized upon me after such +an interview was, besides, embittered by remorse; for I +was at times petulant, but he invariably gentle; and I +was fighting, after all, for my own liberty and pleasure, +he singly for what he thought to be my good. And all +the time he never despaired. “There is good stuff in +you, Loudon,” he would say; “there is the right stuff +in you. Blood will tell, and you will come right in time. +I am not afraid my boy will ever disgrace me; I am +only vexed he should sometimes talk nonsense.” And then +he would pat my shoulder or my hand with a kind of +motherly way he had, very affecting in a man so strong +and beautiful.</p> + +<p>As soon as I had graduated from the high school, he +packed me off to the Muskegon Commercial Academy. +You are a foreigner, and you will have a difficulty in +accepting the reality of this seat of education. I assure +you before I begin that I am wholly serious. The place +really existed, possibly exists to-day: we were proud of +it in the State, as something exceptionally nineteenth-century +and civilised; and my father, when he saw me +to the cars, no doubt considered he was putting me in a +straight line for the Presidency and the New Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>“Loudon,” said he, “I am now giving you a chance +that Julius Cęsar could not have given to his son—a +chance to see life as it is, before your own turn comes to +start in earnest. Avoid rash speculation, try to behave +like a gentleman; and if you will take my advice, confine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>21</span> +yourself to a safe, conservative business in railroads. +Breadstuffs are tempting, but very dangerous; I would +not try breadstuffs at your time of life; but you may +feel your way a little in other commodities. Take a pride +to keep your books posted, and never throw good money +after bad. There, my dear boy, kiss me good-bye; and +never forget that you are an only chick, and that your +dad watches your career with fond suspense.”</p> + +<p>The commercial college was a fine, roomy establishment, +pleasantly situate among woods. The air was +healthy, the food excellent, the premium high. Electric +wires connected it (to use the words of the prospectus) +with “the various world centres.” The reading-room was +well supplied with “commercial organs.” The talk was +that of Wall Street; and the pupils (from fifty to a hundred +lads) were principally engaged in rooking or trying to rook +one another for nominal sums in what was called “college +paper.” We had class hours, indeed, in the morning, when +we studied German, French, book-keeping, and the like +goodly matters; but the bulk of our day and the gist of +the education centred in the exchange, where we were +taught to gamble in produce and securities. Since not one +of the participants possessed a bushel of wheat or a dollar’s +worth of stock, legitimate business was of course impossible +from the beginning. It was cold-drawn gambling, +without colour or disguise. Just that which is the impediment +and destruction of all genuine commercial enterprise, +just that we were taught with every luxury of stage effect. +Our simulacrum of a market was ruled by the real markets +outside, so that we might experience the course and vicissitude +of prices. We must keep books, and our ledgers +were overhauled at the month’s end by the principal or +his assistants. To add a spice of verisimilitude, “college +paper” (like poker chips) had an actual marketable value. +It was bought for each pupil by anxious parents and +guardians at the rate of one cent for the dollar. The +same pupil, when his education was complete, resold, at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>22</span> +the same figure, so much as was left him to the college; +and even in the midst of his curriculum, a successful +operator would sometimes realise a proportion of his holding, +and stand a supper on the sly in the neighbouring +hamlet. In short, if there was ever a worse education +it must have been in that academy where Oliver met +Charles Bates.</p> + +<p>When I was first guided into the exchange to have +my desk pointed out by one of the assistant teachers, I +was overwhelmed by the clamour and confusion. Certain +blackboards at the other end of the building were covered +with figures continually replaced. As each new set appeared, +the pupils swayed to and fro, and roared out +aloud with a formidable and to me quite meaningless +vociferation; leaping at the same time upon the desks +and benches, signalling with arms and heads, and scribbling +briskly in note-books. I thought I had never beheld +a scene more disagreeable; and when I considered that +the whole traffic was illusory, and all the money then +upon the market would scarce have sufficed to buy a +pair of skates, I was at first astonished, although not for +long. Indeed, I had no sooner called to mind how grown-up +men and women of considerable estate will lose their +temper about halfpenny points, than (making an immediate +allowance for my fellow-students) I transferred the +whole of my astonishment to the assistant teacher, who—poor +gentleman—had quite forgot to show me to my +desk, and stood in the midst of this hurly-burly, absorbed +and seemingly transported.</p> + +<p>“Look, look,” he shouted in my ear; “a falling +market! The bears have had it all their own way since +yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“It can’t matter,” I replied, making him hear with +difficulty, for I was unused to speak in such a babel, +“since it is all fun.”</p> + +<p>“True,” said he; “and you must always bear in +mind that the real profit is in the book-keeping. I trust, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>23</span> +Dodd, to be able to congratulate you upon your books. +You are to start in with ten thousand dollars of college +paper, a very liberal figure, which should see you through +the whole curriculum, if you keep to a safe, conservative +business.... Why, what’s that?” he broke off, once +more attracted by the changing figures on the board. +“Seven, four, three! Dodd, you are in luck: this is the +most spirited rally we have had this term. And to think +that the same scene is now transpiring in New York, +Chicago, St. Louis, and rival business centres! For two +cents, I would try a flutter with the boys myself,” he +cried, rubbing his hands; “only it’s against the regulations.”</p> + +<p>“What would you do, sir?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Do?” he cried, with glittering eyes. “Buy for all +I was worth!”</p> + +<p>“Would that be a safe, conservative business?” I +inquired, as innocent as a lamb.</p> + +<p>He looked daggers at me. “See that sandy-haired +man in glasses?” he asked, as if to change the subject. +“That’s Billson, our most prominent undergraduate. We +build confidently on Billson’s future. You could not do +better, Dodd, than follow Billson.”</p> + +<p>Presently after, in the midst of a still growing tumult, +the figures coming and going more busily than ever on +the board, and the hall resounding like Pandemonium +with the howls of operators, the assistant teacher left me +to my own resources at my desk. The next boy was +posting up his ledger, figuring his morning’s loss, as I +discovered later on; and from this ungenial task he was +readily diverted by the sight of a new face.</p> + +<p>“Say, Freshman,” he said, “what’s your name? +What? Son of Big Head Dodd? What’s your figure? +Ten thousand! O, you’re away up! What a soft-headed +clam you must be to touch your books!”</p> + +<p>I asked him what else I could do, since the books were +to be examined once a month. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>24</span></p> + +<p>“Why, you galoot, you get a clerk!” cries he. “One +of our dead beats—that’s all they’re here for. If you’re +a successful operator, you need never do a stroke of work +in this old college.”</p> + +<p>The noise had now become deafening; and my new +friend, telling me that some one had certainly “gone +down,” that he must know the news, and that he would +bring me a clerk when he returned, buttoned his coat and +plunged into the tossing throng. It proved that he was +right: some one had gone down; a prince had fallen in +Israel; the corner in lard had proved fatal to the mighty; +and the clerk who was brought back to keep my books, +spare me all work, and get all my share of the education, +at a thousand dollars a month, college paper (ten dollars, +United States currency), was no other than the prominent +Billson whom I could do no better than follow. The +poor lad was very unhappy. It’s the only good thing I +have to say for Muskegon Commercial College, that we +were all, even the small fry, deeply mortified to be posted +as defaulters; and the collapse of a merchant prince like +Billson, who had ridden pretty high in his days of prosperity, +was, of course, particularly hard to bear. But the +spirit of make-believe conquered even the bitterness of +recent shame; and my clerk took his orders, and fell to +his new duties, with decorum and civility.</p> + +<p>Such were my first impressions in this absurd place of +education; and, to be frank, they were far from disagreeable. +As long as I was rich, my evenings and afternoons +would be my own; the clerk must keep my books, the +clerk could do the jostling and bawling in the exchange; +and I could turn my mind to landscape-painting and +Balzac’s novels, which were then my two pre-occupations. +To remain rich, then, became my problem; or, in other +words, to do a safe, conservative line of business. I am +looking for that line still; and I believe the nearest thing +to it in this imperfect world is the sort of speculation +sometimes insidiously proposed to childhood, in the formula, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>25</span> +“Heads I win; tails you lose.” Mindful of my father’s +parting words, I turned my attention timidly to railroads; +and for a month or so maintained a position of inglorious +security, dealing for small amounts in the most inert +stocks, and bearing (as best I could) the scorn of my +hired clerk. One day I ventured a little further by way +of experiment; and, in the sure expectation they would +continue to go down, sold several thousand dollars of +Pan-Handle Preference (I think it was). I had no sooner +made this venture than some fools in New York began +to bull the market; Pan-Handles rose like a balloon; +and in the inside of half an hour I saw my position compromised. +Blood will tell, as my father said; and I +stuck to it gallantly: all afternoon I continued selling +that infernal stock, all afternoon it continued skying. +I suppose I had come (a frail cockle-shell) athwart the +hawse of Jay Gould; and, indeed, I think I remember +that this vagary in the market proved subsequently to +be the first move in a considerable deal. That evening, +at least, the name of H. Loudon Dodd held the first rank in +our collegiate gazette, and I and Billson (once more thrown +upon the world) were competing for the same clerkship. +The present object takes the present eye. My disaster, +for the moment, was the more conspicuous; and it was +I that got the situation. So, you see, even in Muskegon +Commercial College there were lessons to be learned.</p> + +<p>For my own part, I cared very little whether I lost +or won at a game so random, so complex, and so dull; +but it was sorry news to write to my poor father, and I +employed all the resources of my eloquence. I told him +(what was the truth) that the successful boys had none +of the education; so that, if he wished me to learn, he +should rejoice at my misfortune. I went on (not very +consistently) to beg him to set me up again, when I would +solemnly promise to do a safe business in reliable railroads. +Lastly (becoming somewhat carried away), I +assured him I was totally unfit for business, and implored +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>26</span> +him to take me away from this abominable place, and +let me go to Paris to study art. He answered briefly, +gently, and sadly, telling me the vacation was near at +hand, when we could talk things over.</p> + +<p>When the time came, he met me at the depot, and +I was shocked to see him looking older. He seemed to +have no thought but to console me and restore (what he +supposed I had lost) my courage. I must not be down-hearted; +many of the best men had made a failure in +the beginning. I told him I had no head for business, +and his kind face darkened. “You must not say that, +Loudon,” he replied; “I will never believe my son to +be a coward.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t like it,” I pleaded. “It hasn’t got any +interest for me, and art has. I know I could do more +in art,” and I reminded him that a successful painter +gains large sums; that a picture of Meissonier’s would +sell for many thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>“And do you think, Loudon,” he replied, “that a +man who can paint a thousand-dollar picture has not grit +enough to keep his end up in the stock market? No, +sir; this Mason (of whom you speak) or our own American +Bierstadt—if you were to put them down in a wheat-pit +to-morrow, they would show their mettle. Come, Loudon, +my dear; Heaven knows I have no thought but your +own good, and I will offer you a bargain. I start you +again next term with ten thousand dollars; show yourself +a man, and double it, and then (if you still wish to +go to Paris, which I know you won’t) I’ll let you go. But +to let you run away as if you were whipped, is what I am +too proud to do.”</p> + +<p>My heart leaped at this proposal, and then sank again. +It seemed easier to paint a Meissonier on the spot than +to win ten thousand dollars on that mimic stock exchange. +Nor could I help reflecting on the singularity of such a +test for a man’s capacity to be a painter. I ventured even +to comment on this. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>27</span></p> + +<p>He sighed deeply. “You forget, my dear,” said he, +“I am a judge of the one, and not of the other. You +might have the genius of Bierstadt himself, and I would +be none the wiser.”</p> + +<p>“And then,” I continued, “it’s scarcely fair. The +other boys are helped by their people, who telegraph and +give them pointers. There’s Jim Costello, who never +budges without a word from his father in New York. +And then, don’t you see, if anybody is to win, somebody +must lose?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll keep you posted,” cried my father, with unusual +animation; “I did not know it was allowed. I’ll wire +you in the office cipher, and we’ll make it a kind of partnership +business, Loudon:—Dodd and Son, eh?” and he +patted my shoulder and repeated, “Dodd and Son, Dodd +and Son,” with the kindliest amusement.</p> + +<p>If my father was to give me pointers, and the commercial +college was to be a stepping-stone to Paris, I could +look my future in the face. The old boy, too, was so +pleased at the idea of our association in this foolery, that +he immediately plucked up spirit. Thus it befell that +those who had met at the depot like a pair of mutes, sat +down to table with holiday faces.</p> + +<p>And now I have to introduce a new character that +never said a word nor wagged a finger, and yet shaped +my whole subsequent career. You have crossed the +States, so that in all likelihood you have seen the head +of it, parcel-gilt and curiously fluted, rising among trees +from a wide plain; for this new character was no other +than the State capitol of Muskegon, then first projected. +My father had embraced the idea with a mixture of patriotism +and commercial greed, both perfectly genuine. He +was of all the committees, he had subscribed a great deal +of money, and he was making arrangements to have a +finger in most of the contracts. Competitive plans had +been sent in; at the time of my return from college my +father was deep in their consideration; and as the idea +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>28</span> +entirely occupied his mind, the first evening did not pass +away before he had called me into council. Here was a +subject at last into which I could throw myself with +pleasurable zeal. Architecture was new to me, indeed; +but it was at least an art; and for all the arts I had a +taste naturally classical, and that capacity to take delighted +pains which some famous idiot has supposed to +be synonymous with genius. I threw myself headlong +into my father’s work, acquainted myself with all the +plans, their merits and defects, read besides in special +books, made myself a master of the theory of strains, +studied the current prices of materials, and (in one word) +“devilled” the whole business so thoroughly, that when +the plans came up for consideration, Big Head Dodd was +supposed to have earned fresh laurels. His arguments +carried the day, his choice was approved by the committee, +and I had the anonymous satisfaction to know that arguments +and choice were wholly mine. In the re-casting of +the plan which followed, my part was even larger; for +I designed and cast with my own hand a hot-air grating +for the offices, which had the luck or merit to be accepted. +The energy and aptitude which I displayed throughout +delighted and surprised my father, and I believe, although +I say it, whose tongue should be tied, that they alone +prevented Muskegon capitol from being the eyesore of my +native State.</p> + +<p>Altogether, I was in a cheery frame of mind when I +returned to the commercial college; and my earlier operations +were crowned with a full measure of success. My +father wrote and wired to me continually. “You are to +exercise your own judgment, Loudon,” he would say. +“All that I do is to give you the figures; but whatever +operation you take up must be upon your own responsibility, +and whatever you earn will be entirely due to your +own dash and forethought.” For all that, it was always +clear what he intended me to do, and I was always careful +to do it. Inside of a month I was at the head of seventeen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>29</span> +or eighteen thousand dollars, college paper. And here I +fell a victim to one of the vices of the system. The paper +(I have already explained) had a real value of one per +cent.; and cost, and could be sold for, currency. Unsuccessful +speculators were thus always selling clothes, books, +banjos, and sleeve-links, in order to pay their differences; +the successful, on the other hand, were often tempted to +realise, and enjoy some return upon their profits. Now +I wanted thirty dollars’ worth of artist truck, for I was +always sketching in the woods; my allowance was for +the time exhausted; I had begun to regard the exchange +(with my father’s help) as a place where money was to +be got for stooping; and in an evil hour I realised three +thousand dollars of the college paper and bought my +easel.</p> + +<p>It was a Wednesday morning when the things arrived, +and set me in the seventh heaven of satisfaction. My +father (for I can scarcely say myself) was trying at this +time a “straddle” in wheat between Chicago and New +York; the operation so called, is, as you know, one of +the most tempting and least safe upon the chess-board +of finance. On the Thursday, luck began to turn against +my father’s calculations; and by the Friday evening I +was posted on the boards as a defaulter for the second +time. Here was a rude blow: my father would have taken +it ill enough in any case; for however much a man may +resent the incapacity of an only son, he will feel his own +more sensibly. But it chanced that, in our bitter cup of +failure, there was one ingredient that might truly be +called poisonous. He had been keeping the run of my +position; he missed the three thousand dollars, paper; +and in his view, I had stolen thirty dollars, currency. It +was an extreme view perhaps; but in some senses, it was +just: and my father, although (to my judgment) quite +reckless of honesty in the essence of his operations, was +the soul of honour as to their details. I had one grieved +letter from him, dignified and tender; and during the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>30</span> +rest of that wretched term, working as a clerk, selling my +clothes and sketches to make futile speculations, my +dream of Paris quite vanished. I was cheered by no word +of kindness and helped by no hint of counsel from my +father.</p> + +<p>All the time he was no doubt thinking of little else +but his son, and what to do with him. I believe he had +been really appalled by what he regarded as my laxity +of principle, and began to think it might be well to preserve +me from temptation; the architect of the capitol had, +besides, spoken obligingly of my design; and while he +was thus hanging between two minds, Fortune suddenly +stepped in, and Muskegon State capitol reversed my +destiny.</p> + +<p>“Loudon,” said my father, as he met me at the depot, +with a smiling countenance, “if you were to go to Paris, +how long would it take you to become an experienced +sculptor?”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean, father,” I cried—“experienced?”</p> + +<p>“A man that could be entrusted with the highest +styles,” he answered; “the nude, for instance; and the +patriotic and emblematical styles.”</p> + +<p>“It might take three years,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“You think Paris necessary?” he asked. “There +are great advantages in our own country; and that man +Prodgers appears to be a very clever sculptor, though +I suppose he stands too high to go around giving lessons.”</p> + +<p>“Paris is the only place,” I assured him.</p> + +<p>“Well, I think myself it will sound better,” he admitted. +“A Young Man, a Native of this State, Son of a Leading +Citizen, Studies Prosecuted under the Most Experienced +Masters in Paris,” he added relishingly.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear dad, what is it all about?” I interrupted. +“I never even dreamed of being a sculptor.”</p> + +<p>“Well, here it is,” said he. “I took up the statuary +contract on our new capitol; I took it up at first as a +deal; and then it occurred to me it would be better to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>31</span> +keep it in the family. It meets your idea; there’s considerable +money in the thing; and it’s patriotic. So, if +you say the word, you shall go to Paris, and come back +in three years to decorate the capitol of your native State. +It’s a big chance for you, Loudon; and I’ll tell you what—every +dollar you earn, I’ll put another alongside of it. +But the sooner you go, and the harder you work, the +better; for if the first half-dozen statues aren’t in a line +with public taste in Muskegon, there will be trouble.”</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>32</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h5>ROUSSILLON WINE</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">My</span> mother’s family was Scottish, and it was judged fitting +I should pay a visit, on my way Paris-ward, to my uncle +Adam Loudon, a wealthy retired grocer of Edinburgh. +He was very stiff and very ironical; he fed me well, lodged +me sumptuously, and seemed to take it out of me all the +time, cent. per cent., in secret entertainment which caused +his spectacles to glitter and his mouth to twitch. The +ground of this ill-suppressed mirth (as well as I could +make out) was simply the fact that I was an American. +“Well,” he would say, drawing out the word to infinity, +“and I suppose now in your country things will be so-and-so.” +And the whole group of my cousins would titter +joyously. Repeated receptions of this sort must be at the +root, I suppose, of what they call the Great American Jest; +and I know I was myself goaded into saying that my +friends went naked in the summer months, and that the +Second Methodist Episcopal Church in Muskegon was +decorated with scalps. I cannot say that these flights +had any great success; they seemed to awaken little more +surprise than the fact that my father was a Republican, +or that I had been taught in school to spell <i>colour</i> without +the <i>u</i>. If I had told them (what was, after all, the truth) +that my father had paid a considerable annual sum to +have me brought up in a gambling-hell, the tittering and +grinning of this dreadful family might perhaps have been +excused.</p> + +<p>I cannot deny but I was sometimes tempted to knock +my uncle Adam down; and indeed I believe it must have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>33</span> +come to a rupture at last, if they had not given a dinner +party at which I was the lion. On this occasion I learned +(to my surprise and relief) that the incivility to which I +had been subjected was a matter for the family circle, +and might be regarded almost in the light of an endearment. +To strangers I was presented with consideration; +and the account given of “my American brother-in-law, +poor Janie’s man, James K. Dodd, the well-known millionaire +of Muskegon,” was calculated to enlarge the heart +of a proud son.</p> + +<p>An aged assistant of my grandfather’s, a pleasant, +humble creature with a taste for whisky, was at first +deputed to be my guide about the city. With this harmless +but hardly aristocratic companion I went to Arthur’s +Seat and the Calton Hill, heard the band play in Princes +Street Gardens, inspected the regalia and the blood of +Rizzio, and fell in love with the great castle on its cliff, +the innumerable spires of churches, the stately buildings, +the broad prospects, and those narrow and crowded lanes +of the old town where my ancestors had lived and died +in the days before Columbus.</p> + +<p>But there was another curiosity that interested me +more deeply—my grandfather, Alexander Loudon. In his +time the old gentleman had been a working mason, and +had risen from the ranks—more, I think, by shrewdness +than by merit. In his appearance, speech, and manners, +he bore broad marks of his origin, which were gall and +wormwood to my uncle Adam. His nails, in spite of +anxious supervision, were often in conspicuous mourning; +his clothes hung about him in bags and wrinkles, like a +ploughman’s Sunday coat; his accent was rude, broad, +and dragging. Take him at his best, and even when he +could be induced to hold his tongue, his mere presence +in a corner of the drawing-room, with his open-air wrinkles, +his scanty hair, his battered hands, and the cheerful +craftiness of his expression, advertised the whole gang of +us for a self-made family. My aunt might mince and my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>34</span> +cousins bridle, but there was no getting over the solid, +physical fact of the stonemason in the chimney-corner.</p> + +<p>That is one advantage of being an American. It never +occurred to me to be ashamed of my grandfather, and +the old gentleman was quick to mark the difference. He +held my mother in tender memory, perhaps because he +was in the habit of daily contrasting her with uncle Adam, +whom he detested to the point of frenzy; and he set +down to inheritance from his favourite my own becoming +treatment of himself. On our walks abroad, which soon +became daily, he would sometimes (after duly warning +me to keep the matter dark from “Aadam”) skulk into +some old familiar pot-house, and there (if he had the luck +to encounter any of his veteran cronies) he would present +me to the company with manifest pride, casting at the +same time a covert slur on the rest of his descendants. +“This is my Jeannie’s yin,” he would say. “He’s a fine +fallow, him,” The purpose of our excursions was not to +seek antiquities or to enjoy famous prospects, but to +visit one after another a series of doleful suburbs, for +which it was the old gentleman’s chief claim to renown +that he had been the sole contractor, and too often the +architect besides. I have rarely seen a more shocking +exhibition: the brick seemed to be blushing in the walls, +and the slates on the roof to have turned pale with shame; +but I was careful not to communicate these impressions to +the aged artificer at my side; and when he would direct +my attention to some fresh monstrosity—perhaps with the +comment, “There’s an idee of mine’s; it’s cheap and +tasty, and had a graand run; the idee was soon stole, +and there’s whole deestricts near Glesgie with the goathic +addeetion and that plunth,” I would civilly make haste +to admire and (what I found particularly delighted him) +to inquire into the cost of each adornment. It will be +conceived that Muskegon capitol was a frequent and a +welcome ground of talk. I drew him all the plans from +memory; and he, with the aid of a narrow volume full +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>35</span> +of figures and tables, which answered (I believe) to the +name of Molesworth, and was his constant pocket-companion, +would draw up rough estimates and make imaginary +offers on the various contracts. Our Muskegon +builders he pronounced a pack of cormorants; and the +congenial subject, together with my knowledge of architectural +terms, the theory of strains, and the prices of +materials in the States, formed a strong bond of union +between what might have been otherwise an ill-assorted +pair, and led my grandfather to pronounce me, with +emphasis, “a real intalligent kind of a chield.” Thus a +second time, as you will presently see, the capitol of my +native State had influentially affected the current of my +life.</p> + +<p>I left Edinburgh, however, with not the least idea +that I had done a stroke of excellent business for myself, +and singly delighted to escape out of a somewhat dreary +house and plunge instead into the rainbow city of Paris. +Every man has his own romance; mine clustered exclusively +about the practice of the arts, the life of Latin +Quarter students, and the world of Paris as depicted by +that grimy wizard, the author of the <i>Comédie Humaine</i>. +I was not disappointed—I could not have been; for I did +not see the facts, I brought them with me ready-made. +Z. Marcas lived next door to me in my ungainly, ill-smelling +hotel of the Rue Racine; I dined at my villainous restaurant +with Lousteau and with Rastignac: if a curricle +nearly ran me down at a street-crossing, Maxime de Trailles +would be the driver. I dined, I say, at a poor restaurant +and lived in a poor hotel; and this was not from need, +but sentiment. My father gave me a profuse allowance, +and I might have lived (had I chosen) in the Quartier de +l’Étoile and driven to my studies daily. Had I done so, +the glamour must have fled: I should still have been but +Loudon Dodd; whereas now I was a Latin Quarter +student, Murger’s successor, living in flesh and blood the +life of one of those romances I had loved to read, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>36</span> +re-read, and to dream over, among the woods of +Muskegon.</p> + +<p>At this time we were all a little Murger-mad in the +Latin Quarter. The play of the <i>Vie de Bohčme</i> (a dreary, +snivelling piece) had been produced at the Odéon, had +run an unconscionable time—for Paris—and revived the +freshness of the legend. The same business, you may say, +or there and thereabout, was being privately enacted in +consequence in every garret of the neighbourhood, and a +good third of the students were consciously impersonating +Rodolphe or Schaunard, to their own incommunicable +satisfaction. Some of us went far, and some farther. I +always looked with awful envy (for instance) on a certain +countryman of my own who had a studio in the Rue +Monsieur le Prince, wore boots, and long hair in a net, +and could be seen tramping off, in this guise, to the worst +eating-house of the quarter, followed by a Corsican model, +his mistress, in the conspicuous costume of her race and +calling. It takes some greatness of soul to carry even +folly to such heights as these; and for my own part, I +had to content myself by pretending very arduously to +be poor, by wearing a smoking-cap on the streets, and by +pursuing, through a series of misadventures, that extinct +mammal the grisette. The most grievous part was the +eating and the drinking. I was born with a dainty tooth +and a palate for wine; and only a genuine devotion to +romance could have supported me under the cat-civets +that I had to swallow, and the red ink of Bercy I must +wash them down withal. Every now and again, after a +hard day at the studio, where I was steadily and far from +unsuccessfully industrious, a wave of distaste would overbear +me; I would slink away from my haunts and companions, +indemnify myself for weeks of self-denial with +fine wines and dainty dishes; seated perhaps on a terrace, +perhaps in an arbour in a garden, with a volume of one +of my favourite authors propped open in front of me, and +now consulted a while, and now forgotten: so remain, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>37</span> +relishing my situation, till night fell and the lights of the +city kindled; and thence stroll homeward by the riverside, +under the moon or stars, in a heaven of poetry and +digestion.</p> + +<p>One such indulgence led me in the course of my second +year into an adventure which I must relate: indeed, it +is the very point I have been aiming for, since that was +what brought me in acquaintance with Jim Pinkerton. +I sat down alone to dinner one October day when the +rusty leaves were falling and scuttling on the boulevard, +and the minds of impressionable men inclined in about +an equal degree towards sadness and conviviality. The +restaurant was no great place, but boasted a considerable +cellar and a long printed list of vintages. This I was +perusing with the double zest of a man who is fond of wine +and a lover of beautiful names, when my eye fell (near +the end of the card) on that not very famous or familiar +brand, Roussillon. I remembered it was a wine I had +never tasted, ordered a bottle, found it excellent, and +when I had discussed the contents, called (according to +my habit) for a final pint. It appears they did not keep +Roussillon in half-bottles. “All right,” said I, “another +bottle.” The tables at this eating-house are close together; +and the next thing I can remember, I was in somewhat +loud conversation with my nearest neighbours. From +these I must have gradually extended my attentions; for +I have a clear recollection of gazing about a room in +which every chair was half turned round and every face +turned smilingly to mine. I can even remember what I +was saying at the moment; but after twenty years the +embers of shame are still alive, and I prefer to give your +imagination the cue by simply mentioning that my muse +was the patriotic. It had been my design to adjourn for +coffee in the company of some of these new friends; but +I was no sooner on the side-walk than I found myself unaccountably +alone. The circumstance scarce surprised me +at the time, much less now; but I was somewhat chagrined +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>38</span> +a little after to find I had walked into a kiosque. I began +to wonder if I were any the worse for my last bottle, and +decided to steady myself with coffee and brandy. In the +Café de la Source, where I went for this restorative, the +fountain was playing, and (what greatly surprised me) +the mill and the various mechanical figures on the rockery +appeared to have been freshly repaired, and performed +the most enchanting antics. The café was extraordinarily +hot and bright, with every detail of a conspicuous clearness—from +the faces of the guests, to the type of the +newspapers on the tables—and the whole apartment swang +to and fro like a hammock, with an exhilarating motion. +For some while I was so extremely pleased with these particulars +that I thought I could never be weary of beholding +them: then dropped of a sudden into a causeless sadness; +and then, with the same swiftness and spontaneity, arrived +at the conclusion that I was drunk and had better get to +bed.</p> + +<p>It was but a step or two to my hotel, where I got +my lighted candle from the porter, and mounted the four +flights to my own room. Although I could not deny that +I was drunk, I was at the same time lucidly rational and +practical. I had but one pre-occupation—to be up in +time on the morrow for my work; and when I observed +the clock on my chimney-piece to have stopped, I decided +to go downstairs again and give directions to the porter. +Leaving the candle burning and my door open, to be a +guide to me on my return, I set forth accordingly. The +house was quite dark; but as there were only the three +doors on each landing, it was impossible to wander, and +I had nothing to do but descend the stairs until I saw +the glimmer of the porter’s night-light. I counted four +flights: no porter. It was possible, of course, that I had +reckoned incorrectly; so I went down another and another, +and another, still counting as I went, until I had reached +the preposterous figure of nine flights. It was now quite +clear that I had somehow passed the porter’s lodge without +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>39</span> +remarking it; indeed, I was, at the lowest figure, five +pairs of stairs below the street, and plunged in the very +bowels of the earth. That my hotel should thus be founded +upon catacombs was a discovery of considerable interest; +and if I had not been in a frame of mind entirely business-like, +I might have continued to explore all night this +subterranean empire. But I was bound I must be up +betimes on the next morning, and for that end it was +imperative that I should find the porter. I faced about +accordingly, and counting with painful care, remounted +towards the level of the street. Five, six, and seven flights +I climbed, and still there was no porter. I began to be +weary of the job, and reflecting that I was now close to +my own room, decided I should go to bed. Eight, nine, +ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen flights I mounted; and my +open door seemed to be as wholly lost to me as the porter +and his floating dip. I remembered that the house stood +but six stories at its highest point, from which it appeared +(on the most moderate computation) I was now three +stories higher than the roof. My original sense of amusement +was succeeded by a not unnatural irritation. “My +room has just <i>got</i> to be here,” said I, and I stepped towards +the door with outspread arms. There was no door and no +wall; in place of either there yawned before me a dark +corridor, in which I continued to advance for some time +without encountering the smallest opposition. And this +in a house whose extreme area scantily contained three +small rooms, a narrow landing, and the stair! The thing +was manifestly nonsense; and you will scarcely be surprised +to learn that I now began to lose my temper. At +this juncture I perceived a filtering of light along the +floor, stretched forth my hand, which encountered the +knob of a door-handle, and without further ceremony +entered a room. A young lady was within: she was +going to bed, and her toilet was far advanced—or the +other way about, if you prefer.</p> + +<p>“I hope you will pardon this intrusion,” said I; “but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>40</span> +my room is No. 12, and something has gone wrong with +this blamed house.”</p> + +<p>She looked at me a moment; and then, “If you will +step outside for a moment, I will take you there,” says +she.</p> + +<p>Thus, with perfect composure on both sides, the matter +was arranged. I waited a while outside her door. Presently +she rejoined me, in a dressing-gown, took my hand, led +me up another flight, which made the fourth above the +level of the roof, and shut me into my own room, where +(being quite weary after these contra-ordinary explorations) +I turned in and slumbered like a child.</p> + +<p>I tell you the thing calmly, as it appeared to me to +pass; but the next day, when I awoke and put memory +in the witness-box, I could not conceal from myself that +the tale presented a good many improbable features. +I had no mind for the studio, after all, and went instead +to the Luxembourg gardens, there, among the sparrows +and the statues and the fallen leaves, to cool and clear +my head. It is a garden I have always loved. You sit +there in a public place of history and fiction. Barras and +Fouché have looked from these windows. Lousteau and +De Banville (one as real as the other) have rhymed upon +these benches. The city tramples by without the railings +to a lively measure; and within and about you, trees +rustle, children and sparrows utter their small cries, and +the statues look on for ever. Here, then, in a seat opposite +the gallery entrance, I set to work on the events of the +last night, to disengage (if it were possible) truth from +fiction.</p> + +<p>The house, by daylight, had proved to be six stories +high, the same as ever. I could find, with all my architectural +experience, no room in its altitude for those interminable +stairways, no width between its walls for that +long corridor, where I had tramped at night. And there +was yet a greater difficulty. I had read somewhere an +aphorism that everything may be false to itself save human +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>41</span> +nature. A house might elongate or enlarge itself—or seem +to do so to a gentleman who had been dining. The ocean +might dry up, the rocks melt in the sun, the stars fall +from heaven like autumn apples; and there was nothing +in these incidents to boggle the philosopher. But the case +of the young lady stood upon a different foundation. +Girls were not good enough, or not good that way, or +else they were too good. I was ready to accept any of +these views: all pointed to the same conclusion, which +I was thus already on the point of reaching, when a fresh +argument occurred, and instantly confirmed it. I could +remember the exact words we had each said; and I had +spoken, and she had replied, in English. Plainly, then, +the whole affair was an illusion: catacombs, and stairs, +and charitable lady, all were equally the stuff of dreams.</p> + +<p>I had just come to this determination, when there +blew a flaw of wind through the autumnal gardens; the +dead leaves showered down, and a flight of sparrows, thick +as a snowfall, wheeled above my head with sudden pipings. +This agreeable bustle was the affair of a moment, but it +startled me from the abstraction into which I had fallen +like a summons. I sat briskly up, and as I did so my +eyes rested on the figure of a lady in a brown jacket and +carrying a paint-box. By her side walked a fellow some +years older than myself, with an easel under his arm; and +alike by their course and cargo I might judge they were +bound for the gallery, where the lady was, doubtless, +engaged upon some copying. You can imagine my surprise +when I recognised in her the heroine of my adventure. +To put the matter beyond question, our eyes met, and +she, seeing herself remembered, and recalling the trim in +which I had last beheld her, looked swiftly on the ground +with just a shadow of confusion.</p> + +<p>I could not tell you to-day if she were plain or pretty; +but she had behaved with so much good sense, and I had +cut so poor a figure in her presence, that I became instantly +fired with the desire to display myself in a more favourable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>42</span> +light. The young man, besides, was possibly her brother; +brothers are apt to be hasty, theirs being a part in which +it is possible, at a comparatively early age, to assume the +dignity of manhood; and it occurred to me it might be +wise to forestall all possible complications by an apology.</p> + +<p>On this reasoning I drew near to the gallery door, and +had hardly got in position before the young man came +out. Thus it was that I came face to face with my third +destiny, for my career has been entirely shaped by these +three elements—my father, the capitol of Muskegon, and +my friend Jim Pinkerton. As for the young lady, with +whom my mind was at the moment chiefly occupied, I was +never to hear more of her from that day forward—an +excellent example of the Blind Man’s Buff that we call +life.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>43</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h5>TO INTRODUCE MR. PINKERTON</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> stranger, I have said, was some years older than myself: +a man of a good stature, a very lively face, cordial, +agitated manners, and a grey eye as active as a fowl’s.</p> + +<p>“May I have a word with you?” said I.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” he replied, “I don’t know what it +can be about, but you may have a hundred if you like.”</p> + +<p>“You have just left the side of a young lady,” I continued, +“towards whom I was led (very unintentionally) +into the appearance of an offence. To speak to herself +would be only to renew her embarrassment, and I seize +the occasion of making my apology, and declaring my +respect, to one of my own sex who is her friend, and perhaps,” +I added, with a bow, “her natural protector.”</p> + +<p>“You are a countryman of mine; I know it!” he +cried: “I am sure of it by your delicacy to a lady. You +do her no more than justice. I was introduced to her +the other night at tea, in the apartment of some people, +friends of mine; and meeting her again this morning, +I could not do less than carry her easel for her. My dear +sir, what is your name?”</p> + +<p>I was disappointed to find he had so little bond with +my young lady; and but that it was I who had sought +the acquaintance, might have been tempted to retreat. +At the same time something in the stranger’s eye engaged +me.</p> + +<p>“My name,” said I, “is Loudon Dodd; I am a student +of sculpture here from Muskegon.”</p> + +<p>“Of sculpture?” he cried, as though that would have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>44</span> +been his last conjecture. “Mine is James Pinkerton; I +am delighted to have the pleasure of your acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“Pinkerton!” it was now my turn to exclaim. “Are +you Broken-Stool Pinkerton?”</p> + +<p>He admitted his identity with a laugh of boyish delight; +and indeed any young man in the quarter might have +been proud to own a sobriquet thus gallantly acquired.</p> + +<p>In order to explain the name, I must here digress into +a chapter of the history of manners in the nineteenth +century, very well worth commemoration for its own sake. +In some of the studios at that date, the hazing of new +pupils was both barbarous and obscene. Two incidents, +following one on the heels of the other, tended to produce +an advance in civilisation by the means (as so commonly +happens) of a passing appeal to savage standards. The +first was the arrival of a little gentleman from Armenia. +He had a fez upon his head and (what nobody counted +on) a dagger in his pocket. The hazing was set about in +the customary style, and, perhaps in virtue of the victim’s +head-gear, even more boisterously than usual. He bore +it at first with an inviting patience; but upon one of the +students proceeding to an unpardonable freedom, plucked +out his knife and suddenly plunged it in the belly of the +jester. This gentleman, I am pleased to say, passed +months upon a bed of sickness before he was in a position +to resume his studies. The second incident was that +which had earned Pinkerton his reputation. In a crowded +studio, while some very filthy brutalities were being practised +on a trembling <i>débutant</i>, a tall pale fellow sprang +from his stool and (without the smallest preface or explanation) +sang out, “All English and Americans to clear +the shop!” Our race is brutal, but not filthy; and the +summons was nobly responded to. Every Anglo-Saxon +student seized his stool; in a moment the studio was full +of bloody coxcombs, the French fleeing in disorder for +the door, the victim liberated and amazed. In this feat +of arms, both English-speaking nations covered themselves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>45</span> +with glory; but I am proud to claim the author of the +whole for an American, and a patriotic American at that, +being the same gentleman who had subsequently to be +held down in the bottom of a box during a performance +of <i>L’Oncle Sam</i>, sobbing at intervals, “My country! O my +country!” while yet another (my new acquaintance, +Pinkerton) was supposed to have made the most conspicuous +figure in the actual battle. At one blow he had +broken his own stool, and sent the largest of his opponents +back foremost through what we used to call a “conscientious +nude.” It appears that, in the continuation of his +flight, this fallen warrior issued on the boulevard still +framed in the burst canvas.</p> + +<p>It will be understood how much talk the incident +aroused in the students’ quarter, and that I was highly +gratified to make the acquaintance of my famous countryman. +It chanced I was to see more of the Quixotic side +of his character before the morning was done; for, as we +continued to stroll together, I found myself near the studio +of a young Frenchman whose work I had promised to +examine, and in the fashion of the quarter carried up +Pinkerton along with me. Some of my comrades of this +date were pretty obnoxious fellows. I could almost always +admire and respect the grown-up practitioners of art in +Paris; but many of those who were still in a state of +pupilage were sorry specimens—so much so that I used +often to wonder where the painters came from, and where +the brutes of students went to. A similar mystery hangs +over the intermediate stages of the medical profession, and +must have perplexed the least observant. The ruffian, at +least, whom I now carried Pinkerton to visit, was one of +the most crapulous in the quarter. He turned out for our +delectation a huge “crust” (as we used to call it) of St. +Stephen, wallowing in red upon his belly in an exhausted +receiver, and a crowd of Hebrews in blue, green, and +yellow, pelting him—apparently with buns; and while we +gazed upon this contrivance, regaled us with a piece of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>46</span> +his own recent biography, of which his mind was still very +full, and which, he seemed to fancy, represented him in +an heroic posture. I was one of those cosmopolitan +Americans who accept the world (whether at home or +abroad) as they find it, and whose favourite part is that +of the spectator; yet even I was listening with ill-suppressed +disgust, when I was aware of a violent plucking +at my sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Is he saying he kicked her downstairs?” asked +Pinkerton, white as St. Stephen.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said I: “his discarded mistress; and then he +pelted her with stones. I suppose that’s what gave him +the idea for his picture. He has just been alleging the +pathetic excuse that she was old enough to be his mother.”</p> + +<p>Something like a sob broke from Pinkerton. “Tell +him,” he gasped—“I can’t speak this language, though +I understand a little; I never had any proper education—tell +him I am going to punch his head.”</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake do nothing of the sort!” I cried; +“they don’t understand that sort of thing here”; and +I tried to bundle him out.</p> + +<p>“Tell him first what we think of him,” he objected. +“Let me tell him what he looks in the eyes of a pure-minded +American.”</p> + +<p>“Leave that to me,” said I, thrusting Pinkerton clear +through the door.</p> + +<p>“<i>Qu’est-ce qu’il a</i>?”<a name="FnAnchor_1" href="#Footnote_1"><span class="sp">1</span></a> inquired the student.</p> + +<p>“<i>Monsieur se sent mal au cœur d’avoir trop regardé +votre croūte</i>,”<a name="FnAnchor_2" href="#Footnote_2"><span class="sp">2</span></a> said I, and made my escape, scarce with +dignity, at Pinkerton’s heels.</p> + +<p>“What did you say to him?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“The only thing that he could feel,” was my reply.</p> + +<p>After this scene, the freedom with which I had ejected +my new acquaintance, and the precipitation with which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>47</span> +I had followed him, the least I could do was to propose +luncheon. I have forgot the name of the place to which +I led him, nothing loath; it was on the far side of the +Luxembourg at least, with a garden behind, where we +were speedily set face to face at table, and began to dig +into each other’s history and character, like terriers after +rabbits, according to the approved fashion of youth.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton’s parents were from the Old Country; there, +too, I incidentally gathered, he had himself been born, +though it was a circumstance he seemed prone to forget. +Whether he had run away, or his father had turned him +out, I never fathomed; but about the age of twelve he +was thrown upon his own resources. A travelling tin-type +photographer picked him up, like a haw out of a hedgerow, +on a wayside in New Jersey; took a fancy to the +urchin; carried him on with him in his wandering life; +taught him all he knew himself—to take tin-types (as well +as I can make out) and doubt the Scriptures; and died +at last in Ohio at the corner of a road. “He was a grand +specimen,” cried Pinkerton; “I wish you could have seen +him, Mr. Dodd. He had an appearance of magnanimity +that used to remind me of the patriarchs.” On the death +of this random protector, the boy inherited the plant and +continued the business. “It was a life I could have +chosen, Mr. Dodd!” he cried. “I have been in all the +finest scenes of that magnificent continent that we were +born to be the heirs of. I wish you could see my collection +of tin-types; I wish I had them here. They were +taken for my own pleasure, and to be a memento: and +they show Nature in her grandest as well as her gentlest +moments.” As he tramped the Western States and Territories, +taking tin-types, the boy was continually getting +hold of books, good, bad, and indifferent, popular and +abstruse, from the novels of Sylvanus Cobb to Euclid’s +Elements, both of which I found (to my almost equal +wonder) he had managed to peruse: he was taking stock +by the way, of the people, the products, and the country, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>48</span> +with an eye unusually observant and a memory unusually +retentive; and he was collecting for himself a body of +magnanimous and semi-intellectual nonsense, which he +supposed to be the natural thoughts and to contain the +whole duty of the born American. To be pure-minded, +to be patriotic, to get culture and money with both hands +and with the same irrational fervour—these appeared to +be the chief articles of his creed. In later days (not of +course upon this first occasion) I would sometimes ask +him why; and he had his answer pat. “To build up +the type!” he would cry. “We’re all committed to that; +we’re all under bond to fulfil the American Type! Loudon, +the hope of the world is there. If we fail, like these old +feudal monarchies, what is left?”</p> + +<p>The trade of a tin-typer proved too narrow for the +lad’s ambition; it was insusceptible of expansion, he +explained; it was not truly modern; and by a sudden +conversion of front he became a railroad-scalper. The +principles of this trade I never clearly understood; but +its essence appears to be to cheat the railroads out of +their due fare. “I threw my whole soul into it; I grudged +myself food and sleep while I was at it; the most practised +hands admitted I had caught on to the idea in a +month and revolutionised the practice inside of a year,” +he said. “And there’s interest in it, too. It’s amusing +to pick out some one going by, make up your mind about +his character and tastes, dash out of the office, and hit +him flying with an offer of the very place he wants to go +to. I don’t think there was a scalper on the continent +made fewer blunders. But I took it only as a stage. I was +saving every dollar; I was looking ahead. I knew what +I wanted—wealth, education, a refined home, and a conscientious +cultured lady for a wife; for, Mr. Dodd”—this +with a formidable outcry—“every man is bound to +marry above him: if the woman’s not the man’s superior, +I brand it as mere sensuality. There was my idea, at +least. That was what I was saving for; and enough, too! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>49</span> +But it isn’t every man, I know that—it’s far from every +man—could do what I did: close up the livest agency in +St. Jo, where he was coining dollars by the pot, set out +alone, without a friend or a word of French, and settle +down here to spend his capital learning art.”</p> + +<p>“Was it an old taste?” I asked him, “or a sudden +fancy?”</p> + +<p>“Neither, Mr. Dodd,” he admitted. “Of course, I had +learned in my tin-typing excursions to glory and exult +in the works of God. But it wasn’t that. I just said to +myself, ‘What is most wanted in my age and country? +More culture and more art,’ I said; and I chose the best +place, saved my money, and came here to get them.”</p> + +<p>The whole attitude of this young man warmed and +shamed me. He had more fire in his little toe than I had +in my whole carcass; he was stuffed to bursting with +the manly virtues; thrift and courage glowed in him; +and even if his artistic vocation seemed (to one of my +exclusive tenets) not quite clear, who could predict what +might be accomplished by a creature so full-blooded and +so inspired with animal and intellectual energy? So, +when he proposed that I should come and see his work +(one of the regular stages of a Latin Quarter friendship), +I followed him with interest and hope.</p> + +<p>He lodged parsimoniously at the top of a tall house +near the Observatory, in a bare room, principally furnished +with his own trunks and papered with his own despicable +studies. No man has less taste for disagreeable duties +than myself; perhaps there is only one subject on which +I cannot flatter a man without a blush; but upon that, +upon all that touches art, my sincerity is Roman. Once +and twice I made the circuit of his walls in silence, spying +in every corner for some spark of merit; he meanwhile +following close at my heels, reading the verdict in my +face with furtive glances, presenting some fresh study for +my inspection with undisguised anxiety, and (after it had +been silently weighed in the balances and found wanting) +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>50</span> +whisking it away with an open gesture of despair. By +the time the second round was completed, we were both +extremely depressed.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he groaned, breaking the long silence, “it’s +quite unnecessary you should speak!”</p> + +<p>“Do you want me to be frank with you? I think +you are wasting time,” said I.</p> + +<p>“You don’t see any promise?” he inquired, beguiled +by some return of hope, and turning upon me the embarrassing +brightness of his eye. “Not in this still-life here +of the melon? One fellow thought it good.”</p> + +<p>It was the least I could do to give the melon a more +particular examination; which, when I had done, I could +but shake my head. “I am truly sorry, Pinkerton,” +said I, “but I can’t advise you to persevere.”</p> + +<p>He seemed to recover his fortitude at the moment, +rebounding from disappointment like a man of india-rubber. +“Well,” said he stoutly, “I don’t know that +I’m surprised. But I’ll go on with the course; and throw +my whole soul into it too. You mustn’t think the time +is lost. It’s all culture; it will help me to extend my +relations when I get back home; it may fit me for a +position on one of the illustrateds; and then I can always +turn dealer,” he said, uttering the monstrous proposition, +which was enough to shake the Latin Quarter to the dust, +with entire simplicity. “It’s all experience, besides,” he +continued; “and it seems to me there’s a tendency to +underrate experience, both as net profit and investment. +Never mind. That’s done with. But it took courage for +you to say what you did, and I’ll never forget it. Here’s +my hand, Mr. Dodd. I’m not your equal in culture or +talent.”</p> + +<p>“You know nothing about that,” I interrupted. “I +have seen your work, but you haven’t seen mine.”</p> + +<p>“No more I have,” he cried; “and let’s go see it at +once! But I know you are away up; I can feel it here.”</p> + +<p>To say truth, I was almost ashamed to introduce him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>51</span> +to my studio—my work, whether absolutely good or bad, +being so vastly superior to his. But his spirits were now +quite restored; and he amazed me, on the way, with his +light-hearted talk and new projects. So that I began at +last to understand how matters lay: that this was not +an artist who had been deprived of the practice of his +single art; but only a business man of very extended +interests, informed (perhaps something of the most suddenly) +that one investment out of twenty had gone wrong.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, besides (although I never suspected +it), he was already seeking consolation with another of +the muses, and pleasing himself with the notion that he +would repay me for my sincerity, cement our friendship, +and (at one and the same blow) restore my estimation of +his talents. Several times already, when I had been +speaking of myself, he had pulled out a writing-pad and +scribbled a brief note; and now, when we entered the +studio, I saw it in his hand again, and the pencil go to +his mouth, as he cast a comprehensive glance round the +uncomfortable building.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to make a sketch of it?” I could not +help asking, as I unveiled the Genius of Muskegon.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that’s my secret,” said he. “Never you mind. +A mouse can help a lion.”</p> + +<p>He walked round my statue, and had the design explained +to him. I had represented Muskegon as a young, +almost a stripling mother, with something of an Indian +type; the babe upon her knees was winged, to indicate +our soaring future; and her seat was a medley of sculptured +fragments, Greek, Roman, and Gothic, to remind us of the +older worlds from which we trace our generation.</p> + +<p>“Now, does this satisfy you, Mr. Dodd?” he inquired, +as soon as I had explained to him the main features of +the design.</p> + +<p>“Well,” I said, “the fellows seem to think it’s not a +bad <i>bonne femme</i> for a beginner. I don’t think it’s entirely +bad myself. Here is the best point; it builds up best +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>52</span> +from here. No, it seems to me it has a kind of merit,” +I admitted; “but I mean to do better.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that’s the word!” cried Pinkerton. “There’s +the word I love!” and he scribbled in his pad.</p> + +<p>“What in creation ails you?” I inquired. “It’s the +most commonplace expression in the English language.”</p> + +<p>“Better and better!” chuckled Pinkerton. “The unconsciousness +of genius. Lord, but this is coming in +beautiful!” and he scribbled again.</p> + +<p>“If you’re going to be fulsome,” said I, “I’ll close +the place of entertainment”; and I threatened to replace +the veil upon the Genius.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” said he; “don’t be in a hurry. Give me +a point or two. Show me what’s particularly good.”</p> + +<p>“I would rather you found that out for yourself,” +said I.</p> + +<p>“The trouble is,” said he, “that I’ve never turned my +attention to sculpture—beyond, of course, admiring it, as +everybody must who has a soul. So do just be a good +fellow, and explain to me what you like in it, and what +you tried for, and where the merit comes in. It’ll be all +education for me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, in sculpture, you see, the first thing you have +to consider is the masses. It’s, after all, a kind of architecture,” +I began, and delivered a lecture on that branch +of art, with illustrations from my own masterpiece there +present—all of which, if you don’t mind, or whether you +mind or not, I mean to conscientiously omit. Pinkerton +listened with a fiery interest, questioned me with a certain +uncultivated shrewdness, and continued to scratch down +notes, and tear fresh sheets from his pad. I found it inspiring +to have my words thus taken down like a professor’s +lecture; and having had no previous experience of the +press, I was unaware that they were all being taken down +wrong. For the same reason (incredible as it must appear +in an American) I never entertained the least suspicion +that they were destined to be dished up with a sauce of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>53</span> +penny-a-lining gossip; and myself, my person, and my +works of art, butchered to make a holiday for the readers +of a Sunday paper. Night had fallen over the Genius of +Muskegon before the issue of my theoretic eloquence was +stayed, nor did I separate from my new friend without +an appointment for the morrow.</p> + +<p>I was, indeed, greatly taken with this first view of my +countryman, and continued, on further acquaintance, to +be interested, amused, and attracted by him in about +equal proportions. I must not say he had a fault, not only +because my mouth is sealed by gratitude, but because +those he had sprang merely from his education, and you +could see he had cultivated and improved them like virtues. +For all that, I can never deny he was a troublous friend +to me, and the trouble began early.</p> + +<p>It may have been a fortnight later that I divined the +secret of the writing-pad. My wretch (it leaked out) wrote +letters for a paper in the West, and had filled a part of +one of them with descriptions of myself. I pointed out +to him that he had no right to do so without asking my +permission.</p> + +<p>“Why, this is just what I hoped!” he exclaimed. “I +thought you didn’t seem to catch on; only it seemed too +good to be true.”</p> + +<p>“But, my good fellow, you were bound to warn me,” +I objected.</p> + +<p>“I know it’s generally considered etiquette,” he +admitted; “but between friends, and when it was only +with a view of serving you, I thought it wouldn’t matter. +I wanted it (if possible) to come on you as a surprise; +I wanted you just to waken, like Lord Byron, and find +the papers full of you. You must admit it was a natural +thought. And no man likes to boast of a favour beforehand.”</p> + +<p>“But, heavens and earth! how do you know I think +it a favour?” I cried.</p> + +<p>He became immediately plunged in despair. “You +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>54</span> +think it a liberty,” said he; “I see that. I would rather +have cut off my hand. I would stop it now, only it’s too +late; it’s published by now. And I wrote it with so much +pride and pleasure!”</p> + +<p>I could think of nothing but how to console him. “O, +I daresay it’s all right,” said I. “I know you meant +it kindly, and you would be sure to do it in good +taste.”</p> + +<p>“That you may swear to,” he cried. “It’s a pure, +bright, A number 1 paper; the St. Jo <i>Sunday Herald</i>. +The idea of the series was quite my own; I interviewed +the editor, put it to him straight; the freshness of the +idea took him, and I walked out of that office with the +contract in my pocket, and did my first Paris letter that +evening in St. Jo. The editor did no more than glance +his eye down the head-lines. ‘You’re the man for us,’ +said he.”</p> + +<p>I was certainly far from reassured by this sketch of the +class of literature in which I was to make my first appearance; +but I said no more, and possessed my soul in +patience, until the day came when I received a copy +of a newspaper marked in the corner, “Compliments of +J.P.” I opened it with sensible shrinkings; and there, +wedged between an account of a prize-fight and a skittish +article upon chiropody—think of chiropody treated with +a leer!—I came upon a column and a half in which myself +and my poor statue were embalmed. Like the editor +with the first of the series, I did but glance my eye down +the head-lines, and was more than satisfied.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">ANOTHER OF PINKERTON’S SPICY CHATS.</p> + +<p class="center f90">ART PRACTITIONERS IN PARIS.</p> + +<p class="center f90">MUSKEGON’S COLUMNED CAPITOL.</p> + +<p class="center f90">SON OF MILLIONAIRE DODD,<br /> +PATRIOT AND ARTIST.</p> + +<p class="center f90">“HE MEANS TO DO BETTER.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>55</span></p> + +<p>In the body of the text, besides, my eye caught, as +it passed, some deadly expressions: “Figure somewhat +fleshy,” “bright, intellectual smile,” “the unconsciousness +of genius,” “‘Now, Mr. Dodd,’ resumed the reporter, +’what would be your idea of a distinctively +American quality in sculpture?’” It was true the +question had been asked; it was true, alas! that I had +answered; and now here was my reply, or some strange +hash of it, gibbeted in the cold publicity of type. I +thanked God that my French fellow-students were ignorant +of English; but when I thought of the British—of Myner +(for instance) or the Stennises—I think I could have fallen +on Pinkerton and beat him.</p> + +<p>To divert my thoughts (if it were possible) from this +calamity, I turned to a letter from my father which had +arrived by the same post. The envelope contained a +strip of newspaper cutting; and my eye caught again, +“Son of Millionaire Dodd—Figure somewhat fleshy,” and +the rest of the degrading nonsense. What would my +father think of it? I wondered, and opened his manuscript. +“My dearest boy,” it began, “I send you a cutting which +has pleased me very much, from a St. Joseph paper of +high standing. At last you seem to be coming fairly to the +front; and I cannot but reflect with delight and gratitude +how very few youths of your age occupy nearly two columns +of press-matter all to themselves. I only wish your dear +mother had been here to read it over my shoulder; but +we will hope she shares my grateful emotion in a better +place. Of course I have sent a copy to your grandfather +and uncle in Edinburgh; so you can keep the one I enclose. +This Jim Pinkerton seems a valuable acquaintance; he +has certainly great talent; and it is a good general rule +to keep in with pressmen.”</p> + +<p>I hope it will be set down to the right side of my account, +but I had no sooner read these words, so touchingly silly, +than my anger against Pinkerton was swallowed up in +gratitude. Of all the circumstances of my career—my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>56</span> +birth, perhaps, excepted—not one had given my poor +father so profound a pleasure as this article in the <i>Sunday +Herald</i>. What a fool, then, was I to be lamenting! when +I had at last, and for once, and at the cost of only a few +blushes, paid back a fraction of my debt of gratitude. +So that, when I next met Pinkerton, I took things very +lightly; my father was pleased, and thought the letter +very clever, I told him; for my own part, I had no taste +for publicity; thought the public had no concern with +the artist, only with his art; and though I owned he +had handled it with great consideration, I should take +it as a favour if he never did it again.</p> + +<p>“There it is,” he said despondingly. “I’ve hurt you. +You can’t deceive me, Loudon. It’s the want of tact, +and it’s incurable.” He sat down, and leaned his head +upon his hand. “I had no advantages when I was young, +you see,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Not in the least, my dear fellow,” said I. “Only +the next time you wish to do me a service, just speak +about my work; leave my wretched person out, and my +still more wretched conversation; and above all,” I +added, with an irrepressible shudder, “don’t tell +them how I said it! There’s that phrase, now: ‘With +a proud, glad smile.’ Who cares whether I smiled or +not?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there now, Loudon, you’re entirely wrong,” he +broke in. “That’s what the public likes; that’s the +merit of the thing, the literary value. It’s to call up +the scene before them; it’s to enable the humblest citizen +to enjoy that afternoon the same as I did. Think what +it would have been to me when I was tramping around +with my tin-types to find a column and a half of real, +cultured conversation—an artist, in his studio abroad, +talking of his art,—and to know how he looked as he +did it, and what the room was like, and what he had for +breakfast; and to tell myself, eating tinned beans beside +a creek, that if all went well, the same sort of thing would, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>57</span> +sooner or later, happen to myself; why, Loudon, it would +have been like a peep-hole into heaven!”</p> + +<p>“Well, if it gives so much pleasure,” I admitted, +“the sufferers shouldn’t complain. Only give the other +fellows a turn.”</p> + +<p>The end of the matter was to bring myself and the +journalist in a more close relation. If I know anything +at all of human nature—and the <i>if</i> is no mere figure of +speech, but stands for honest doubt—no series of benefits +conferred, or even dangers shared, would have so +rapidly confirmed our friendship as this quarrel avoided, +this fundamental difference of taste and training accepted +and condoned.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_1" href="#FnAnchor_1"><span class="fn">1</span></a> “What’s the matter with him?”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2" href="#FnAnchor_2"><span class="fn">2</span></a> “The gentleman is sick at his stomach from having looked +too long at your daub.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>58</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h5>IN WHICH I EXPERIENCE EXTREMES OF FORTUNE</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Whether</span> it came from my training and repeated bankruptcy +at the commercial college, or by direct inheritance +from old Loudon, the Edinburgh mason, there can be +no doubt about the fact that I was thrifty. Looking +myself impartially over, I believe that is my only manly +virtue. During my first two years in Paris I not only +made it a point to keep well inside of my allowance, but +accumulated considerable savings in the bank. You +will say, with my masquerade of living as a penniless +student, it must have been easy to do so; I should have +had no difficulty, however, in doing the reverse. Indeed, +it is wonderful I did not; and early in the third year, +or soon after I had known Pinkerton, a singular incident +proved it to have been equally wise. Quarter-day came, +and brought no allowance. A letter of remonstrance +was despatched, and, for the first time in my experience, +remained unanswered. A cablegram was more effectual; +for it brought me at least a promise of attention. “Will +write at once,” my father telegraphed; but I waited +long for his letter. I was puzzled, angry, and alarmed; +but, thanks to my previous thrift, I cannot say that I +was ever practically embarrassed. The embarrassment, +the distress, the agony, were all for my unhappy father +at home in Muskegon, struggling for life and fortune +against untoward chances, returning at night, from a +day of ill-starred shifts and ventures, to read and perhaps +to weep over that last harsh letter from his only child, +to which he lacked the courage to reply. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>59</span></p> + +<p>Nearly three months after time, and when my economies +were beginning to run low, I received at last a letter with +the customary bills of exchange.</p> + +<p>“My dearest boy,” it ran, “I believe, in the press +of anxious business, your letters, and even your allowance, +have been somewhile neglected. You must try to +forgive your poor old dad, for he has had a trying time; +and now when it is over, the doctor wants me to take +my shot-gun and go to the Adirondacks for a change. +You must not fancy I am sick, only over-driven and +under the weather. Many of our foremost operators +have gone down: John T. M’Brady skipped to Canada +with a trunkful of boodle; Billy Sandwith, Charlie +Downs, Joe Kaiser, and many others of our leading +men in this city bit the dust. But Big Head Dodd +has again weathered the blizzard, and I think I have +fixed things so that we may be richer than ever before +autumn.</p> + +<p>“Now I will tell you, my dear, what I propose. You +say you are well advanced with your first statue; start +in manfully and finish it, and if your teacher—I can +never remember how to spell his name—will send me +a certificate that it is up to market standard, you shall +have ten thousand dollars to do what you like with, +either at home or in Paris. I suggest, since you say +the facilities for work are so much greater in that city, +you would do well to buy or build a little home; and +the first thing you know, your dad will be dropping in +for a luncheon. Indeed, I would come now—for I am +beginning to grow old, and I long to see my dear boy,—but +there are still some operations that want watching +and nursing. Tell your friend Mr. Pinkerton that I read +his letters every week; and though I have looked in +vain lately for my Loudon’s name, still I learn something +of the life he is leading in that strange Old World depicted +by an able pen.”</p> + +<p>Here was a letter that no young man could possibly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>60</span> +digest in solitude. It marked one of those junctures +when the confidant is necessary; and the confidant +selected was none other than Jim Pinkerton. My father’s +message may have had an influence in this decision; +but I scarce suppose so, for the intimacy was already +far advanced. I had a genuine and lively taste for my +compatriot; I laughed at, I scolded, and I loved him. +He, upon his side, paid me a kind of dog-like service of +admiration, gazing at me from afar off, as at one who +had liberally enjoyed those “advantages” which he +envied for himself. He followed at heel; his laugh was +ready chorus; our friends gave him the nickname of +“The Henchman.” It was in this insidious form that +servitude approached me.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton and I read and re-read the famous news: +he, I can swear, with an enjoyment as unalloyed and far +more vocal than my own. The statue was nearly done: +a few days’ work sufficed to prepare it for exhibition; +the master was approached; he gave his consent; and +one cloudless morning of May beheld us gathered in my +studio for the hour of trial. The master wore his many-hued +rosette; he came attended by two of my French +fellow-pupils—friends of mine, and both considerable +sculptors in Paris at this hour. “Corporal John” (as +we used to call him), breaking for once those habits of +study and reserve which have since carried him so high +in the opinion of the world, had left his easel of a morning +to countenance a fellow-countryman in some suspense. +My dear old Romney was there by particular request; +for who that knew him would think a pleasure quite +complete unless he shared it, or not support a mortification +more easily if he were present to console? The +party was completed by John Myner, the Englishman; +by the brothers Stennis—Stennis-<i>aīné</i>, and Stennis-<i>frčre</i>, +as they used to figure on their accounts at Barbizon—a +pair of hare-brained Scots; and by the inevitable Jim, +as white as a sheet and bedewed with the sweat of anxiety. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>61</span></p> + +<p>I suppose I was little better myself when I unveiled +the Genius of Muskegon. The master walked about it +seriously; then he smiled.</p> + +<p>“It is already not so bad,” said he, in that funny +English of which he was so proud; “no, already not so +bad.”</p> + +<p>We all drew a deep breath of relief; and Corporal +John (as the most considerable junior present) explained +to him it was intended for a public building, a kind of +prefecture.</p> + +<p>“<i>Hé! quoi?</i>” cried he, relapsing into French. +“<i>Qu’est-ce que vous me chantez lą?</i> O, in América,” +he added, on further information being hastily furnished. +“That is anozer sing. O, véry good—véry good.”</p> + +<p>The idea of the required certificate had to be introduced +to his mind in the light of a pleasantry—the fancy +of a nabob little more advanced than the Red Indians +of “Fénnimore Cooperr”; and it took all our talents +combined to conceive a form of words that would be +acceptable on both sides. One was found, however: +Corporal John engrossed it in his undecipherable hand, +the master lent it the sanction of his name and flourish, +I slipped it into an envelope along with one of the two +letters I had already prepared in my pocket, and as the +rest of us moved off along the boulevard to breakfast, +Pinkerton was detached in a cab and duly committed +it to the post.</p> + +<p>The breakfast was ordered at Lavenue’s, where no +one need be ashamed to entertain even the master; the +table was laid in the garden; I had chosen the bill of +fare myself; on the wine question we held a council +of war, with the most fortunate results; and the talk, as +soon as the master laid aside his painful English, became +fast and furious. There were a few interruptions, indeed, +in the way of toasts. The master’s health had to be +drunk, and he responded in a little well-turned speech, +full of neat allusions to my future and to the United +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>62</span> +States; my health followed; and then my father’s must +not only be proposed and drunk, but a full report must +be despatched to him at once by cablegram—an extravagance +which was almost the means of the master’s +dissolution. Choosing Corporal John to be his confidant +(on the ground, I presume, that he was already too good +an artist to be any longer an American except in name) +he summed up his amazement in one oft-repeated formula—“<i>C’est +barbare!</i>” Apart from these genial formalities, +we talked, talked of art, and talked of it as only artists +can. Here in the South Seas we talk schooners most of +the time; in the Quarter we talked art with the like +unflagging interest, and perhaps as much result.</p> + +<p>Before very long the master went away; Corporal +John (who was already a sort of young master) followed +on his heels; and the rank and file were naturally relieved +by their departure. We were now among equals; the +bottle passed, the conversation sped. I think I can still +hear the Stennis brothers pour forth their copious tirades; +Dijon, my portly French fellow-student, drop witticisms, +well-conditioned like himself; and another (who was +weak in foreign languages) dash hotly into the current +of talk with some “<i>Je trove que pore oon sontimong de +delicacy, Corot</i>...,” or some “<i>Pour moi Corot est le +plou</i>...,” and then, his little raft of French foundering +at once, scramble silently to shore again. He at +least could understand; but to Pinkerton, I think the +noise, the wine, the sun, the shadows of the leaves, and +the esoteric glory of being seated at a foreign festival, +made up the whole available means of entertainment.</p> + +<p>We sat down about half-past eleven; I suppose it +was two when, some point arising and some particular +picture being instanced, an adjournment to the Louvre +was proposed. I paid the score, and in a moment we +were trooping down the Rue de Renne. It was smoking +hot; Paris glittered with that superficial brilliancy which +is so agreeable to the man in high spirits, and in moods +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>63</span> +of dejection so depressing; the wine sang in my ears, +it danced and brightened in my eyes. The pictures that +we saw that afternoon, as we sped briskly and loquaciously +through the immortal galleries, appear to me, upon a +retrospect, the loveliest of all; the comments we exchanged +to have touched the highest mark of criticism, grave or +gay.</p> + +<p>It was only when we issued again from the museum +that a difference of race broke up the party. Dijon +proposed an adjournment to a café, there to finish the +afternoon on beer; the elder Stennis revolted at the +thought, moved for the country—a forest, if possible—and +a long walk. At once the English speakers rallied +to the name of any exercise; even to me, who have been +often twitted with my sedentary habits, the thought of +country air and stillness proved invincibly attractive. +It appeared, upon investigation, we had just time to +hail a cab and catch one of the fast trains for Fontainebleau. +Beyond the clothes we stood in all were destitute +of what is called, with dainty vagueness, personal effects; +and it was earnestly mooted, on the other side, whether +we had not time to call upon the way and pack a satchel? +But the Stennis boys exclaimed upon our effeminacy. +They had come from London, it appeared, a week before +with nothing but great-coats and tooth-brushes. No +baggage—there was the secret of existence. It was +expensive, to be sure, for every time you had to comb +your hair a barber must be paid, and every time you +changed your linen one shirt must be bought and another +thrown away; but anything was better, argued these +young gentlemen, than to be the slaves of haversacks. +“A fellow has to get rid gradually of all material attachments: +that was manhood,” said they; “and as long +as you were bound down to anything—house, umbrella, +or portmanteau—you were still tethered by the umbilical +cord.” Something engaging in this theory carried +the most of us away. The two Frenchmen, indeed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>64</span> +retired scoffing to their bock, and Romney, being too +poor to join the excursion on his own resources, and too +proud to borrow, melted unobtrusively away. Meanwhile +the remainder of the company crowded the benches +of a cab; the horse was urged, as horses have to be, by +an appeal to the pocket of the driver; the train caught +by the inside of a minute; and in less than an hour and +a half we were breathing deep of the sweet air of the +forest, and stretching our legs up the hill from Fontainebleau +octroi, bound for Barbizon. That the leading +members of our party covered the distance in fifty-one +minutes and a half is, I believe, one of the historic landmarks +of the colony; but you will scarce be surprised to +learn that I was somewhat in the rear. Myner, a comparatively +philosophic Briton, kept me company in my +deliberate advance; the glory of the sun’s going down, +the fall of the long shadows, the inimitable scent, and the +inspiration of the woods, attuned me more and more +to walk in a silence which progressively infected my companion; +and I remember that, when at last he spoke, I +was startled from a deep abstraction.</p> + +<p>“Your father seems to be a pretty good kind of a +father,” said he. “Why don’t he come to see you?” +I was ready with some dozen of reasons, and had more +in stock; but Myner, with that shrewdness which made +him feared and admired, suddenly fixed me with his eyeglass +and asked, “Ever press him?”</p> + +<p>The blood came in my face. No, I had never pressed +him; I had never even encouraged him to come. I was +proud of him, proud of his handsome looks, of his kind, +gentle ways, of that bright face he could show when others +were happy; proud, too—meanly proud, if you like—of +his great wealth and startling liberalities. And yet +he would have been in the way of my Paris life, of much +of which he would have disapproved. I had feared to +expose to criticism his innocent remarks on art; I had +told myself, I had even partly believed, he did not want +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>65</span> +to come; I had been, and still am, convinced that he was +sure to be unhappy out of Muskegon; in short, I had a +thousand reasons, good and bad, not all of which could +alter one iota of the fact that I knew he only waited for +my invitation.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Myner,” said I; “you’re a much better +fellow than ever I supposed. I’ll write to-night.”</p> + +<p>“O, you’re a pretty decent sort yourself,” returned +Myner, with more than his usual flippancy of manner, +but, as I was gratefully aware, not a trace of his occasional +irony of meaning.</p> + +<p>Well, these were brave days, on which I could dwell +for ever. Brave, too, were those that followed, when +Pinkerton and I walked Paris and the suburbs, viewing +and pricing houses for my new establishment, or covered +ourselves with dust and returned laden with Chinese gods +and brass warming-pans from the dealers in antiquities. +I found Pinkerton well up in the situation of these establishments +as well as in the current prices, and with quite +a smattering of critical judgment. It turned out he was +investing capital in pictures and curiosities for the States, +and the superficial thoroughness of the creature appeared +in the fact that although he would never be a connoisseur, +he was already something of an expert. The things +themselves left him as near as may be cold, but he had a +joy of his own in understanding how to buy and sell them.</p> + +<p>In such engagements the time passed until I might +very well expect an answer from my father. Two mails +followed each other, and brought nothing. By the third +I received a long and almost incoherent letter of remorse, +encouragement, consolation, and despair. From this +pitiful document, which (with a movement of piety) I +burned as soon as I had read it, I gathered that the bubble +of my father’s wealth was burst, that he was now both +penniless and sick; and that I, so far from expecting ten +thousand dollars to throw away in juvenile extravagance, +must look no longer for the quarterly remittances on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>66</span> +which I lived. My case was hard enough; but I had +sense enough to perceive, and decency enough to do, my +duty. I sold my curiosities—or, rather, I sent Pinkerton +to sell them; and he had previously bought, and now +disposed of them, so wisely that the loss was trifling. +This, with what remained of my last allowance, left me +at the head of no less than five thousand francs. Five +hundred I reserved for my own immediate necessities: +the rest I mailed inside of the week to my father at +Muskegon, where they came in time to pay his funeral +expenses.</p> + +<p>The news of his death was scarcely a surprise and +scarce a grief to me. I could not conceive my father a +poor man. He had led too long a life of thoughtless and +generous profusion to endure the change; and though I +grieved for myself, I was able to rejoice that my father +had been taken from the battle. I grieved, I say, for +myself; and it is probable there were at the same date +many thousands of persons grieving with less cause. I +had lost my father; I had lost the allowance; my whole +fortune (including what had been returned from Muskegon) +scarce amounted to a thousand francs; and, to crown +my sorrows, the statuary contract had changed hands. +The new contractor had a son of his own, or else a nephew; +and it was signified to me, with business-like plainness, +that I must find another market for my pigs. In the +meanwhile I had given up my room, and slept on a truckle-bed +in the corner of the studio, where, as I read myself +to sleep at night, and when I awoke in the morning, that +now useless bulk, the Genius of Muskegon, was ever present +to my eyes. Poor stone lady! born to be enthroned +under the gilded, echoing dome of the new capitol, whither +was she now to drift? for what base purposes be ultimately +broken up, like an unseaworthy ship? and what should +befall her ill-starred artificer, standing with his thousand +francs on the threshold of a life so hard as that of the +unbefriended sculptor? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>67</span></p> + +<p>It was a subject often and earnestly debated by myself +and Pinkerton. In his opinion I should instantly discard +my profession. “Just drop it, here and now,” he would +say. “Come back home with me, and let’s throw our +whole soul into business. I have the capital; you bring +the culture. <i>Dodd and Pinkerton</i>—I never saw a better +name for an advertisement; and you can’t think, Loudon, +how much depends upon a name.” On my side I would +admit that a sculptor should possess one of three things—capital, +influence, or an energy only to be qualified as +hellish. The first two I had now lost; to the third I never +had the smallest claim; and yet I wanted the cowardice +(or, perhaps it was the courage) to turn my back on my +career without a fight. I told him, besides, that however +poor my chances were in sculpture, I was convinced they +were yet worse in business, for which I equally lacked +taste and aptitude. But upon this head he was my father +over again; assured me that I spoke in ignorance; that +any intelligent and cultured person was bound to succeed; +that I must, besides, have inherited some of my father’s +fitness; and, at any rate, that I had been regularly trained +for that career in the commercial college.</p> + +<p>“Pinkerton,” I said, “can’t you understand that, as +long as I was there, I never took the smallest interest +in any stricken thing? The whole affair was poison to +me.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not possible,” he would cry; “it can’t be; you +couldn’t live in the midst of it and not feel the charm; +with all your poetry of soul you couldn’t help! Loudon,” +he would go on, “you drive me crazy. You expect a +man to be all broken up about the sunset, and not to +care a dime for a place where fortunes are fought for and +made and lost all day; or for a career that consists in +studying up life till you have it at your finger-ends, spying +out every cranny where you can get your hand in and a +dollar out, and standing there in the midst—one foot on +bankruptcy, the other on a borrowed dollar, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>68</span> +whole thing spinning round you like a mill—raking in +the stamps; in spite of fate and fortune.”</p> + +<p>To this romance of dickering I would reply with the +romance (which is also the virtue) of art: reminding him +of those examples of constancy through many tribulations, +with which the <i>rōle</i> of Apollo is illustrated—from the +case of Millet, to those of many of our friends and comrades, +who had chosen this agreeable mountain path +through life, and were now bravely clambering among +rocks and brambles, penniless and hopeful.</p> + +<p>“You will never understand it, Pinkerton,” I would +say. “You look to the result, you want to see some +profit of your endeavours: that is why you could never +learn to paint, if you lived to be Methusalem. The result +is always a fizzle: the eyes of the artist are turned in; +he lives for a frame of mind. Look at Romney now. +There is the nature of the artist. He hasn’t a cent; and +if you offered him to-morrow the command of an army, +or the presidentship of the United States, he wouldn’t +take it, and you know he wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not,” Pinkerton would cry, scouring his +hair with both his hands; “and I can’t see why; I can’t +see what in fits he would be after, not to; I don’t seem +to rise to these views. Of course it’s the fault of not +having had advantages in early life; but, Loudon, I’m so +miserably low that it seems to me silly. The fact is,” he +might add, with a smile, “I don’t seem to have the least +use for a frame of mind without square meals; and you +can’t get it out of my head that it’s a man’s duty to die +rich, if he can.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” I asked him once.</p> + +<p>“O, I don’t know,” he replied. “Why in snakes +should anybody want to be a sculptor, if you come to +that? I would love to sculp myself. But what I can’t +see is why you should want to do nothing else. It seems +to argue a poverty of nature.”</p> + +<p>Whether or not he ever came to understand me—and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>69</span> +I have been so tossed about since then that I am +not very sure I understand myself—he soon perceived +that I was perfectly in earnest; and after about ten days +of argument, suddenly dropped the subject, and announced +that he was wasting capital, and must go home at once. +No doubt he should have gone long before, and had already +lingered over his intended time for the sake of our companionship +and my misfortune; but man is so unjustly +minded that the very fact, which ought to have disarmed, +only embittered my vexation. I resented his departure +in the light of a desertion; I would not say, but doubtless +I betrayed it; and something hang-dog in the man’s face +and bearing led me to believe he was himself remorseful. +It is certain at least that, during the time of his preparations, +we drew sensibly apart—a circumstance that I +recall with shame. On the last day he had me to dinner +at a restaurant which he knew I had formerly frequented, +and had only forsworn of late from considerations of +economy. He seemed ill at ease; I was myself both +sorry and sulky; and the meal passed with little conversation.</p> + +<p>“Now, Loudon,” said he, with a visible effort, after +the coffee was come and our pipes lighted, “you can +never understand the gratitude and loyalty I bear you. +You don’t know what a boon it is to be taken up by a +man that stands on the pinnacle of civilisation; you can’t +think how it’s refined and purified me, how it’s appealed +to my spiritual nature; and I want to tell you that I +would die at your door like a dog.”</p> + +<p>I don’t know what answer I tried to make, but he cut +me short.</p> + +<p>“Let me say it out!” he cried. “I revere you for +your whole-souled devotion to art; I can’t rise to it, but +there’s a strain of poetry in my nature, Loudon, that +responds to it. I want you to carry it out, and I mean +to help you.”</p> + +<p>“Pinkerton, what nonsense is this?” I interrupted. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>70</span></p> + +<p>“Now don’t get mad, Loudon; this is a plain piece +of business,” said he; “it’s done every day; it’s even +typical. How are all those fellows over here in Paris, +Henderson, Sumner, Long?—it’s all the same story: a +young man just plum full of artistic genius on the one +side, a man of business on the other who doesn’t know +what to do with his dollars——”</p> + +<p>“But, you fool, you’re as poor as a rat,” I cried.</p> + +<p>“You wait till I get my irons in the fire!” returned +Pinkerton. “I’m bound to be rich; and I tell you I mean +to have some of the fun as I go along. Here’s your first +allowance; take it at the hand of a friend; I’m one that +holds friendship sacred, as you do yourself. It’s only a +hundred francs; you’ll get the same every month, and as +soon as my business begins to expand we’ll increase it to +something fitting. And so far from it’s being a favour, +just let me handle your statuary for the American market, +and I’ll call it one of the smartest strokes of business in +my life.”</p> + +<p>It took me a long time, and it had cost us both much +grateful and painful emotion, before I had finally managed +to refuse his offer and compounded for a bottle of particular +wine. He dropped the subject at last suddenly +with a “Never mind; that’s all done with”; nor did +he again refer to the subject, though we passed together +the rest of the afternoon, and I accompanied him, on his +departure, to the doors of the waiting-room at St. Lazare. +I felt myself strangely alone; a voice told me that I had +rejected both the counsels of wisdom and the helping +hand of friendship; and as I passed through the great +bright city on my homeward way, I measured it for the +first time with the eye of an adversary.</p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>71</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h5>IN WHICH I AM DOWN ON MY LUCK IN PARIS</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">In</span> no part of the world is starvation an agreeable business; +but I believe it is admitted there is no worse place +to starve in than this city of Paris. The appearances of +life are there so especially gay, it is so much a magnified +beer-garden, the houses are so ornate, the theatres so +numerous, the very pace of the vehicles is so brisk, that a +man in any deep concern of mind or pain of body is constantly +driven in upon himself. In his own eyes, he seems +the one serious creature moving in a world of horrible +unreality; voluble people issuing from a café, the <i>queue</i> +at theatre-doors, Sunday cabfuls of second-rate pleasure-seekers, +the bedizened ladies of the pavement, the show +in the jewellers’ windows—all the familiar sights contributing +to flout his own unhappiness, want, and isolation. +At the same time, if he be at all after my pattern, he is +perhaps supported by a childish satisfaction. “This is +life at last,” he may tell himself; “this is the real thing. +The bladders on which I was set swimming are now +empty; my own weight depends upon the ocean; by +my own exertions I must perish or succeed; and I am +now enduring, in the vivid fact, what I so much delighted +to read of in the case of Lousteau or Lucien, Rodolphe +or Schaunard.”</p> + +<p>Of the steps of my misery I cannot tell at length. In +ordinary times what were politically called “loans” +(although they were never meant to be repaid) were matters +of constant course among the students, and many a man +has partly lived on them for years. But my misfortune +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>72</span> +befell me at an awkward juncture. Many of my friends +were gone; others were themselves in a precarious +situation. Romney (for instance) was reduced to tramping +Paris in a pair of country sabots, his only suit of clothes +so imperfect (in spite of cunningly-adjusted pins) that +the authorities at the Luxembourg suggested his withdrawal +from the gallery. Dijon, too, was on a lee-shore, +designing clocks and gas-brackets for a dealer; and the +most he could do was to offer me a corner of his studio +where I might work. My own studio (it will be gathered) +I had by that time lost; and in the course of my expulsion +the Genius of Muskegon was finally separated from her +author. To continue to possess a full-sized statue, a man +must have a studio, a gallery, or at least the freedom of +a back-garden. He cannot carry it about with him, like +a satchel, in the bottom of a cab, nor can he cohabit in +a garret ten by fifteen with so momentous a companion. +It was my first idea to leave her behind at my departure. +There, in her birthplace, she might lend an inspiration, +methought, to my successor. But the proprietor, with +whom I had unhappily quarrelled, seized the occasion to +be disagreeable, and called upon me to remove my property. +For a man in such straits as I now found myself, +the hire of a lorry was a consideration; and yet even that +I could have faced, if I had had anywhere to drive to after +it was hired. Hysterical laughter seized upon me as I +beheld (in imagination) myself, the waggoner, and the +Genius of Muskegon, standing in the public view of Paris, +without the shadow of a destination; perhaps driving at +last to the nearest rubbish-heap, and dumping there, +among the ordures of a city, the beloved child of my +invention. From these extremities I was relieved by a +seasonable offer, and I parted from the Genius of Muskegon +for thirty francs. Where she now stands, under what +name she is admired or criticised, history does not inform +us; but I like to think she may adorn the shrubbery of +some suburban tea-garden, where holiday shop-girls hang +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>73</span> +their hats upon the mother, and their swains (by way of +an approach of gallantry) identify the winged infant with +the god of love.</p> + +<p>In a certain cabman’s eating-house on the outer +boulevard I got credit for my midday meal. Supper +I was supposed not to require, sitting down nightly to +the delicate table of some rich acquaintances. This +arrangement was extremely ill-considered. My fable, +credible enough at first, and so long as my clothes were +in good order, must have seemed worse than doubtful +after my coat became frayed about the edges, and my +boots began to squelch and pipe along the restaurant +floors. The allowance of one meal a day, besides, though +suitable enough to the state of my finances, agreed poorly +with my stomach. The restaurant was a place I had +often visited experimentally, to taste the life of students +then more unfortunate than myself; and I had never +in those days entered it without disgust, or left it without +nausea. It was strange to find myself sitting down with +avidity, rising up with satisfaction, and counting the +hours that divided me from my return to such a table. +But hunger is a great magician; and so soon as I had +spent my ready cash, and could no longer fill up on bowls +of chocolate or hunks of bread, I must depend entirely +on that cabman’s eating-house, and upon certain rare, +long-expected, long-remembered windfalls. Dijon (for +instance) might get paid for some of his pot-boiling work, +or else an old friend would pass through Paris; and then +I would be entertained to a meal after my own soul, and +contract a Latin Quarter loan, which would keep me in +tobacco and my morning coffee for a fortnight. It might +be thought the latter would appear the more important. +It might be supposed that a life, led so near the confines +of actual famine, should have dulled the nicety of my +palate. On the contrary, the poorer a man’s diet, the +more sharply is he set on dainties. The last of my ready +cash, about thirty francs, was deliberately squandered on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>74</span> +a single dinner; and a great part of my time when I was +alone was passed upon the details of imaginary feasts.</p> + +<p>One gleam of hope visited me—an order for a bust +from a rich Southerner. He was free-handed, jolly of +speech, merry of countenance; kept me in good humour +through the sittings, and, when they were over, carried +me off with him to dinner and the sights of Paris. I ate +well, I laid on flesh; by all accounts I made a favourable +likeness of the being, and I confess I thought my future +was assured. But when the bust was done, and I had +despatched it across the Atlantic, I could never so much +as learn of its arrival. The blow felled me; I should +have lain down and tried no stroke to right myself, had +not the honour of my country been involved. For Dijon +improved the opportunity in the European style, informing +me (for the first time) of the manners of America: how +it was a den of banditti without the smallest rudiment +of law or order, and debts could be there only collected +with a shot-gun. “The whole world knows it,” he would +say; “you are alone, <i>mon petit</i> Loudon—you are alone, +to be in ignorance of these facts. The judges of the +Supreme Court fought but the other day with stilettos +on the bench at Cincinnati. You should read the little +book of one of my friends, ‘Le Touriste dans le Far-West’; +you will see it all there in good French.” At last, incensed +by days of such discussion, I undertook to prove to him +the contrary, and put the affair in the hands of my late +father’s lawyer. From him I had the gratification of +hearing, after a due interval, that my debtor was dead +of the yellow fever in Key West, and had left his affairs +in some confusion. I suppress his name; for though he +treated me with cruel nonchalance, it is probable he meant +to deal fairly in the end.</p> + +<p>Soon after this a shade of change in my reception at +the cabman’s eating-house marked the beginning of a +new phase in my distress. The first day I told myself +it was but fancy; the next, I made quite sure it was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>75</span> +fact; the third, in mere panic I stayed away, and went +for forty-eight hours fasting. This was an act of great +unreason; for the debtor who stays away is but the more +remarked, and the boarder who misses a meal is sure to +be accused of infidelity. On the fourth day, therefore, I +returned, inwardly quaking. The proprietor looked askance +upon my entrance; the waitresses (who were his daughters) +neglected my wants, and sniffed at the affected joviality +of my salutations; last, and most plain, when I called +for a <i>suisse</i>(such as was being served to all the other +diners), I was bluntly told there were no more. It was +obvious I was near the end of my tether; one plank +divided me from want, and now I felt it tremble. I +passed a sleepless night, and the first thing in the morning +took my way to Myner’s studio. It was a step I had long +meditated and long refrained from; for I was scarce +intimate with the Englishman; and though I knew him +to possess plenty of money, neither his manner nor his +reputation were the least encouraging to beggars.</p> + +<p>I found him at work on a picture, which I was able +conscientiously to praise, dressed in his usual tweeds—plain, +but pretty fresh, and standing out in disagreeable +contrast to my own withered and degraded outfit. As +we talked, he continued to shift his eyes watchfully between +his handiwork and the fat model, who sat at the far end +of the studio in a state of nature, with one arm gallantly +arched above her head. My errand would have been +difficult enough under the best of circumstances: placed +between Myner, immersed in his art, and the white, fat, +naked female in a ridiculous attitude, I found it quite +impossible. Again and again I attempted to approach +the point, again and again fell back on commendations +of the picture; and it was not until the model had enjoyed +an interval of repose, during which she took the conversation +in her own hands and regaled us (in a soft, weak +voice) with details as to her husband’s prosperity, her +sister’s lamented decline from the paths of virtue, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>76</span> +the consequent wrath of her father, a peasant of stern +principles, in the vicinity of Chālons on the Marne—it +was not, I say, until after this was over, and I had once +more cleared my throat for the attack, and once more +dropped aside into some commonplace about the picture, +that Myner himself brought me suddenly and vigorously +to the point.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t come here to talk this rot,” said he.</p> + +<p>“No,” I replied sullenly; “I came to borrow money.”</p> + +<p>He painted a while in silence.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think we were ever very intimate?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said I. “I can take my answer,” and +I made as if to go, rage boiling in my heart.</p> + +<p>“Of course you can go if you like,” said Myner, “but +I advise you to stay and have it out.”</p> + +<p>“What more is there to say?” I cried. “You don’t +want to keep me here for a needless humiliation?”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Dodd; you must try and command your +temper,” said he. “This interview is of your own seeking, +and not mine; if you suppose it’s not disagreeable to me, +you’re wrong; and if you think I will give you money +without knowing thoroughly about your prospects, you +take me for a fool. Besides,” he added, “if you come +to look at it, you’ve got over the worst of it by now: you +have done the asking, and you have every reason to know +I mean to refuse. I hold out no false hopes, but it may +be worth your while to let me judge.”</p> + +<p>Thus—I was going to say—encouraged, I stumbled +through my story; told him I had credit at the cabman’s +eating-house, but began to think it was drawing to a +close; how Dijon lent me a corner of his studio, where +I tried to model ornaments, figures for clocks, Time with +the scythe, Leda and the swan, musketeers for candlesticks, +and other kickshaws, which had never (up to that +day) been honoured with the least approval.</p> + +<p>“And your room?” asked Myner. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>77</span></p> + +<p>“O, my room is all right, I think,” said I. “She +is a very good old lady, and has never even mentioned +her bill.”</p> + +<p>“Because she is a very good old lady, I don’t see why +she should be fined,” observed Myner.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by that?” I cried.</p> + +<p>“I mean this,” said he. “The French give a great +deal of credit amongst themselves; they find it pays on +the whole, or the system would hardly be continued; but +I can’t see where <i>we</i> come in; I can’t see that it’s honest +of us Anglo-Saxons to profit by their easy ways, and then +skip over the Channel or (as you Yankees do) across the +Atlantic.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not proposing to skip,” I objected.</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” he replied. “And shouldn’t you? There’s +the problem. You seem to me to have a lack of sympathy +for the proprietors of cabmen’s eating-houses. By your +own account, you’re not getting on; the longer you stay, +it’ll only be the more out of the pocket of the dear old +lady at your lodgings. Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do: +if you consent to go, I’ll pay your passage to New York, +and your railway fare and expenses to Muskegon (if I +have the name right), where your father lived, where he +must have left friends, and where, no doubt, you’ll find an +opening. I don’t seek any gratitude, for of course you’ll +think me a beast; but I do ask you to pay it back when +you are able. At any rate, that’s all I can do. It might +be different if I thought you a genius, Dodd; but I don’t, +and I advise you not to.”</p> + +<p>“I think that was uncalled for, at least,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I daresay it was,” he returned, with the same steadiness. +“It seemed to me pertinent; and, besides, when +you ask me for money upon no security, you treat me +with the liberty of a friend, and it’s to be presumed that +I can do the like. But the point is, do you accept?”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you,” said I; “I have another string to +my bow.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>78</span></p> + +<p>“All right,” says Myner; “be sure it’s honest.”</p> + +<p>“Honest? honest?” I cried. “What do you mean +by calling my honesty in question?”</p> + +<p>“I won’t, if you don’t like it,” he replied. “You +seem to think honesty as easy as Blind Man’s Buff: I +don’t. It’s some difference of definition.”</p> + +<p>I went straight from this irritating interview, during +which Myner had never discontinued painting, to the +studio of my old master. Only one card remained for +me to play, and I was now resolved to play it: I must +drop the gentleman and the frock-coat, and approach art +in the workman’s tunic.</p> + +<p>“<i>Tiens</i>, this little Dodd!” cried the master; and then, +as his eye fell on my dilapidated clothing, I thought I +could perceive his countenance to darken.</p> + +<p>I made my plea in English; for I knew, if he were +vain of anything, it was of his achievement of the island +tongue. “Master,” said I, “will you take me in your +studio again—but this time as a workman?”</p> + +<p>“I sought your fazér was immensely reech?” said he.</p> + +<p>I explained to him that I was now an orphan, and +penniless.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. “I have betterr workmen waiting +at my door,” said he, “far betterr workmen.”</p> + +<p>“You used to think something of my work, sir,” I +pleaded.</p> + +<p>“Somesing, somesing—yés!” he cried; “énough for +a son of a reech man—not énough for an orphan. Besides, +I sought you might learn to be an artist; I did +not sink you might learn to be a workman.”</p> + +<p>On a certain bench on the outer boulevard, not far +from the tomb of Napoleon—a bench shaded at that date +by a shabby tree, and commanding a view of muddy +roadway and blank wall—I sat down to wrestle with my +misery. The weather was cheerless and dark; in three +days I had eaten but once; I had no tobacco; my shoes +were soaked, my trousers horrid with mire; my humour +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>79</span> +and all the circumstances of the time and place lugubriously +attuned. Here were two men who had both spoken fairly +of my work while I was rich and wanted nothing; now +that I was poor and lacked all: “No genius,” said the +one; “not enough for an orphan,” the other; and the first +offered me my passage like a pauper immigrant, and the +second refused me a day’s wage as a hewer of stone—plain +dealing for an empty belly. They had not been insincere +in the past; they were not insincere to-day: change of +circumstance had introduced a new criterion, that was all.</p> + +<p>But if I acquitted my two Job’s comforters of insincerity, +I was yet far from admitting them infallible. Artists +had been contemned before, and had lived to turn the +laugh on their contemners. How old was Corot before +he struck the vein of his own precious metal? When had +a young man been more derided (or more justly so) than +the god of my admiration, Balzac? Or, if I required a +bolder inspiration, what had I to do but turn my head to +where the gold dome of the Invalides glittered against +inky squalls, and recall the tale of him sleeping there: +from the day when a young artillery-sub could be giggled +at and nicknamed Puss-in-Boots by frisky misses, on to +the days of so many crowns and so many victories, and +so many hundred mouths of cannon, and so many thousand +warhoofs trampling the roadways of astonished Europe +eighty miles in front of the grand army? To go back, +to give up, to proclaim myself a failure, an ambitious +failure—first a rocket, then a stick! I, Loudon Dodd, +who had refused all other livelihoods with scorn, and been +advertised in the St. Joseph <i>Sunday Herald</i> as a patriot +and an artist, to be returned upon my native Muskegon +like damaged goods, and go the circuit of my father’s +acquaintance, cap in hand, and begging to sweep offices! +No, by Napoleon! I would die at my chosen trade; and +the two who had that day flouted me should live to envy +my success, or to weep tears of unavailing penitence behind +my pauper coffin. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>80</span></p> + +<p>Meantime, if my courage was still undiminished, I +was none the nearer to a meal. At no great distance my +cabman’s eating-house stood, at the tail of a muddy +cab-rank, on the shores of a wide thoroughfare of mud, +offering (to fancy) a lace of ambiguous invitation. I +might be received, I might once more fill my belly there; +on the other hand, it was perhaps this day the bolt was +destined to fall, and I might be expelled instead, with +vulgar hubbub. It was policy to make the attempt, and +I knew it was policy; but I had already, in the course +of that one morning, endured too many affronts, and I +felt I could rather starve than face another. I had courage +and to spare for the future, none left for that day; courage +for the main campaign, but not a spark of it for that +preliminary skirmish of the cabman’s restaurant. I continued +accordingly to sit upon my bench, not far from +the ashes of Napoleon, now drowsy, now light-headed, +now in complete mental obstruction, or only conscious of +an animal pleasure in quiescence; and now thinking, +planning, and remembering with unexampled clearness, +telling myself tales of sudden wealth, and gustfully ordering +and greedily consuming imaginary meals, in the course +of which I must have dropped to sleep.</p> + +<p>It was towards dark that I was suddenly recalled to +famine by a cold souse of rain, and sprang shivering to +my feet. For a moment I stood bewildered; the whole +train of my reasoning and dreaming passed afresh through +my mind; I was again tempted, drawn as if with cords, +by the image of the cabman’s eating-house, and again +recoiled from the possibility of insult. “<i>Qui dort dīne</i>,” +thought I to myself; and took my homeward way with +wavering footsteps, through rainy streets in which the +lamps and the shop-windows now began to gleam, still +marshalling imaginary dinners as I went.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Monsieur Dodd,” said the porter, “there has +been a registered letter for you. The facteur will bring +it again to-morrow.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>81</span></p> + +<p>A registered letter for me, who had been so long +without one? Of what it could possibly contain I had +no vestige of a guess, nor did I delay myself guessing; +far less form any conscious plan of dishonesty: the lies +flowed from me like a natural secretion.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said I, “my remittance at last! What a +bother I should have missed it! Can you lend me a +hundred francs until to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>I had never attempted to borrow from the porter +till that moment; the registered letter was, besides, my +warranty; and he gave me what he had—three napoleons +and some francs in silver. I pocketed the money carelessly, +lingered a while chaffing, strolled leisurely to the +door; and then (fast as my trembling legs could carry +me) round the corner to the Café de Cluny. French +waiters are deft and speedy; they were not deft enough +for me: and I had scarce decency to let the man set the +wine upon the table or put the butter alongside the bread, +before my glass and my mouth were filled. Exquisite +bread of the Café Cluny, exquisite first glass of old Pomard +tingling to my wet feet, indescribable first olive culled +from the <i>hors d’œuvre</i>—I suppose, when I come to lie +dying, and the lamp begins to grow dim, I shall still +recall your savour. Over the rest of that meal, and the +rest of the evening, clouds lie thick; clouds perhaps of +Burgundy: perhaps, more properly, of famine and repletion.</p> + +<p>I remember clearly, at least, the shame, the despair, +of the next morning, when I reviewed what I had done, +and how I had swindled the poor honest porter: and, +as if that were not enough, fairly burnt my ships, and +brought bankruptcy home to that last refuge, my garret. +The porter would expect his money; I could not pay him; +here was scandal in the house; and I knew right well +the cause of scandal would have to pack. “What do +you mean by calling my honesty in question?” I had +cried the day before, turning upon Myner. Ah, that day +before! the day before Waterloo, the day before the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>82</span> +Flood; the day before I had sold the roof over my head, +my future, and my self-respect, for a dinner at the Café +Cluny!</p> + +<p>In the midst of these lamentations the famous registered +letter came to my door, with healing under its seal. +It bore the postmark of San Francisco, where Pinkerton +was already struggling to the neck in multifarious affairs; +it renewed the offer of an allowance, which his improved +estate permitted him to announce at the figure of two +hundred francs a month; and in case I was in some immediate +pinch, it enclosed an introductory draft for forty +dollars. There are a thousand excellent reasons why a +man, in this self-helpful epoch, should decline to be dependent +on another; but the most numerous and cogent +considerations all bow to a necessity as stern as mine; +and the banks were scarce open ere the draft was cashed.</p> + +<p>It was early in December that I thus sold myself into +slavery, and for six months I dragged a slowly lengthening +chain of gratitude and uneasiness. At the cost of some +debt I managed to excel myself and eclipse the Genius of +Muskegon, in a small but highly patriotic “Standard +Bearer” for the Salon; whither it was duly admitted, +where it stood the proper length of days entirely unremarked, +and whence it came back to me as patriotic as +before. I threw my whole soul (as Pinkerton would have +phrased it) into clocks and candlesticks; the devil a +candlestick-maker would have anything to say to my +designs. Even when Dijon, with his infinite good-humour +and infinite scorn for all such journey-work, consented to +peddle them in indiscriminately with his own, the dealers +still detected and rejected mine. Home they returned to +me, true as the Standard Bearer, who now, at the head +of quite a regiment of lesser idols, began to grow an eyesore +in the scanty studio of my friend. Dijon and I have +sat by the hour, and gazed upon that company of images. +The severe, the frisky, the classical, the Louis Quinze, +were there—from Joan of Arc in her soldierly cuirass, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>83</span> +Leda with the swan; nay!—and God forgive me for a +man that knew better!—the humorous was represented +also. We sat and gazed, I say; we criticised, we turned +them hither and thither; even upon the closest inspection +they looked quite like statuettes; and yet nobody +would have a gift of them!</p> + +<p>Vanity dies hard; in some obstinate cases it outlives +the man: but about the sixth month, when I already +owed near two hundred dollars to Pinkerton, and half +as much again in debts scattered about Paris, I awoke +one morning with a horrid sentiment of oppression, and +found I was alone: my vanity had breathed her last +during the night. I dared not plunge deeper in the bog; +I saw no hope in my poor statuary; I owned myself +beaten at last; and sitting down in my night-shirt beside +the window, whence I had a glimpse of the tree-tops at +the corner of the boulevard, and where the music of its +early traffic fell agreeably upon my ear, I penned my +farewell to Paris, to art, to my whole past life, and my +whole former self. “I give in,” I wrote. “When the +next allowance arrives, I shall go straight out West, where +you can do what you like with me.”</p> + +<p>It is to be understood that Pinkerton had been, in +a sense, pressing me to come from the beginning; depicting +his isolation among new acquaintances, “who have +none of them your culture,” he wrote; expressing his +friendship in terms so warm that it sometimes embarrassed +me to think how poorly I could echo them; dwelling +upon his need for assistance; and the next moment turning +about to commend my resolution and press me to +remain in Paris. “Only remember, Loudon,” he would +write, “if you ever <i>do</i> tire of it, there’s plenty of work +here for you—honest, hard, well-paid work, developing +the resources of this practically virgin State. And, of +course, I needn’t say what a pleasure it would be to me +if we were going at it <i>shoulder to shoulder</i>.” I marvel, +looking back, that I could so long have resisted these +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>84</span> +appeals, and continue to sink my friend’s money in a +manner that I knew him to dislike. At least, when I did +awake to any sense of my position, I awoke to it entirely, +and determined not only to follow his counsel for the +future, but, even as regards the past, to rectify his losses. +For in this juncture of affairs I called to mind that I was +not without a possible resource, and resolved, at whatever +cost of mortification, to beard the Loudon family in their +historic city.</p> + +<p>In the excellent Scots phrase, I made a moonlight +flitting, a thing never dignified, but in my case unusually +easy. As I had scarce a pair of boots worth portage I +deserted the whole of my effects without a pang. Dijon +fell heir to Joan of Arc, the Standard Bearer, and the +Musketeers. He was present when I bought and frugally +stocked my new portmanteau, and it was at the door of +the trunk-shop that I took my leave of him, for my last +few hours in Paris must be spent alone. It was alone, +and at a far higher figure than my finances warranted, +that I discussed my dinner; alone that I took my ticket +at St. Lazare; all alone, though in a carriage full of +people, that I watched the moon shine on the Seine flood +with its tufted isles, on Rouen with her spires, and on +the shipping in the harbour of Dieppe. When the first +light of the morning called me from troubled slumbers +on the deck, I beheld the dawn at first with pleasure; +I watched with pleasure the green shores of England rising +out of rosy haze: I took the salt air with delight into +my nostrils; and then all came back to me—that I was +no longer an artist, no longer myself; that I was leaving +all I cared for, and returning to all that I detested, the +slave of debt and gratitude, a public and a branded failure.</p> + +<p>From this picture of my own disgrace and wretchedness +it is not wonderful if my mind turned with relief +to the thought of Pinkerton waiting for me, as I knew, +with unwearied affection, and regarding me with a respect +that I had never deserved, and might therefore fairly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>85</span> +hope that I should never forfeit. The inequality of our +relation struck me rudely. I must have been stupid, +indeed, if I could have considered the history of that +friendship without shame—I who had given so little, who +had accepted and profited by so much. I had the whole +day before me in London, and I determined, at least in +words, to set the balance somewhat straighter. Seated in +the corner of a public place, and calling for sheet after +sheet of paper, I poured forth the expression of my gratitude, +my penitence for the past, my resolutions for the +future. Till now, I told him, my course had been mere +selfishness. I had been selfish to my father and to my +friend, taking their help and denying them (which was all +they asked) the poor gratification of my company and +countenance.</p> + +<p>Wonderful are the consolations of literature! As soon +as that letter was written and posted the consciousness +of virtue glowed in my veins like some rare vintage.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>86</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h5>IN WHICH I GO WEST</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">I reached</span> my uncle’s door next morning in time to sit +down with the family to breakfast. More than three +years had intervened—almost without mutation in that +stationary household—since I had sat there first, a young +American freshman, bewildered among unfamiliar dainties +(Finnan haddock, kippered salmon, baps, and mutton-ham), +and had wearied my mind in vain to guess what +should be under the tea-cosy. If there were any change +at all, it seemed that I had risen in the family esteem. +My father’s death once fittingly referred to with a ceremonial +lengthening of Scots upper lips and wagging of +the female head, the party launched at once (God help +me!) into the more cheerful topic of my own successes. +They had been so pleased to hear such good accounts of +me; I was quite a great man now; where was that +beautiful statue of the Genius of Something or other? +“You haven’t it here? Not here? Really?” asks the +sprightliest of my cousins, shaking curls at me; as though +it were likely I had brought it in the cab, or kept it concealed +about my person like a birthday surprise. In the +bosom of this family, unaccustomed to the tropical nonsense +of the West, it became plain the <i>Sunday Herald</i> and +poor blethering Pinkerton had been accepted for their +face. It is not possible to invent a circumstance that could +have more depressed me; and I am conscious that I +behaved all through that breakfast like a whipped schoolboy.</p> + +<p>At length, the meal and family prayers being both +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>87</span> +happily over, I requested the favour of an interview with +Uncle Adam on “the state of my affairs.” At sound of +this ominous expression the good man’s face conspicuously +lengthened; and when my grandfather, having had the +proposition repeated to him (for he was hard of hearing), +announced his intention of being present at the interview, +I could not but think that Uncle Adam’s sorrow kindled +into momentary irritation. Nothing, however, but the +usual grim cordiality appeared upon the surface; and we +all three passed ceremoniously to the adjoining library, +a gloomy theatre for a depressing piece of business. My +grandfather charged a clay pipe, and sat tremulously +smoking in a corner of the fireless chimney; behind him, +although the morning was both chill and dark, the window +was partly open and the blind partly down: I cannot +depict what an air he had of being out of place, like a +man shipwrecked there. Uncle Adam had his station at +the business-table in the midst. Valuable rows of books +looked down upon the place of torture; and I could hear +sparrows chirping in the garden, and my sprightly cousin +already banging the piano and pouring forth an acid +stream of song from the drawing-room overhead.</p> + +<p>It was in these circumstances that, with all brevity +of speech and a certain boyish sullenness of manner, looking +the while upon the floor, I informed my relatives of +my financial situation: the amount I owed Pinkerton; +the hopelessness of any maintenance from sculpture; the +career offered me in the States; and how, before becoming +more beholden to a stranger, I had judged it right +to lay the case before my family.</p> + +<p>“I am only sorry you did not come to me at first,” +said Uncle Adam. “I take the liberty to say it would +have been more decent.”</p> + +<p>“I think so too, Uncle Adam,” I replied; “but you +must bear in mind I was ignorant in what light you might +regard my application.”</p> + +<p>“I hope I would never turn my back on my own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>88</span> +flesh and blood,” he returned with emphasis; but, to my +anxious ear, with more of temper than affection. “I could +never forget you were my sister’s son. I regard this as +a manifest duty. I have no choice but to accept the +entire responsibility of the position you have made.”</p> + +<p>I did not know what else to do but murmur “Thank +you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he pursued, “and there is something providential +in the circumstance that you come at the right +time. In my old firm there is a vacancy; they call themselves +Italian Warehousemen now,” he continued, regarding +me with a twinkle of humour; “so you may think +yourself in luck: we were only grocers in my day. I shall +place you there to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Stop a moment, Uncle Adam,” I broke in. “This +is not at all what I am asking. I ask you to pay Pinkerton, +who is a poor man. I ask you to clear my feet of +debt, not to arrange my life or any part of it.”</p> + +<p>“If I wished to be harsh, I might remind you that +beggars cannot be choosers,” said my uncle; “and as to +managing your life, you have tried your own way already, +and you see what you have made of it. You must now +accept the guidance of those older and (whatever you may +think of it) wiser than yourself. All these schemes of +your friend (of whom I know nothing, by the by) and +talk of openings in the West, I simply disregard. I have +no idea whatever of your going troking across a continent +on a wild-goose chase. In this situation, which I am +fortunately able to place at your disposal, and which +many a well-conducted young man would be glad to jump +at, you will receive, to begin with, eighteen shillings a +week.”</p> + +<p>“Eighteen shillings a week!” I cried. “Why, my +poor friend gave me more than that for nothing!”</p> + +<p>“And I think it is this very friend you are now trying +to repay?” observed my uncle, with an air of one advancing +a strong argument. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>89</span></p> + +<p>“Aadam,” said my grandfather.</p> + +<p>“I’m vexed you should be present at this business,” +quoth Uncle Adam, swinging rather obsequiously towards +the stonemason; “but I must remind you it is of your +own seeking.”</p> + +<p>“Aadam!” repeated the old man.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, I am listening,” says my uncle.</p> + +<p>My grandfather took a puff or two in silence: and +then, “Ye’re makin’ an awfu’ poor appearance, Aadam,” +said he.</p> + +<p>My uncle visibly reared at the affront. “I’m sorry +you should think so,” said he, “and still more sorry you +should say so before present company.”</p> + +<p>“A believe that; A ken that, Aadam,” returned old +Loudon drily; “and the curiis thing is, I’m no very +carin’.—See here, ma man,” he continued, addressing himself +to me. “A’m your grandfaither, amn’t I not? Never +you mind what Aadam says. A’ll see justice dune ye. +A’m rich.”</p> + +<p>“Father,” said Uncle Adam, “I would like one word +with you in private.”</p> + +<p>I rose to go.</p> + +<p>“Set down upon your hinderlands,” cried my grandfather, +almost savagely. “If Aadam has anything to say, +let him say it. It’s me that has the money here; and, +by Gravy! I’m goin’ to be obeyed.”</p> + +<p>Upon this scurvy encouragement, it appeared that my +uncle had no remark to offer: twice challenged to “speak +out and be done with it,” he twice sullenly declined; and +I may mention that about this period of the engagement +I began to be sorry for him.</p> + +<p>“See here, then, Jeannie’s yin!” resumed my grandfather. +“A’m goin’ to give ye a set-off. Your mither +was always my fav’rite, for A never could agree with +Aadam. A like ye fine yoursel’; there’s nae noansense +aboot ye; ye’ve a fine nayteral idee of builder’s work; +ye’ve been to France, where, they tell me, they’re grand +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>90</span> +at the stuccy. A splendid thing for ceilin’s, the stuccy! +and it’s a vailyable disguise, too; A don’t believe there’s +a builder in Scotland has used more stuccy than me. But, +as A was sayin’, if ye’ll follie that trade, with the capital +that A’m goin’ to give ye, ye may live yet to be as rich +as mysel’. Ye see, ye would have always had a share +of it when A was gone; it appears ye’re needin’ it now; +well, ye’ll get the less, as is only just and proper.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Adam cleared his throat. “This is very handsome, +father,” said he; “and I am sure Loudon feels it +so. Very handsome, and, as you say, very just; but will +you allow me to say that it had better, perhaps, be put +in black and white?”</p> + +<p>The enmity always smouldering between the two +men, at this ill-judged interruption almost burst in flame. +The stonemason turned upon his offspring, his long upper +lip pulled down for all the world like a monkey’s. He +stared a while in virulent silence; and then “Get +Gregg!” said he.</p> + +<p>The effect of these words was very visible. “He will +be gone to his office,” stammered my uncle.</p> + +<p>“Get Gregg!” repeated my grandfather.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, he will be gone to his office,” reiterated +Adam.</p> + +<p>“And I tell ye, he’s takin’ his smoke,” retorted the +old man.</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” cried my uncle, getting to his feet +with some alacrity, as upon a sudden change of thought, +“I will get him myself.”</p> + +<p>“Ye will not!” cried my grandfather. “Ye will sit +there upon your hinderland.”</p> + +<p>“Then how the devil am I to get him?” my uncle +broke forth, with not unnatural petulance.</p> + +<p>My grandfather (having no possible answer) grinned +at his son with the malice of a schoolboy; then he rang +the bell.</p> + +<p>“Take the garden key,” said Uncle Adam to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>91</span> +servant; “go over to the garden, and if Mr. Gregg the +lawyer is there (he generally sits under the red hawthorn), +give him old Mr. Loudon’s compliments, and will he step +in here for a moment?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Gregg the lawyer!” At once I understood +(what had been puzzling me) the significance of my +grandfather and the alarm of my poor uncle: the stonemason’s +will, it was supposed, hung trembling in the +balance.</p> + +<p>“Look here, grandfather,” I said, “I didn’t want any +of this. All I wanted was a loan of, say, two hundred +pounds. I can take care of myself; I have prospects and +opportunities, good friends in the States—”</p> + +<p>The old man waved me down. “It’s me that speaks +here,” he said curtly; and we waited the coming of the +lawyer in a triple silence. He appeared at last, the maid +ushering him in—a spectacled, dry, but not ungenial-looking +man.</p> + +<p>“Here, Gregg,” cried my grandfather, “just a question: +What has Aadam got to do with my will?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” said the lawyer, +staring.</p> + +<p>“What has he got to do with it?” repeated the old +man, smiting with his fist upon the arm of his chair. +“Is my money mine’s, or is it Aadam’s? Can Aadam +interfere?”</p> + +<p>“O, I see,” said Mr. Gregg. “Certainly not. On the +marriage of both of your children a certain sum was paid +down and accepted in full of legitim. You have surely +not forgotten the circumstance, Mr. Loudon?”</p> + +<p>“So that, if I like,” concluded my grandfather, hammering +out his words, “I can leave every doit I die +possessed of to the Great Magunn?”—meaning probably +the Great Mogul.</p> + +<p>“No doubt of it,” replied Gregg, with a shadow of a +smile.</p> + +<p>“Ye hear that, Aadam?” asked my grandfather. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>92</span></p> + +<p>“I may be allowed to say I had no need to hear it,” +said my uncle.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” says my grandfather. “You and +Jeannie’s yin can go for a bit walk. Me and Gregg has +business.”</p> + +<p>When once I was in the hall alone with Uncle Adam, +I turned to him sick at heart. “Uncle Adam,” I said, +“you can understand, better than I can say, how very +painful all this is to me.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am sorry you have seen your grandfather in +so unamiable a light,” replied this extraordinary man. +“You shouldn’t allow it to affect your mind, though. He +has sterling qualities, quite an extraordinary character; +and I have no fear but he means to behave handsomely +to you.”</p> + +<p>His composure was beyond my imitation: the house +could not contain me, nor could I even promise to return +to it: in concession to which weakness, it was agreed +that I should call in about an hour at the office of the +lawyer, whom (as he left the library) Uncle Adam should +waylay and inform of the arrangement. I suppose there +was never a more topsy-turvy situation; you would have +thought it was I who had suffered some rebuff, and that +iron-sided Adam was a generous conqueror who scorned +to take advantage.</p> + +<p>It was plain enough that I was to be endowed: to +what extent and upon what conditions I was now left +for an hour to meditate in the wide and solitary thoroughfares +of the new town, taking counsel with street-corner +statues of George IV. and William Pitt, improving my +mind with the pictures in the window of a music-shop, +and renewing my acquaintance with Edinburgh east wind. +By the end of the hour I made my way to Mr. Gregg’s +office, where I was placed, with a few appropriate words, +in possession of a cheque for two thousand pounds and +a small parcel of architectural works.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Loudon bids me add,” continued the lawyer, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>93</span> +consulting a little sheet of notes, “that although these +volumes are very valuable to the practical builder, you +must be careful not to lose originality. He tells you also +not to be ‘hadden doun’—his own expression—by the +theory of strains, and that Portland cement, properly +sanded, will go a long way.”</p> + +<p>I smiled, and remarked that I supposed it would.</p> + +<p>“I once lived in one of my excellent client’s houses,” +observed the lawyer; “and I was tempted, in that case, +to think it had gone far enough.”</p> + +<p>“Under these circumstances, sir,” said I, “you will +be rather relieved to hear that I have no intention of +becoming a builder.”</p> + +<p>At this he fairly laughed; and, the ice being broken, +I was able to consult him as to my conduct. He insisted +I must return to the house—at least, for luncheon, and +one of my walks with Mr. Loudon. “For the evening +I will furnish you with an excuse, if you please,” said he, +“by asking you to a bachelor dinner with myself. But +the luncheon and the walk are unavoidable. He is an +old man, and, I believe, really fond of you; he would +naturally feel aggrieved if there were any appearance of +avoiding him; and as for Mr. Adam, do you know, I think +your delicacy out of place.... And now, Mr. Dodd, +what are you to do with this money?”</p> + +<p>Ay, there was the question. With two thousand +pounds—fifty thousand francs—I might return to Paris +and the arts, and be a prince and millionaire in that +thrifty Latin Quarter. I think I had the grace, with one +corner of my mind, to be glad that I had sent the London +letter: I know very well that, with the rest and worst +of me, I repented bitterly of that precipitate act. On one +point, however, my whole multiplex estate of man was +unanimous: the letter being gone, there was no help but +I must follow. The money was accordingly divided in +two unequal shares: for the first, Mr. Gregg got me a +bill in the name of Dijon to meet my liabilities in Paris; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>94</span> +for the second, as I had already cash in hand for the +expenses of, my journey, he supplied me with drafts on +San Francisco.</p> + +<p>The rest of my business in Edinburgh, not to dwell +on a very agreeable dinner with the lawyer or the horrors +of the family luncheon, took the form of an excursion +with the stonemason, who led me this time to no suburb +or work of his old hands, but, with an impulse both +natural and pretty, to that more enduring home which +he had chosen for his clay. It was in a cemetery, by +some strange chance immured within the bulwarks of a +prison; standing, besides, on the margin of a cliff, crowded +with elderly stone memorials, and green with turf and ivy. +The east wind (which I thought too harsh for the old +man) continually shook the boughs, and the thin sun of +a Scottish summer drew their dancing shadows.</p> + +<p>“I wanted ye to see the place,” said he. “Yon’s the +stane. <i>Euphemia Ross</i>: that was my goodwife, your +grandmither—hoots! I’m wrong; that was my first yin; +I had no bairns by her;—yours is the second, <i>Mary Murray, +Born</i> 1819, <i>Died</i> 1850; that’s her—a fine, plain, decent +sort of a creature, tak’ her a’thegether. <i>Alexander Loudon, +Born Seventeen Ninety-Twa, Died</i>—and then a hole in the +ballant: that’s me. Alexander’s my name. They ca’d +me Ecky when I was a boy. Eh, Ecky! ye’re an awfu’ +auld man!”</p> + +<p>I had a second and sadder experience of graveyards +at my next alighting-place, the city of Muskegon, now +rendered conspicuous by the dome of the new capitol +encaged in scaffolding. It was late in the afternoon when +I arrived, and raining; and as I walked in great streets, +of the very name of which I was quite ignorant—double, +treble, and quadruple lines of horse-cars jingling by—hundred-fold +wires of telegraph and telephone matting +heaven above my head—huge, staring houses, garish and +gloomy, flanking me from either hand—the thought of +the Rue Racine, ay, and of the cabman’s eating-house, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>95</span> +brought tears to my eyes. The whole monotonous Babel +had grown—or, I should rather say, swelled—with such a +leap since my departure that I must continually inquire +my way; and the very cemetery was brand-new. Death, +however, had been active; the graves were already +numerous, and I must pick my way in the rain among +the tawdry sepulchres of millionaires, and past the plain +black crosses of Hungarian labourers, till chance or instinct +led me to the place that was my father’s. The stone had +been erected (I knew already) “by admiring friends”; +I could now judge their taste in monuments. Their taste +in literature, methought, I could imagine, and I refrained +from drawing near enough to read the terms of the inscription. +But the name was in larger letters and stared +at me—<i>James K. Dodd</i>. “What a singular thing is a +name!” I thought; “how it clings to a man, and continually +misrepresents, and then survives him!” And it +flashed across my mind, with a mixture of regret and +bitter mirth, that I had never known, and now probably +never should know, what the <i>K</i> had represented. King, +Kilter, Kay, Kaiser, I went, running over names at random, +and then stumbled, with ludicrous misspelling, on Kornelius, +and had nearly laughed aloud. I have never been +more childish; I suppose (although the deeper voices of +my nature seemed all dumb) because I have never been +more moved. And at this last incongruous antic of my +nerves I was seized with a panic of remorse, and fled +the cemetery.</p> + +<p>Scarce less funereal was the rest of my experience in +Muskegon, where, nevertheless, I lingered, visiting my +father’s circle, for some days. It was in piety to him I +lingered; and I might have spared myself the pain. His +memory was already quite gone out. For his sake, indeed, +I was made welcome; and for mine the conversation +rolled a while with laborious effort on the virtues of the +deceased. His former comrades dwelt, in my company, +upon his business talents or his generosity for public purposes: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>96</span> +when my back was turned, they remembered him +no more. My father had loved me; I had left him alone, +to live and die among the indifferent; now I returned to +find him dead and buried and forgotten. Unavailing +penitence translated itself in my thoughts to fresh resolve. +There was another poor soul who loved me—Pinkerton. +I must not be guilty twice of the same error.</p> + +<p>A week perhaps had been thus wasted, nor had I prepared +my friend for the delay. Accordingly, when I had +changed trains at Council Bluffs, I was aware of a man +appearing at the end of the car with a telegram in his +hand and inquiring whether there were any one aboard +“of the name of <i>London</i> Dodd?” I thought the name +near enough, claimed the despatch, and found it was from +Pinkerton: “What day do you arrive? Awfully important.” +I sent him an answer, giving day and hour, and +at Ogden found a fresh despatch awaiting me: “That +will do. Unspeakable relief. Meet you at Sacramento.” +In Paris days I had a private name for Pinkerton: “The +Irrepressible” was what I had called him in hours of +bitterness, and the name rose once more on my lips. What +mischief was he up to now? What new bowl was my +benignant monster brewing for his Frankenstein? In what +new imbroglio should I alight on the Pacific coast? My +trust in the man was entire, and my distrust perfect. +I knew he would never mean amiss; but I was convinced +he would almost never (in my sense) do aright.</p> + +<p>I suppose these vague anticipations added a shade of +gloom to that already gloomy place of travel: Nebraska, +Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, scowled in my face at least, and +seemed to point me back again to that other native land +of mine, the Latin Quarter. But when the Sierras had +been climbed, and the train, after so long beating and +panting, stretched itself upon the downward track—when +I beheld that vast extent of prosperous country rolling +seaward from the woods and the blue mountains, that +illimitable spread of rippling corn, the trees growing and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>97</span> +blowing in the merry weather, the country boys thronging +aboard the train with figs and peaches, and the conductors, +and the very darky stewards, visibly exulting in the +change—up went my soul like a balloon; Care fell from +his perch upon my shoulders; and when I spied my +Pinkerton among the crowd at Sacramento, I thought of +nothing but to shout and wave for him, and grasp him +by the hand, like what he was—my dearest friend.</p> + +<p>“O, Loudon!” he cried; “man, how I’ve pined for +you! And you haven’t come an hour too soon. You’re +known here and waited for; I’ve been booming you +already: you’re billed for a lecture to-morrow night: +’Student Life in Paris, Grave and Gay’: twelve hundred +places booked at the last stock! Tut, man, you’re looking +thin! Here, try a drop of this.” And he produced a +case bottle, staringly labelled <span class="sc">Pinkerton’s Thirteen +Star Golden State Brandy, Warranted Entire</span>.</p> + +<p>“God bless me!” said I, gasping and winking after +my first plunge into this fiery fluid; “and what does +’Warranted Entire’ mean?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Loudon, you ought to know that!” cried +Pinkerton. “It’s real, copper-bottomed English; you see +it on all the old-time wayside hostelries over there.”</p> + +<p>“But if I’m not mistaken, it means something Warranted +Entirely different,” said I, “and applies to the +public-house, and not the beverages sold.”</p> + +<p>“It’s very possible,” said Jim, quite unabashed. “It’s +effective, anyway; and I can tell you, sir, it has boomed +that spirit: it goes now by the gross of cases. By the +way, I hope you won’t mind; I’ve got your portrait all +over San Francisco for the lecture, enlarged from that +carte de visite: ‘H. Loudon Dodd, the Americo-Parisienne +Sculptor.’ Here’s a proof of the small handbills; the +posters are the same, only in red and blue, and the letters +fourteen by one.”</p> + +<p>I looked at the handbill, and my head turned. What +was the use of words? why seek to explain to Pinkerton +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>98</span> +the knotted horrors of “Americo-Parisienne”? He took +an early occasion to point it out as “rather a good phrase; +gives the two sides at a glance: I wanted the lecture +written up to that.” Even after we had reached San +Francisco, and at the actual physical shock of my own +effigy placarded on the streets I had broken forth in +petulant words, he never comprehended in the least the +ground of my aversion.</p> + +<p>“If I had only known you disliked red lettering!” +was as high as he could rise. “You are perfectly right: +a clear-cut black is preferable, and shows a great deal +further. The only thing that pains me is the portrait: +I own I thought that a success. I’m dreadfully and truly +sorry, my dear fellow: I see now it’s not what you had +a right to expect; but I did it, Loudon, for the best; +and the press is all delighted.”</p> + +<p>At the moment, sweeping through green tule swamps, +I fell direct on the essential. “But Pinkerton,” I cried, +“this lecture is the maddest of your madnesses. How can +I prepare a lecture in thirty hours?”</p> + +<p>“All done, Loudon!” he exclaimed in triumph. “All +ready. Trust me to pull a piece of business through. +You’ll find it all type-written in my desk at home. I put +the best talent of San Francisco on the job: Harry Miller, +the brightest pressman in the city.”</p> + +<p>And so he rattled on, beyond reach of my modest protestations, +blurting out his complicated interests, crying +up his new acquaintances, and ever and again hungering +to introduce me to some “whole-souled, grand fellow, as +sharp as a needle,” from whom, and the very thought of +whom, my spirit shrank instinctively.</p> + +<p>Well, I was in for it—in for Pinkerton, in for the +portrait, in for the type-written lecture. One promise I +extorted—that I was never again to be committed in +ignorance. Even for that, when I saw how its extortion +puzzled and depressed the Irrepressible, my soul repented +me, and in all else I suffered myself to be led uncomplaining +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>99</span> +at his chariot-wheels. The Irrepressible, did I +say? The Irresistible were nigher truth.</p> + +<p>But the time to have seen me was when I sat down +to Harry Miller’s lecture. He was a facetious dog, this +Harry Miller. He had a gallant way of skirting the +indecent, which in my case produced physical nausea, and +he could be sentimental and even melodramatic about +grisettes and starving genius. I found he had enjoyed +the benefit of my correspondence with Pinkerton; adventures +of my own were here and there horridly misrepresented, +sentiments of my own echoed and exaggerated +till I blushed to recognise them. I will do Harry Miller +justice: he must have had a kind of talent, almost of +genius; all attempts to lower his tone proving fruitless, +and the Harry-Millerism ineradicable. Nay, the monster +had a certain key of style, or want of style, so that certain +milder passages, which I sought to introduce, discorded +horribly and impoverished, if that were possible, the +general effect.</p> + +<p>By an early hour of the numbered evening I might +have been observed at the sign of the “Poodle Dog” +dining with my agent—so Pinkerton delighted to describe +himself. Thence, like an ox to the slaughter, he led me +to the hall, where I stood presently alone, confronting +assembled San Francisco, with no better allies than a +table, a glass of water, and a mass of manuscript and +typework, representing Harry Miller and myself. I read +the lecture: for I had lacked both time and will to get +the trash by heart—read it hurriedly, humbly, and with +visible shame. Now and then I would catch in the +auditorium an eye of some intelligence, now and then in +the manuscript would stumble on a richer vein of Harry +Miller, and my heart would fail me, and I gabbled. The +audience yawned, it stirred uneasily, it muttered, +grumbled, and broke forth at last in articulate cries of +“Speak up!” and “Nobody can hear!” I took to +skipping, and, being extremely ill-acquainted with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>100</span> +country, almost invariably cut in again in the unintelligible +midst of some new topic. What struck me as extremely +ominous, these misfortunes were allowed to pass without +a laugh. Indeed, I was beginning to fear the worst, and +even personal indignity, when all at once the humour of +the thing broke upon me strongly. I could have laughed +aloud, and, being again summoned to speak up, I faced +my patrons for the first time with a smile. “Very well,” +I said, “I will try, though I don’t suppose anybody +wants to hear, and I can’t see why anybody should.” +Audience and lecturer laughed together till the tears ran +down, vociferous and repeated applause hailed my impromptu +sally. Another hit which I made but a little +after, as I turned three pages of the copy—“You see, I +am leaving out as much as I possibly can”—increased the +esteem with which my patrons had begun to regard me; +and when I left the stage at last, my departing form was +cheered with laughter, stamping, shouting, and the waving +of hats.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton was in the waiting-room, feverishly jotting +in his pocket-book. As he saw me enter, he sprang up, +and I declare the tears were trickling on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“My dear boy,” he cried, “I can never forgive myself, +and you can never forgive me. Never mind, I did it for +the best. And how nobly you clung on! I dreaded we +should have had to return the money at the doors.”</p> + +<p>“It would have been more honest if we had,” said I.</p> + +<p>The pressmen followed me, Harry Miller in the front +ranks; and I was amazed to find them, on the whole, a +pleasant set of lads, probably more sinned against than +sinning, and even Harry Miller apparently a gentleman. +I had in oysters and champagne—for the receipts were +excellent—and, being in a high state of nervous tension, +kept the table in a roar. Indeed, I was never in my life +so well inspired as when I described my vigil over Harry +Miller’s literature or the series of my emotions as I faced +the audience. The lads vowed I was the soul of good +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>101</span> +company and the prince of lecturers; and—so wonderful +an institution is the popular press—if you had seen the +notices next day in all the papers you must have supposed +my evening’s entertainment an unqualified success.</p> + +<p>I was in excellent spirits when I returned home that +night, but the miserable Pinkerton sorrowed for us both.</p> + +<p>“O, Loudon,” he said, “I shall never forgive myself. +When I saw you didn’t catch on to the idea of the lecture, +I should have given it myself!”</p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>102</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h5>IRONS IN THE FIRE</h5> + +<p class="center f90"><i>Opes Strepitumque</i></p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> food of the body differs not so greatly for the fool +or the sage, the elephant or the cock-sparrow; and similar +chemical elements, variously disguised, support all +mortals. A brief study of Pinkerton in his new setting +convinced me of a kindred truth about that other and +mental digestion by which we extract what is called “fun +for our money” out of life. In the same spirit as a +schoolboy deep in Mayne Reid handles a dummy gun +and crawls among imaginary forests, Pinkerton sped +through Kearney Street upon his daily business, representing +to himself a highly coloured part in life’s performance, +and happy for hours if he should have chanced to +brush against a millionaire. Reality was his romance; +he gloried to be thus engaged: he wallowed in his +business. Suppose a man to dig up a galleon on the +Coromandel coast, his rakish schooner keeping the while +an offing under easy sail, and he, by the blaze of a great +fire of wreckwood, to measure ingots by the bucketful +on the uproarious beach; such an one might realise a +greater material spoil; he should have no more profit of +romance than Pinkerton when he cast up his weekly +balance-sheet in a bald office. Every dollar gained was +like something brought ashore from a mysterious deep; +every venture made was like a diver’s plunge; and as +he thrust his bold hand into the plexus of the money-market +he was delightedly aware of how he shook the +pillars of existence, turned out men, as at a battle-cry, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>103</span> +to labour in far countries, and set the gold twitching in +the drawers of millionaires.</p> + +<p>I could never fathom the full extent of his speculations; +but there were five separate businesses which he avowed +and carried like a banner. The <i>Thirteen Star Golden +State Brandy, Warranted Entire</i> (a very flagrant distillation) +filled a great part of his thoughts, and was kept +before the public in an eloquent but misleading treatise, +“Why Drink French Brandy? A Word to the Wise.” +He kept an office for advertisers, counselling, designing, +acting as middleman with printers and bill-stickers, for +the inexperienced or the uninspired: the dull haberdasher +came to him for ideas, the smart theatrical agent for his +local knowledge, and one and all departed with a copy +of his pamphlet, “How, When, and Where; or, The +Advertiser’s Vade-Mecum.” He had a tug chartered +every Saturday afternoon and night, carried people outside +the Heads, and provided them with lines and bait +for six hours’ fishing, at the rate of five dollars a person. +I am told that some of them (doubtless adroit anglers) +made a profit on the transaction. Occasionally he bought +wrecks and condemned vessels; these latter (I cannot +tell you how) found their way to sea again under aliases, +and continued to stem the waves triumphantly enough +under the colours of Bolivia or Nicaragua. Lastly, there +was a certain agricultural engine, glorying in a great deal +of vermilion and blue paint, and filling (it appeared) a +“long-felt want,” in which his interest was something +like a tenth.</p> + +<p>This for the face or front of his concerns. “On the +outside,” as he phrased it, he was variously and mysteriously +engaged. No dollar slept in his possession; +rather, he kept all simultaneously flying, like a conjurer +with oranges. My own earnings, when I began to have +a share, he would but show me for a moment, and disperse +again, like those illusive money gifts which are flashed +in the eyes of childhood, only to be entombed in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>104</span> +missionary-box. And he would come down radiant from +a weekly balance-sheet, clap me on the shoulder, declare +himself a winner by Gargantuan figures, and prove destitute +of a quarter for a drink.</p> + +<p>“What on earth have you done with it?” I would ask.</p> + +<p>“Into the mill again; all re-invested!” he would +cry, with infinite delight. “Investment” was ever his +word. He could not bear what he called gambling. +“Never touch stocks, Loudon,” he would say; “nothing +but legitimate business.” And yet, Heaven knows, many +an indurated gambler might have drawn back appalled +at the first hint of some of Pinkerton’s investments! +One which I succeeded in tracking home, an instance +for a specimen, was a seventh share in the charter of a +certain ill-starred schooner bound for Mexico—to smuggle +weapons on the one trip, and cigars upon the other. The +latter end of this enterprise, involving (as it did) shipwreck, +confiscation, and a lawsuit with the underwriters, +was too painful to be dwelt upon at length. “It’s proved +a disappointment,” was as far as my friend would go +with me in words; but I knew, from observation, that +the fabric of his fortunes tottered. For the rest, it was +only by accident I got wind of the transaction; for +Pinkerton, after a time, was shy of introducing me to +his arcana: the reason you are to hear presently.</p> + +<p>The office which was (or should have been) the point +of rest for so many evolving dollars stood in the heart +of the city—a high and spacious room, with many plate-glass +windows. A glazed cabinet of polished red-wood +offered to the eye a regiment of some two hundred bottles +conspicuously labelled. These were all charged with +Pinkerton’s Thirteen Star, although from across the room +it would have required an expert to distinguish them +from the same number of bottles of Courvoisier. I used +to twit my friend with this resemblance, and propose a +new edition of the pamphlet, with the title thus improved, +“Why Drink French Brandy, When We give You the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>105</span> +same Labels?” The doors of the cabinet revolved all +day upon their hinges; and if there entered any one +who was a stranger to the merits of the brand, he departed +laden with a bottle. When I used to protest at this +extravagance, “My dear Loudon,” Pinkerton would cry, +“you don’t seem to catch on to business principles! +The prime cost of the spirit is literally nothing. I couldn’t +find a cheaper advertisement if I tried.” Against the +side-post of the cabinet there leaned a gaudy umbrella, +preserved there as a relic. It appears that when Pinkerton +was about to place Thirteen Star upon the market, the +rainy season was at hand. He lay dark, almost in penury, +awaiting the first shower, at which, as upon a signal, the +main thoroughfares became dotted with his agents, vendors +of advertisements; and the whole world of San Francisco, +from the business-man fleeing for the ferry-boat, to the +lady waiting at the corner for her car, sheltered itself +under umbrellas with this strange device: <i>Are you wet? +Try Thirteen Star.</i> “It was a mammoth boom,” said +Pinkerton, with a sigh of delighted recollection. “There +wasn’t another umbrella to be seen. I stood at this +window, Loudon, feasting my eyes; and I declare, I +felt like Vanderbilt.” And it was to this neat application +of the local climate that he owed, not only much of the +sale of Thirteen Star, but the whole business of his advertising +agency.</p> + +<p>The large desk (to resume our survey of the office) +stood about the middle, knee-deep in stacks of handbills +and posters of “Why Drink French Brandy?” and “The +Advertiser’s Vade-Mecum.” It was flanked upon the one +hand by two female type-writers, who rested not between +the hours of nine and four, and upon the other by a model +of the agricultural machine. The walls, where they were +not broken by telephone-boxes and a couple of photographs—one +representing the wreck of the <i>James L. Moody</i> +on a bold and broken coast, the other the Saturday tug +alive with amateur fishers—almost disappeared under +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>106</span> +oil-paintings gaudily framed. Many of these were relics +of the Latin Quarter, and I must do Pinkerton the justice +to say that none of them were bad, and some had remarkable +merit. They went off slowly, but for handsome +figures; and their places were progressively supplied with +the work of local artists. These last it was one of my +first duties to review and criticise. Some of them were +villainous, yet all were saleable. I said so; and the next +moment saw myself, the figure of a miserable renegade, +bearing arms in the wrong camp. I was to look at pictures +thenceforward, not with the eye of the artist, but the +dealer; and I saw the stream widen that divided me +from all I loved.</p> + +<p>“Now, Loudon,” Pinkerton had said, the morning +after the lecture,—“now, Loudon, we can go at it shoulder +to shoulder. This is what I have longed for: I wanted +two heads and four arms; and now I have ’em. You’ll +find it’s just the same as art—all observation and imagination +only more movement. Just wait till you begin to +feel the charm!”</p> + +<p>I might have waited long. Perhaps I lack a sense; +for our whole existence seemed to me one dreary bustle, +and the place we bustled in fitly to be called the Place of +Yawning. I slept in a little den behind the office; +Pinkerton, in the office itself, stretched on a patent sofa +which sometimes collapsed, his slumbers still further +menaced by an imminent clock with an alarm. Roused +by this diabolical contrivance, we rose early, went forth +early to breakfast, and returned by nine to what Pinkerton +called work, and I distraction. Masses of letters must be +opened, read, and answered; some by me at a subsidiary +desk which had been introduced on the morning of my +arrival; others by my bright-eyed friend, pacing the room +like a caged lion as he dictated to the tinkling type-writers. +Masses of wet proof had to be overhauled and scrawled +upon with a blue pencil—“rustic”; “six-inch caps”; +“bold spacing here”; or sometimes terms more fervid—as, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>107</span> +for instance, this (which I remember Pinkerton to +have spirted on the margin of an advertisement of Soothing +Syrup), “Throw this all down. Have you never printed +an advertisement? I’ll be round in half-an-hour.” The +ledger and sale-book, besides, we had always with us. +Such was the backbone of our occupation, and tolerable +enough; but the far greater proportion of our time was +consumed by visitors—whole-souled, grand fellows no +doubt, and as sharp as a needle, but to me unfortunately +not diverting. Some were apparently half-witted, and +must be talked over by the hour before they could reach +the humblest decision, which they only left the office to +return again (ten minutes later) and rescind. Others +came with a vast show of hurry and despatch, but I observed +it to be principally show. The agricultural model, for +instance, which was practicable, proved a kind of fly-paper +for these busybodies. I have seen them blankly +turn the crank of it for five minutes at a time, simulating +(to nobody’s deception) business interest: “Good thing +this, Pinkerton? Sell much of it? Ha! Couldn’t use +it, I suppose, as a medium of advertisement for my article?”—which +was perhaps toilet soap. Others (a still worse +variety) carried us to neighbouring saloons to dice for +cocktails and (after the cocktails were paid) for dollars +on a corner of the counter. The attraction of dice for +all these people was, indeed, extraordinary: at a certain +club where I once dined in the character of “my partner, +Mr. Dodd,” the dice-box came on the table with the wine, +an artless substitute for after-dinner wit.</p> + +<p>Of all our visitors, I believe I preferred Emperor +Norton; the very mention of whose name reminds me +I am doing scanty justice to the folks of San Francisco. +In what other city would a harmless madman who supposed +himself emperor of the two Americas have been +so fostered and encouraged? Where else would even +the people of the streets have respected the poor soul’s +illusion? Where else would bankers and merchants have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>108</span> +received his visits, cashed his cheques, and submitted to +his small assessments? Where else would he have been +suffered to attend and address the exhibition days of +schools and colleges? Where else, in God’s green earth, +have taken his pick of restaurants, ransacked the bill +of fare, and departed scatheless? They tell me he was +even an exacting patron, threatening to withdraw his +custom when dissatisfied; and I can believe it, for his +face wore an expression distinctly gastronomical. Pinkerton +had received from this monarch a cabinet appointment; +I have seen the brevet, wondering mainly at the +good-nature of the printer who had executed the forms, +and I think my friend was at the head either of foreign +affairs or education: it mattered, indeed, nothing, the +prestation being in all offices identical. It was at a comparatively +early date that I saw Jim in the exercise of +his public functions. His Majesty entered the office—a +portly, rather flabby man, with the face of a gentleman, +rendered unspeakably pathetic and absurd by the great +sabre at his side and the peacock’s feather in his hat.</p> + +<p>“I have called to remind you, Mr. Pinkerton, that +you are somewhat in arrear of taxes,” he said, with old-fashioned, +stately courtesy.</p> + +<p>“Well, your Majesty, what is the amount?” asked +Jim; and, when the figure was named (it was generally +two or three dollars), paid upon the nail and offered a +bonus in the shape of Thirteen Star.</p> + +<p>“I am always delighted to patronise native industries,” +said Norton the First. “San Francisco is public-spirited +in what concerns its emperor; and indeed, sir, +of all my domains, it is my favourite city.”</p> + +<p>“Come,” said I, when he was gone, “I prefer that +customer to the lot.”</p> + +<p>“It’s really rather a distinction,” Jim admitted. “I +think it must have been the umbrella racket that attracted +him.”</p> + +<p>We were distinguished under the rose by the notice +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>109</span> +of other and greater men. There were days when Jim +wore an air of unusual capacity and resolve, spoke with +more brevity, like one pressed for time, and took often +on his tongue such phrases as “Longhurst told me so +this morning,” or, “I had it straight from Longhurst +himself.” It was no wonder, I used to think, that Pinkerton +was called to council with such Titans; for the +creature’s quickness and resource were beyond praise. +In the early days when he consulted me without reserve, +pacing the room, projecting, ciphering, extending hypothetical +interests, trebling imaginary capital, his “engine” +(to renew an excellent old word) labouring full steam +ahead, I could never decide whether my sense of respect +or entertainment were the stronger. But these good +hours were designed to curtailment.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s smart enough,” I once observed. “But, +Pinkerton, do you think it’s honest?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think it’s honest?” he wailed. “O dear +me, that ever I should have heard such an expression on +your lips.”</p> + +<p>At sight of his distress I plagiarised unblushingly +from Myner. “You seem to think honesty as simple as +Blind Man’s Buff,” said I. “It’s a more delicate affair +than that: delicate as any art.”</p> + +<p>“O well, at that rate!” he exclaimed, with complete +relief; “that’s casuistry.”</p> + +<p>“I am perfectly certain of one thing; that what you +propose is dishonest,” I returned.</p> + +<p>“Well, say no more about it; that’s settled,” he replied.</p> + +<p>Thus, almost at a word, my point was carried. But +the trouble was that such differences continued to recur, +until we began to regard each other with alarm. If there +were one thing Pinkerton valued himself upon, it was +his honesty; if there were one thing he clung to, it was +my good opinion; and when both were involved, as was +the case in these commercial cruces, the man was on +the rack. My own position, if you consider how much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>110</span> +I owed him, how hateful is the trade of fault-finder, and +that yet I lived and fattened on these questionable operations, +was perhaps equally distressing. If I had been +more sterling or more combative, things might have +gone extremely far. But, in truth, I was just base enough +to profit by what was not forced on my attention, rather +than seek scenes; Pinkerton quite cunning enough to +avail himself of my weakness; and it was a relief to +both when he began to involve his proceedings in a decent +mystery.</p> + +<p>Our last dispute, which had a most unlooked-for +consequence, turned on the refitting of condemned ships. +He had bought a miserable hulk, and came, rubbing +his hands, to inform me she was already on the slip, under +a new name, to be repaired. When first I had heard of +this industry I suppose I scarcely comprehended; but +much discussion had sharpened my faculties, and now +my brow became heavy.</p> + +<p>“I can be no party to that, Pinkerton,” said I.</p> + +<p>He leaped like a man shot. “What next?” he cried. +“What ails you anyway? You seem to me to dislike +everything that’s profitable.”</p> + +<p>“This ship has been condemned by Lloyd’s agent,” +said I.</p> + +<p>“But I tell you it’s a deal. The ship’s in splendid +condition; there’s next to nothing wrong with her but +the garboard streak and the sternpost. I tell you, Lloyd’s +is a ring, like everybody else; only it’s an English ring, +and that’s what deceives you. If it was American, you +would be crying it down all day. It’s Anglomania—common +Anglomania,” he cried, with growing irritation.</p> + +<p>“I will not make money by risking men’s lives,” was +my ultimatum.</p> + +<p>“Great Cęsar! isn’t all speculation a risk? Isn’t +the fairest kind of shipowning to risk men’s lives? And +mining—how’s that for risk? And look at the elevator +business—there’s danger if you like! Didn’t I take my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>111</span> +risk when I bought her? She might have been too far +gone; and where would I have been? Loudon,” he +cried, “I tell you the truth: you’re too full of refinement +for this world!”</p> + +<p>“I condemn you out of your own lips,” I replied. +“‘The fairest kind of shipowning,’ says you. If you +please, let us only do the fairest kind of business.”</p> + +<p>The shot told; the Irrepressible was silenced; and +I profited by the chance to pour in a broadside of another +sort. He was all sunk in money-getting, I pointed out; +he never dreamed of anything but dollars. Where were +all his generous, progressive sentiments? Where was +his culture? I asked. And where was the American Type?</p> + +<p>“It’s true, Loudon,” he cried striding up and down +the room, and wildly scouring at his hair. “You’re +perfectly right. I’m becoming materialised. O, what +a thing to have to say, what a confession to make! +Materialised! Me! Loudon, this must go on no longer. +You’ve been a loyal friend to me once more; give me +your hand—you’ve saved me again. I must do something +to rouse the spiritual side; something desperate; +study something, something dry and tough. What shall +it be? Theology? Algebra? What’s algebra?”</p> + +<p>“It’s dry and tough enough,” said I; “<i>a<span class="sp">2</span> + 2ab + b<span class="sp">2</span>.</i>”</p> + +<p>“It’s stimulating, though?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>I told him I believed so, and that it was considered +fortifying to Types.</p> + +<p>“Then that’s the thing for me. I’ll study algebra,” +he concluded.</p> + +<p>The next day, by application to one of his typewriting +women, he got word of a young lady, one Miss +Mamie McBride, who was willing and able to conduct +him in these bloomless meadows; and, her circumstances +being lean, and terms consequently moderate, he and +Mamie were soon in agreement for two lessons in the +week. He took fire with unexampled rapidity; he +seemed unable to tear himself away from the symbolic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>112</span> +art; an hour’s lesson occupied the whole evening; and +the original two was soon increased to four, and then +to five. I bade him beware of female blandishments. +“The first thing you know, you’ll be falling in love with +the algebraist,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Don’t say it, even in jest,” he cried. “She’s a lady +I revere. I could no more lay a hand upon her than +I could upon a spirit. Loudon, I don’t believe God ever +made a purer-minded woman.”</p> + +<p>Which appeared to me too fervent to be reassuring.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile I had been long expostulating with my +friend upon a different matter. “I’m the fifth wheel,” +I kept telling him. “For any use I am, I might as well +be in Senegambia. The letters you give me to attend +to might be answered by a sucking child. And I tell you +what it is, Pinkerton; either you’ve got to find me some +employment, or I’ll have to start in and find it for myself.”</p> + +<p>This I said with a corner of my eye in the usual quarter, +towards the arts, little dreaming what destiny was to +provide.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it, Loudon,” Pinkerton at last replied. +“Got the idea on the Potrero cars. Found I hadn’t a +pencil, borrowed one from the conductor, and figured on +it roughly all the way in town. I saw it was the thing +at last; gives you a real show. All your talents and +accomplishments come in. Here’s a sketch advertisement. +Just run your eye over it. ‘<i>Sun, Ozone and +Music!</i> PINKERTON’S HEBDOMADARY PICNICS!’ +(That’s a good, catching phrase, ‘hebdomadary,’ though +it’s hard to say. I made a note of it when I was looking +in the dictionary how to spell <i>hectagonal</i>. ‘Well, you’re +a boss word,’ I said. ‘Before you’re very much older, +I’ll have you in type as long as yourself.’ And here it +is, you see.) ‘<i>Five dollars a head, and ladies free</i>. MONSTER +OLIO OF ATTRACTIONS.’ (How does that strike you?) +’<i>Free luncheon under the greenwood tree. Dance on the +elastic sward. Home again in the Bright Evening Hours</i>. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>113</span> +<i>Manager and Honorary Steward, H. Loudon Dodd, Esq., +the well-known connoisseur.</i>’”</p> + +<p>Singular how a man runs from Scylla to Charybdis! +I was so intent on securing the disappearance of a single +epithet that I accepted the rest of the advertisement +and all that it involved without discussion. So it befell +that the words “well-known connoisseur” were deleted; +but that H. Loudon Dodd became manager and honorary +steward of Pinkerton’s Hebdomadary Picnics, soon shortened +by popular consent, to The Dromedary.</p> + +<p>By eight o’clock, any Sunday morning, I was to be +observed by an admiring public on the wharf. The garb +and attributes of sacrifice consisted of a black frockcoat, +rosetted, its pockets bulging with sweetmeats and inferior +cigars, trousers of light blue, a silk hat like a reflector, +and a varnished wand. A goodly steamer guarded my +one flank, panting and throbbing, flags fluttering fore +and aft of her, illustrative of the Dromedary and patriotism. +My other flank was covered by the ticket-office, +strongly held by a trusty character of the Scots persuasion, +rosetted like his superior, and smoking a cigar to +mark the occasion festive. At half-past, having assured +myself that all was well with the free luncheons, I lit +a cigar myself, and awaited the strains of the “Pioneer +Band.” I had never to wait long—they were German +and punctual—and by a few minutes after the half-hour +I would hear them booming down street with a long +military roll of drums, some score of gratuitous asses +prancing at the head in bearskin hats and buckskin aprons, +and conspicuous with resplendent axes. The band, of +course, we paid for; but so strong is the San Franciscan +passion for public masquerade, that the asses (as I say) +were all gratuitous, pranced for the love of it, and cost +us nothing but their luncheon.</p> + +<p>The musicians formed up in the bows of my steamer, +and struck into a skittish polka; the asses mounted guard +upon the gangway and the ticket-office; and presently +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>114</span> +after, in family parties of father, mother, and children, +in the form of duplicate lovers or in that of solitary youth, +the public began to descend upon us by the carful at a +time: four to six hundred perhaps, with a strong German +flavour, and all merry as children. When these had been +shepherded on board, and the inevitable belated two or +three had gained the deck amidst the cheering of the +public, the hawser was cast off, and we plunged into the +bay.</p> + +<p>And now behold the honorary steward in the hour +of duty and glory; see me circulate amid the crowd, +radiating affability and laughter, liberal with my sweetmeats +and cigars. I say unblushing things to hobble-dehoy +girls, tell shy young persons this is the married +people’s boat, roguishly ask the abstracted if they are +thinking of their sweethearts, offer paterfamilias a cigar, +am struck with the beauty and grow curious about the +age of mamma’s youngest, who (I assure her gaily) will +be a man before his mother; or perhaps it may occur +to me, from the sensible expression of her face, that she +is a person of good counsel, and I ask her earnestly if she +knows any particularly pleasant place on the Saucelito +or San Rafael coast—for the scene of our picnic is always +supposed to be uncertain. The next moment I am back +at my giddy badinage with the young ladies, wakening +laughter as I go, and leaving in my wake applausive +comments of “Isn’t Mr. Dodd a funny gentleman?” +and “O, I think he’s just too nice!”</p> + +<p>An hour having passed in this airy manner, I start +upon my rounds afresh, with a bag full of coloured tickets +all with pins attached, and all with legible inscriptions: +“Old Germany,” “California,” “True Love,” “Old +Fogies,” “La Belle France,” “Green Erin,” “The Land +of Cakes,” “Washington,” “Blue Jay,” “Robin Red-Breast”—twenty +of each denomination; for when it +comes to the luncheon we sit down by twenties. These +are distributed with anxious tact—for, indeed, this is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>115</span> +the most delicate part of my functions—but outwardly +with reckless unconcern, amidst the gayest flutter and +confusion; and are immediately after sported upon hats +and bonnets, to the extreme diffusion of cordiality, total +strangers hailing each other by “the number of their +mess”—so we humorously name it—and the deck ringing +with cries of, “Here, all Blue Jays to the rescue!” or, +“I say, am I alone in this blame’ ship? Ain’t there no +more Californians?”</p> + +<p>By this time we are drawing near to the appointed spot. +I mount upon the bridge, the observed of all observers.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” I say, in clear, emphatic tones, heard far +and wide, “the majority of the company appear to be +in favour of the little cove beyond One-Tree Point.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Mr. Dodd,” responds the captain heartily; +“all one to me. I am not exactly sure of the place +you mean; but just you stay here and pilot me.”</p> + +<p>I do, pointing with my wand. I do pilot him, to the +inexpressible entertainment of the picnic, for I am (why +should I deny it?) the popular man. We slow down off +the mouth of a grassy valley, watered by a brook and +set in pines and redwoods. The anchor is let go, the +boats are lowered—two of them already packed with the +materials of an impromptu bar—and the Pioneer Band, +accompanied by the resplendent asses, fill the other, +and move shoreward to the inviting strains of “Buffalo +Gals, won’t you come out to-night?” It is a part of +our programme that one of the asses shall, from sheer +clumsiness, in the course of this embarkation, drop a +dummy axe into the water, whereupon the mirth of the +picnic can hardly be assuaged. Upon one occasion the +dummy axe floated, and the laugh turned rather the +wrong way.</p> + +<p>In from ten to twenty minutes the boats are alongside +again, the messes are marshalled separately on the +deck, and the picnic goes ashore, to find the band and +the impromptu bar awaiting them. Then come the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>116</span> +hampers, which are piled up on the beach, and surrounded +by a stern guard of stalwart asses, axe on shoulder. It +is here I take my place, note-book in hand, under a +banner bearing the legend, “Come here for hampers.” +Each hamper contains a complete outfit for a separate +twenty—cold provender, plates, glasses, knives, forks, +and spoons. An agonised printed appeal from the fevered +pen of Pinkerton, pasted on the inside of the lid, beseeches +that care be taken of the glass and silver. Beer, wine, +and lemonade are flowing already from the bar, and the +various clans of twenty file away into the woods, with +bottles under their arms and the hampers strung upon +a stick. Till one they feast there, in a very moderate +seclusion, all being within earshot of the band. From +one till four dancing takes place upon the grass; the bar +does a roaring business; and the honorary steward, who +has already exhausted himself to bring life into the dullest +of the messes, must now indefatigably dance with the +plainest of the women. At four a bugle-call is sounded, +and by half-past behold us on board again—Pioneers, +corrugated iron bar, empty bottles, and all; while the +honorary steward, free at last, subsides into the captain’s +cabin over a brandy and soda and a book. Free at last, +I say; yet there remains before him the frantic leave-takings +at the pier, and a sober journey up to Pinkerton’s +office with two policemen and the day’s takings in a bag.</p> + +<p>What I have here sketched was the routine. But we +appealed to the taste of San Francisco more distinctly in +particular fźtes. “Ye Olde Time Pycke-Nycke,” largely +advertised in hand-bills beginning “Oyez, Oyez!” and +largely frequented by knights, monks, and cavaliers, was +drowned out by unseasonable rain, and returned to the +city one of the saddest spectacles I ever remember to +have witnessed. In pleasing contrast, and certainly our +chief success, was “The Gathering of the Clans,” or +Scottish picnic. So many milk-white knees were never +before simultaneously exhibited in public, and, to judge +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>117</span> +by the prevalence of “Royal Stewart” and the number +of eagles’ feathers, we were a high-born company. I +threw forward the Scottish flank of my own ancestry, +and passed muster as a clansman with applause. There +was, indeed, but one small cloud on this red-letter day. +I had laid in a large supply of the national beverage in +the shape of the “Rob Roy MacGregor O’ Blend, Warranted +Old and Vatted”; and this must certainly have +been a generous spirit, for I had some anxious work +between four and half-past, conveying on board the inanimate +forms of chieftains.</p> + +<p>To one of our ordinary festivities, where he was the +life and soul of his own mess, Pinkerton himself came +incognito, bringing the algebraist on his arm. Miss +Mamie proved to be a well-enough-looking mouse, with +a large limpid eye, very good manners, and a flow of +the most correct expressions I have ever heard upon the +human lip. As Pinkerton’s incognito was strict, I had +little opportunity to cultivate the lady’s acquaintance, +but I was informed afterwards that she considered me +“the wittiest gentleman she had ever met.” “The Lord +mend your taste in wit!” thought I; but I cannot conceal +that such was the general impression. One of my +pleasantries even went the round of San Francisco, and +I have heard it (myself all unknown) bandied in saloons. +To be unknown began at last to be a rare experience; +a bustle woke upon my passage, above all, in humble +neighbourhoods. “Who’s that?” one would ask, and the +other would cry, “That! why, Dromedary Dodd!” or, +with withering scorn, “Not know Mr. Dodd of the picnics? +Well!” and, indeed, I think it marked a rather barren +destiny; for our picnics, if a trifle vulgar, were as gay and +innocent as the age of gold. I am sure no people divert +themselves so easily and so well, and even with the cares +of my stewardship I was often happy to be there.</p> + +<p>Indeed, there were but two drawbacks in the least +considerable. The first was my terror of the hobble-dehoy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>118</span> +girls, to whom (from the demands of my situation) +I was obliged to lay myself so open. The other, if less +momentous, was more mortifying. In early days—at my +mother’s knee, as a man may say—I had acquired the +unenviable accomplishment (which I have never since +been able to lose) of singing “Just before the Battle.” +I have what the French call a fillet of voice—my best +notes scarce audible about a dinner-table, and the upper +register rather to be regarded as a higher power of silence. +Experts tell me, besides, that I sing flat; nor, if I were +the best singer in the world, does “Just before the Battle” +occur to my mature taste as the song that I would choose +to sing. In spite of all which considerations, at one +picnic, memorably dull, and after I had exhausted every +other art of pleasing, I gave, in desperation, my one +song. From that hour my doom was gone forth. Either +we had a chronic passenger (though I could never detect +him), or the very wood and iron of the steamer must +have retained the tradition. At every successive picnic +word went round that Mr. Dodd was a singer; that +Mr. Dodd sang “Just before the Battle”; and, finally, +that now was the time when Mr. Dodd sang “Just before +the Battle.” So that the thing became a fixture, like +the dropping of the dummy axe; and you are to conceive +me, Sunday after Sunday, piping up my lamentable +ditty, and covered, when it was done, with gratuitous +applause. It is a beautiful trait in human nature that +I was invariably offered an encore.</p> + +<p>I was well paid, however, even to sing. Pinkerton +and I, after an average Sunday, had five hundred dollars +to divide. Nay, and the picnics were the means, although +indirectly, of bringing me a singular windfall. This was +at the end of the season, after the “Grand Farewell +Fancy Dress Gala.” Many of the hampers had suffered +severely; and it was judged wiser to save storage, dispose +of them, and lay in a fresh stock when the campaign +reopened. Among my purchasers was a working man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>119</span> +of the name of Speedy, to whose house, after several +unavailing letters, I must proceed in person, wondering +to find myself once again on the wrong side, and playing +the creditor to some one else’s debtor. Speedy was in +the belligerent stage of fear. He could not pay. It appeared +he had already resold the hampers, and he defied +me to do my worst. I did not like to lose my own +money; I hated to lose Pinkerton’s; and the bearing +of my creditor incensed me.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Mr. Speedy, that I can send you to +the penitentiary?” said I, willing to read him a lesson.</p> + +<p>The dire expression was overheard in the next room. +A large, fresh, motherly Irishwoman ran forth upon the +instant, and fell to besiege me with caresses and appeals. +“Sure now, and ye couldn’t have the heart to ut, Mr. +Dodd—you, that’s so well known to be a pleasant gentleman; +and it’s a pleasant face ye have, and the picture +of me own brother that’s dead and gone. It’s a truth +that he’s been drinking. Ye can smell it off of him, +more blame to him. But, indade, and there’s nothing +in the house beyont the furnicher, and Thim Stock. It’s +the stock that ye’ll be taking, dear. A sore penny it +has cost me, first and last, and, by all tales, not worth +an owld tobacco-pipe.” Thus adjured, and somewhat +embarrassed by the stern attitude I had adopted, I suffered +myself to be invested with a considerable quantity of +what is called “wild-cat stock,” in which this excellent +if illogical female had been squandering her hard-earned +gold. It could scarce be said to better my position, +but the step quieted the woman; and, on the other hand, +I could not think I was taking much risk, for the shares +in question (they were those of what I will call the Catamount +Silver Mine) had fallen some time before to the +bed-rock quotation, and now lay perfectly inert, or were +only kicked (like other waste-paper) about the kennel of +the exchange by bankrupt speculators.</p> + +<p>A month or two after, I perceived by the stock-list +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>120</span> +that Catamount had taken a bound; before afternoon +“thim stock” were worth a quite considerable pot of +money; and I learned, upon inquiry, that a bonanza +had been found in a condemned lead, and the mine was +now expected to do wonders. Remarkable to philosophers +how bonanzas are found in condemned leads, and +how the stock is always at freezing-point immediately +before! By some stroke of chance the Speedys had held +on to the right thing; they had escaped the syndicate; +yet a little more, if I had not come to dun them, and +Mrs. Speedy would have been buying a silk dress. I +could not bear, of course, to profit by the accident, and +returned to offer restitution. The house was in a bustle; +the neighbours (all stock-gamblers themselves) had crowded +to condole; and Mrs. Speedy sat with streaming tears, +the centre of a sympathetic group. “For fifteen year +I’ve been at ut,” she was lamenting as I entered, “and +grudging the babes the very milk—more shame to me!—to +pay their dhirty assessments. And now, my dears, +I should be a lady, and driving in my coach, if all had their +rights; and a sorrow on that man Dodd! As soon as +I set eyes on him, I seen the divil was in the house.”</p> + +<p>It was upon these words that I made my entrance, +which was therefore dramatic enough, though nothing to +what followed. For when it appeared that I was come +to restore the lost fortune, and when Mrs. Speedy (after +copiously weeping on my bosom) had refused the restitution, +and when Mr. Speedy (summoned to that end +from a camp of the Grand Army of the Republic) had +added his refusal, and when I had insisted, and they +had insisted, and the neighbours had applauded and +supported each of us in turn; and when at last it was +agreed we were to hold the stock together, and share +the proceeds in three parts—one for me, one for Mr. +Speedy, and one for his spouse—I will leave you to conceive +the enthusiasm that reigned in that small, bare +apartment, with the sewing-machine in the one corner, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>121</span> +the babes asleep in the other, and pictures of Garfield and the +Battle of Gettysburg on the yellow walls. Port-wine was +had in by a sympathiser, and we drank it mingled with tears.</p> + +<p>“And I dhrink to your health, my dear,” sobbed +Mrs. Speedy, especially affected by my gallantry in the +matter of the third share; “and I’m sure we all dhrink +to his health—Mr. Dodd of the picnics, no gentleman +better known than him; and it’s my prayer, dear, the +good God may be long spared to see ye in health and +happiness!”</p> + +<p>In the end I was the chief gainer; for I sold my third +while it was worth five thousand dollars, but the Speedys +more adventurously held on until the syndicate reversed +the process, when they were happy to escape with perhaps +a quarter of that sum. It was just as well; for the bulk +of the money was (in Pinkerton’s phrase) reinvested; +and when next I saw Mrs. Speedy, she was still gorgeously +dressed from the proceeds of the late success, but was +already moist with tears over the new catastrophe. “We’re +froze out, me darlin’! All the money we had, dear, and +the sewing-machine, and Jim’s uniform, was in the Golden +West; and the vipers has put on a new assessment.”</p> + +<p>By the end of the year, therefore, this is how I stood. +I had made</p> + +<div class="f90"> +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="tc3">By Catamount Silver Mine</td> + <td class="tc2b">$5,000</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">By the picnics</td> + <td class="tc2b">3,000</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">By the lecture</td> + <td class="tc2b">600</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">By profit and loss on capital in Pinkerton’s business</td> + <td class="tc2b">1,350</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3"> </td> + <td class="tc2b">———</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3"> </td> + <td class="tc2b">$9,950</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="noind">to which must be added</p> + +<div class="f90"> +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="tc3">What remained of my grandfather’s donation</td> + <td class="tc2b">8,500</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3"> </td> + <td class="tc2b">———</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3"> </td> + <td class="tc2b">$18,450</td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<p class="noind">It appears, on the other hand, that</p> + +<div class="f90"> +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="tc3">I had spent</td> + <td class="tc2b">4,000</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3"> </td> + <td class="tc2b">———</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">Which thus left me to the good</td> + <td class="tc2b">$14,450</td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>122</span></p> + +<p class="noind">a result on which I am not ashamed to say I looked with +gratitude and pride. Some eight thousand (being late +conquest) was liquid and actually tractile in the bank; +the rest whirled beyond reach and even sight (save in +the mirror of a balance-sheet) under the compelling spell +of wizard Pinkerton. Dollars of mine were tacking off +the shores of Mexico, in peril of the deep and the guardacostas; +they rang on saloon counters in the city of Tombstone, +Arizona; they shone in faro-tents among the +mountain diggings: the imagination flagged in following +them, so wide were they diffused, so briskly they span +to the turning of the wizard’s crank. But here, there, +or everywhere I could still tell myself it was all mine, +and—what was more convincing—draw substantial dividends. +My fortune, I called it; and it represented, +when expressed in dollars or even British pounds, an +honest pot of money; when extended into francs, a +veritable fortune. Perhaps I have let the cat out of the +bag; perhaps you see already where my hopes were +pointing, and begin to blame my inconsistency. But +I must first tell you my excuse, and the change that had +befallen Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>About a week after the picnic to which he escorted +Mamie, Pinkerton avowed the state of his affections. +From what I had observed on board the steamer—where, +methought, Mamie waited on him with her limpid eyes—I +encouraged the bashful lover to proceed; and the +very next evening he was carrying me to call on his +affianced.</p> + +<p>“You must befriend her, Loudon, as you have always +befriended me,” he said pathetically.</p> + +<p>“By saying disagreeable things? I doubt if that be +the way to a young lady’s favour,” I replied; “and +since this picnicking I begin to be a man of some experience.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you do nobly there; I can’t describe how I +admire you,” he cried. “Not that she will ever need +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>123</span> +it; she has had every advantage. God knows what I +have done to deserve her. O man, what a responsibility +this is for a rough fellow and not always truthful!”</p> + +<p>“Brace up, old man—brace up!” said I.</p> + +<p>But when we reached Mamie’s boarding-house, it was +almost with tears that he presented me. “Here is Loudon, +Mamie,” were his words. “I want you to love him; he +has a grand nature.”</p> + +<p>“You are certainly no stranger to me, Mr. Dodd,” +was her gracious expression. “James is never weary of +descanting on your goodness.”</p> + +<p>“My dear lady,” said I, “when you know our friend +a little better, you will make a large allowance for his +warm heart. My goodness has consisted in allowing him +to feed and clothe and toil for me when he could ill afford +it. If I am now alive, it is to him I owe it; no man had +a kinder friend. You must take good care of him,” I +added, laying my hand on his shoulder, “and keep him +in good order, for he needs it.”</p> + +<p>Pinkerton was much affected by this speech, and so, +I fear, was Mamie. I admit it was a tactless performance. +“When you know our friend a little better,” was +not happily said; and even “keep him in good order, +for he needs it,” might be construed into matter of offence. +But I lay it before you in all confidence of your acquittal: +was the general tone of it “patronising”? Even if such +was the verdict of the lady, I cannot but suppose the +blame was neither wholly hers nor wholly mine; I cannot +but suppose that Pinkerton had already sickened the +poor woman of my very name; so that if I had come with +the songs of Apollo, she must still have been disgusted.</p> + +<p>Here, however, were two finger-posts to Paris—Jim +was going to be married, and so had the less need of my +society; I had not pleased his bride, and so was, perhaps, +better absent. Late one evening I broached the idea +to my friend. It had been a great day for me; I had +just banked my five thousand Catamountain dollars; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>124</span> +and as Jim had refused to lay a finger on the stock, risk +and profit were both wholly mine, and I was celebrating +the event with stout and crackers. I began by telling +him that if it caused him any pain or any anxiety about +his affairs, he had but to say the word, and he should +hear no more of my proposal. He was the truest and +best friend I ever had, or was ever like to have; and +it would be a strange thing if I refused him any favour +he was sure he wanted. At the same time I wished +him to be sure; for my life was wasting in my hands. I +was like one from home: all my true interests summoned +me away. I must remind him, besides, that he was now +about to marry and assume new interests, and that our +extreme familiarity might be even painful to his wife. +“O no, Loudon; I feel you are wrong there,” he interjected +warmly; “she <i>does</i> appreciate your nature.” +“So much the better, then,” I continued; and went on to +point out that our separation need not be for long; that, +in the way affairs were going, he might join me in two +years with a fortune—small, indeed, for the States, but +in France almost conspicuous; that we might unite +our resources, and have one house in Paris for the winter +and a second near Fontainebleau for summer, where we +could be as happy as the day was long, and bring up +little Pinkertons as practical artistic workmen, far from +the money-hunger of the West. “Let me go, then,” +I concluded; “not as a deserter, but as the vanguard, +to lead the march of the Pinkerton men.”</p> + +<p>So I argued and pleaded, not without emotion; my +friend sitting opposite, resting his chin upon his hand +and (but for that single interjection) silent. “I have +been looking for this, Loudon,” said he, when I had done. +“It does pain me, and that’s the fact—I’m so miserably +selfish. And I believe it’s a death-blow to the picnics; +for it’s idle to deny that you were the heart and soul of +them with your wand and your gallant bearing, and wit +and humour and chivalry, and throwing that kind of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>125</span> +society atmosphere about the thing. But, for all that, +you’re right, and you ought to go. You may count on +forty dollars a week; and if Depew City—one of nature’s +centres for this State—pan out the least as I expect, it +may be double. But it’s forty dollars anyway; and to +think that two years ago you were almost reduced to +beggary!”</p> + +<p>“I <i>was</i> reduced to it,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Well, the brutes gave you nothing, and I’m glad +of it now!” cried Jim. “It’s the triumphant return I +glory in! Think of the master, and that cold-blooded +Myner too! Yes, just let the Depew City boom get on +its legs, and you shall go; and two years later, day for +day, I’ll shake hands with you in Paris, with Mamie on +my arm, God bless her!”</p> + +<p>We talked in this vein far into the night. I was myself +so exultant in my new found liberty, and Pinkerton so +proud of my triumph, so happy in my happiness, in +so warm a glow about the gallant little woman of his +choice, and the very room so filled with castles in the +air and cottages at Fontainebleau, that it was little +wonder if sleep fled our eyelids, and three had followed +two upon the office-clock before Pinkerton unfolded the +mechanism of his patent sofa.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>126</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h5>FACES ON THE CITY FRONT</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">It</span> is very much the custom to view life as if it were +exactly ruled in two, like sleep and waking—the provinces +of play and business standing separate. The business side +of my career in San Francisco has been now disposed +of; I approach the chapter of diversion; and it will be +found they had about an equal share in building up the +story of the Wrecker—a gentleman whose appearance +may be presently expected.</p> + +<p>With all my occupations, some six afternoons and +two or three odd evenings remained at my disposal every +week: a circumstance the more agreeable as I was a +stranger in a city singularly picturesque. From what I +had once called myself, “The Amateur Parisian,” I grew +(or declined) into a water-side prowler, a lingerer on +wharves, a frequenter of shy neighbourhoods, a scraper +of acquaintance with eccentric characters. I visited +Chinese and Mexican gambling-hells, German secret +societies, sailors’ boarding-houses, and “dives” of every +complexion of the disreputable and dangerous. I have +seen greasy Mexican hands pinned to the table with a +knife for cheating, seamen (when blood-money ran high) +knocked down upon the public street and carried insensible +on board short-handed ships, shots exchanged, and +the smoke (and the company) dispersing from the doors +of the saloon. I have heard cold-minded Polacks debate +upon the readiest method of burning San Francisco to the +ground, hot-headed working men and women bawl and +swear in the tribune at the Sandlot, and Kearney himself +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>127</span> +open his subscription for a gallows, name the manufacturers +who were to grace it with their dangling bodies, +and read aloud to the delighted multitude a telegram of +adhesion from a member of the State legislature: all +which preparations of proletarian war were (in a moment) +breathed upon and abolished by the mere name and fame +of Mr. Coleman. That lion of the Vigilantes had but to +rouse himself and shake his ears, and the whole brawling +mob was silenced. I could not but reflect what a strange +manner of man this was, to be living unremarked there +as a private merchant, and to be so feared by a whole +city; and if I was disappointed, in my character of +looker-on, to have the matter end ingloriously without +the firing of a shot or the hanging of a single millionaire, +philosophy tried to tell me that this sight was truly the +more picturesque. In a thousand towns and different +epochs I might have had occasion to behold the cowardice +and carnage of street-fighting; where else, but only there +and then, could I have enjoyed a view of Coleman (the +intermittent despot) walking meditatively up hill in a +quiet part of town, with a very rolling gait, and slapping +gently his great thigh?</p> + +<p><i>Minora canamus</i>. This historic figure stalks silently +through a corner of the San Francisco of my memory. +The rest is bric-ą-brac, the reminiscences of a vagrant +sketcher. My delight was much in slums. “Little +Italy,” was a haunt of mine. There I would look in at +the windows of small eating-shops transported bodily +from Genoa or Naples, with their macaroni, and chianti +flasks, and portraits of Garibaldi, and coloured political +caricatures; or (entering in) hold high debate with some +ear-ringed fisher of the bay as to the designs of “Mr. +Owstria” and “Mr. Rooshia.” I was often to be observed +(had there been any to observe me) in that dis-peopled, +hill-side solitude of “Little Mexico,” with its crazy wooden +houses, endless crazy wooden stairs, and perilous mountain-goat +paths in the sand. China-town by a thousand +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>128</span> +eccentricities drew and held me; I could never have +enough of its ambiguous, inter-racial atmosphere, as of +a vitalised museum; never wonder enough at its outlandish, +necromantic-looking vegetables set forth to sell +in commonplace American shop-windows, its temple +doors open and the scent of the joss-stick streaming forth +on the American air, its kites of Oriental fashion hanging +fouled in Western telegraph-wires, its flights of paper +prayers which the trade-wind hunts and dissipates along +Western gutters. I was a frequent wanderer on North +Beach, gazing at the straits, and the huge Cape Horners +creeping out to sea, and imminent Tamalpais. Thence, +on my homeward way, I might visit that strange and filthy +shed, earth-paved and walled with the cages of wild +animals and birds, where at a ramshackle counter, amid the +yells of monkeys, and a poignant atmosphere of menagerie, +forty-rod whisky was administered by a proprietor as +dirty as his beasts. Nor did I even neglect Nob Hill, +which is itself a kind of slum, being the habitat of the +mere millionaire. There they dwell upon the hill-top, +high raised above man’s clamour, and the trade-wind +blows between their palaces about deserted streets.</p> + +<p>But San Francisco is not herself only. She is not only +the most interesting city in the Union, and the hugest +smelting-pot of races and the precious metals. She keeps, +besides, the doors of the Pacific, and is the port of entry +to another world and an earlier epoch in man’s history. +Nowhere else shall you observe (in the ancient phrase) so +many tall ships as here convene from round the Horn, +from China, from Sydney, and the Indies. But, scarce +remarked amid that craft of deep-sea giants, another +class of craft, the Island schooner, circulates—low in the +water, with lofty spars and dainty lines, rigged and +fashioned like a yacht, manned with brown-skinned, soft-spoken, +sweet-eyed native sailors, and equipped with +their great double-ender boats that tell a tale of boisterous +sea-beaches. These steal out and in again, unnoted by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>129</span> +the world or even the newspaper press, save for the line +in the clearing column, “Schooner So-and-so for Yap and +South Sea Islands”—steal out with nondescript cargoes +of tinned salmon, gin, bolts of gaudy cotton stuff, women’s +hats, and Waterbury watches, to return, after a year, +piled as high as to the eaves of the house with copra, or +wallowing deep with the shells of the tortoise or the +pearl oyster. To me, in my character of the Amateur +Parisian, this island traffic, and even the island world, +were beyond the bounds of curiosity, and how much more +of knowledge. I stood there on the extreme shore of the +West and of to-day. Seventeen hundred years ago, and +seven thousand miles to the east, a legionary stood, perhaps, +upon the wall of Antoninus, and looked northward +toward the mountains of the Picts. For all the interval +of time and space, I, when I looked from the cliff-house +on the broad Pacific, was that man’s heir and analogue: +each of us standing on the verge of the Roman Empire +(or, as we now call it, Western civilisation), each of us +gazing onwards into zones unromanised. But I was +dull. I looked rather backward, keeping a kind eye on +Paris; and it required a series of converging incidents to +change my attitude of nonchalance for one of interest, +and even longing, which I little dreamed that I should +live to gratify.</p> + +<p>The first of these incidents brought me in acquaintance +with a certain San Francisco character, who had +something of a name beyond the limits of the city, and +was known to many lovers of good English. I had discovered +a new slum, a place of precarious sandy cliffs, +deep sandy cuttings, solitary ancient houses, and the +butt-ends of streets. It was already environed. The +ranks of the street lamps threaded it unbroken. The city, +upon all sides of it, was tightly packed, and growled with +traffic. To-day, I do not doubt the very landmarks are +all swept away; but it offered then, within narrow limits, +a delightful peace, and (in the morning, when I chiefly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>130</span> +went there) a seclusion almost rural. On a steep sand-hill +in this neighbourhood toppled, on the most insecure +foundation, a certain row of houses, each with a bit of +garden, and all (I have to presume) inhabited. Thither +I used to mount by a crumbling footpath, and in front of +the last of the houses would sit down to sketch.</p> + +<p>The very first day I saw I was observed out of the +ground-floor window by a youngish, good-looking fellow, +prematurely bald, and with an expression both lively and +engaging. The second, as we were still the only figures +in the landscape, it was no more than natural that we +should nod. The third he came out fairly from his +entrenchments, praised my sketch, and with the <i>impromptu</i> +cordiality of artists carried me into his apartment; where +I sat presently in the midst of a museum of strange +objects—paddles, and battle-clubs, and baskets, rough-hewn +stone images, ornaments of threaded shell, cocoa-nut +bowls, snowy cocoa-nut plumes—evidences and examples +of another earth, another climate, another race, and +another (if a ruder) culture. Nor did these objects lack +a fitting commentary in the conversation of my new +acquaintance. Doubtless you have read his book. You +know already how he tramped and starved, and had so +fine a profit of living in his days among the islands; and +meeting him as I did, one artist with another, after +months of offices and picnics, you can imagine with what +charm he would speak, and with what pleasure I would +hear. It was in such talks, which we were both eager to +repeat, that I first heard the names—first fell under the +spell—of the islands; and it was from one of the first of +them that I returned (a happy man) with “Omoo” +under one arm, and my friend’s own adventures under +the other.</p> + +<p>The second incident was more dramatic, and had, +besides, a bearing on my future. I was standing one day +near a boat-landing under Telegraph Hill. A large +barque, perhaps of eighteen hundred tons, was coming +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>131</span> +more than usually close about the point to reach her +moorings; and I was observing her with languid inattention, +when I observed two men to stride across the bulwarks, +drop into a shore boat, and, violently dispossessing +the boatman of his oars, pull toward the landing where I +stood. In a surprisingly short time they came tearing +up the steps, and I could see that both were too well +dressed to be foremast hands—the first even with research, +and both, and especially the first, appeared under the +empire of some strong emotion.</p> + +<p>“Nearest police office!” cried the leader.</p> + +<p>“This way,” said I, immediately falling in with their +precipitate pace. “What’s wrong? What ship is +that?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the <i>Gleaner</i>,” he replied. “I am chief officer, +this gentleman’s third, and we’ve to get in our depositions +before the crew. You see, they might corral us with +the captain, and that’s no kind of berth for me. I’ve +sailed with some hard cases in my time, and seen pins +flying like sand on a squally day—but never a match +to our old man. It never let up from the Hook to the +Farallones, and the last man was dropped not sixteen +hours ago. Packet rats our men were, and as tough a +crowd as ever sand-bagged a man’s head in; but they +looked sick enough when the captain started in with his +fancy shooting.”</p> + +<p>“O, he’s done up,” observed the other. “He won’t +go to sea no more.”</p> + +<p>“You make me tired,” retorted his superior. “If +he gets ashore in one piece, and isn’t lynched in the next +ten minutes, he’ll do yet. The owners have a longer +memory than the public, they’ll stand by him; they don’t +find as smart a captain every day in the year.”</p> + +<p>“O, he’s a son of a gun of a fine captain; there ain’t +no doubt of that,” concurred the other heartily. “Why, +I don’t suppose there’s been no wages paid aboard that +<i>Gleaner</i> for three trips.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>132</span></p> + +<p>“No wages?” I exclaimed, for I was still a novice +in maritime affairs.</p> + +<p>“Not to sailor-men before the mast,” agreed the +mate. “Men cleared out; wasn’t the soft job they +maybe took it for. She isn’t the first ship that never +paid wages.”</p> + +<p>I could not but observe that our pace was progressively +relaxing; and, indeed, I have often wondered since +whether the hurry of the start were not intended for the +gallery alone. Certain it is, at least, that when we had +reached the police office, and the mates had made their +deposition, and told their horrid tale of five men murdered—some +with savage passion, some with cold brutality—between +Sandy Hook and San Francisco, the police +were despatched in time to be too late. Before we arrived +the ruffian had slipped out upon the dock, and mingled +with the crowd, and found a refuge in the house of an +acquaintance; and the ship was only tenanted by his +late victims. Well for him that he had been thus speedy; +for when word began to go abroad among the shore-side +characters, when the last victim was carried by to the +hospital, when those who had escaped (as by miracle) +from that floating shambles began to circulate and show +their wounds in the crowd, it was strange to witness the +agitation that seized and shook that portion of the city. +Men shed tears in public; bosses of lodging-houses, long +inured to brutality,—and above all, brutality to sailors—shook +their fists at heaven. If hands could have been +laid on the captain of the <i>Gleaner</i>, his shrift would have +been short. That night (so gossip reports) he was headed +up in a barrel and smuggled across the bay. In two +ships already he had braved the penitentiary and the +gallows; and yet, by last accounts, he now commands +another on the Western Ocean.</p> + +<p>As I have said, I was never quite certain whether +Mr. Nares (the mate) did not intend that his superior +should escape. It would have been like his preference +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>133</span> +of loyalty to law; it would have been like his prejudice, +which was all in favour of the after-guard. But it must +remain a matter of conjecture only. Well as I came to +know him in the sequel, he was never communicative on +that point—nor, indeed, on any that concerned the voyage +of the <i>Gleaner</i>. Doubtless he had some reason for his +reticence. Even during our walk to the police office he +debated several times with Johnson, the third officer, +whether he ought not to give up himself, as well as to +denounce the captain. He had decided in the negative, +arguing that “it would probably come to nothing; and +even if there was a stink, he had plenty good friends in +San Francisco.” And to nothing it came; though it +must have very nearly come to something, for Mr. Nares +disappeared immediately from view, and was scarce less +closely hidden than his captain.</p> + +<p>Johnson, on the other hand, I often met. I could +never learn this man’s country; and though he himself +claimed to be American, neither his English nor his +education warranted the claim. In all likelihood he was +of Scandinavian birth and blood, long pickled in the +forecastles of English and American ships. It is possible +that, like so many of his race in similar positions, he had +already lost his native tongue. In mind, at least, he was +quite denationalised; thought only in English—to call +it so; and though by nature one of the mildest, kindest, +and most feebly playful of mankind, he had been so long +accustomed to the cruelty of sea discipline that his +stories (told perhaps with a giggle) would sometimes turn +me chill. In appearance he was tall, light of weight, bold +and high-bred of feature, dusky-haired, and with a face +of a clean even brown—the ornament of outdoor men. +Seated in a chair, you might have passed him off for a +baronet or a military officer; but let him rise, and it +was Fo’c’s’le Jack that came rolling toward you, crab-like; +let him but open his lips, and it was Fo’c’s’le Jack +that piped and drawled his ungrammatical gibberish. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>134</span> +He had sailed (among other places) much among the +islands; and after a Cape Horn passage with its snow-squalls +and its frozen sheets, he announced his intention +of “taking a turn among them Kanakas.” I thought I +should have lost him soon; but, according to the unwritten +usage of mariners, he had first to dissipate his +wages. “Guess I’ll have to paint this town red,” was +his hyperbolical expression; for sure no man ever embarked +upon a milder course of dissipation, most of his days being +passed in the little parlour behind Black Tom’s public-house, +with a select corps of old particular acquaintances, +all from the South Seas, and all patrons of a long yarn, a +short pipe, and glasses round.</p> + +<p>Black Tom’s, to the front, presented the appearance +of a fourth-rate saloon, devoted to Kanaka seamen, dirt, +negrohead tobacco, bad cigars, worse gin, and guitars and +banjos in a state of decline. The proprietor, a powerful +coloured man, was at once a publican, a ward politician, +leader of some brigade of “lambs” or “smashers,” at +the wind of whose clubs the party bosses and the mayor +were supposed to tremble, and (what hurt nothing) an +active and reliable crimp. His front quarters, then, were +noisy, disreputable, and not even safe. I have seen +worse-frequented saloons where there were fewer scandals; +for Tom was often drunk himself: and there is no doubt +the Lambs must have been a useful body, or the place +would have been closed. I remember one day, not long +before an election, seeing a blind man, very well dressed, +led up to the counter and remain a long while in consultation +with the negro. The pair looked so ill-assorted, +and the awe with which the drinkers fell back and left +them in the midst of an <i>impromptu</i> privacy was so unusual +in such a place, that I turned to my next neighbour with +a question. He told me the blind man was a distinguished +party boss, called by some the King of San +Francisco, but perhaps better known by his picturesque +Chinese nickname of the Blind White Devil. “The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>135</span> +Lambs must be wanted pretty bad, I guess,” my informant +added. I have here a sketch of the Blind White Devil +leaning on the counter; on the next page, and taken the +same hour, a jotting of Black Tom threatening a whole +crowd of customers with a long Smith and Wesson—to +such heights and depths we rose and fell in the front parts +of the saloon!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, away in the back quarters, sat the small +informal South Sea Club, talking of another world, and +surely of a different century. Old schooner captains they +were, old South Sea traders, cooks, and mates; fine +creatures, softened by residence among a softer race: full +men besides, though not by reading, but by strange +experience; and for days together I could hear their +yarns with an unfading pleasure. All had, indeed, some +touch of the poetic; for the beach-comber, when not a +mere ruffian, is the poor relation of the artist. Even +through Johnson’s inarticulate speech, his “O yes, there +ain’t no harm in them Kanakas,” or “O yes, that’s a +son of a gun of a fine island, mountainous right down; +I didn’t never ought to have left that island,” there +pierced a certain gusto of appreciation; and some of +the rest were master-talkers. From their long tales, their +traits of character and unpremeditated landscape, there +began to piece itself together in my head some image of +the islands and the island life; precipitous shores, spired +mountain-tops, the deep shade of hanging forests, the +unresting surf upon the reef, and the unending peace of +the lagoon; sun, moon, and stars of an imperial brightness; +man moving in these scenes scarce fallen, and +woman lovelier than Eve; the primal curse abrogated, +the bed made ready for the stranger, life set to perpetual +music, and the guest welcomed, the boat urged, and the +long night beguiled with poetry and choral song. A +man must have been an unsuccessful artist; he must +have starved on the streets of Paris; he must have been +yoked to a commercial force like Pinkerton, before he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>136</span> +can conceive the longings that at times assailed me. The +draughty, rowdy city of San Francisco, the bustling office +where my friend Jim paced like a caged lion daily between +ten and four, even (at times) the retrospect of Paris, +faded in comparison. Many a man less tempted would +have thrown up all to realise his visions; but I was by +nature unadventurous and uninitiative; to divert me +from all former paths and send me cruising through the +isles of paradise, some force external to myself must be +exerted; Destiny herself must use the fitting wedge; +and, little as I deemed it, that tool was already in her +hand of brass.</p> + +<p>I sat, one afternoon, in the corner of a great, glassy, +silvered saloon, a free lunch at my one elbow, at the +other a “conscientious nude” from the brush of local +talent; when, with the tramp of feet and a sudden buzz +of voices, the swing-doors were flung broadly open, and +the place carried as by storm. The crowd which thus +entered (mostly seafaring men, and all prodigiously +excited) contained a sort of kernel or general centre of +interest, which the rest merely surrounded and advertised, +as children in the Old World surround and escort +the Punch-and-Judy man; the word went round the +bar like wildfire that these were Captain Trent and the +survivors of the British brig <i>Flying Scud</i>, picked up by +a British war-ship on Midway Island, arrived that morning +in San Francisco Bay, and now fresh from making +the necessary declarations. Presently I had a good sight +of them; four brown, seamanlike fellows, standing by +the counter, glass in hand, the centre of a score of questioners. +One was a Kanaka—the cook, I was informed; +one carried a cage with a canary, which occasionally +trilled into thin song; one had his left arm in a sling, +and looked gentlemanlike and somewhat sickly, as though +the injury had been severe and he was scarce recovered; +and the captain himself—a red-faced, blue-eyed, thick-set +man of five-and-forty—wore a bandage on his right hand. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>137</span> +The incident struck me; I was struck particularly to see +captain, cook, and foremast hands walking the street and +visiting saloons in company; and, as when anything +impressed me, I got my sketch-book out, and began to +steal a sketch of the four castaways. The crowd, sympathising +with my design, made a clear lane across the +room; and I was thus enabled, all unobserved myself, +to observe with a still growing closeness the face and +the demeanour of Captain Trent.</p> + +<p>Warmed by whisky and encouraged by the eagerness +of the bystanders, that gentleman was now rehearsing +the history of his misfortune. It was but scraps that +reached me: how he “filled her on the starboard tack,” +and how “it came up sudden out of the nor’-nor’-west,” +and “there she was, high and dry.” Sometimes he would +appeal to one of the men—“That was how it was, Jack?”—and +the man would reply, “That was the way of it, +Captain Trent.” Lastly, he started a fresh tide of popular +sympathy by enunciating the sentiment, “Damn all +these Admiralty Charts, and that’s what I say!” From +the nodding of heads and the murmurs of assent that +followed, I could see that Captain Trent had established +himself in the public mind as a gentleman and a thorough +navigator: about which period, my sketch of the four +men and the canary-bird being finished, and all (especially +the canary-bird) excellent likenesses, I buckled up my +book and slipped from the saloon.</p> + +<p>Little did I suppose that I was leaving Act I, Scene I +of the drama of my life; and yet the scene—or, rather, +the captain’s face—lingered for some time in my memory. +I was no prophet, as I say; but I was something else—I +was an observer; and one thing I knew—I knew when +a man was terrified. Captain Trent, of the British brig +Flying Scud, had been glib; he had been ready; he had +been loud; but in his blue eyes I could detect the chill, +and in the lines of his countenance spy the agitation, of +perpetual terror. Was he trembling for his certificate? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>138</span> +In my judgment it was some livelier kind of fear that +thrilled in the man’s marrow as he turned to drink. Was +it the result of recent shock, and had he not yet recovered +the disaster to his brig? I remembered how a friend of +mine had been in a railway accident, and shook and +started for a month; and although Captain Trent of +the <i>Flying Scud</i> had none of the appearance of a nervous +man, I told myself, with incomplete conviction, that his +must be a similar case.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>139</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h5>THE WRECK OF THE <i>FLYING SCUD</i></h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> next morning I found Pinkerton, who had risen +before me, seated at our usual table, and deep in the +perusal of what I will call the <i>Daily Occidental</i>. This was +a paper (I know not if it be so still) that stood out alone +among its brethren in the West. The others, down to +their smallest item, were defaced with capitals, headlines, +alliterations, swaggering misquotations, and the +shoddy picturesque and unpathetic pathos of the Harry +Millers: the <i>Occidental</i> alone appeared to be written by +a dull, sane, Christian gentleman, singly desirous of communicating +knowledge. It had not only this merit—which +endeared it to me—but was admittedly the best +informed on business matters, which attracted Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“Loudon,” said he, looking up from the journal, +“you sometimes think I have too many irons in the fire. +My notion, on the other hand, is, when you see a dollar +lying, pick it up! Well, here I’ve tumbled over a whole +pile of ’em on a reef in the middle of the Pacific.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Jim, you miserable fellow!” I exclaimed; +“haven’t we Depew City, one of God’s green centres for +this State? haven’t we——”</p> + +<p>“Just listen to this,” interrupted Jim. “It’s miserable +copy; these <i>Occidental</i> reporter fellows have no fire; +but the facts are right enough, I guess.” And he began +to read:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Wreck of the British Brig</span> <i>FLYING SCUD</i></p> + +<p>H.B.M.S. <i>Tempest</i>, which arrived yesterday at this port, brings +Captain Trent and four men of the British brig <i>Flying Scud</i>, cast +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>140</span> +away February 12th on Midway Island, and most providentially +rescued the next day. The <i>Flying Scud</i> was of 200 tons burthen, +owned in London, and has been out nearly two years tramping. +Captain Trent left Hong Kong December 8th, bound for this port +in rice and a small mixed cargo of silks, teas, and China notions, +the whole valued at $10,000, fully covered by insurance. The log +shows plenty of fine weather, with light airs, calms, and squalls. +In lat. 28 N., long. 177 W., his water going rotten, and misled +by Hoyt’s “North Pacific Directory,” which informed him there +was a coaling station on the island, Captain Trent put in to Midway +Island. He found it a literal sandbank, surrounded by a coral reef, +mostly submerged. Birds were very plenty, there was good fish +in the lagoon, but no firewood; and the water, which could be +obtained by digging, brackish. He found good holding-ground off +the north end of the larger bank in fifteen fathoms water; bottom +sandy, with coral patches. Here he was detained seven days by +a calm, the crew suffering severely from the water, which was gone +quite bad; and it was only on the evening of the 12th that a little +wind sprang up, coming puffy out of N.N.E. Late as it was, +Captain Trent immediately weighed anchor and attempted to get +out. While the vessel was beating up to the passage, the wind +took a sudden lull, and then veered squally into N., and even +N.N.W., driving the brig ashore on the sand at about twenty +minutes before six o’clock. John Wallen, a native of Finland, and +Charles Holdorsen, a native of Sweden, were drowned alongside, +in attempting to lower a boat, neither being able to swim, the +squall very dark, and the noise of the breakers drowning everything. +At the same time John Brown, another of the crew, had +his arm broken by the falls. Captain Trent further informed the +<i>Occidental</i> reporter that the brig struck heavily at first bows on, +he supposes upon coral; that she then drove over the obstacle, +and now lies in sand, much down by the head, and with a list to +starboard. In the first collision she must have sustained some +damage, as she was making water forward. The rice will probably +be all destroyed: but the more valuable part of the cargo is fortunately +in the afterhold. Captain Trent was preparing his long-boat +for sea, when the providential arrival of the <i>Tempest</i>, pursuant +to Admiralty orders to call at islands in her course for castaways, +saved the gallant captain from all further danger. It is scarcely +necessary to add that both the officers and men of the unfortunate +vessel speak in high terms of the kindness they received on board +the man-of-war. We print a list of the survivors: Jacob Trent, +master, of Hull, England; Elias Goddedaal, mate, native of +Christiansand, Sweden; Ah Wing, cook, native of Sana, China; +John Brown, native of Glasgow, Scotland; John Hardy, native of +London, England. The <i>Flying Scud</i> is ten years old, and this morning +will be sold as she stands, by order of Lloyd’s agent, at public +auction, for the benefit of the underwriters. The auction will take +place in the Merchants’ Exchange at ten o’clock.</p> + +<p><i>Further Particulars.</i>—Later in the afternoon the <i>Occidental</i> reporter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>141</span> +found Lieutenant Sebright, first officer of H.B.M.S. <i>Tempest</i> +at the Palace Hotel. The gallant officer was somewhat pressed +for time, but confirmed the account given by Captain Trent in +all particulars. He added that the <i>Flying Scud</i> is in an excellent +berth, and, except in the highly improbable event of a heavy N.W. +gale, might last until next winter.</p> +</div> + +<p>“You will never know anything of literature,” said I, +when Jim had finished. “That is a good, honest, plain +piece of work, and tells the story clearly. I see only +one mistake: the cook is not a Chinaman; he is a Kanaka, +and, I think, a Hawaiian.”</p> + +<p>“Why, how do you know that?” asked Jim.</p> + +<p>“I saw the whole gang yesterday in a saloon,” said I; +“I even heard the tale, or might have heard it, from +Captain Trent himself, who struck me as thirsty and +nervous.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s neither here nor there,” cried Pinkerton; +“the point is, how about these dollars lying on a reef?”</p> + +<p>“Will it pay?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Pay like a sugar trust!” exclaimed Pinkerton. +“Don’t you see what this British officer says about the +safety? Don’t you see the cargo’s valued at ten thousand? +Schooners are begging just now; I can get my +pick of them at two hundred and fifty a month; and +how does that foot up? It looks like three hundred per +cent. to me.”</p> + +<p>“You forget,” I objected, “the captain himself declares +the rice is damaged.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a point, I know,” admitted Jim. “But the +rice is the sluggish article, anyway; it’s little more account +than ballast; it’s the tea and silks that I look to: all +we have to find is the proportion, and one look at the +manifest will settle that. I’ve rung up Lloyd’s on purpose; +the captain is to meet me there in an hour, and +then I’ll be as posted on that brig as if I built her. +Besides, you’ve no idea what pickings there are about a +wreck—copper, lead, rigging, anchors, chains, even the +crockery, Loudon.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>142</span></p> + +<p>“You seem to me to forget one trifle,” said I. +“Before you pick that wreck, you’ve got to buy her, +and how much will she cost?”</p> + +<p>“One hundred dollars,” replied Jim, with the promptitude +of an automaton.</p> + +<p>“How on earth do you guess that?” I cried.</p> + +<p>“I don’t guess; I know it,” answered the Commercial +Force. “My dear boy, I may be a galoot about literature, +but you’ll always be an outsider in business. How +do you suppose I bought the <i>James L. Moody</i> for two +hundred and fifty, her boats alone worth four times the +money? Because my name stood first in the list. Well, +it stands there again; I have the naming of the figure, +and I name a small one because of the distance: but it +wouldn’t matter what I named; that would be the price.”</p> + +<p>“It sounds mysterious enough,” said I. “Is this +public auction conducted in a subterranean vault? Could +a plain citizen—myself, for instance—come and see?”</p> + +<p>“O, everything’s open and above-board!” he cried +indignantly. “Anybody can come, only nobody bids +against us; and if he did, he would get frozen out. It’s +been tried before now, and once was enough. We hold +the plant; we’ve got the connection; we can afford to +go higher than any outsider: there’s two million dollars +in the ring; and we stick at nothing. Or suppose +anybody did buy over our head—I tell you, Loudon, +he would think this town gone crazy; he could no more +get business through on the city front than I can dance; +schooners, divers, men—all he wanted—the prices would +fly right up and strike him.”</p> + +<p>“But how did you get in?” I asked. “You were +once an outsider like your neighbours, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“I took hold of that thing, Loudon, and just studied +it up,” he replied. “It took my fancy; it was so romantic, +and then I saw there was boodle in the thing; and I +figured on the business till no man alive could give me +points. Nobody knew I had an eye on wrecks till one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>143</span> +fine morning I dropped in upon Douglas B. Longhurst +in his den, gave him all the facts and figures, and put it +to him straight: ‘Do you want me in this ring? or shall +I start another?’ He took half an hour, and when I +came back, ‘Pink,’ says he, ‘I’ve put your name on.’ +The first time I came to the top it was that <i>Moody</i> racket; +now it’s the <i>Flying Scud</i>.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Pinkerton, looking at his watch, uttered +an exclamation, made a hasty appointment with myself +for the doors of the Merchants’ Exchange, and fled to +examine manifests and interview the skipper. I finished +my cigarette with the deliberation of a man at the end +of many picnics; reflecting to myself that of all forms of +the dollar-hunt, this wrecking had by far the most address +to my imagination. Even as I went down town, in the +brisk bustle and chill of the familiar San Francisco +thoroughfares, I was haunted by a vision of the wreck, +baking so far away in the strong sun, under a cloud of +sea-birds; and even then, and for no better reason, my +heart inclined towards the adventure. If not myself, +something that was mine, some one at least in my employment, +should voyage to that ocean-bounded pin-point, +and descend to that deserted cabin.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton met me at the appointed moment, pinched +of lip, and more than usually erect of bearing, like one +conscious of great resolves.</p> + +<p>“Well?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said he, “it might be better, and it might be +worse. This Captain Trent is a remarkably honest fellow—one +out of a thousand. As soon as he knew I was in +the market, he owned up about the rice in so many +words. By his calculation, if there’s thirty mats of it +saved, it’s an outside figure. However, the manifest was +cheerier. There’s about five thousand dollars of the +whole value in silks and teas and nut-oils and that, all +in the lazarette, and as safe as if it was in Kearney Street. +The brig was new coppered a year ago. There’s upwards +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>144</span> +of a hundred and fifty fathom away-up chain. It’s not +a bonanza, but there’s boodle in it; and we’ll try it +on.”</p> + +<p>It was by that time hard on ten o’clock, and we turned +at once into the place of sale. The <i>Flying Scud</i>, although +so important to ourselves, appeared to attract a very +humble share of popular attention. The auctioneer was +surrounded by perhaps a score of lookers-on—big fellows +for the most part, of the true Western build, long in the +leg, broad in the shoulder, and adorned (to a plain man’s +taste) with needless finery. A jaunty, ostentatious comradeship +prevailed. Bets were flying, and nicknames. +“The boys” (as they would have called themselves) were +very boyish; and it was plain they were here in mirth, +and not on business. Behind, and certainly in strong +contrast to these gentlemen, I could detect the figure of +my friend Captain Trent, come (as I could very well +imagine that a captain would) to hear the last of his old +vessel. Since yesterday he had rigged himself anew in +ready-made black clothes, not very aptly fitted; the +upper left-hand pocket showing a corner of silk handkerchief, +the lower, on the other side, bulging with papers. +Pinkerton had just given this man a high character. +Certainly he seemed to have been very frank, and I looked +at him again to trace (if possible) that virtue in his face. +It was red and broad and flustered and (I thought) false. +The whole man looked sick with some unknown anxiety: +and as he stood there, unconscious of my observation, he +tore at his nails, scowled on the floor, or glanced suddenly, +sharply, and fearfully at passers-by. I was still +gazing at the man in a kind of fascination, when the sale +began.</p> + +<p>Some preliminaries were rattled through, to the irreverent, +uninterrupted gambolling of the boys; and +then, amid a trifle more attention, the auctioneer sounded +for some two or three minutes the pipe of the charmer. +“Fine brig—new copper—valuable fittings—three fine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>145</span> +boats—remarkably choice cargo—what the auctioneer +would call a perfectly safe investment; nay, gentlemen, +he would go further, he would put a figure on it: he +had no hesitation (had that bold auctioneer) in putting +it in figures; and in his view, what with this and that, +and one thing and another, the purchaser might expect +to clear a sum equal to the entire estimated value of +the cargo; or, gentlemen, in other words, a sum of +ten thousand dollars.” At this modest computation the +roof immediately above the speaker’s head (I suppose, +through the intervention of a spectator of ventriloquial +tastes) uttered a clear “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”—whereat all +laughed, the auctioneer himself obligingly joining.</p> + +<p>“Now, gentlemen, what shall we say?” resumed that +gentleman, plainly ogling Pinkerton,—“what shall we say +for this remarkable opportunity?”</p> + +<p>“One hundred dollars,” said Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“One hundred dollars from Mr. Pinkerton,” went the +auctioneer, “one hundred dollars. No other gentleman +inclined to make any advance? One hundred dollars, +only one hundred dollars——”</p> + +<p>The auctioneer was droning on to some such tune as +this, and I, on my part, was watching with something +between sympathy and amazement the undisguised emotion +of Captain Trent, when we were all startled by the +interjection of a bid.</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” said a sharp voice.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton, the auctioneer, and the boys, who were +all equally in the open secret of the ring, were now all +equally and simultaneously taken aback.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” said the auctioneer; “anybody +bid?”</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” reiterated the voice, which I was now +able to trace to its origin, on the lips of a small unseemly +rag of human-kind. The speaker’s skin was grey and +blotched; he spoke in a kind of broken song, with much +variety of key; his gestures seemed (as in the disease +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>146</span> +called St. Vitus’s dance) to be imperfectly under control; +he was badly dressed; he carried himself with an air of +shrinking assumption, as though he were proud to be +where he was and to do what he was doing, and yet half +expected to be called in question and kicked out. I think +I never saw a man more of a piece; and the type was +new to me: I had never before set eyes upon his parallel, +and I thought instinctively of Balzac and the lower regions +of the <i>Comédie Humaine</i>.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton stared a moment on the intruder with no +friendly eye, tore a leaf from his note-book, and scribbled +a line in pencil, turned, beckoned a messenger boy, and +whispered, “To Longhurst.” Next moment the boy had +sped upon his errand, and Pinkerton was again facing +the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>“Two hundred dollars,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” said the enemy.</p> + +<p>“This looks lively,” whispered I to Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“Yes; the little beast means cold-drawn biz,” returned +my friend. “Well, he’ll have to have a lesson. +Wait till I see Longhurst.—Three hundred,” he added +aloud.</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” came the echo.</p> + +<p>It was about this moment when my eye fell again +on Captain Trent. A deeper shade had mounted to his +crimson face; the new coat was unbuttoned and all flying +open, the new silk handkerchief in busy requisition; and +the man’s eye, of a clear sailor blue, shone glassy with +excitement. He was anxious still, but now (if I could +read a face) there was hope in his anxiety.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” I whispered, “look at Trent. Bet you what +you please he was expecting this.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was the reply, “there’s some blame’ thing +going on here”; and he renewed his bid.</p> + +<p>The figure had run up into the neighbourhood of a +thousand when I was aware of a sensation in the faces +opposite, and, looking over my shoulder, saw a very large, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>147</span> +bland, handsome man come strolling forth and make a +little signal to the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>“One word, Mr. Borden,” said he; and then to Jim, +“Well, Pink, where are we up to now?”</p> + +<p>Pinkerton gave him the figure. “I ran up to that on +my own responsibility, Mr. Longhurst,” he added, with +a flush. “I thought it the square thing.”</p> + +<p>“And so it was,” said Mr. Longhurst, patting him +kindly on the shoulder, like a gratified uncle. “Well, +you can drop out now; we take hold ourselves. You +can run it up to five thousand; and if he likes to go +beyond that, he’s welcome to the bargain.”</p> + +<p>“By-the-bye, who is he?” asked Pinkerton. “He +looks away down.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve sent Billy to find out”; and at the very moment +Mr. Longhurst received from the hands of one of the +expensive young gentlemen a folded paper. It was passed +round from one to another till it came to me, and I read: +“Harry D. Bellairs, Attorney-at-Law; defended Clara +Varden: twice nearly disbarred.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that gets me!” observed Mr. Longhurst. +“Who can have put up a shyster<a name="FnAnchor_3" href="#Footnote_3"><span class="sp">3</span></a> like that? Nobody +with money, that’s a sure thing. Suppose you tried a +big bluff? I think I would, Pink. Well, ta-ta! Your +partner, Mr. Dodd? Happy to have the pleasure of +your acquaintance, sir”; and the great man withdrew.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you think of Douglas B.?” whispered +Pinkerton, looking reverently after him as he departed. +“Six foot of perfect gentleman and culture to his +boots.”</p> + +<p>During this interview the auctioneer had stood transparently +arrested—the auctioneer, the spectators, and +even Bellairs, all well aware that Mr. Longhurst was the +principal, and Jim but a speaking-trumpet. But now +that the Olympian Jupiter was gone, Mr. Borden thought +proper to affect severity. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>148</span></p> + +<p>“Come, come, Mr. Pinkerton; any advance?” he +snapped.</p> + +<p>And Pinkerton, resolved on the big bluff, replied, +“Two thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p>Bellairs preserved his composure. “And fifty,” said +he. But there was a stir among the onlookers, and—what +was of more importance—Captain Trent had turned +pale and visibly gulped.</p> + +<p>“Pitch it in again, Jim,” said I. “Trent is weakening.”</p> + +<p>“Three thousand,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” said Bellairs.</p> + +<p>And then the bidding returned to its original movement +by hundreds and fifties; but I had been able in the +meanwhile to draw two conclusions. In the first place, +Bellairs had made his last advance with a smile of gratified +vanity, and I could see the creature was glorying in +the <i>kudos</i> of an unusual position and secure of ultimate +success. In the second, Trent had once more changed +colour at the thousand leap, and his relief when he heard +the answering fifty was manifest and unaffected. Here, +then, was a problem: both were presumably in the same +interest, yet the one was not in the confidence of the +other. Nor was this all. A few bids later it chanced that +my eye encountered that of Captain Trent, and his, which +glittered with excitement, was instantly, and I thought +guiltily, withdrawn. He wished, then, to conceal his +interest? As Jim had said, there was some blamed thing +going on. And for certain here were these two men, so +strangely united, so strangely divided, both sharp-set +to keep the wreck from us, and that at an exorbitant +figure.</p> + +<p>Was the wreck worth more than we supposed? A sudden +heat was kindled in my brain; the bids were nearing +Longhurst’s limit of five thousand; another minute and +all would be too late. Tearing a leaf from my sketch-book, +and inspired (I suppose) by vanity in my own powers +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>149</span> +of inference and observation, I took the one mad decision +of my life. “If you care to go ahead,” I wrote, “I’m in +for all I’m worth.”</p> + +<p>Jim read and looked round at me like one bewildered; +then his eyes lightened, and turning again to the auctioneer +he bid, “Five thousand one hundred dollars.”</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” said monotonous Bellairs.</p> + +<p>Presently Pinkerton scribbled, “What can it be?” +and I answered, still on paper: “I can’t imagine, but +there’s something. Watch Bellairs; he’ll go up to the +ten thousand, see if he don’t.”</p> + +<p>And he did, and we followed. Long before this word +had gone abroad that there was battle royal. We were +surrounded by a crowd that looked on wondering, and +when Pinkerton had offered ten thousand dollars (the +outside value of the cargo, even were it safe in San Francisco +Bay) and Bellairs, smirking from ear to ear to be +the centre of so much attention, had jerked out his answering +“And fifty,” wonder deepened to excitement.</p> + +<p>“Ten thousand one hundred,” said Jim; and even +as he spoke he made a sudden gesture with his hand, his +face changed, and I could see that he had guessed, or +thought that he had guessed, the mystery. As he scrawled +another memorandum in his note-book, his hand shook +like a telegraph operator’s.</p> + +<p>“Chinese ship,” ran the legend; and then in big, +tremulous half-text, and with a flourish that overran +the margin, “Opium!”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” thought I, “this must be the secret.” +I knew that scarce a ship came in from any Chinese port +but she carried somewhere, behind a bulkhead or in some +cunning hollow of the beams, a nest of the valuable poison. +Doubtless there was some such treasure on the <i>Flying +Scud</i>. How much was it worth? We knew not; we +were gambling in the dark. But Trent knew, and Bellairs; +and we could only watch and judge.</p> + +<p>By this time neither Pinkerton nor I were of sound +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>150</span> +mind. Pinkerton was beside himself, his eyes like lamps; +I shook in every member. To any stranger entering, +say, in the course of the fifteenth thousand, we should +probably have cut a poorer figure than Bellairs himself. +But we did not pause; and the crowd watched us—now +in silence, now with a buzz of whispers.</p> + +<p>Seventeen thousand had been reached, when Douglas +B. Longhurst, forcing his way into the opposite row of +faces, conspicuously and repeatedly shook his head at +Jim, Jim’s answer was a note of two words: “My +racket!” which, when the great man had perused, he +shook his finger warningly and departed—I thought, with +a sorrowful countenance.</p> + +<p>Although Mr. Longhurst knew nothing of Bellairs, +the shady lawyer knew all about the Wrecker Boss. He +had seen him enter the ring with manifest expectation; +he saw him depart, and the bids continue, with manifest +surprise and disappointment. “Hallo,” he plainly +thought, “this is not the ring I’m fighting, then?” And +he determined to put on a spurt.</p> + +<p>“Eighteen thousand,” said he.</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” said Jim, taking a leaf out of his adversary’s +book.</p> + +<p>“Twenty thousand,” from Bellairs.</p> + +<p>“And fifty,” from Jim, with a little nervous titter.</p> + +<p>And with one consent they returned to the old pace—only +now it was Bellairs who took the hundreds, and +Jim who did the fifty business. But by this time our +idea had gone abroad. I could hear the word “opium” +passed from mouth to mouth, and by the looks directed +at us I could see we were supposed to have some private +information. And here an incident occurred highly +typical of San Francisco. Close at my back there had +stood for some time a stout middle-aged gentleman, with +pleasant eyes, hair pleasantly grizzled, and a ruddy, +pleasing face. All of a sudden he appeared as a third +competitor, skied the <i>Flying Scud</i> with four fat bids of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>151</span> +a thousand dollars each, and then as suddenly fled the +field, remaining thenceforth (as before) a silent, interested +spectator.</p> + +<p>Ever since Mr. Longhurst’s useless intervention Bellairs +had seemed uneasy, and at this new attack he began (in +his turn) to scribble a note between the bids. I imagined, +naturally enough, that it would go to Captain Trent; +but when it was done and the writer turned and looked +behind him in the crowd, to my unspeakable amazement, +he did not seem to remark the captain’s presence.</p> + +<p>“Messenger boy, messenger boy!” I heard him say. +“Somebody call me a messenger boy.”</p> + +<p>At last somebody did, but it was not the captain.</p> + +<p>“<i>He’s sending for instructions</i>,” I wrote to Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“<i>For money,</i>” he wrote back. “<i>Shall I strike out? I +think this is the time</i>.”</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>“Thirty thousand,” said Pinkerton, making a leap of +close upon three thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>I could see doubt in Bellairs’s eye; then, sudden +resolution. “Thirty-five thousand,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Forty thousand,” said Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, during which Bellairs’s countenance +was as a book, and then, not much too soon for +the impending hammer, “Forty thousand and five dollars,” +said he.</p> + +<p>Pinkerton and I exchanged eloquent glances. We +were of one mind. Bellairs had tried a bluff; now he +perceived his mistake, and was bidding against time; +he was trying to spin out the sale until the messenger +boy returned.</p> + +<p>“Forty-five thousand dollars,” said Pinkerton: his +voice was like a ghost’s and tottered with emotion.</p> + +<p>“Forty-five thousand and five dollars,” said Bellairs.</p> + +<p>“Fifty thousand,” said Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Pinkerton. Did I hear you +make an advance, sir?” asked the auctioneer. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>152</span></p> + +<p>“I—I have a difficulty in speaking,” gasped Jim. +“It’s fifty thousand, Mr. Borden.”</p> + +<p>Bellairs was on his feet in a moment. “Auctioneer,” +he said, “I have to beg the favour of three moments at +the telephone. In this matter I am acting on behalf of +a certain party to whom I have just written——”</p> + +<p>“I have nothing to do with any of this,” said the +auctioneer brutally. “I am here to sell this wreck. Do +you make any advance on fifty thousand?”</p> + +<p>“I have the honour to explain to you, sir,” returned +Bellairs, with a miserable assumption of dignity, “fifty +thousand was the figure named by my principal; but if +you will give me the small favour of two moments at the +telephone——”</p> + +<p>“O, nonsense!” said the auctioneer. “If you make +no advance I’ll knock it down to Mr. Pinkerton.”</p> + +<p>“I warn you,” cried the attorney, with sudden shrillness. +“Have a care what you’re about. You are here +to sell for the underwriters, let me tell you—not to act +for Mr. Douglas Longhurst. This sale has been already +disgracefully interrupted to allow that person to hold a +consultation with his minions; it has been much commented +on.”</p> + +<p>“There was no complaint at the time,” said the auctioneer, +manifestly discountenanced. “You should have +complained at the time.”</p> + +<p>“I am not here to conduct this sale,” replied Bellairs; +“I am not paid for that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I am, you see,” retorted the auctioneer, his +impudence quite restored; and he resumed his sing-song. +“Any advance on fifty thousand dollars? No +advance on fifty thousand? No advance, gentlemen? +Going at fifty thousand, the wreck of the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> +going—going—gone!”</p> + +<p>“My God, Jim, can we pay the money?” I cried, as +the stroke of the hammer seemed to recall me from a +dream. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>153</span></p> + +<p>“It’s got to be raised,” said he, white as a sheet. “It’ll +be a hell of a strain, Loudon. The credit’s good for it, I +think; but I shall have to get around. Write me a cheque +for your stuff. Meet me at the Occidental in an hour.”</p> + +<p>I wrote my cheque at a desk, and I declare I could +never have recognised my signature. Jim was gone in a +moment; Trent had vanished even earlier; only Bellairs +remained, exchanging insults with the auctioneer; and, +behold! as I pushed my way out of the exchange, who +should run full tilt into my arms but the messenger boy!</p> + +<p>It was by so near a margin that we became the owners +of the <i>Flying Scud</i>.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_3" href="#FnAnchor_3"><span class="fn">3</span></a> A low lawyer.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>154</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h5>IN WHICH THE CREW VANISH</h5> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">At</span> the door of the exchange I found myself alongside of +the short middle-aged gentleman who had made an appearance, +so vigorous and so brief, in the great battle.</p> + +<p>“Congratulate you, Mr. Dodd,” he said. “You and +your friend stuck to your guns nobly.”</p> + +<p>“No thanks to you, sir,” I replied, “running us up +a thousand at a time, and tempting all the speculators +in San Francisco to come and have a try.”</p> + +<p>“O, that was temporary insanity,” said he; “and I +thank the higher powers I am still a free man. Walking +this way, Mr. Dodd? I’ll walk along with you. It’s +pleasant for an old fogey like myself to see the young +bloods in the ring; I’ve done some pretty wild gambles in +my time in this very city, when it was a smaller place and +I was a younger man. Yes, I know you, Mr. Dodd. By +sight, I may say I know you extremely well, you and +your followers, the fellows in the kilts, eh? Pardon me. +But I have the misfortune to own a little box on the +Saucelito shore. I’ll be glad to see you there any Sunday—without +the fellows in kilts, you know; and I can give +you a bottle of wine, and show you the best collection of +Arctic voyages in the States. Morgan is my name—Judge +Morgan—a Welshman and a forty-niner.”</p> + +<p>“O, if you’re a pioneer,” cried I, “come to me, and +I’ll provide you with an axe.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll want your axes for yourself, I fancy,” he +returned, with one of his quick looks. “Unless you have +private knowledge, there will be a good deal of rather +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>155</span> +violent wrecking to do before you find that—opium, do +you call it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s either opium, or we are stark staring mad,” +I replied. “But I assure you we have no private information. +We went in (as I suppose you did yourself) on +observation.”</p> + +<p>“An observer, sir?” inquired the judge.</p> + +<p>“I may say it is my trade—or, rather, was,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Well now, and what did you think of Bellairs?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Very little indeed,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I may tell you,” continued the judge, “that to me +the employment of a fellow like that appears inexplicable. +I knew him: he knows me, too; he has often heard +from me in court; and I assure you the man is utterly +blown upon; it is not safe to trust him with a dollar, +and here we find him dealing up to fifty thousand. I can’t +think who can have so trusted him, but I am very sure +it was a stranger in San Francisco.”</p> + +<p>“Some one for the owners, I suppose,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Surely not!” exclaimed the judge. “Owners in +London can have nothing to say to opium smuggled between +Hong Kong and San Francisco. I should rather +fancy they would be the last to hear of it—until the ship +was seized. No; I was thinking of the captain. But +where would he get the money—above all, after having +laid out so much to buy the stuff in China?—unless, +indeed, he were acting for some one in ’Frisco; and in +that case—here we go round again in the vicious circle—Bellairs +would not have been employed.”</p> + +<p>“I think I can assure you it was not the captain,” said +I, “for he and Bellairs are not acquainted.”</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t that the captain with the red face and +coloured handkerchief? He seemed to me to follow +Bellairs’s game with the most thrilling interest,” objected +Mr. Morgan.</p> + +<p>“Perfectly true,” said I. “Trent is deeply interested; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>156</span> +he very likely knew Bellairs, and he certainly knew what +he was there for; but I can put my hand in the fire that +Bellairs didn’t know Trent.”</p> + +<p>“Another singularity,” observed the judge. “Well, +we have had a capital forenoon. But you take an old +lawyer’s advice, and get to Midway Island as fast as you +can. There’s a pot of money on the table, and Bellairs +and Co. are not the men to stick at trifles.”</p> + +<p>With this parting counsel Judge Morgan shook hands +and made off along Montgomery Street, while I entered +the Occidental Hotel, on the steps of which we had finished +our conversation. I was well known to the clerks, and +as soon as it was understood that I was there to wait for +Pinkerton and lunch, I was invited to a seat inside the +counter. Here, then, in a retired corner, I was beginning +to come a little to myself after these so violent experiences, +when who should come hurrying in, and (after a +moment with a clerk) fly to one of the telephone-boxes +but Mr. Henry D. Bellairs in person! Call it what you +will, but the impulse was irresistible, and I rose and took a +place immediately at the man’s back. It may be some +excuse that I had often practised this very innocent form +of eavesdropping upon strangers and for fun. Indeed, I +scarce know anything that gives a lower view of man’s +intelligence than to overhear (as you thus do) one side of +a communication.</p> + +<p>“Central,” said the attorney, “2241 and 584 B” (or +some such numbers)—“Who’s that?—All right—Mr. +Bellairs—Occidental; the wires are fouled in the other +place—Yes, about three minutes—Yes—Yes—Your figure, +I am sorry to say—No—I had no authority—Neither +more nor less—I have every reason to suppose so—O, +Pinkerton, Montana Block—Yes—Yes—Very good, sir—As +you will, sir—Disconnect 584 B.”</p> + +<p>Bellairs turned to leave; at sight of me behind him, +up flew his hands, and he winced and cringed, as though +in fear of bodily attack. “O, it’s you!” he cried; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>157</span> +then, somewhat recovered, “Mr. Pinkerton’s partner, I +believe? I am pleased to see you, sir—to congratulate +you on your late success”; and with that he was gone, +obsequiously bowing as he passed.</p> + +<p>And now a madcap humour came upon me. It was +plain Bellairs had been communicating with his principal; +I knew the number, if not the name. Should I +ring up at once? It was more than likely he would +return in person to the telephone. “Why should not I +dash (vocally) into the presence of this mysterious person, +and have some fun for my money?” I pressed the bell.</p> + +<p>“Central,” said I, “connect again 2241 and 584 B.”</p> + +<p>A phantom central repeated the numbers; there was +a pause, and then “Two two four one” came in a tiny +voice into my ear—a voice with the English sing-song—the +voice plainly of a gentleman. “Is that you again, +Mr. Bellairs?” it trilled. “I tell you it’s no use. Is that +you, Mr. Bellairs? Who is that?”</p> + +<p>“I only want to put a single question,” said I, civilly. +“Why do you want to buy the <i>Flying Scud</i>?”</p> + +<p>No answer came. The telephone vibrated and hummed +in miniature with all the numerous talk of a great city: +but the voice of 2241 was silent. Once and twice I put +my question; but the tiny sing-song English voice I +heard no more. The man, then, had fled—fled from an +impertinent question. It scarce seemed natural to me—unless +on the principle that the wicked fleeth when no +man pursueth. I took the telephone list and turned +the number up: “2241, Mrs. Keane, res. 942 Mission +Street.” And that, short of driving to the house and +renewing my impertinence in person, was all that I could +do.</p> + +<p>Yet, as I resumed my seat in the corner of the office, I +was conscious of a new element of the uncertain, the underhand, +perhaps even the dangerous, in our adventure; +and there was now a new picture in my mental gallery, +to hang beside that of the wreck under its canopy of sea-birds +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>158</span> +and of Captain Trent mopping his red brow—the +picture of a man with a telephone dice-box to his ear, +and at the small voice of a single question struck suddenly +as white as ashes.</p> + +<p>From these considerations I was awakened by the +striking of the clock. An hour and nearly twenty minutes +had elapsed since Pinkerton departed for the money: +he was twenty minutes behind time; and to me, who +knew so well his gluttonous despatch of business, and +had so frequently admired his iron punctuality, the fact +spoke volumes. The twenty minutes slowly stretched +into an hour; the hour had nearly extended to a second; +and I still sat in my corner of the office, or paced the +marble pavement of the hall, a prey to the most wretched +anxiety and penitence. The hour for lunch was nearly +over before I remembered that I had not eaten. Heaven +knows I had no appetite; but there might still be much +to do—it was needful I should keep myself in proper trim, +if it were only to digest the now too probable bad news; +and leaving word at the office for Pinkerton, I sat down +to table and called for soup, oysters, and a pint of champagne.</p> + +<p>I was not long set before my friend returned. He +looked pale and rather old, refused to hear of food, and +called for tea.</p> + +<p>“I suppose all’s up?” said I, with an incredible +sinking.</p> + +<p>“No,” he replied; “I’ve pulled it through, Loudon—just +pulled it through. I couldn’t have raised another +cent in all ’Frisco. People don’t like it; Longhurst even +went back on me; said he wasn’t a three-card-monte +man.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what’s the odds?” said I. “That’s all we +wanted, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Loudon, I tell you I’ve had to pay blood for that +money,” cried my friend, with almost savage energy and +gloom. “It’s all on ninety days, too; I couldn’t get +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>159</span> +another day—not another day. If we go ahead with +this affair, Loudon, you’ll have to go yourself and make +the fur fly. I’ll stay, of course—I’ve got to stay and face +the trouble in this city; though, I tell you, I just long to +go. I would show these fat brutes of sailors what work +was; I would be all through that wreck and out at the +other end, before they had boosted themselves upon the +deck! But you’ll do your level best, Loudon; I depend +on you for that. You must be all fire and grit and dash +from the word ‘go.’ That schooner, and the boodle on +board of her, are bound to be here before three months, +or it’s B U S T—bust.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll swear I’ll do my best, Jim; I’ll work double +tides,” said I. “It is my fault that you are in this thing, +and I’ll get you out again, or kill myself. But what is +that you say? ‘If we go ahead?’ Have we any choice, +then?”</p> + +<p>“I’m coming to that,” said Jim. “It isn’t that I +doubt the investment. Don’t blame yourself for that; +you showed a fine sound business instinct: I always knew +it was in you, but then it ripped right out. I guess that +little beast of an attorney knew what he was doing; and +he wanted nothing better than to go beyond. No, there’s +profit in the deal; it’s not that; it’s these ninety-day +bills, and the strain I’ve given the credit—for I’ve been +up and down borrowing, and begging and bribing to +borrow. I don’t believe there’s another man but me in +’Frisco,” he cried, with a sudden fervour of self-admiration, +“who could have raised that last ten thousand! +Then there’s another thing. I had hoped you might have +peddled that opium through the islands, which is safer +and more profitable. But with this three-month limit, +you must make tracks for Honolulu straight, and communicate +by steamer. I’ll try to put up something for +you there; I’ll have a man spoken to who’s posted on +that line of biz. Keep a bright look-out for him as soon’s +you make the islands; for it’s on the cards he might +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>160</span> +pick you up at sea in a whale-boat or a steam-launch, and +bring the dollars right on board.”</p> + +<p>It shows how much I had suffered morally during my +sojourn in San Francisco that even now, when our fortunes +trembled in the balance, I should have consented to become +a smuggler—and (of all things) a smuggler of opium. +Yet I did, and that in silence; without a protest, not +without a twinge.</p> + +<p>“And suppose,” said I, “suppose the opium is so +securely hidden that I can’t get hands on it?”</p> + +<p>“Then you will stay there till that brig is kindling-wood, +and stay and split that kindling-wood with your +penknife,” cried Pinkerton. “The stuff is there; we +know that; and it must be found. But all this is only +the one string to our bow—though I tell you I’ve gone +into it head-first, as if it was our bottom dollar. Why, +the first thing I did before I’d raised a cent, and with +this other notion in my head already—the first thing I +did was to secure the schooner. The <i>Norah Creina</i> she is, +sixty-four tons—quite big enough for our purpose since +the rice is spoiled, and the fastest thing of her tonnage +out of San Francisco. For a bonus of two hundred, +and a monthly charter of three, I have her for my own +time; wages and provisions, say four hundred more: +a drop in the bucket. They began firing the cargo out +of her (she was part loaded) near two hours ago; and +about the same time John Smith got the order for the +stores. That’s what I call business.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt of that,” said I; “but the other +notion?”</p> + +<p>“Well, here it is,” said Jim. “You agree with me +that Bellairs was ready to go higher?”</p> + +<p>I saw where he was coming. “Yes—and why +shouldn’t he?” said I. “Is that the line?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the line, Loudon Dodd,” assented Jim. “If +Bellairs and his principal have any desire to go me +better, I’m their man.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>161</span></p> + +<p>A sudden thought, a sudden fear, shot into my mind. +What if I had been right? What if my childish +pleasantry had frightened the principal away, and thus +destroyed our chance? Shame closed my mouth; I +began instinctively a long course of reticence; and it +was without a word of my meeting with Bellairs, or my +discovery of the address in Mission Street, that I continued +the discussion.</p> + +<p>“Doubtless fifty thousand was originally mentioned +as a round sum,” said I, “or, at least, so Bellairs supposed. +But at the same time it may be an outside sum; +and to cover the expenses we have already incurred for +the money and the schooner—I am far from blaming +you; I see how needful it was to be ready for either +event—but to cover them we shall want a rather large +advance.”</p> + +<p>“Bellairs will go to sixty thousand; it’s my belief, if +he were properly handled, he would take the hundred,” +replied Pinkerton. “Look back on the way the sale ran +at the end.”</p> + +<p>“That is my own impression as regards Bellairs,” I +admitted; “the point I am trying to make is that Bellairs +himself may be mistaken; that what he supposed to be +a round sum was really an outside figure.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Loudon, if that is so,” said Jim, with extraordinary +gravity of face and voice, “if that is so, let him +take the <i>Flying Scud</i> at fifty thousand, and joy go with +her! I prefer the loss.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so, Jim? Are we dipped as bad as that?” +I cried.</p> + +<p>“We’ve put our hand farther out than we can pull +it in again, Loudon,” he replied. “Why, man, that +fifty thousand dollars, before we get clear again, will cost +us nearer seventy. Yes, it figures up overhead to more +than ten per cent, a month; and I could do no better, +and there isn’t the man breathing could have done as +well. It was a miracle, Loudon. I couldn’t but admire +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>162</span> +myself. O, if we had just the four months! And you +know, Loudon, it may still be done. With your energy +and charm, if the worst comes to the worst, you can run +that schooner as you ran one of your picnics; and we +may have luck. And O man! if we do pull it through, +what a dashing operation it will be! What an advertisement! +what a thing to talk of and remember all our +lives! However,” he broke off suddenly, “we must try +the safe thing first. Here’s for the shyster!”</p> + +<p>There was another struggle in my mind, whether I +should even now admit my knowledge of the Mission +Street address. But I had let the favourable moment +slip. I had now, which made it the more awkward, not +merely the original discovery, but my late suppression +to confess. I could not help reasoning, besides, that the +more natural course was to approach the principal by the +road of his agent’s office; and there weighed upon my +spirits a conviction that we were already too late, and +that the man was gone two hours ago. Once more, then, +I held my peace; and after an exchange of words at the +telephone to assure ourselves he was at home, we set out +for the attorney’s office.</p> + +<p>The endless streets of any American city pass, from +one end to another, through strange degrees and vicissitudes +of splendour and distress, running under the same +name between monumental warehouses, the dens and +taverns of thieves, and the sward and shrubbery of villas. +In San Francisco the sharp inequalities of the ground, +and the sea bordering on so many sides, greatly exaggerate +these contrasts. The street for which we were now bound +took its rise among blowing sands, somewhere in view of +the Lone Mountain Cemetery; ran for a term across that +rather windy Olympus of Nob Hill, or perhaps just skirted +its frontier; passed almost immediately after through a +stage of little houses, rather impudently painted, and +offering to the eye of the observer this diagnostic peculiarity, +that the huge brass plates upon the small and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>163</span> +highly coloured doors bore only the first names of ladies—Norah +or Lily or Florence; traversed China Town, +where it was doubtless undermined with opium cellars, +and its blocks pierced, after the similitude of rabbit-warrens, +with a hundred doors and passages and galleries; +enjoyed a glimpse of high publicity at the corner of +Kearney; and proceeded, among dives and warehouses, +towards the City Front and the region of the water-rats. +In this last stage of its career, where it was both grimy +and solitary, and alternately quiet and roaring to the +wheels of drays, we found a certain house of some pretension +to neatness, and furnished with a rustic outside +stair. On the pillar of the stair a black plate bore in +gilded lettering this device: “Harry D. Bellairs, Attorney-at-law. +Consultations, 9 to 6.” On ascending the stairs +a door was found to stand open on the balcony, with +this further inscription, “Mr. Bellairs In.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder what we do next,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Guess we sail right in,” returned Jim, and suited +the action to the word.</p> + +<p>The room in which we found ourselves was clean, +but extremely bare. A rather old-fashioned secretaire +stood by the wall, with a chair drawn to the desk; in +one corner was a shelf with half-a-dozen law-books; and +I can remember literally not another stick of furniture. +One inference imposed itself: Mr. Bellairs was in the +habit of sitting down himself and suffering his clients +to stand. At the far end, and veiled by a curtain of red +baize, a second door communicated with the interior of +the house. Hence, after some coughing and stamping, +we elicited the shyster, who came timorously forth, for +all the world like a man in fear of bodily assault, and then, +recognising his guests, suffered from what I can only +call a nervous paroxysm of courtesy.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Pinkerton and partner!” said he. “I will go +and fetch you seats.”</p> + +<p>“Not the least,” said Jim. “No time. Much rather +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>164</span> +stand. This is business, Mr. Bellairs. This morning, as +you know, I bought the wreck <i>Flying Scud</i>.”</p> + +<p>The lawyer nodded.</p> + +<p>“And bought her,” pursued my friend, “at a figure +out of all proportion to the cargo and the circumstances, +as they appeared.”</p> + +<p>“And now you think better of it, and would like to be +off with your bargain? I have been figuring upon this,” +returned the lawyer. “My client, I will not hide from +you, was displeased with me for putting her so high. I +think we were both too heated, Mr. Pinkerton: rivalry—the +spirit of competition. But I will be quite frank—I +know when I am dealing with gentlemen—and I am almost +certain, if you leave the matter in my hands, my client +would relieve you of the bargain, so as you would lose—” +he consulted our faces with gimlet-eyed calculation—“nothing,” +he added shrilly.</p> + +<p>And here Pinkerton amazed me.</p> + +<p>“That’s a little too thin,” said he. “I have the +wreck. I know there’s boodle in her, and I mean to keep +her. What I want is some points which may save me +needless expense, and which I’m prepared to pay for, +money down. The thing for you to consider is just this, +Am I to deal with you or direct with your principal? +If you are prepared to give me the facts right off, why, +name your figure. Only one thing,” added Jim, holding +a finger up, “when I say ‘money down,’ I mean bills +payable when the ship returns, and if the information +proves reliable. I don’t buy pigs in pokes.”</p> + +<p>I had seen the lawyer’s face light up for a moment, +and then, at the sound of Jim’s proviso, miserably fade. +“I guess you know more about this wreck than I do, +Mr. Pinkerton,” said he. “I only know that I was told +to buy the thing, and tried, and couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“What I like about you, Mr. Bellairs, is that you +waste no time,” said Jim. “Now then, your client’s +name and address.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>165</span></p> + +<p>“On consideration,” replied the lawyer, with indescribable +furtivity, “I cannot see that I am entitled to +communicate my client’s name. I will sound him for you +with pleasure, if you care to instruct me, but I cannot see +that I can give you his address.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Jim, and put his hat on. “Rather +a strong step, isn’t it?” (Between every sentence was +a clear pause.) “Not think better of it? Well, come, +call it a dollar?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Pinkerton, sir!” exclaimed the offended attorney +and, indeed, I myself was almost afraid that +Jim had mistaken his man and gone too far.</p> + +<p>“No present use for a dollar?” says Jim. “Well, +look here, Mr. Bellairs—we’re both busy men, and I’ll go +to my outside figure with you right away—”</p> + +<p>“Stop this, Pinkerton,” I broke in; “I know the +address: 924 Mission Street.”</p> + +<p>I do not know whether Pinkerton or Bellairs was the +more taken aback.</p> + +<p>“Why in snakes didn’t you say so, Loudon?” cried +my friend.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t ask for it before,” said I, colouring to +my temples under his troubled eyes.</p> + +<p>It was Bellairs who broke silence, kindly supplying me +with all that I had yet to learn. “Since you know Mr. +Dickson’s address,” said he, plainly burning to be rid +of us, “I suppose I need detain you no longer.”</p> + +<p>I do not know how Pinkerton felt, but I had death +in my soul as we came down the outside stair from the +den of this blotched spider. My whole being was strung, +waiting for Jim’s first question, and prepared to blurt +out—I believe, almost with tears—a full avowal. But +my friend asked nothing.</p> + +<p>“We must hack it,” said he, tearing off in the direction +of the nearest stand. “No time to be lost. You saw +how I changed ground. No use in paying the shyster’s +commission.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>166</span></p> + +<p>Again I expected a reference to my suppression; again +I was disappointed. It was plain Jim feared the subject, +and I felt I almost hated him for that fear. At last, when +we were already in the hack and driving towards Mission +Street, I could bear my suspense no longer.</p> + +<p>“You do not ask me about that address,” said I.</p> + +<p>“No,” said he, quickly and timidly, “what was it? +I would like to know.”</p> + +<p>The note of timidity offended me like a buffet; my +temper rose as hot as mustard. “I must request you do +not ask me,” said I; “it is a matter I cannot explain.”</p> + +<p>The moment the foolish words were said, that moment +I would have given worlds to recall them; how much +more when Pinkerton, patting my hand, replied, “All +right, dear boy, not another word; that’s all done; I’m +convinced it’s perfectly right!” To return upon the +subject was beyond my courage; but I vowed inwardly +that I should do my utmost in the future for this mad +speculation, and that I would cut myself in pieces before +Jim should lose one dollar.</p> + +<p>We had no sooner arrived at the address than I had +other things to think of.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dickson? He’s gone,” said the landlady.</p> + +<p>Where had he gone?</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I can’t tell you,” she answered. “He was +quite a stranger to me.”</p> + +<p>“Did he express his baggage, ma’am?” asked +Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t any,” was the reply. “He came last night, +and left again to-day with a satchel.”</p> + +<p>“When did he leave?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“It was about noon,” replied the landlady. “Some-one +rang up the telephone, and asked for him; and I +reckon he got some news, for he left right away, although +his rooms were taken by the week. He seemed considerable +put out: I reckon it was a death.”</p> + +<p>My heart sank; perhaps my idiotic jest had indeed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>167</span> +driven him away; and again I asked myself, “Why?” +and whirled for a moment in a vortex of untenable +hypotheses.</p> + +<p>“What was he like, ma’am?” Pinkerton was asking, +when I returned to consciousness of my surroundings.</p> + +<p>“A clean-shaved man,” said the woman, and could be +led or driven into no more significant description.</p> + +<p>“Pull up at the nearest drug-store,” said Pinkerton to +the driver; and when there, the telephone was put in +operation, and the message sped to the Pacific Mail +Steamship Company’s office—this was in the days before +Spreckels had arisen—“When does the next China +steamer touch at Honolulu?”</p> + +<p>“The <i>City of Pekin</i>; she cast off the dock to-day, +at half-past one,” came the reply.</p> + +<p>“It’s a clear case of bolt,” said Jim. “He’s skipped, +or my name’s not Pinkerton. He’s gone to head us off +at Midway Island.”</p> + +<p>Somehow I was not so sure; there were elements in +the case not known to Pinkerton—the fears of the captain, +for example—that inclined me otherwise; and the +idea that I had terrified Mr. Dickson into flight, though +resting on so slender a foundation, clung obstinately in +my mind.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t we see the list of passengers?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Dickson is such a blamed common name,” returned +Jim; “and then, as like as not, he would change it.”</p> + +<p>At this I had another intuition. A negative of a +street scene, taken unconsciously when I was absorbed +in other thought, rose in my memory with not a feature +blurred: a view, from Bellairs’s door as we were coming +down, of muddy roadway, passing drays, matted telegraph +wires, a China-boy with a basket on his head, and +(almost opposite) a corner grocery with the name of +Dickson in great gilt letters.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said I, “you are right; he would change it. +And anyway, I don’t believe it was his name at all; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>168</span> +I believe he took it from a corner grocery beside +Bellairs’s.”</p> + +<p>“As like as not,” said Jim, still standing on the side-walk +with contracted brows.</p> + +<p>“Well, what shall we do next?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“The natural thing would be to rush the schooner,” +he replied. “But I don’t know. I telephoned the captain +to go at it head down and heels in air; he answered +like a little man; and I guess he’s getting around. I +believe, Loudon, we’ll give Trent a chance. Trent was +in it; he was in it up to the neck; even if he couldn’t +buy, he could give us the straight tip.”</p> + +<p>“I think so, too,” said I. “Where shall we find +him?”</p> + +<p>“British consulate, of course,” said Jim. “And that’s +another reason for taking him first. We can hustle that +schooner up all evening; but when the consulate’s shut, +it’s shut.”</p> + +<p>At the consulate we learned that Captain Trent had +alighted (such is, I believe, the classic phrase) at the +What Cheer House. To that large and unaristocratic +hostelry we drove, and addressed ourselves to a large +clerk, who was chewing a toothpick and looking straight +before him.</p> + +<p>“Captain Jacob Trent?”</p> + +<p>“Gone,” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>“Where has he gone?” asked Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“Cain’t say,” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>“When did he go?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Don’t know,” said the clerk, and with the simplicity +of a monarch offered us the spectacle of his broad +back.</p> + +<p>What might have happened next I dread to picture, +for Pinkerton’s excitement had been growing steadily, +and now burned dangerously high; but we were spared +extremities by the intervention of a second clerk.</p> + +<p>“Why, Mr. Dodd!” he exclaimed, running forward +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>169</span> +to the counter. “Glad to see you, sir! Can I do anything +in your way?”</p> + +<p>How virtuous actions blossom! Here was a young +man to whose pleased ears I had rehearsed “Just before +the Battle, Mother,” at some weekly picnic; and now, +in that tense moment of my life, he came (from the +machine) to be my helper.</p> + +<p>“Captain Trent of the wreck? O yes, Mr. Dodd, he +left about twelve; he and another of the men. The +Kanaka went earlier, by the <i>City of Pekin</i>; I know that; +I remember expressing his chest. Captain Trent? I’ll +inquire, Mr. Dodd. Yes, they were all here. Here are +the names on the register; perhaps you would care to +look at them while I go and see about the baggage?”</p> + +<p>I drew the book toward me, and stood looking at the +four names, all written in the same hand—rather a big, +and rather a bad one: Trent, Brown, Hardy, and (instead +of Ah Wing) Jos. Amalu.</p> + +<p>“Pinkerton,” said I suddenly, “have you that <i>Occidental</i> +in your pocket?”</p> + +<p>“Never left me,” said Pinkerton, producing the paper.</p> + +<p>I turned to the account of the wreck.</p> + +<p>“Here,” said I, “here’s the name. ‘Elias Goddedaal, +mate.’ Why do we never come across Elias Goddedaal?”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” said Jim. “Was he with the rest in +that saloon when you saw them?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it,” said I. “They were only four, +and there was none that behaved like a mate.”</p> + +<p>At this moment the clerk returned with his report.</p> + +<p>“The captain,” it appeared, “came with some kind +of an express wagon, and he and the man took off three +chests and a big satchel. Our porter helped to put them +on, but they drove the cart themselves. The porter +thinks they went down town. It was about one.”</p> + +<p>“Still in time for the <i>City of Pekin</i>,” observed Jim.</p> + +<p>“How many of them were here?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“Three, sir, and the Kanaka,” replied the clerk. “I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>170</span> +can’t somehow find out about the third, but he’s gone +too.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Goddedaal, the mate, wasn’t here then?” I +asked.</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Dodd, none but what you see,” says the +clerk.</p> + +<p>“Nor you never heard where he was?”</p> + +<p>“No. Any particular reason for finding these men, +Mr. Dodd?” inquired the clerk.</p> + +<p>“This gentleman and I have bought the wreck,” I +explained; “we wish to get some information, and it is +very annoying to find the men all gone.”</p> + +<p>A certain group had gradually formed about us, for +the wreck was still a matter of interest; and at this, +one of the bystanders, a rough seafaring man, spoke +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I guess the mate won’t be gone,” said he. “He’s +main sick; never left the sick-bay aboard the <i>Tempest</i>; +so they tell <i>me</i>.”</p> + +<p>Jim shook me by the sleeve. “Back to the consulate,” +said he.</p> + +<p>But even at the consulate nothing was known of Mr. +Goddedaal. The doctor of the <i>Tempest</i> had certified him +very sick; he had sent his papers in, but never appeared +in person before the authorities.</p> + +<p>“Have you a telephone laid on to the <i>Tempest</i>?” +asked Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“Laid on yesterday,” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>“Do you mind asking, or letting me ask? We are +very anxious to get hold of Mr. Goddedaal.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the clerk, and turned to the telephone. +“I’m sorry,” he said presently, “Mr. Goddedaal +has left the ship, and no one knows where +he is.”</p> + +<p>“Do you pay the men’s passage home?” I inquired, +a sudden thought striking me.</p> + +<p>“If they want it,” said the clerk; “sometimes they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>171</span> +don’t. But we paid the Kanaka’s passage to Honolulu +this morning; and by what Captain Trent was saying, +I understand the rest are going home together.”</p> + +<p>“Then you haven’t paid them?” said I.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>“And you would be a good deal surprised if I were +to tell you they were gone already?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“O, I should think you were mistaken,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Such is the fact, however,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I am sure you must be mistaken,” he repeated.</p> + +<p>“May I use your telephone one moment?” asked +Pinkerton; and as soon as permission had been granted, +I heard him ring up the printing-office where our advertisements +were usually handled. More I did not hear, +for, suddenly recalling the big bad hand in the register +of the What Cheer House, I asked the consulate clerk if +he had a specimen of Captain Trent’s writing. Whereupon +I learned that the captain could not write, having +cut his hand open a little before the loss of the brig; +that the latter part of the log even had been written up +by Mr. Goddedaal; and that Trent had always signed +with his left hand. By the time I had gleaned this +information Pinkerton was ready.</p> + +<p>“That’s all that we can do. Now for the schooner,” +said he; “and by to-morrow evening I lay hands on +Goddedaal, or my name’s not Pinkerton.”</p> + +<p>“How have you managed?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“You’ll see before you get to bed,” said Pinkerton. +“And now, after all this backwarding and forwarding, +and that hotel clerk, and that bug Bellairs, it’ll be a change +and a kind of consolation to see the schooner. I guess +things are humming there.”</p> + +<p>But on the wharf, when we reached it, there was no +sign of bustle, and, but for the galley smoke, no mark of +life on the <i>Norah Creina</i>. Pinkerton’s face grew pale and +his mouth straightened as he leaped on board.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the captain of this——?” and he left the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>172</span> +phrase unfinished, finding no epithet sufficiently energetic +for his thoughts.</p> + +<p>It did not appear whom or what he was addressing; +but a head, presumably the cook’s, appeared in answer +at the galley door.</p> + +<p>“In the cabin, at dinner,” said the cook deliberately, +chewing as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Is that cargo out?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“None of it?”</p> + +<p>“O, there’s some of it out. We’ll get at the rest of it +livelier to-morrow, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“I guess there’ll be something broken first,” said +Pinkerton, and strode to the cabin.</p> + +<p>Here we found a man, fat, dark, and quiet, seated +gravely at what seemed a liberal meal. He looked up +upon our entrance; and seeing Pinkerton continue to +stand facing him in silence, hat on head, arms folded, and +lips compressed, an expression of mingled wonder and +annoyance began to dawn upon his placid face.</p> + +<p>“Well!” said Jim; “and so this is what you call +rushing around?”</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” cries the captain.</p> + +<p>“Me! I’m Pinkerton!” retorted Jim, as though the +name had been a talisman.</p> + +<p>“You’re not very civil, whoever you are,” was the +reply. But still a certain effect had been produced, for +he scrambled to his feet, and added hastily, “A man must +have a bit of dinner, you know, Mr. Pinkerton.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s your mate?” snapped Jim.</p> + +<p>“He’s up town,” returned the other.</p> + +<p>“Up town!” sneered Pinkerton. “Now, I’ll tell you +what you are—you’re a Fraud; and if I wasn’t afraid of +dirtying my boot, I would kick you and your dinner into +that dock.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you something, too,” retorted the captain, +duskily flushing. “I wouldn’t sail this ship for the man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>173</span> +you are, if you went upon your knees. I’ve dealt with +gentlemen up to now.”</p> + +<p>“I can tell you the names of a number of gentlemen +you’ll never deal with any more, and that’s the whole of +Longhurst’s gang,” said Jim. “I’ll put your pipe out +in that quarter, my friend. Here, rout out your traps +as quick as look at it, and take your vermin along with +you. I’ll have a captain in, this very night, that’s a +sailor, and some sailors to work for him.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go when I please, and that’s to-morrow morning,” +cried the captain after us, as we departed for the +shore.</p> + +<p>“There’s something gone wrong with the world to-day; +it must have come bottom up!” wailed Pinkerton. +“Bellairs, and then the hotel clerk, and now this Fraud! +And what am I to do for a captain, Loudon, with Longhurst +gone home an hour ago and the boys all scattered?”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said I; “jump in!” And then to the +driver: “Do you know Black Tom’s?”</p> + +<p>Thither then we rattled, passed through the bar, and +found (as I had hoped) Johnson in the enjoyment of club +life. The table had been thrust upon one side; a South +Sea merchant was discoursing music from a mouth-organ +in one corner; and in the middle of the floor Johnson and +a fellow-seaman, their arms clasped about each other’s +bodies, somewhat heavily danced. The room was both +cold and close; a jet of gas, which continually menaced +the heads of the performers, shed a coarse illumination; +the mouth-organ sounded shrill and dismal; and the +faces of all concerned were church-like in their gravity. +It were, of course, indelicate to interrupt these solemn +frolics; so we edged ourselves to chairs, for all the world +like belated comers in a concert-room, and patiently +waited for the end. At length the organist, having +exhausted his supply of breath, ceased abruptly in the +middle of a bar. With the cessation of the strain the +dancers likewise came to a full stop, swayed a moment, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>174</span> +still embracing, and then separated, and looked about +the circle for applause.</p> + +<p>“Very well danced!” said one; but it appears the +compliment was not strong enough for the performers, +who (forgetful of the proverb) took up the tale in person.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Johnson, “I mayn’t be no sailor, but +I can dance!”</p> + +<p>And his late partner, with an almost pathetic conviction, +added, “My foot is as light as a feather.”</p> + +<p>Seeing how the wind set, you may be sure I added a +few words of praise before I carried Johnson alone into +the passage: to whom, thus mollified, I told so much as +I judged needful of our situation, and begged him, if he +would not take the job himself, to find me a smart man.</p> + +<p>“Me!” he cried; “I couldn’t no more do it than I +could try to go to hell!”</p> + +<p>“I thought you were a mate?” said I.</p> + +<p>“So I am a mate,” giggled Johnson, “and you don’t +catch me shipping noways else. But I’ll tell you what: +I believe I can get you Arty Nares. You seen Arty; +first-rate navigator, and a son of a gun for style.” And +he proceeded to explain to me that Mr. Nares, who had +the promise of a fine barque in six months, after things +had quieted down, was in the meantime living very +private, and would be pleased to have a change of air.</p> + +<p>I called out Pinkerton and told him. “Nares!” he +cried, as soon as I had come to the name, “I would jump +at the chance of a man that had had Nares’s trousers +on! Why, Loudon, he’s the smartest deep-water mate +out of San Francisco, and draws his dividends regular in +service and out.” This hearty indorsation clinched the +proposal; Johnson agreed to produce Nares before six +the following morning; and Black Tom, being called into +the consultation, promised us four smart hands for the +same hour, and even (what appeared to all of us excessive) +promised them sober.</p> + +<p>The streets were fully lighted when we left Black +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>175</span> +Tom’s: street after street sparkling with gas or electricity, +line after line of distant luminaries climbing the +steep sides of hills towards the over-vaulting darkness; +and on the other hand, where the waters of the bay +invisibly trembled, a hundred riding lanterns marked the +position of a hundred ships. The sea-fog flew high in +heaven; and at the level of man’s life and business it was +clear and chill. By silent consent we paid the hack off, +and proceeded arm-in-arm towards the “Poodle Dog” +for dinner.</p> + +<p>At one of the first hoardings I was aware of a bill-sticker +at work: it was a late hour for this employment, +and I checked Pinkerton until the sheet should be unfolded. +This is what I read:—</p> + +<p> </p> +<div style="border: 2px solid black; font-family: 'Courier New';"> +<h4>TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.</h4> + +<p class="center f80">OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE</p> + +<h2>WRECKED BRIG “FLYING SCUD”</h2> + +<p class="center f80">APPLYING,<br /> + +PERSONALLY OR BY LETTER<br /> + +AT THE OFFICE OF JAMES PINKERTON, MONTANA BLOCK,</p> + +<p class="center">BEFORE NOON TO-MORROW, TUESDAY, 12TH,</p> + +<p class="center f80">WILL RECEIVE</p> + +<h4>TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.</h4> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p>“This is your idea, Pinkerton!” I cried.</p> + +<p>“Yes. They’ve lost no time; I’ll say that for them—not +like the Fraud,” said he. “But mind you, Loudon, +that’s not half of it. The cream of the idea’s here: we +know our man’s sick; well, a copy of that has been mailed +to every hospital, every doctor, and every drug-store in +San Francisco.”</p> + +<p>Of course, from the nature of our business, Pinkerton +could do a thing of that kind at a figure extremely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>176</span> +reduced; for all that, I was appalled at the extravagance, +and said so.</p> + +<p>“What matter a few dollars now?” he replied sadly; +“it’s in three months that the pull comes, Loudon.”</p> + +<p>We walked on again in silence, not without a shiver. +Even at the “Poodle Dog” we took our food with small +appetite and less speech; and it was not until he was +warmed with a third glass of champagne that Pinkerton +cleared his throat and looked upon me with a deprecating +eye.</p> + +<p>“Loudon,” said he, “there was a subject you didn’t +wish to be referred to. I only want to do so indirectly. +It wasn’t”—he faltered—“it wasn’t because you were +dissatisfied with me?” he concluded, with a quaver.</p> + +<p>“Pinkerton!” cried I.</p> + +<p>“No, no, not a word just now,” he hastened to proceed +“let me speak first. I appreciate, though I can’t +intimate, the delicacy of your nature; and I can well +understand you would rather die than speak of it, and yet +might feel disappointed. I did think I could have done +better myself. But when I found how tight money was +in this city, and a man like Douglas B. Longhurst—a +forty-niner, the man that stood at bay in a corn patch +for five hours against the San Diablo squatters—weakening +on the operation, I tell you, Loudon, I began to +despair; and—I may have made mistakes, no doubt there +are thousands who could have done better—but I give +you a loyal hand on it, I did my best.”</p> + +<p>“My poor Jim,” said I, “as if I ever doubted you! +as if I didn’t know you had done wonders! All day +I’ve been admiring your energy and resource. And as +for that affair——”</p> + +<p>“No, Loudon, no more—not a word more! I don’t +want to hear,” cried Jim.</p> + +<p>“Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t want to tell you,” +said I; “for it’s a thing I’m ashamed of.”</p> + +<p>“Ashamed, Loudon? O, don’t say that; don’t +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>177</span> +use such an expression, even in jest!” protested +Pinkerton.</p> + +<p>“Do you never do anything you’re ashamed of?” I +inquired.</p> + +<p>“No,” says he, rolling his eyes; “why? I’m sometimes +sorry afterwards, when it pans out different from +what I figured. But I can’t see what I would want to +be ashamed for.”</p> + +<p>I sat a while considering with admiration the simplicity +of my friend’s character. Then I sighed. “Do +you know, Jim, what I’m sorriest for?” said I. “At +this rate I can’t be best man at your marriage.”</p> + +<p>“My marriage!” he repeated, echoing the sigh. “No +marriage for me now. I’m going right down to-night to +break it to her. I think that’s what’s shaken me all day. +I feel as if I had had no right (after I was engaged) to +operate so widely.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you know, Jim, it was my doing, and you must +lay the blame on me,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Not a cent of it!” he cried. “I was as eager as +yourself, only not so bright at the beginning. No; I’ve +myself to thank for it; but it’s a wrench.”</p> + +<p>While Jim departed on his dolorous mission, I returned +alone to the office, lit the gas, and sat down to reflect on +the events of that momentous day: on the strange +features of the tale that had been so far unfolded, the +disappearances, the terrors, the great sums of money; +and on the dangerous and ungrateful task that awaited +me in the immediate future.</p> + +<p>It is difficult, in the retrospect of such affairs, to avoid +attributing to ourselves in the past a measure of the +knowledge we possess to-day. But I may say, and yet be +well within the mark, that I was consumed that night +with a fever of suspicion and curiosity; exhausted my +fancy in solutions, which I still dismissed as incommensurable +with the facts; and in the mystery by which I +saw myself surrounded, found a precious stimulus for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>178</span> +my courage and a convenient soothing draught for conscience. +Even had all been plain sailing, I do not hint +that I should have drawn back. Smuggling is one of the +meanest of crimes, for by that we rob a whole country +<i>pro rata</i>, and are therefore certain to impoverish the poor: +to smuggle opium is an offence particularly dark, since +it stands related—not so much to murder, as to massacre. +Upon all these points I was quite clear; my sympathy +was all in arms against my interest; and had not Jim +been involved, I could have dwelt almost with satisfaction +on the idea of my failure. But Jim, his whole +fortune, and his marriage depended upon my success; +and I preferred the interests of my friend before those of +all the islanders in the South Seas. This is a poor, private +morality, if you like; but it is mine, and the best I have; +and I am not half so much ashamed of having embarked +at all on this adventure, as I am proud that (while I was +in it, and for the sake of my friend) I was up early and +down late, set my own hand to everything, took dangers +as they came, and for once in my life played the man +throughout. At the same time I could have desired +another field of energy; and I was the more grateful for +the redeeming element of mystery. Without that, though +I might have gone ahead and done as well, it would scarce +have been with ardour; and what inspired me that night +with an impatient greed of the sea, the island, and the +wreck, was the hope that I might stumble there upon the +answer to a hundred questions, and learn why Captain +Trent fanned his red face in the exchange, and why Mr. +Dickson fled from the telephone in the Mission Street +lodging-house.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>179</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h5>IN WHICH JIM AND I TAKE DIFFERENT WAYS</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">I was</span> unhappy when I closed my eyes; and it was to +unhappiness that I opened them again next morning, to +a confused sense of some calamity still inarticulate, and +to the consciousness of jaded limbs and of a swimming +head. I must have lain for some time inert and stupidly +miserable before I became aware of a reiterated knocking +at the door; with which discovery all my wits flowed +back in their accustomed channels, and I remembered +the sale and the wreck, and Goddedaal and Nares, and +Johnson and Black Tom, and the troubles of yesterday +and the manifold engagements of the day that was to +come. The thought thrilled me like a trumpet in the hour +of battle. In a moment I had leaped from bed, crossed +the office where Pinkerton lay in a deep trance of sleep +on the convertible sofa, and stood in the doorway, in my +night gear, to receive our visitors.</p> + +<p>Johnson was first, by way of usher, smiling. From a +little behind, with his Sunday hat tilted forward over +his brow and a cigar glowing between his lips, Captain +Nares acknowledged our previous acquaintance with a +succinct nod. Behind him again, in the top of the stairway, +a knot of sailors, the new crew of the <i>Norah Creina</i>, +stood polishing the wall with back and elbow. These I +left without to their reflections. But our two officers I +carried at once into the office, where (taking Jim by the +shoulder) I shook him slowly into consciousness. He sat +up, all abroad for the moment, and stared on the new +captain. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>180</span></p> + +<p>“Jim,” said I, “this is Captain Nares. Captain, Mr. +Pinkerton.”</p> + +<p>Nares repeated his curt nod, still without speech; and +I thought he held us both under a watchful scrutiny.</p> + +<p>“O!” says Jim, “this is Captain Nares, is it? Good-morning, +Captain Nares. Happy to have the pleasure of +your acquaintance, sir. I know you well by reputation.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps, under the circumstances of the moment, +this was scarce a welcome speech. At least, Nares received +it with a grunt.</p> + +<p>“Well, captain,” Jim continued, “you know about +the size of the business? You’re to take the <i>Norah +Creina</i> to Midway Island, break up a wreck, call at +Honolulu, and back to this port? I suppose that’s +understood?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” returned Nares, with the same unamiable +reserve, “for a reason, which I guess you know, the cruise +may suit me: but there’s a point or two to settle. We +shall have to talk, Mr. Pinkerton. But whether I go or +not, somebody will. There’s no sense in losing time; +and you might give Mr. Johnson a note, let him take +the hands right down, and set to to overhaul the rigging. +The beasts look sober,” he added, with an air of great +disgust, “and need putting to work to keep them so.”</p> + +<p>This being agreed upon, Nares watched his subordinate +depart, and drew a visible breath.</p> + +<p>“And now we’re alone and can talk,” said he. +“What’s this thing about? It’s been advertised like +Barnum’s museum; that poster of yours has set the +Front talking. That’s an objection in itself, for I’m laying +a little dark just now; and, anyway, before I take +the ship, I require to know what I’m going after.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon Pinkerton gave him the whole tale, beginning +with a business-like precision, and working himself +up, as he went on, to the boiling-point of narrative enthusiasm. +Nares sat and smoked, hat still on head, +and acknowledged each fresh feature of the story with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>181</span> +frowning nod. But his pale blue eyes betrayed him, and +lighted visibly.</p> + +<p>“Now you see for yourself,” Pinkerton concluded; +“there’s every last chance that Trent has skipped to +Honolulu, and it won’t take much of that fifty thousand +dollars to charter a small schooner down to Midway. +Here’s where I want a man!” cried Jim, with contagious +energy. “That wreck’s mine; I’ve paid for it, money +down; and if it’s got to be fought for, I want to see it +fought for lively. If you’re not back in ninety days, I +tell you plainly I’ll make one of the biggest busts ever +seen upon this coast. It’s life or death for Mr. Dodd and +me. As like as not it’ll come to grapples on the island; +and when I heard your name last night—and a blame’ +sight more this morning when I saw the eye you’ve got +in your head—I said, ‘Nares is good enough for me!’”</p> + +<p>“I guess,” observed Nares, studying the ash of his +cigar, “the sooner I get that schooner outside the Farallones +the better you’ll be pleased.”</p> + +<p>“You’re the man I dreamed of!” cried Jim, bouncing +on the bed. “There’s not five per cent. of fraud in +all your carcass.”</p> + +<p>“Just hold on,” said Nares. “There’s another point. +I heard some talk about a supercargo.”</p> + +<p>“That’s Mr. Dodd here, my partner,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see it,” returned the captain drily. “One +captain’s enough for any ship that ever I was aboard.”</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t you start disappointing me,” said Pinkerton, +“for you’re talking without thought. I’m not +going to give you the run of the books of this firm, am +I? I guess not. Well, this is not only a cruise, it’s a +business operation, and that’s in the hands of my partner. +You sail that ship, you see to breaking up that wreck +and keeping the men upon the jump, and you’ll find +your hands about full. Only, no mistake about one +thing; it has to be done to Mr. Dodd’s satisfaction, for +it’s Mr. Dodd that’s paying.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>182</span></p> + +<p>“I’m accustomed to give satisfaction,” said Mr. Nares, +with a dark flush.</p> + +<p>“And so you will here!” cried Pinkerton. “I understand +you. You’re prickly to handle, but you’re straight +all through.”</p> + +<p>“The position’s got to be understood, though,” returned +Nares, perhaps a trifle mollified. “My position, I +mean. I’m not going to ship sailing-master; it’s enough +out of my way already, to set a foot on this mosquito +schooner.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” retorted Jim, with an indescribable +twinkle: “you just meet me on the ballast, and we’ll +make it a barquantine.”</p> + +<p>Nares laughed a little; tactless Pinkerton had once +more gained a victory in tact. “Then there’s another +point,” resumed the captain, tacitly relinquishing the +last. “How about the owners?”</p> + +<p>“O, you leave that to me; I’m one of Longhurst’s +crowd, you know,” said Jim, with sudden bristling vanity. +“Any man that’s good enough for me, is good enough for +them.”</p> + +<p>“Who are they?” asked Nares.</p> + +<p>“M’Intyre and Spittal,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“O well, give me a card of yours,” said the captain; +“you needn’t bother to write; I keep M’Intyre and +Spittal in my vest-pocket.”</p> + +<p>Boast for boast; it was always thus with Nares and +Pinkerton—the two vainest men of my acquaintance. +And having thus reinstated himself in his own opinion, +the captain rose, and, with a couple of his stiff nods, +departed.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” I cried, as the door closed behind him, “I +don’t like that man.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve just got to, Loudon,” returned Jim. “He’s +a typical American seaman—brave as a lion, full of resource, +and stands high with his owners. He’s a man with +a record.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>183</span></p> + +<p>“For brutality at sea,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Say what you like,” exclaimed Pinkerton, “it was +a good hour we got him in: I’d trust Mamie’s life to him +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Well, and talking of Mamie?” says I.</p> + +<p>Jim paused with his trousers half on. “She’s the +gallantest little soul God ever made!” he cried. “Loudon, +I’d meant to knock you up last night, and I hope +you won’t take it unfriendly that I didn’t. I went in +and looked at you asleep; and I saw you were all broken +up, and let you be. The news would keep, anyway; and +even you, Loudon, couldn’t feel it the same way as I +did.”</p> + +<p>“What news?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“It’s this way,” says Jim. “I told her how we stood, +and that I backed down from marrying. ‘Are you tired +of me?’ says she: God bless her! Well, I explained the +whole thing over again, the chance of smash, your absence +unavoidable, the point I made of having you for the best +man, and that. ‘If you’re not tired of me, I think I see +one way to manage,’ says she. ‘Let’s get married to-morrow, +and Mr. Loudon can be best man before he goes +to sea.’ That’s how she said it, crisp and bright, like +one of Dickens’s characters. It was no good for me to +talk about the smash. ‘You’ll want me all the more,’ she +said. Loudon, I only pray I can make it up to her; I +prayed for it last night beside your bed, while you lay +sleeping—for you, and Mamie and myself; and—I don’t +know if you quite believe in prayer, I’m a bit Ingersollian +myself—but a kind of sweetness came over me, and I +couldn’t help but think it was an answer. Never was a +man so lucky! You and me and Mamie; it’s a triple +cord, Loudon. If either of you were to die! And she +likes you so much, and thinks you so accomplished and +distingué-looking, and was just as set as I was to have +you for best man. ‘Mr. Loudon,’ she calls you; seems to +me so friendly! And she sat up till three in the morning +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>184</span> +fixing up a costume for the marriage; it did me good +to see her, Loudon, and to see that needle going, going, +and to say ‘All this hurry, Jim, is just to marry you!’ I +couldn’t believe it; it was so like some blame’ fairy +story. To think of those old tin-type times about turned +my head; I was so unrefined then, and so illiterate, and +so lonesome; and here I am in clover, and I’m blamed if +I can see what I’ve done to deserve it.”</p> + +<p>So he poured forth with innocent volubility the fulness +of his heart; and I, from these irregular communications, +must pick out, here a little and there a little, the particulars +of his new plan. They were to be married, sure +enough, that day; the wedding breakfast was to be at +Frank’s; the evening to be passed in a visit of God-speed +abroad the <i>Norah Creina</i>; and then we were to +part, Jim and I—he to his married life, I on my sea-enterprise. +If ever I cherished an ill-feeling for Miss +Mamie, I forgave her now; so brave and kind, so pretty +and venturesome, was her decision. The weather frowned +overhead with a leaden sky, and San Francisco had never +(in all my experience) looked so bleak and gaunt, and +shoddy and crazy, like a city prematurely old; but +through all my wanderings and errands to and fro, by +the dockside or in the jostling street, among rude sounds +and ugly sights, there ran in my mind, like a tiny strain +of music, the thought of my friend’s happiness.</p> + +<p>For that was indeed a day of many and incongruous +occupations. Breakfast was scarce swallowed before Jim +must run to the City Hall and Frank’s about the cares +of marriage, and I hurry to John Smith’s upon the account +of stores, and thence, on a visit of certification, to the +<i>Norah Creina</i>. Methought she looked smaller than ever, +sundry great ships overspiring her from close without. +She was already a nightmare of disorder; and the wharf +alongside was piled with a world of casks and cases and +tins, and tools and coils of rope, and miniature barrels +of giant powder, such as it seemed no human ingenuity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>185</span> +could stuff on board of her. Johnson was in the waist, in +a red shirt and dungaree trousers, his eye kindled with +activity. With him I exchanged a word or two; thence +stepped aft along the narrow alleyway between the house +and the rail, and down the companion to the main cabin, +where the captain sat with the commissioner at wine.</p> + +<p>I gazed with disaffection at the little box which for +many a day I was to call home. On the starboard was +a stateroom for the captain; on the port a pair of frowsy +berths, one over the other, and abutting astern upon the +side of an unsavoury cupboard. The walls were yellow +and damp, the floor black and greasy; there was a prodigious +litter of straw, old newspapers, and broken packing-cases; +and by way of ornament, only a glass-rack, +a thermometer presented “with compliments” of some +advertising whisky-dealer, and a swinging lamp. It was +hard to foresee that, before a week was up, I should +regard that cabin as cheerful, lightsome, airy, and even +spacious.</p> + +<p>I was presented to the commissioner, and to a young +friend of his whom he had brought with him for the +purpose (apparently) of smoking cigars; and after we +had pledged one another in a glass of California port, a +trifle sweet and sticky for a morning beverage, the functionary +spread his papers on the table, and the hands +were summoned. Down they trooped, accordingly, into +the cabin; and stood eyeing the ceiling or the floor, the +picture of sheepish embarrassment, and with a common +air of wanting to expectorate and not quite daring. In +admirable contrast stood the Chinese cook, easy, dignified, +set apart by spotless raiment, the hidalgo of the +seas.</p> + +<p>I dare say you never had occasion to assist at the +farce which followed. Our shipping laws in the United +States (thanks to the inimitable Dana) are conceived in +a spirit of paternal stringency, and proceed throughout +on the hypothesis that poor Jack is an imbecile, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>186</span> +other parties to the contract rogues and ruffians. A long +and wordy paper of precautions, a fo’c’sle bill of rights, +must be read separately to each man. I had now the +benefit of hearing it five times in brisk succession; and +you would suppose I was acquainted with its contents. +But the commissioner (worthy man) spends his days in +doing little else; and when we bear in mind the parallel +case of the irreverent curate, we need not be surprised +that he took the passage <i>tempo prestissimo</i>, in one roulade +of gabble—that I, with the trained attention of an educated +man, could gather but a fraction of its import—and +the sailors nothing. No profanity in giving orders, +no sheath-knives, Midway Island and any other port the +master may direct, not to exceed six calendar months, +and to this port to be paid off: so it seemed to run, with +surprising verbiage; so ended. And with the end the +commissioner, in each case, fetched a deep breath, resumed +his natural voice, and proceeded to business. “Now, +my man,” he would say, “you ship A. B. at so many +dollars, American gold coin. Sign your name here, if +you have one, and can write.” Whereupon, and the +name (with infinite hard breathing) being signed, the +commissioner would proceed to fill in the man’s appearance, +height, etc., on the official form. In this task of +literary portraiture he seemed to rely wholly upon temperament; +for I could not perceive him to cast one +glance on any of his models. He was assisted, however, +by a running commentary from the captain: “Hair blue +and eyes red, nose five foot seven, and stature broken”—jests +as old, presumably, as the American marine; +and, like the similar pleasantries of the billiard board, +perennially relished. The highest note of humour was +reached in the case of the Chinese cook, who was shipped +under the name of “One Lung,” to the sound of his own +protests and the self-approving chuckles of the functionary.</p> + +<p>“Now, captain,” said the latter, when the men were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>187</span> +gone, and he had bundled up his papers, “the law requires +you to carry a slop-chest and a chest of medicines.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I know that,” said Nares.</p> + +<p>“I guess you do,” returned the commissioner, and +helped himself to port.</p> + +<p>But when he was gone, I appealed to Nares on the +same subject, for I was well aware we carried none of +these provisions.</p> + +<p>“Well,” drawled Nares, “there’s sixty pounds of +niggerhead on the quay, isn’t there? and twenty pounds +of salts; and I never travel without some pain-killer +in my gripsack.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, we were richer. The captain had +the usual sailor’s provision of quack medicines, with +which, in the usual sailor fashion, he would daily drug +himself, displaying an extreme inconstancy, and flitting +from Kennedy’s Red Discovery to Kennedy’s White, and +from Hood’s Sarsaparilla to Mother Seigel’s Syrup. And +there were, besides, some mildewed and half-empty +bottles, the labels obliterated, over which Nares would +sometimes sniff and speculate. “Seems to smell like +diarrhœa stuff,” he would remark. “I wish’t I knew, +and I would try it.” But the slop-chest was indeed represented +by the plugs of niggerhead and nothing else. Thus +paternal laws are made, thus they are evaded; and the +schooner put to sea, like plenty of her neighbours, liable +to a fine of six hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>This characteristic scene, which has delayed me over-long, +was but a moment in that day of exercise and +agitation. To fit out a schooner for sea and improvise +a marriage, between dawn and dusk, involves heroic effort. +All day Jim and I ran and tramped, and laughed and +came near crying, and fell in sudden anxious consultations, +and were sped (with a prepared sarcasm on our lips) +to some fallacious milliner, and made dashes to the +schooner and John Smith’s, and at every second corner +were reminded (by our own huge posters) of our desperate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>188</span> +estate. Between-whiles I had found the time to hover +at some half a dozen jewellers’ windows; and my present, +thus intemperately chosen, was graciously accepted. I +believe, indeed, that was the last (though not the least) +of my concerns, before the old minister, shabby and +benign, was routed from his house and led to the office +like a performing poodle; and there, in the growing dusk, +under the cold glitter of Thirteen Star, two hundred +strong, and beside the garish glories of the agricultural +engine, Mamie and Jim were made one. The scene was +incongruous, but the business pretty, whimsical, and +affecting; the typewriters with such kindly faces and +fine posies, Madame so demure, and Jim—how shall I +describe that poor, transfigured Jim? He began by +taking the minister aside to the far end of the office. I +knew not what he said, but I have reason to believe he +was protesting his unfitness, for he wept as he said it; and +the old minister, himself genuinely moved, was heard to +console and encourage him, and at one time to use this +expression: “I assure you, Mr. Pinkerton, that there are +not many who can say so much”—from which I gathered +that my friend had tempered his self-accusations with +at least one legitimate boast. From this ghostly counselling, +Jim turned to me; and though he never got +beyond the explosive utterance of my name and one +fierce handgrip, communicated some of his own emotion, +like a charge of electricity, to his best man. We stood up +to the ceremony at last, in a general and kindly discomposure. +Jim was all abroad; and the divine himself +betrayed his sympathy in voice and demeanour, and +concluded with a fatherly allocution, in which he congratulated +Mamie (calling her “my dear”) upon the +fortune of an excellent husband, and protested he had +rarely married a more interesting couple. At this stage, +like a glory descending, there was handed in, <i>ex machinā,</i> +the card of Douglas B. Longhurst, with congratulations +and four dozen Perrier-Jouet. A bottle was opened, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>189</span> +the minister pledged the bride, and the bridesmaids +simpered and tasted, and I made a speech with airy +bacchanalianism, glass in hand, But poor Jim must +leave the wine untasted. “Don’t touch it,” I had found +the opportunity to whisper; “in your state it will make +you as drunk as a fiddler.” And Jim had wrung my +hand with a “God bless you, Loudon!—saved me again!”</p> + +<p>Hard following upon this, the supper passed off at +Frank’s with somewhat tremulous gaiety; and thence, +with one-half of the Perrier-Jouet—I would accept no +more—we voyaged in a hack to the <i>Norah Creina</i>.</p> + +<p>“What a dear little ship!” cried Mamie, as our +miniature craft was pointed out to her; and then, on +second thought, she turned to the best man. “And how +brave you must be, Mr. Dodd,” she cried, “to go in that +tiny thing so far upon the ocean!” And I perceived I +had risen in the lady’s estimation.</p> + +<p>The “dear little ship” presented a horrid picture of +confusion, and its occupants of weariness and ill-humour. +From the cabin the cook was storing tins into the lazarette, +and the four hands, sweaty and sullen, were passing them +from one to another from the waist. Johnson was three +parts asleep over the table; and in his bunk, in his own +cabin, the captain sourly chewed and puffed at a cigar.</p> + +<p>“See here,” he said, rising; “you’ll be sorry you +came. We can’t stop work if we’re to get away to-morrow. +A ship getting ready for sea is no place for +people, anyway. You’ll only interrupt my men.”</p> + +<p>I was on the point of answering something tart; but +Jim, who was acquainted with the breed, as he was with +most things that had a bearing on affairs, made haste to +pour in oil.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” he said, “I know we’re a nuisance here, +and that you’ve had a rough time. But all we want is +that you should drink one glass of wine with us, Perrier-Jouet, +from Longhurst, on the occasion of my marriage, +and Loudon’s—Mr. Dodd’s—departure.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>190</span></p> + +<p>“Well, it’s your look-out,” said Nares. “I don’t +mind half an hour. Spell, O!” he added to the men; +“go and kick your heels for half an hour, and then you +can turn to again a trifle livelier. Johnson, see if you +can’t wipe off a chair for the lady.”</p> + +<p>His tone was no more gracious than his language; +but when Mamie had turned upon him the soft fire of her +eyes, and informed him that he was the first sea-captain +she had ever met, “except captains of steamers, of +course”—she so qualified the statement—and had expressed +a lively sense of his courage, and perhaps implied +(for I suppose the arts of ladies are the same as those +of men) a modest consciousness of his good looks, our +bear began insensibly to soften; and it was already part +as an apology, though still with unaffected heat of temper, +that he volunteered some sketch of his annoyances.</p> + +<p>“A pretty mess we’ve had,” said he. “Half the +stores were wrong; I’ll wring John Smith’s neck for him +some of these days. Then two newspaper beasts came +down, and tried to raise copy out of me, till I threatened +them with the first thing handy; and then some kind of +missionary bug, wanting to work his passage to Raiatea +or somewhere. I told him I would take him off the wharf +with the butt end of my boot, and he went away cursing. +This vessel’s been depreciated by the look of him.”</p> + +<p>While the captain spoke, with his strange, humorous, +arrogant abruptness, I observed Jim to be sizing him up, +like a thing at once quaint and familiar, and with a +scrutiny that was both curious and knowing.</p> + +<p>“One word, dear boy,” he said, turning suddenly to +me. And when he had drawn me on deck—“That man,” +says he, “will carry sail till your hair grows white; but +never you let on—never breathe a word. I know his +line: he’ll die before he’ll take advice; and if you get +his back up, he’ll run you right under. I don’t often +jam in my advice, Loudon; and when I do, it means I’m +thoroughly posted.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>191</span></p> + +<p>The little party in the cabin, so disastrously begun, +finished, under the mellowing influence of wine and +woman, in excellent feeling and with some hilarity. +Mamie, in a plush Gainsborough hat and a gown of wine-coloured +silk, sat, an apparent queen, among her rude +surroundings and companions. The dusky litter of the +cabin set off her radiant trimness: tarry Johnson was a +foil to her fair beauty; she glowed in that poor place, fair +as a star; until even I, who was not usually of her +admirers, caught a spark of admiration; and even the +captain, who was in no courtly humour, proposed that the +scene should be commemorated by my pencil. It was +the last act of the evening. Hurriedly as I went about +my task, the half-hour had lengthened out to more than +three before it was completed: Mamie in full value, the +rest of the party figuring in outline only, and the artist +himself introduced in a back view, which was pronounced +a likeness. But it was to Mamie that I devoted the best +of my attention, and it was with her I made my chief +success.</p> + +<p>“O!” she cried, “am I really like that? No wonder +Jim...” She paused. “Why, it’s just as lovely as +he’s good!” she cried: an epigram which was appreciated, +and repeated as we made our salutations, and +called out after the retreating couple as they passed away +under the lamplight on the wharf.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that our farewells were smuggled through +under an ambuscade of laughter, and the parting over +ere I knew it was begun. The figures vanished, the steps +died away along the silent city front; on board, the men +had returned to their labours, the captain to his solitary +cigar; and after that long and complex day of business +and emotion, I was at last alone and free. It was, perhaps, +chiefly fatigue that made my heart so heavy. I +leaned, at least, upon the house, and stared at the foggy +heaven, or over the rail at the wavering reflection of the +lamps, like a man that was quite done with hope and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>192</span> +would have welcomed the asylum of the grave. And all at +once, as I thus stood, the <i>City of Pekin</i> flashed into my +mind, racing her thirteen knots for Honolulu, with the +hated Trent—perhaps with the mysterious Goddedaal—on +board; and with the thought the blood leaped and +careered through all my body. It seemed no chase at all; +it seemed we had no chance, as we laid there bound to +iron pillars, and fooling away the precious moments over +tins of beans. “Let them get there first!” I thought. +“Let them! We can’t be long behind.” And from that +moment I date myself a man of a rounded experience: +nothing had lacked but this—that I should entertain and +welcome the grim thought of bloodshed.</p> + +<p>It was long before the toil remitted in the cabin, and +it was worth my while to get to bed; long after that +before sleep favoured me; and scarce a moment later (or +so it seemed) when I was recalled to consciousness by +bawling men and the jar of straining hawsers.</p> + +<p>The schooner was cast off before I got on deck. In +the misty obscurity of the first dawn I saw the tug heading +us with glowing fires and blowing smoke, and heard +her beat the roughened waters of the bay. Beside us, on +her flock of hills, the lighted city towered up and stood +swollen in the raw fog. It was strange to see her burn +on thus wastefully, with half-quenched luminaries, when +the dawn was already grown strong enough to show me, +and to suffer me to recognise, a solitary figure standing +by the piles.</p> + +<p>Or was it really the eye, and not rather the heart, +that identified the shadow in the dusk, among the shoreside +lamps? I know not. It was Jim, at least; Jim, come +for a last look; and we had but time to wave a valedictory +gesture and exchange a wordless cry. This was +our second parting, and our capacities were now reversed. +It was mine to play the Argonaut, to speed affairs, to +plan and to accomplish—if need were, at the price of +life; it was his to sit at home, to study the calendar, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>193</span> +to wait. I knew, besides, another thing that gave +me joy. I knew that my friend had succeeded in my +education; that the romance of business, if our fantastic +purchase merited the name, had at last stirred my dilettante +nature; and as we swept under cloudy Tamalpais +and through the roaring narrows of the bay, the Yankee +blood sang in my veins with suspense and exultation.</p> + +<p>Outside the heads, as if to meet my desire, we found +it blowing fresh from the north-east. No time had been +lost. The sun was not yet up before the tug cast off the +hawser, gave us a salute of three whistles, and turned +homeward toward the coast, which now began to gleam +along its margin with the earliest rays of day. There +was no other ship in view when the <i>Norah Creina</i>, lying +over under all plain sail, began her long and lonely voyage +to the wreck.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>194</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h5>THE <i>NORAH CREINA</i></h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">I love</span> to recall the glad monotony of a Pacific voyage, +when the trades are not stinted, and the ship, day after +day, goes free. The mountain scenery of trade-wind +clouds, watched (and in my case painted) under every +vicissitude of light—blotting stars, withering in the moon’s +glory, barring the scarlet eve, lying across the dawn collapsed +into the unfeatured morning bank, or at noon +raising their snowy summits between the blue roof of +heaven and the blue floor of sea; the small, busy, and +deliberate world of the schooner, with its unfamiliar +scenes, the spearing of dolphin from the bowsprit end, +the holy war on sharks, the cook making bread on the +main hatch; reefing down before a violent squall, with +the men hanging out on the foot-ropes; the squall itself, +the catch at the heart, the opened sluices of the sky; +and the relief, the renewed loveliness of life, when all is +over, the sun forth again, and our out-fought enemy only +a blot upon the leeward sea. I love to recall, and would +that I could reproduce that life, the unforgettable, the +unrememberable. The memory, which shows so wise a +backwardness in registering pain, is besides an imperfect +recorder of extended pleasures; and a long-continued +well-being escapes (as it were, by its mass) our petty +methods of commemoration. On a part of our life’s map +there lies a roseate, undecipherable haze, and that is all.</p> + +<p>Of one thing, if I am at all to trust my own annals, +I was delightedly conscious. Day after day, in the sun-gilded +cabin, the whisky-dealer’s thermometer stood at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>195</span> +84°. Day after day the air had the same indescribable +liveliness and sweetness, soft and nimble, and cool as +the cheek of health. Day after day the sun flamed; +night after night the moon beaconed, or the stars paraded +their lustrous regiment. I was aware of a spiritual +change, or, perhaps, rather a molecular reconstitution. +My bones were sweeter to me. I had come home to my +own climate, and looked back with pity on those damp +and wintry zones, miscalled the temperate.</p> + +<p>“Two years of this, and comfortable quarters to live +in, kind of shake the grit out of a man,” the captain remarked; +“can’t make out to be happy anywhere else. +A townie of mine was lost down this way, in a coalship +that took fire at sea. He struck the beach somewhere +in the Navigators; and he wrote to me that when he left +the place it would be feet first. He’s well off, too, and +his father owns some coasting craft Down East; but +Billy prefers the beach, and hot rolls off the bread-fruit +trees.”</p> + +<p>A voice told me I was on the same track as Billy. +But when was this? Our outward track in the <i>Norah +Creina</i> lay well to the northward; and perhaps it is but +the impression of a few pet days which I have unconsciously +spread longer, or perhaps the feeling grew upon +me later, in the run to Honolulu. One thing I am sure: +it was before I had ever seen an island worthy of the +name that I must date my loyalty to the South Seas. +The blank sea itself grew desirable under such skies; +and wherever the trade-wind blows I know no better +country than a schooner’s deck.</p> + +<p>But for the tugging anxiety as to the journey’s end, +the journey itself must thus have counted for the best +of holidays. My physical wellbeing was over-proof; +effects of sea and sky kept me for ever busy with my +pencil; and I had no lack of intellectual exercise of a +different order in the study of my inconsistent friend, +the captain. I call him friend, here on the threshold; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>196</span> +but that is to look well ahead. At first I was too much +horrified by what I considered his barbarities, too much +puzzled by his shifting humours, and too frequently +annoyed by his small vanities, to regard him otherwise +than as the cross of my existence. It was only by degrees, +in his rare hours of pleasantness, when he forgot (and +made me forget) the weaknesses to which he was so +prone, that he won me to a kind of unconsenting fondness. +Lastly, the faults were all embraced in a more +generous view; I saw them in their place, like discords +in a musical progression; and accepted them and found +them picturesque, as we accept and admire, in the habitable +face of nature, the smoky head of the volcano or the +pernicious thicket of the swamp.</p> + +<p>He was come of good people Down East, and had +the beginnings of a thorough education. His temper had +been ungovernable from the first; and it is likely the +defect was inherited, and the blame of the rupture not +entirely his. He ran away at least to sea; suffered horrible +maltreatment, which seemed to have rather hardened +than enlightened him; ran away again to shore in a +South American port; proved his capacity and made +money, although still a child; fell among thieves and +was robbed; worked back a passage to the States, and +knocked one morning at the door of an old lady whose +orchard he had often robbed. The introduction appears +insufficient; but Nares knew what he was doing. The +sight of her old neighbourly depredator shivering at the +door in tatters, the very oddity of his appeal, touched a +soft spot in the spinster’s heart. “I always had a fancy +for the old lady,” Nares said, “even when she used to +stampede me out of the orchard, and shake her thimble +and her old curls at me out of the window as I was going +by; I always thought she was a kind of pleasant old girl. +Well, when she came to the door that morning, I told +her so, and that I was stone-broke; and she took me +right in, and fetched out the pie.” She clothed him, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>197</span> +taught him, and had him to sea again in better shape, +welcomed him to her hearth on his return from every +cruise, and when she died bequeathed him her possessions. +“She was a good old girl,” he would say; “I tell you, +Mr. Dodd, it was a queer thing to see me and the old +lady talking a <i>pasear</i> in the garden, and the old man +scowling at us over the pickets. She lived right next +door to the old man, and I guess that’s just what took +me there. I wanted him to know that I was badly beat, +you see, and would rather go to the devil than to him. +What made the dig harder, he had quarrelled with the +old lady about me and the orchard: I guess that made +him rage. Yes, I was a beast when I was young; but I +was always pretty good to the old lady.” Since then +he had prospered, not uneventfully, in his profession; +the old lady’s money had fallen in during the voyage of +the <i>Gleaner</i>, and he was now, as soon as the smoke of +that engagement cleared away, secure of his ship. I +suppose he was about thirty: a powerful, active man, +with a blue eye, a thick head of hair, about the colour of +oakum and growing low over the brow; clean-shaved and +lean about the jaw; a good singer; a good performer on +that sea-instrument, the accordion; a quick observer, a +close reasoner; when he pleased, of a really elegant +address; and when he chose, the greatest brute upon +the seas.</p> + +<p>His usage of the men, his hazing, his bullying, his +perpetual fault-finding for no cause, his perpetual and +brutal sarcasm, might have raised a mutiny in a slave-galley. +Suppose the steersman’s eye to have wandered; +“You ——, ——, little, mutton-faced Dutchman,” Nares +would bawl, “you want a booting to keep you on your +course! I know a little city-front slush when I see one. +Just you glue your eye to that compass, or I’ll show you +round the vessel at the butt-end of my boot.” Or suppose +a hand to linger aft, whither he had perhaps been +summoned not a minute before. “Mr. Daniells, will you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>198</span> +oblige me by stepping clear of that main-sheet?” the +captain might begin, with truculent courtesy. “Thank +you. And perhaps you’ll be so kind as to tell me what +the hell you’re doing on my quarter-deck? I want no +dirt of your sort here. Is there nothing for you to do? +Where’s the mate? Don’t you set <i>me</i> to find work for +you, or I’ll find you some that will keep you on your +back a fortnight.” Such allocutions, conceived with a +perfect knowledge of his audience, so that every insult +carried home, were delivered with a mien so menacing, +and an eye so fiercely cruel, that his unhappy subordinates +shrank and quailed. Too often violence followed; too +often I have heard and seen and boiled at the cowardly +aggression; and the victim, his hands bound by law, +has risen again from deck and crawled forward stupefied—I +know not what passion of revenge in his wronged +heart.</p> + +<p>It seems strange I should have grown to like this +tyrant. It may even seem strange that I should have +stood by and suffered his excesses to proceed. But I +was not quite such a chicken as to interfere in public, for +I would rather have a man or two mishandled than one +half of us butchered in a mutiny and the rest suffer on +the gallows. And in private I was unceasing in my +protests.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” I once said to him, appealing to his patriotism, +which was of a hardy quality, “this is no way +to treat American seamen. You don’t call it American +to treat men like dogs?”</p> + +<p>“Americans?” he said grimly. “Do you call these +Dutchmen and Scattermouches<a name="FnAnchor_4" href="#Footnote_4"><span class="sp">4</span></a> Americans? I’ve been +fourteen years to sea, all but one trip under American +colours, and I’ve never laid eye on an American foremast +hand. There used to be such things in the old +days, when thirty-five dollars were the wages out of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>199</span> +Boston; and then you could see ships handled and run +the way they want to be. But that’s all past and gone, +and nowadays the only thing that flies in an American +ship is a belaying-pin. You don’t know, you haven’t a +guess. How would you like to go on deck for your +middle watch, fourteen months on end, with all your +duty to do, and every one’s life depending on you, and +expect to get a knife ripped into you as you come out of +your state-room, or be sand-bagged as you pass the boat, +or get tripped into the hold if the hatches are off in fine +weather? That kind of shakes the starch out of the +brotherly love and New Jerusalem business. You go +through the mill, and you’ll have a bigger grudge against +every old shellback that dirties his plate in the three +oceans than the Bank of California could settle up. No; +it has an ugly look to it, but the only way to run a ship +is to make yourself a terror.”</p> + +<p>“Come, captain,” said I, “there are degrees in everything. +You know American ships have a bad name, you +know perfectly well if it wasn’t for the high wage and +the good food, there’s not a man would ship in one if he +could help; and even as it is, some prefer a British ship, +beastly food and all.”</p> + +<p>“O, the lime-juicers?” said he. “There’s plenty +booting in lime-juicers, I guess; though I don’t deny but +what some of them are soft.” And with that he smiled, +like a man recalling something. “Look here, that brings +a yarn in my head,” he resumed, “and for the sake of +the joke I’ll give myself away. It was in 1874 I shipped +mate in the British ship <i>Maria</i>, from ’Frisco for Melbourne. +She was the queerest craft in some ways that +ever I was aboard of. The food was a caution; there +was nothing fit to put your lips to but the lime-juice, +which was from the end bin no doubt; it used to make +me sick to see the men’s dinners, and sorry to see my +own. The old man was good enough, I guess. Green +was his name—a mild, fatherly old galoot. But the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>200</span> +hands were the lowest gang I ever handled, and whenever +I tried to knock a little spirit into them the old man +took their part. It was Gilbert and Sullivan on the high +seas; but you bet I wouldn’t let any man dictate to me. +’You give me your orders, Captain Green,’ I said, ‘and +you’ll find I’ll carry them out; that’s all you’ve got to +say. You’ll find I do my duty,’ I said; ‘how I do it is +my look-out, and there’s no man born that’s going to +give me lessons.’ Well, there was plenty dirt on board +that <i>Maria</i> first and last. Of course the old man put my +back up, and of course he put up the crew’s, and I had +to regular fight my way through every watch. The men +got to hate me, so’s I would hear them grit their teeth +when I came up. At last one day I saw a big hulking +beast of a Dutchman booting the ship’s boy. I made one +shoot of it off the house and laid that Dutchman out. +Up he came, and I laid him out again. ‘Now,’ I said, +’if there’s a kick left in you, just mention it, and I’ll +stamp your ribs in like a packing-case.’ He thought +better of it, and never let on; lay there as mild as a deacon +at a funeral, and they took him below to reflect on his +native Dutchland. One night we got caught in rather +a dirty thing about 25 south. I guess we were all asleep, +for the first thing I knew there was the fore-royal gone. I +ran forward, bawling blue hell; and just as I came by +the foremast something struck me right through the fore-arm +and stuck there. I put my other hand up, and, by +George, it was the grain; the beasts had speared me +like a porpoise. ‘Cap’n!’ I cried. ‘What’s wrong?’ +says he. ‘They’ve grained me,’ says I. ‘Grained you?’ +says he. ‘Well, I’ve been looking for that.’ ‘And by +God,’ I cried, ‘I want to have some of these beasts murdered +for it!’ ‘Now, Mr. Nares,’ says he, ‘you better +go below. If I had been one of the men, you’d have got +more than this. And I want no more of your language +on deck. You’ve cost me my fore-royal already,’ says +he; ‘and if you carry on, you’ll have the three sticks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>201</span> +out of her.’ That was old man Green’s idea of supporting +officers. But you wait a bit; the cream’s coming. +We made Melbourne right enough, and the old man said: +’Mr. Nares, you and me don’t draw together. You’re a +first-rate seaman, no mistake of that; but you’re the +most disagreeable man I ever sailed with, and your +language and your conduct to the crew I cannot stomach. +I guess we’ll separate.’ I didn’t care about the berth, +you may be sure; but I felt kind of mean, and if he +made one kind of stink I thought I could make another. +So I said I would go ashore and see how things stood; +went, found I was all right, and came aboard again on +the top rail. ‘Are you getting your traps together, Mr. +Nares?’ says the old man. ‘No,’ says I, ‘I don’t know +as we’ll separate much before ’Frisco—at least,’ I said, +’it’s a point for your consideration. I’m very willing to +say good-bye to the <i>Maria</i>, but I don’t know whether +you’ll care to start me out with three months’ wages.’ +He got his money-box right away. ‘My son,’ says he, +’I think it cheap at the money.’ He had me there.”</p> + +<p>It was a singular tale for a man to tell of himself; +above all, in the midst of our discussion; but it was +quite in character for Nares. I never made a good hit +in our disputes, I never justly resented any act or speech +of his, but what I found it long after carefully posted in +his day-book and reckoned (here was the man’s oddity) +to my credit. It was the same with his father, whom +he had hated; he would give a sketch of the old fellow, +frank and credible, and yet so honestly touched that it +was charming. I have never met a man so strangely +constituted: to possess a reason of the most equal justice, +to have his nerves at the same time quivering with petty +spite, and to act upon the nerves and not the reason.</p> + +<p>A kindred wonder in my eyes was the nature of his +courage. There was never a braver man: he went out +to welcome danger; an emergency (came it never so +sudden) strung him like a tonic. And yet, upon the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>202</span> +other hand, I have known none so nervous, so oppressed +with possibilities, looking upon the world at large, and +the life of a sailor in particular, with so constant and +haggard a consideration of the ugly chances. All his +courage was in blood, not merely cold, but icy with +reasoned apprehension. He would lay our little craft +rail under, and “hang on” in a squall, until I gave myself +up for lost, and the men were rushing to their stations of +their own accord. “There,” he would say, “I guess +there’s not a man on board would have hung on as long +as I did that time: they’ll have to give up thinking me +no schooner sailor. I guess I can shave just as near capsizing +as any other captain of this vessel, drunk or sober.” +And then he would fall to repining and wishing himself +well out of the enterprise, and dilate on the peril of the +seas, the particular dangers of the schooner rig, which he +abhorred, the various ways in which we might go to the +bottom, and the prodigious fleet of ships that have sailed +out in the course of history, dwindled from the eyes of +watchers, and returned no more. “Well,” he would wind +up, “I guess it don’t much matter. I can’t see what any +one wants to live for, anyway. If I could get into some +one else’s apple-tree, and be about twelve years old, and +just stick the way I was, eating stolen apples, I won’t +say. But there’s no sense in this grown-up business—sailorising, +politics, the piety mill, and all the rest of it. +Good clean drowning is good enough for me.” It is +hard to imagine any more depressing talk for a poor +landsman on a dirty night; it is hard to imagine anything +less sailor-like (as sailors are supposed to be, and +generally are) than this persistent harping on the minor.</p> + +<p>But I was to see more of the man’s gloomy constancy +ere the cruise was at an end.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the seventeenth day I came on +deck, to find the schooner under double reefs, and flying +rather wild before a heavy run of sea. Snoring trades +and humming sails had been our portion hitherto. We +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>203</span> +were already nearing the island. My restrained excitement +had begun again to overmaster me; and for some +time my only book had been the patent log that trailed +over the taffrail, and my chief interest the daily observation +and our caterpillar progress across the chart. My +first glance, which was at the compass, and my second, +which was at the log, were all that I could wish. We +lay our course; we had been doing over eight since nine +the night before, and I drew a heavy breath of satisfaction. +And then I know not what odd and wintry appearance +of the sea and sky knocked suddenly at my heart. +I observed the schooner to look more than usually small, +the men silent and studious of the weather. Nares, in +one of his rusty humours, afforded me no shadow of a +morning salutation. He, too, seemed to observe the +behaviour of the ship with an intent and anxious scrutiny. +What I liked still less, Johnson himself was at the wheel, +which he span busily, often with a visible effort; and +as the seas ranged up behind us, black and imminent, he +kept casting behind him eyes of animal swiftness, and +drawing in his neck between his shoulders, like a man +dodging a blow. From these signs I gathered that all +was not exactly for the best; and I would have given a +good handful of dollars for a plain answer to the questions +which I dared not put. Had I dared, with the +present danger-signal in the captain’s face, I should only +have been reminded of my position as supercargo—an +office never touched upon in kindness—and advised, in a +very indigestible manner, to go below. There was nothing +for it, therefore, but to entertain my vague apprehensions +as best I should be able, until it pleased the captain +to enlighten me of his own accord. This he did sooner +than I had expected—as soon, indeed, as the Chinaman +had summoned us to breakfast, and we sat face to face +across the narrow board.</p> + +<p>“See here, Mr. Dodd,” he began, looking at me rather +queerly, “here is a business point arisen. This sea’s been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>204</span> +running up for the last two days, and now it’s too high +for comfort. The glass is falling, the wind is breezing +up, and I won’t say but what there’s dirt in it. If I lay +her to, we may have to ride out a gale of wind, and drift +God knows where—on these French Frigate Shoals, for +instance. If I keep her as she goes, we’ll make that island +to-morrow afternoon, and have the lee of it to lie under, +if we can’t make out to run in. The point you have to +figure on, is whether you’ll take the big chances of that +Captain Trent making the place before you, or take the +risk of something happening. I’m to run this ship to +your satisfaction,” he added, with an ugly sneer. “Well, +here’s a point for the supercargo.”</p> + +<p>“Captain,” I returned, with my heart in my mouth, +“risk is better than certain failure.”</p> + +<p>“Life is all risk, Mr. Dodd,” he remarked. “But +there’s one thing: it’s now or never; in half an hour +Archdeacon Gabriel couldn’t lay her to, if he came downstairs +on purpose.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said I; “let’s run.”</p> + +<p>“Run goes,” said he; and with that he fell to breakfast, +and passed half an hour in stowing away pie, and +devoutly wishing himself back in San Francisco.</p> + +<p>When we came on deck again, he took the wheel from +Johnson—it appears they could trust none among the +hands—and I stood close beside him, feeling safe in this +proximity, and tasting a fearful joy from our surroundings +and the consciousness of my decision. The breeze +had already risen, and as it tore over our heads, it uttered +at times a long hooting note that sent my heart into my +boots. The sea pursued us without remission, leaping to +the assault of the low rail. The quarter-deck was all +awash, and we must close the companion doors.</p> + +<p>“And all this, if you please, for Mr. Pinkerton’s dollars!” +the captain suddenly exclaimed. “There’s many +a fine fellow gone under, Mr. Dodd, because of drivers +like your friend. What do they care for a ship or two? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>205</span> +Insured, I guess. What do they care for sailors’ lives +alongside of a few thousand dollars? What they want +is speed between ports, and a damned fool of a captain +that’ll drive a ship under as I’m doing this one. You can +put in the morning, asking why I do it.”</p> + +<p>I sheered off to another part of the vessel as fast as +civility permitted. This was not at all the talk that I +desired, nor was the train of reflection which it started +anyway welcome. Here I was, running some hazard of +my life, and perilling the lives of seven others; exactly +for what end, I was now at liberty to ask myself. For +a very large amount of a very deadly poison, was the +obvious answer; and I thought if all tales were true, and +I were soon to be subjected to cross-examination at the +bar of Eternal Justice, it was one which would not increase +my popularity with the court. “Well, never mind, Jim,” +thought I; “I’m doing it for you.”</p> + +<p>Before eleven a third reef was taken in the mainsail, +and Johnson filled the cabin with a storm-sail of No. 1 +duck, and sat cross-legged on the streaming floor, vigorously +putting it to rights with a couple of the hands. By +dinner I had fled the deck, and sat in the bench corner, +giddy, dumb, and stupefied with terror. The frightened +leaps of the poor <i>Norah Creina</i>, spanking like a stag for +bare existence, bruised me between the table and the +berths. Overhead, the wild huntsman of the storm passed +continuously in one blare of mingled noises; screaming +wind, straining timber, lashing rope’s-end, pounding block +and bursting sea contributed; and I could have thought +there was at times another, a more piercing, a more human +note, that dominated all, like the wailing of an angel; I +could have thought I knew the angel’s name, and that +his wings were black. It seemed incredible that any +creature of man’s art could long endure the barbarous +mishandling of the seas, kicked as the schooner was from +mountain-side to mountain-side, beaten and blown upon +and wrenched in every joint and sinew, like a child upon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>206</span> +the rack. There was not a plank of her that did not cry +aloud for mercy; and as she continued to hold together, +I became conscious of a growing sympathy with her +endeavours, a growing admiration for her gallant staunchness, +that amused and at times obliterated my terrors for +myself. God bless every man that swung a mallet on +that tiny and strong hull! It was not for wages only +that he laboured, but to save men’s lives.</p> + +<p>All the rest of the day, and all the following night, I +sat in the corner or lay wakeful in my bunk; and it was +only with the return of morning that a new phase of my +alarms drove me once more on deck. A gloomier interval +I never passed. Johnson and Nares steadily relieved each +other at the wheel and came below. The first glance of +each was at the glass, which he repeatedly knuckled and +frowned upon; for it was sagging lower all the time. +Then, if Johnson were the visitor, he would pick a snack +out of the cupboard, and stand, braced against the table, +eating it, and perhaps obliging me with a word or two +of his hee-haw conversation: how it was “a son of a gun +of a cold night on deck, Mr. Dodd” (with a grin); how +“it wasn’t no night for pan-jammers, he could tell me”; +having transacted all which, he would throw himself down +in his bunk and sleep his two hours with compunction. +But the captain neither ate nor slept. “You there, Mr. +Dodd?” he would say, after the obligatory visit to the +glass. “Well, my son, we’re one hundred and four miles” +(or whatever it was) “off the island, and scudding for all +we’re worth. We’ll make it to-morrow about four, or +not, as the case may be. That’s the news. And now, +Mr. Dodd, I’ve stretched a point for you; you can see I’m +dead tired; so just you stretch away back to your bunk +again.” And with this attempt at geniality, his teeth +would settle hard down on his cigar, and he would pass +his spell below staring and blinking at the cabin lamp +through a cloud of tobacco-smoke. He has told me since +that he was happy, which I should never have divined. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>207</span> +“You see,” he said, “the wind we had was never anything +out of the way; but the sea was really nasty, the schooner +wanted a lot of humouring, and it was clear from the glass +that we were close to some dirt. We might be running +out of it, or we might be running right crack into it. Well, +there’s always something sublime about a big deal like +that; and it kind of raises a man in his own liking. We’re +a queer kind of beasts, Mr. Dodd.”</p> + +<p>The morning broke with sinister brightness; the air +alarmingly transparent, the sky pure, the rim of the +horizon clear and strong against the heavens. The wind +and the wild seas, now vastly swollen, indefatigably hunted +us. I stood on deck, choking with fear; I seemed to lose +all power upon my limbs; my knees were as paper when +she plunged into the murderous valleys; my heart collapsed +when some black mountain fell in avalanche beside +her counter, and the water, that was more than spray, +swept round my ankles like a torrent. I was conscious +of but one strong desire—to bear myself decently in my +terrors, and, whatever should happen to my life, preserve +my character: as the captain said, we are a queer kind +of beasts. Breakfast-time came, and I made shift to +swallow some hot tea. Then I must stagger below to +take the time, reading the chronometer with dizzy eyes, +and marvelling the while what value there could be in +observations taken in a ship launched (as ours then was) +like a missile among flying seas. The forenoon dragged +on in a grinding monotony of peril; every spoke of the +wheel a rash but an obliged experiment—rash as a forlorn +hope, needful as the leap that lands a fireman from a +burning staircase. Noon was made; the captain dined +on his day’s work, and I on watching him; and our place +was entered on the chart with a meticulous precision which +seemed to me half pitiful and half absurd, since the next +eye to behold that sheet of paper might be the eye of +an exploring fish. One o’clock came, then two; the +captain gloomed and chafed, as he held to the coaming +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>208</span> +of the house, and if ever I saw dormant murder in man’s +eye, it was in his. God help the man that should have +disobeyed him.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden he turned towards the mate, who was +doing his trick at the wheel.</p> + +<p>“Two points on the port bow,” I heard him say; and +he took the wheel himself.</p> + +<p>Johnson nodded, wiped his eyes with the back of his +wet hand, watched a chance as the vessel lunged up hill, +and got to the main rigging, where he swarmed aloft. Up +and up I watched him go, hanging on at every ugly +plunge, gaining with every lull of the schooner’s movement, +until, clambering into the cross-trees and clinging +with one arm around the masts, I could see him take one +comprehensive sweep of the south-westerly horizon. The +next moment he had slid down the backstay and stood +on deck, with a grin, a nod, and a gesture of the finger +that said “yes”; the next again, and he was back sweating +and squirming at the wheel, his tired face streaming +and smiling, and his hair and the rags and corners of his +clothes lashing round him in the wind.</p> + +<p>Nares went below, fetched up his binocular, and fell +into a silent perusal of the sea-line: I also, with my unaided +eyesight. Little by little, in that white waste of +water, I began to make out a quarter where the whiteness +appeared more condensed: the sky above was whitish +likewise, and misty like a squall; and little by little there +thrilled upon my ears a note deeper and more terrible +than the yelling of the gale—the long thundering roll of +breakers. Nares wiped his night-glass on his sleeve and +passed it to me, motioning, as he did so, with his hand. +An endless wilderness of raging billows came and went +and danced in the circle of the glass; now and then a pale +corner of sky, or the strong line of the horizon rugged with +the heads of waves; and then of a sudden—come and +gone ere I could fix it, with a swallow’s swiftness—one +glimpse of what we had come so far and paid so dear to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>209</span> +see; the masts and rigging of a brig pencilled on heaven, +with an ensign streaming at the main, and the ragged +ribbons of a top-sail thrashing from the yard. Again and +again, with toilful searching, I recalled that apparition. +There was no sign of any land; the wreck stood between +sea and sky, a thing the most isolated I had ever viewed; +but as we drew nearer, I perceived her to be defended by +a line of breakers which drew off on either hand, and +marked, indeed, the nearest segment of the reef. Heavy +spray hung over them like a smoke, some hundred feet +into the air; and the sound of their consecutive explosions +rolled like a cannonade.</p> + +<p>In half an hour we were close in; for perhaps as long +again we skirted that formidable barrier toward its farther +side; and presently the sea began insensibly to moderate +and the ship to go more sweetly. We had gained the +lee of the island, as (for form’s sake) I may call that ring +of foam and haze and thunder; and shaking out a reef, +wore ship and headed for the passage.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_4" href="#FnAnchor_4"><span class="fn">4</span></a> In sea-lingo (Pacific) <i>Dutchman</i> includes all Teutons and folk +from the basin of the Baltic; <i>Scattermouch</i>, all Latins and Levantines.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>210</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h5>THE ISLAND AND THE WRECK</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">All</span> hands were filled with joy. It was betrayed in their +alacrity and easy faces: Johnson smiling broadly at the +wheel, Nares studying the sketch chart of the island with +an eye at peace, and the hands clustered forward, eagerly +talking and pointing: so manifest was our escape, so +wonderful the attraction of a single foot of earth after so +many suns had set and risen on an empty sea! To add +to the relief, besides, by one of those malicious coincidences +which suggest for Fate the image of an underbred +and grinning schoolboy, we had no sooner worn ship than +the wind began to abate.</p> + +<p>For myself, however, I did but exchange anxieties. +I was no sooner out of one fear than I fell upon another; +no sooner secure that I should myself make the intended +haven, than I began to be convinced that Trent was +there before me. I climbed into the rigging, stood on the +board, and eagerly scanned that ring of coral reef and +bursting breaker, and the blue lagoon which they enclosed. +The two islets within began to show plainly—Middle +Brooks and Lower Brooks Island, the Directory named +them: two low, bush-covered, rolling strips of sand, each +with glittering beaches, each perhaps a mile or a mile +and a half in length, running east and west, and divided +by a narrow channel. Over these, innumerable as maggots, +there hovered, chattered, and screamed millions of +twinkling sea-birds; white and black; the black by far +the largest. With singular scintillations, this vortex of +winged life swayed to and fro in the strong sunshine, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>211</span> +whirled continually through itself, and would now and +again burst asunder and scatter as wide as the lagoon: +so that I was irresistibly reminded of what I had read of +nebular convulsions. A thin cloud overspread the area +of the reef and the adjacent sea—the dust, as I could not +but fancy, of earlier explosions. And, a little apart, there +was yet another focus of centrifugal and centripetal flight, +where, hard by the deafening line of breakers, her sails +(all but the tattered topsail) snugly furled down, and the +red rag that marks Old England on the seas beating, union +down, at the main—the <i>Flying Scud</i>, the fruit of so many +toilers, a recollection of so many lives of men, whose tall +spars had been mirrored in the remotest corners of the +sea—lay stationary at last and for ever, in the first stage +of naval dissolution. Towards her the taut <i>Norah Creina</i>, +vulture-wise, wriggled to windward: come from so far to +pick her bones. And, look as I pleased, there was no +other presence of man or of man’s handiwork; no Honolulu +schooner lay there crowded with armed rivals, no +smoke rose from the fire at which I fancied Trent cooking +a meal of sea-birds. It seemed, after all, we were in +time, and I drew a mighty breath.</p> + +<p>I had not arrived at this reviving certainty before +the breakers were already close aboard, the leadsman at +his station, and the captain posted in the fore cross-trees +to con us through the coral lumps of the lagoon. All +circumstances were in our favour, the light behind, the +sun low, the wind still fresh and steady, and the tide +about the turn. A moment later we shot at racing speed +betwixt two pier heads of broken water; the lead began +to be cast, the captain to bawl down his anxious directions, +the schooner to tack and dodge among the scattered +dangers of the lagoon; and at one bell in the first +dog-watch we had come to our anchor off the north-east +end of Middle Brooks Island, in five fathoms water. The +sails were gasketed and covered, the boats emptied of the +miscellaneous stores and odds and ends of sea-furniture, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>212</span> +that accumulate in the course of a voyage, the kedge sent +ashore, and the decks tidied down: a good three-quarters +of an hour’s work, during which I raged about the deck +like a man with a strong toothache. The transition from +the wild sea to the comparative immobility of the lagoon +had wrought strange distress among my nerves: I could +not hold still whether in hand or foot; the slowness of +the men, tired as dogs after our rough experience outside, +irritated me like something personal; and the irrational +screaming of the seabirds saddened me like a dirge. It +was a relief when, with Nares, and a couple of hands, I +might drop into the boat and move off at last for the +<i>Flying Scud</i>.</p> + +<p>“She looks kind of pitiful, don’t she?” observed the +captain, nodding towards the wreck, from which we were +separated by some half a mile. “Looks as if she didn’t +like her berth, and Captain Trent had used her badly.—Give +her ginger, boys,” he added to the hands, “and you +can all have shore liberty to-night to see the birds and +paint the town red.”</p> + +<p>We all laughed at the pleasantry, and the boat skimmed +the faster over the rippling face of the lagoon. The <i>Flying +Scud</i> would have seemed small enough beside the +wharves of San Francisco, but she was some thrice the +size of the <i>Norah Creina</i>, which had been so long our +continent; and as we craned up at her wall-sides, she +impressed us with a mountain magnitude. She lay head +to the reef, where the huge blue wall of the rollers was +for ever ranging up and crumbling down; and to gain her +starboard side, we must pass below the stern. The rudder +was hard aport, and we could read the legend—</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">FLYING SCUD</p> + +<p class="center f80">HULL</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>On the other side, about the break of the poop, some +half a fathom of rope-ladder trailed over the rail, and +by this we made our entrance. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>213</span></p> + +<p>She was a roomy ship inside, with a raised poop standing +some three feet higher than the deck, and a small forward +house, for the men’s bunks and the galley, just +abaft the foremast. There was one boat on the house, +and another and larger one, in beds on deck, on either +hand of it. She had been painted white, with tropical +economy, outside and in; and we found, later on, that +the stanchions of the rail, hoops of the scuttle-butt, etc., +were picked out with green. At that time, however, +when we first stepped aboard, all was hidden under the +droppings of innumerable sea-birds.</p> + +<p>The birds themselves gyrated and screamed meanwhile +among the rigging; and when we looked into the +galley, their outrush drove us back. Savage-looking fowl +they were, savagely beaked, and some of the black ones +great as eagles. Half-buried in the slush, we were aware +of a litter of kegs in the waist; and these, on being somewhat +cleaned, proved to be water-beakers and quarter-casks +of mess beef with some colonial brand, doubtless +collected there before the <i>Tempest</i> hove in sight, and while +Trent and his men had no better expectation than to +strike for Honolulu in the boats. Nothing else was notable +on deck, save where the loose topsail had played some +havoc with the rigging, and there hung, and swayed, +and sang in the declining wind, a raffle of intorted +cordage.</p> + +<p>With a shyness that was almost awe, Nares and I +descended the companion. The stair turned upon itself +and landed us just forward of a thwart-ship bulkhead +that cut the poop in two. The fore part formed a kind of +miscellaneous store-room, with a double-bunked division +for the cook (as Nares supposed) and second mate. The +after part contained, in the midst, the main cabin, running +in a kind of bow into the curvature of the stern; on +the port side, a pantry opening forward and a stateroom +for the mate; and on the starboard, the captain’s +berth and water-closet. Into these we did but glance, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>214</span> +the main cabin holding us. It was dark, for the sea-birds +had obscured the skylight with their droppings; it +smelt rank and fusty: and it was beset with a loud swarm +of flies that beat continually in our faces. Supposing +them close attendants upon man and his broken meat, I +marvelled how they had found their way to Midway Reef; +it was sure at least some vessel must have brought them, +and that long ago, for they had multiplied exceedingly. +Part of the floor was strewn with a confusion of clothes, +books, nautical instruments, odds and ends of finery, and +such trash as might be expected from the turning out of +several seamen’s chests, upon a sudden emergency and +after a long cruise. It was strange in that dim cabin, +quivering with the near thunder of the breakers and +pierced with the screaming of the fowls, to turn over so +many things that other men had coveted, and prized, and +worn on their warm bodies—frayed old underclothing, +pyjamas of strange design, duck suits in every stage of +rustiness, oil-skins, pilot coats, embroidered shirts, jackets +of Ponjee silk—clothes for the night watch at sea or the +day ashore in the hotel verandah: and mingled among +these, books, cigars, bottles of scent, fancy pipes, quantities +of tobacco, many keys, a rusty pistol, and a sprinkling +of cheap curiosities—Benares brass, Chinese jars and +pictures, and bottles of odd shells in cotton, each designed, +no doubt, for somebody at home—perhaps in Hull, of +which Trent had been a native and his ship a citizen.</p> + +<p>Thence we turned our attention to the table, which +stood spread, as if for a meal, with stout ship’s crockery +and the remains of food—a pot of marmalade, dregs of +coffee in the mugs, unrecognisable remains of food, bread, +some toast, and a tin of condensed milk. The table-cloth, +originally of a red colour, was stained a dark brown at +the captain’s end, apparently with coffee; at the other +end it had been folded back, and a pen and ink-pot stood +on the bare table. Stools were here and there about the +table, irregularly placed, as though the meal had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>215</span> +finished and the men smoking and chatting; and one of +the stools lay on the floor, broken.</p> + +<p>“See! they were writing up the log,” said Nares, +pointing to the ink-bottle. “Caught napping, as usual. +I wonder if there ever was a captain yet that lost a ship +with his log-book up to date? He generally has about +a month to fill up on a clean break, like Charles Dickens +and his serial novels.—What a regular lime-juicer spread!” +he added contemptuously. “Marmalade—and toast for +the old man! Nasty, slovenly pigs!”</p> + +<p>There was something in this criticism of the absent +that jarred upon my feelings. I had no love indeed for +Captain Trent or any of his vanished gang; but the desertion +and decay of this once habitable cabin struck me hard. +The death of man’s handiwork is melancholy, like the death +of man himself; and I was impressed with an involuntary +and irrational sense of tragedy in my surroundings.</p> + +<p>“This sickens me,” I said; “let’s go on deck and +breathe.”</p> + +<p>The captain nodded. “It is kind of lonely, isn’t it?” +he said; “but I can’t go up till I get the code signals. +I want to run up ‘Got Left’ or something, just to brighten +up this island home. Captain Trent hasn’t been here +yet, but he’ll drop in before long; and it’ll cheer him up to +see a signal on the brig.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there some official expression we could use?” +I asked, vastly taken by the fancy. “‘Sold for the +benefit of the underwriters: for further particulars apply +to J. Pinkerton, Montana Block, S.F.’”</p> + +<p>“Well,” returned Nares, “I won’t say but what an +old navy quartermaster might telegraph all that, if you +gave him a day to do it in and a pound of tobacco for +himself. But it’s above my register. I must try something +short and sweet: KB, urgent signal, ‘Heave all +aback’; or LM, urgent, ‘The berth you’re now in is +not safe’; or what do you say to PQH?—‘Tell my +owners the ship answers remarkably well.’” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>216</span></p> + +<p>“It’s premature,” I replied; “but it seems calculated +to give pain to Trent. PQH for me.”</p> + +<p>The flags were found in Trent’s cabin, neatly stored +behind a lettered grating; Nares chose what he required, +and (I following) returned on deck, where the sun had +already dipped, and the dusk was coming.</p> + +<p>“Here! don’t touch that, you fool!” shouted the +captain to one of the hands, who was drinking from the +scuttle-butt. “That water’s rotten!”</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon, sir,” replied the man. “Tastes quite +sweet.”</p> + +<p>“Let me see,” returned Nares, and he took the dipper +and held it to his lips. “Yes, it’s all right,” he said. +“Must have rotted and come sweet again.—Queer, isn’t +it, Mr. Dodd? Though I’ve known the same on a Cape +Horner.”</p> + +<p>There was something in his intonation that made me +look him in the face; he stood a little on tiptoe to look +right and left about the ship, like a man filled with curiosity, +and his whole expression and bearing testified to +some suppressed excitement.</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe what you’re saying!” I broke +out.</p> + +<p>“O, I don’t know but what I do!” he replied, laying +a hand upon me soothingly. “The thing’s very possible. +Only, I’m bothered about something else.”</p> + +<p>And with that he called a hand, gave him the code +flags, and stepped himself to the main signal halliards, +which vibrated under the weight of the ensign overhead. +A minute later, the American colours, which we had +brought in the boat, replaced the English red, and PQH +was fluttering at the fore.</p> + +<p>“Now, then,” said Nares, who had watched the breaking +out of his signal with the old-maidish particularity +of an American sailor, “out with those handspikes, and +let’s see what water there is in the lagoon.”</p> + +<p>The bars were shoved home; the barbarous cacophony +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>217</span> +of the clanking pump rose in the waist; and +streams of ill-smelling water gushed on deck and made +valleys in the slab guano. Nares leaned on the rail, +watching the steady stream of bilge as though he found +some interest in it.</p> + +<p>“What is it that bothers you?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you one thing shortly,” he replied. +“But here’s another. Do you see those boats there, one +on the house and two on the beds? Well, where is the +boat Trent lowered when he lost the hands?”</p> + +<p>“Got it aboard again, I suppose,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Well, if you’ll tell me why!” returned the captain.</p> + +<p>“Then it must have been another,” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“She might have carried another on the main hatch, +I won’t deny,” admitted Nares, “but I can’t see what +she wanted with it, unless it was for the old man to go +out and play the accordion in on moonlight nights.”</p> + +<p>“It can’t much matter, anyway,” I reflected.</p> + +<p>“O, I don’t suppose it does,” said he, glancing over +his shoulders at the spouting of the scuppers.</p> + +<p>“And how long are we to keep up this racket?” I +asked. “We’re simply pumping up the lagoon. Captain +Trent himself said she had settled down and was full +forward.”</p> + +<p>“Did he?” said Nares, with a significant dryness. +And almost as he spoke the pumps sucked, and sucked +again, and the men threw down their bars. “There, +what do you make of that?” he asked. “Now, I’ll +tell, Mr. Dodd,” he went on, lowering his voice, but not +shifting from his easy attitude against the rail, “this +ship is as sound as the <i>Norah Creina</i>. I had a guess of it +before we came aboard, and now I know.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not possible!” I cried. “What do you make +of Trent?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t make anything of Trent; I don’t know +whether he’s a liar or only an old wife; I simply tell you +what’s the fact,” said Nares. “And I’ll tell you something +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>218</span> +more,” he added: “I’ve taken the ground myself +in deep-water vessels; I know what I’m saying; and I +say that, when she first struck and before she bedded +down, seven or eight hours’ work would have got this +hooker off, and there’s no man that ever went two years +to sea but must have known it.”</p> + +<p>I could only utter an exclamation.</p> + +<p>Nares raised his finger warningly. “Don’t let <i>them</i> +get hold of it,” said he. “Think what you like, but say +nothing.”</p> + +<p>I glanced round; the dusk was melting into early +night; the twinkle of a lantern marked the schooner’s +position in the distance; and our men, free from further +labour, stood grouped together in the waist, their faces +illuminated by their glowing pipes.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t Trent get her off?” inquired the captain. +“Why did he want to buy her back in ’Frisco for +these fabulous sums, when he might have sailed her into +the bay himself?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he never knew her value until then,” I +suggested.</p> + +<p>“I wish we knew her value now,” exclaimed Nares. +“However, I don’t want to depress you; I’m sorry for +you, Mr. Dodd; I know how bothering it must be to you, +and the best I can say’s this: I haven’t taken much +time getting down, and now I’m here I mean to work +this thing in proper style. I just want to put your mind +at rest; you shall have no trouble with me.”</p> + +<p>There was something trusty and friendly in his voice; +and I found myself gripping hands with him, in that hard, +short shake that means so much with English-speaking +people.</p> + +<p>“We’ll do, old fellow,” said he. “We’ve shaken down +into pretty good friends, you and me; and you won’t find +me working the business any the less hard for that. And +now let’s scoot for supper.”</p> + +<p>After supper, with the idle curiosity of the seafarer, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>219</span> +we pulled ashore in a fine moonlight, and landed on Middle +Brooks Island. A flat beach surrounded it upon all +sides; and the midst was occupied by a thicket of bushes, +the highest of them scarcely five feet high, in which the +sea-fowl lived. Through this we tried at first to strike; +but it were easier to cross Trafalgar Square on a day of +demonstration than to invade these haunts of sleeping sea-birds. +The nests sank, and the eggs burst under footing; +wings beat in our faces, beaks menaced our eyes, +our minds were confounded with the screeching, and the +coil spread over the island and mounted high into the +air.</p> + +<p>“I guess we’ll saunter round the beach,” said Nares, +when we had made good our retreat.</p> + +<p>The hands were all busy after sea-birds’ eggs, so there +were none to follow us. Our way lay on the crisp sand +by the margin of the water; on one side, the thicket from +which we had been dislodged; on the other, the face of +the lagoon, barred with a broad path of moonlight, and +beyond that the line, alternately dark and shining, alternately +hove high and fallen prone, of the external breakers. +The beach was strewn with bits of wreck and drift; some +redwood and spruce logs, no less than two lower masts of +junks, and the stern-post of a European ship—all of which +we looked on with a shade of serious concern, speaking +of the dangers of the sea and the hard case of castaways. +In this sober vein we made the greater part of the circuit +of the island; had a near view of its neighbour from the +southern end; walked the whole length of the westerly +side in the shadow of the thicket; and came forth again +into the moonlight at the opposite extremity.</p> + +<p>On our right, at the distance of about half a mile, the +schooner lay faintly heaving at her anchors. About half +a mile down the beach, at a spot still hidden from us by +the thicket, an upboiling of the birds showed where the +men were still (with sailor-like insatiability) collecting +eggs. And right before us, in a small indentation of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>220</span> +sand, we were aware of a boat lying high and dry, and +right side up.</p> + +<p>Nares crouched back into the shadow of the bushes.</p> + +<p>“What the devil’s this?” he whispered.</p> + +<p>“Trent,” I suggested, with a beating heart.</p> + +<p>“We were damned fools to come ashore unarmed,” +said he. “But I’ve got to know where I stand.” In +the shadow, his face looked conspicuously white, and his +voice betrayed a strong excitement. He took his boat’s +whistle from his pocket. “In case I might want to play +a tune,” said he grimly, and thrusting it between his +teeth, advanced into the moonlit open, which we crossed +with rapid steps, looking guiltily about us as we went. +Not a leaf stirred; and the boat, when we came up to it, +offered convincing proof of long desertion. She was an +eighteen-foot whaleboat of the ordinary type, equipped +with oars and thole-pins. Two or three quarter-casks lay +on the bilge amidships, one of which must have been +broached, and now stank horribly; and these, upon +examination, proved to bear the same New Zealand brand +as the beef on board the wreck.</p> + +<p>“Well, here’s the boat,” said I; “here’s one of your +difficulties cleared away.”</p> + +<p>“H’m,” said he. There was a little water in the bilge, +and here he stooped and tasted it.</p> + +<p>“Fresh,” he said. “Only rain-water.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t object to that?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, what ails you?” I cried.</p> + +<p>“In plain United States, Mr. Dodd,” he returned, “a +whaleboat, five ash sweeps, and a barrel of stinking pork.”</p> + +<p>“Or, in other words, the whole thing?” I commented.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s this way,” he condescended to explain. +“I’ve no use for a fourth boat at all; but a boat of this +model tops the business. I don’t say the type’s not +common in these waters; it’s as common as dirt; the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>221</span> +traders carry them for surf-boats. But the <i>Flying Scud?</i> +a deep-water tramp, who was lime-juicing around between +big ports, Calcutta and Rangoon and ’Frisco and the +Canton River. No, I don’t see it.”</p> + +<p>We were leaning over the gunwale of the boat as we +spoke. The captain stood nearest the bow, and he was +idly playing with the trailing painter, when a thought +arrested him. He hauled the line in hand over hand, and +stared, and remained staring, at the end.</p> + +<p>“Anything wrong with it?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Mr. Dodd,” said he, in a queer voice, +“this painter’s been cut? A sailor always seizes a rope’s +end, but this is sliced short off with the cold steel. This +won’t do at all for the men,” he added. “Just stand by +till I fix it up more natural.”</p> + +<p>“Any guess what it all means?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, it means one thing,” said he. “It means +Trent was a liar. I guess the story of the <i>Flying Scud</i> +was a sight more picturesque than he gave out.”</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the whaleboat was lying astern of +the <i>Norah Creina</i>; and Nares and I sought our bunks, +silent and half-bewildered by our late discoveries.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>222</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h5>THE CABIN OF THE <i>FLYING SCUD</i></h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> sun of the morrow had not cleared the morning +bank: the lake of the lagoon, the islets, and the wall of +breakers now beginning to subside, still lay clearly pictured +in the flushed obscurity of early day, when we +stepped again upon the deck of the <i>Flying Scud</i>: Nares, +myself, the mate, two of the hands, and one dozen bright, +virgin axes, in war against that massive structure. I +think we all drew pleasurable breath; so profound in +man is the instinct of destruction, so engaging is the +interest of the chase. For we were now about to taste, +in a supreme degree, the double joys of demolishing a +toy and playing “Hide the handkerchief”—sports from +which we had all perhaps desisted since the days of +infancy. And the toy we were to burst in pieces was a +deep-sea ship; and the hidden good for which we were +to hunt was a prodigious fortune.</p> + +<p>The decks were washed down, the main hatch removed, +and a gun-tackle purchase rigged before the boat arrived +with breakfast. I had grown so suspicious of the wreck, +that it was a positive relief to me to look down into the +hold, and see it full, or nearly full, of undeniable rice +packed in the Chinese fashion in boluses of matting. +Breakfast over, Johnson and the hands turned to upon +the cargo; while Nares and I, having smashed open the +skylight and rigged up a windsail on deck, began the +work of rummaging the cabins.</p> + +<p>I must not be expected to describe our first day’s +work, or (for that matter) any of the rest, in order and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>223</span> +detail as it occurred. Such particularity might have been +possible for several officers and a draft of men from a +ship of war, accompanied by an experienced secretary +with a knowledge of shorthand. For two plain human +beings, unaccustomed to the use of the broad-axe and +consumed with an impatient greed of the result, the whole +business melts, in the retrospect, into a nightmare of +exertion, heat, hurry, and bewilderment; sweat pouring +from the face like rain, the scurry of rats, the choking +exhalations of the bilge, and the throbs and splinterings +of the toiling axes. I shall content myself with giving +the cream of our discoveries in a logical rather than a +temporal order; though the two indeed practically coincided, +and we had finished our exploration of the +cabin, before we could be certain of the nature of the +cargo.</p> + +<p>Nares and I began operations by tossing up pell-mell +through the companion, and piling in a squalid heap about +the wheel, all clothes, personal effects, the crockery, the +carpet, stale victuals, tins of meat, and, in a word, all +movables from the main cabin. Thence we transferred +our attention to the captain’s quarters on the starboard +side. Using the blankets for a basket, we sent up the +books, instruments, and clothes to swell our growing +midden on the deck; and then Nares, going on hands and +knees, began to forage underneath the bed. Box after +box of Manilla cigars rewarded his search. I took occasion +to smash some of these boxes open, and even to +guillotine the bundles of cigars; but quite in vain—no +secret <i>cache</i> of opium encouraged me to continue.</p> + +<p>“I guess I’ve got hold of the dicky now!” exclaimed +Nares, and turning round from my perquisitions I found +he had drawn forth a heavy iron box, secured to the bulkhead +by chain and padlock. On this he was now gazing, +not with the triumph that instantly inflamed my own +bosom, but with a somewhat foolish appearance of +surprise. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>224</span></p> + +<p>“By George, we have it now!” I cried, and would +have shaken hands with my companion; but he did not +see, or would not accept, the salutation.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see what’s in it first,” he remarked dryly. And +he adjusted the box upon its side, and with some blows +of an axe burst the lock open. I threw myself beside +him, as he replaced the box on its bottom and removed +the lid. I cannot tell what I expected; a million’s worth +of diamonds might perhaps have pleased me; my cheeks +burned, my heart throbbed to bursting; and lo! there +was disclosed but a trayful of papers, neatly taped, and +a cheque-book of the customary pattern. I made a snatch +at the tray to see what was beneath, but the captain’s +hand fell on mine, heavy and hard.</p> + +<p>“Now, boss!” he cried, not unkindly, “is this to be +run shipshape? or is it a Dutch grab-racket?”</p> + +<p>And he proceeded to untie and run over the contents +of the papers, with a serious face and what seemed an +ostentation of delay. Me and my impatience it would +appear he had forgotten; for when he was quite done, he +sat a while thinking, whistled a bar or two, refolded the +papers, tied them up again; and then, and not before, +deliberately raised the tray.</p> + +<p>I saw a cigar-box, tied with a piece of fishing-line, and +four fat canvas bags. Nares whipped out his knife, cut +the line, and opened the box. It was about half-full of +sovereigns.</p> + +<p>“And the bags?” I whispered.</p> + +<p>The captain ripped them open one by one, and a flood +of mixed silver coin burst forth and rattled in the rusty +bottom of the box. Without a word, he set to work to +count the gold.</p> + +<p>“What is this?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“It’s the ship’s money,” he returned, doggedly continuing +his work.</p> + +<p>“The ship’s money?” I repeated. “That’s the +money Trent tramped and traded with? And there’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>225</span> +his cheque-book to draw upon his owners? And he has +left it?”</p> + +<p>“I guess he has,” said Nares austerely, jotting down +a note of the gold; and I was abashed into silence till +his task should be completed.</p> + +<p>It came, I think, to three hundred and seventy-eight +pounds sterling; some nineteen pounds of it in silver: +all of which we turned again into the chest.</p> + +<p>“And what do you think of that?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dodd,” he replied, “you see something of the +rumness of this job, but not the whole. The specie bothers +you, but what gets me is the papers. Are you aware +that the master of a ship has charge of all the cash in +hand, pays the men advances, receives freight and passage-money, +and runs up bills in every port? All this he does +as the owner’s confidential agent, and his integrity is +proved by his receipted bills. I tell you, the captain of +a ship is more likely to forget his pants than these bills +which guarantee his character. I’ve known men drown +to save them—bad men, too; but this is the shipmaster’s +honour. And here this Captain Trent—not hurried, not +threatened with anything but a free passage in a British +man-of-war—has left them all behind. I don’t want to +express myself too strongly, because the facts appear +against me, but the thing is impossible.”</p> + +<p>Dinner came to us not long after, and we ate it on +deck, in a grim silence, each privately racking his brain +for some solution of the mysteries. I was, indeed, so +swallowed up in these considerations that the wreck, +the lagoon, the islets, and the strident sea-fowl, the strong +sun then beating on my head, and even the gloomy countenance +of the captain at my elbow, all vanished from the +field of consciousness. My mind was a blackboard on +which I scrawled and blotted out hypotheses, comparing +each with the pictorial records in my memory—ciphering +with pictures. In the course of this tense mental exercise +I recalled and studied the faces of one memorial masterpiece, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>226</span> +the scene of the saloon; and here I found myself, +on a sudden, looking in the eyes of the Kanaka.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing I can put beyond doubt, at all +events,” I cried, relinquishing my dinner and getting +briskly afoot. “There was that Kanaka I saw in the +bar with Captain Trent, the fellow the newspapers and +ship’s articles made out to be a Chinaman. I mean to +rout his quarters out and settle that.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Nares. “I’ll lazy off a bit longer, +Mr. Dodd; I feel pretty rocky and mean.”</p> + +<p>We had thoroughly cleared out the three after-compartments +of the ship; all the stuff from the main cabin +and the mate’s and captain’s quarters lay piled about +the wheel; but in the forward state-room with the two +bunks, where Nares had said the mate and cook most +likely berthed, we had as yet done nothing. Thither I +went. It was very bare; a few photographs were +tacked on the bulkhead, one of them indecent; a single +chest stood open, and, like all we had yet found, it had +been partly rifled. An armful of two-shilling novels +proved to me beyond a doubt it was a European’s; no +Chinaman would have possessed any, and the most +literate Kanaka conceivable in a ship’s galley was not +likely to have gone beyond one. It was plain, then, +that the cook had not berthed aft, and I must look +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>The men had stamped down the nests and driven the +birds from the galley, so that I could now enter without +contest. One door had been already blocked with rice; +the place was in part darkness, full of a foul stale smell, +and a cloud of nasty flies; it had been left, besides, in +some disorder, or else the birds, during their time of +tenancy, had knocked the things about; and the floor, +like the deck before we washed it, was spread with pasty +filth. Against the wall, in the far corner, I found a handsome +chest of camphor-wood bound with brass, such as +Chinamen and sailors love, and indeed all of mankind +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>227</span> +that plies in the Pacific. From its outside view I could +thus make no deduction; and, strange to say, the interior +was concealed. All the other chests, as I have said +already, we had found gaping open, and their contents +scattered abroad; the same remark we found to apply +afterwards in the quarters of the seamen; only this +camphor-wood chest, a singular exception, was both +closed and locked.</p> + +<p>I took an axe to it, readily forced the paltry Chinese +fastening, and, like a Custom House officer, plunged my +hands among the contents. For some while I groped +among linen and cotton. Then my teeth were set on +edge with silk, of which I drew forth several strips covered +with mysterious characters. And these settled the business, +for I recognised them as a kind of bed-hanging, +popular with the commoner class of the Chinese. Nor +were further evidences wanting, such as night-clothes of +an extraordinary design, a three-stringed Chinese fiddle, +a silk handkerchief full of roots and herbs, and a neat +apparatus for smoking opium, with a liberal provision of +the drug. Plainly, then, the cook had been a Chinaman; +and, if so, who was Jos. Amalu? Or had Jos. stolen the +chest before he proceeded to ship under a false name and +domicile? It was possible, as anything was possible in +such a welter; but, regarded as a solution, it only led +and left me deeper in the bog. For why should this chest +have been deserted and neglected, when the others were +rummaged or removed? and where had Jos. come by +that second chest, with which (according to the clerk at +the What Cheer) he had started for Honolulu?</p> + +<p>“And how have <i>you</i> fared?” inquired the captain, +whom I found luxuriously reclining in our mound of litter. +And the accent on the pronoun, the heightened colour +of the speaker’s face, and the contained excitement in +his tones, advertised me at once that I had not been +alone to make discoveries.</p> + +<p>“I have found a Chinaman’s chest in the galley,” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>228</span> +said I, “and John (if there was any John) was not so +much as at the pains to take his opium.”</p> + +<p>Nares seemed to take it mighty quietly. “That so?” +said he. “Now, cast your eyes on that and own you’re +beaten!” and with a formidable clap of his open hand, +he flattened out before me, on the deck, a pair of newspapers.</p> + +<p>I gazed upon them dully, being in no mood for fresh +discoveries.</p> + +<p>“Look at them, Mr. Dodd,” cried the captain sharply. +“Can’t you look at them?” And he ran a dirty thumb +along the title. “‘<i>Sydney Morning Herald</i>, November +26th,’ can’t you make that out?” he cried, with rising +energy. “And don’t you know, sir, that not thirteen +days after this paper appeared in New South Wales, this +ship we’re standing in heaved her blessed anchors out +of China? How did the <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i> get to +Hong Kong in thirteen days? Trent made no land, he +spoke no ship, till he got here. Then he either got it +here or in Hong Kong. I give you your choice, my son!” +he cried and fell back among the clothes like a man weary +of life.</p> + +<p>“Where did you find them?” I asked. “In that +black bag?”</p> + +<p>“Guess so,” he said. “You needn’t fool with it. +There’s nothing else but a lead-pencil and a kind of +worked-out knife.”</p> + +<p>I looked in the bag, however, and was well rewarded.</p> + +<p>“Every man to his trade, captain,” said I. “You’re +a sailor, and you’ve given me plenty of points; but I am +an artist, and allow me to inform you this is quite as +strange as all the rest. The knife is a palette-knife; the +pencil a Winsor and Newton, and a B B B at that. A +palette-knife and a B B B on a tramp brig! It’s against +the laws of Nature.”</p> + +<p>“It would sicken a dog, wouldn’t it?” said Nares.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I continued; “it’s been used by an artist, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>229</span> +too: see how it’s sharpened—not for writing—no man +could write with that. An artist, and straight from +Sydney? How can he come in?”</p> + +<p>“O, that’s natural enough,” sneered Nares. “They +cabled him to come up and illustrate this dime novel.”</p> + +<p>We fell a while silent.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” I said at last, “there is something deuced +underhand about this brig. You tell me you’ve been to +sea a good part of your life. You must have seen shady +things done on ships, and heard of more. Well, what is +this? is it insurance? is it piracy? what is it <i>about</i>? +what can it be <i>for</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dodd,” returned Nares, “you’re right about me +having been to sea the bigger part of my life. And you’re +right again when you think I know a good many ways in +which a dishonest captain mayn’t be on the square, nor +do exactly the right thing by his owners, and altogether +be just a little too smart by ninety-nine and three-quarters. +There’s a good many ways, but not so many as you’d +think; and not one that has any mortal thing to do +with Trent. Trent and his whole racket has got to do +with nothing—that’s the bed-rock fact; there’s no sense +to it, and no use in it, and no story to it—it’s a beastly +dream. And don’t you run away with that notion that +landsmen take about ships. A society actress don’t go +around more publicly than what a ship does, nor is more +interviewed, nor more humbugged, nor more run after by +all sorts of little fussinesses in brass buttons. And more +than an actress, a ship has a deal to lose; she’s capital, +and the actress only character—if she’s that. The ports +of the world are thick with people ready to kick a captain +into the penitentiary if he’s not as bright as a dollar and +as honest as the morning star; and what with Lloyd keeping +watch and watch in every corner of the three oceans, +and the insurance leeches, and the consuls, and the +Customs bugs, and the medicos, you can only get the +idea by thinking of a landsman watched by a hundred +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>230</span> +and fifty detectives, or a stranger in a village Down +East.”</p> + +<p>“Well, but at sea?” I said.</p> + +<p>“You make me tired,” retorted the captain. “What’s +the use—at sea? Everything’s got to come to bearings +at some port, hasn’t it? You can’t stop at sea for ever, +can you?—No; the <i>Flying Scud</i> is rubbish; if it meant +anything, it would have to mean something so almighty +intricate that James G. Blaine hasn’t got the brains to +engineer it; and I vote for more axeing, pioneering, and +opening up the resources of this phenomenal brig, and less +general fuss,” he added, arising. “The dime-museum +symptoms will drop in of themselves, I guess, to keep us +cheery.”</p> + +<p>But it appeared we were at the end of discoveries +for the day; and we left the brig about sundown, without +being further puzzled or further enlightened. The best +of the cabin spoils—books, instruments, papers, silks, and +curiosities—we carried along with us in a blanket, however, +to divert the evening hours; and when supper was +over, and the table cleared, and Johnson set down to a +dreary game of cribbage between his right hand and his +left, the captain and I turned out our blanket on the floor, +and sat side by side to examine and appraise the spoils.</p> + +<p>The books were the first to engage our notice. These +were rather numerous (as Nares contemptuously put it) +“for a lime-juicer.” Scorn of the British mercantile +marine glows in the breast of every Yankee merchant +captain; as the scorn is not reciprocated, I can only +suppose it justified in fact; and certainly the Old Country +mariner appears of a less studious disposition. The more +credit to the officers of the <i>Flying Scud</i>, who had quite a +library, both literary and professional. There were Findlay’s +five directories of the world—all broken-backed, as +is usual with Findlay, and all marked and scribbled over +with corrections and additions—several books of navigations, +a signal-code, and an Admiralty book of a sort of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>231</span> +orange hue, called “Islands of the Eastern Pacific Ocean,” +vol. iii., which appeared from its imprint to be the latest +authority, and showed marks of frequent consultation in +the passages about the French Frigate Shoals, the Harman, +Cure, Pearl, and Hermes Reefs, Lisiansky Island, Ocean +Island, and the place where we then lay—Brooks or +Midway. A volume of Macaulay’s “Essays” and a +shilling Shakespeare led the van of the <i>belles lettres</i>; the +rest were novels. Several Miss Braddon’s—of course, +“Aurora Floyd,” which has penetrated to every island +of the Pacific, a good many cheap detective books, “Rob +Roy,” Auerbach’s “Auf der Höhe,” in the German, and +a prize temperance story, pillaged (to judge by the stamp) +from an Anglo-Indian circulating library.</p> + +<p>“The Admiralty man gives a fine picture of our +island,” remarked Nares, who had turned up Midway +Island. “He draws the dreariness rather mild, but you +can make out he knows the place.”</p> + +<p>“Captain,” I cried, “you’ve struck another point in +this mad business. See here,” I went on eagerly, drawing +from my pocket a crumpled fragment of the <i>Daily Occidental</i> +which I had inherited from Jim: “Misled by +Hoyt’s ‘Pacific Directory’? Where’s Hoyt?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s look into that,” said Nares. “I got that book +on purpose for this cruise.” Therewith he fetched it +from the shelf in his berth, turned to Midway Island, and +read the account aloud. It stated with precision that +the Pacific Mail Company were about to form a depot +there, in preference to Honolulu, and that they had already +a station on the island.</p> + +<p>“I wonder who gives these directory men their +information,” Nares reflected. “Nobody can blame Trent +after that. I never got in company with squarer lying; +it reminds a man of a presidential campaign.”</p> + +<p>“All very well,” said I; “that’s your Hoyt, and a +fine, tall copy. But what I want to know is, where is +Trent’s Hoyt?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>232</span></p> + +<p>“Took it with him,” chuckled Nares; “he had left +everything else, bills and money and all the rest: he +was bound to take something, or it would have aroused +attention on the <i>Tempest</i>. ‘Happy thought,’ says he, +’let’s take Hoyt.’”</p> + +<p>“And has it not occurred to you,” I went on, “that +all the Hoyts in creation couldn’t have misled Trent, since +he had in his hand that red Admiralty book, an official +publication, later in date, and particularly full on Midway +Island?”</p> + +<p>“That’s a fact!” cried Nares; “and I bet the first +Hoyt he ever saw was out of the mercantile library of +San Francisco. Looks as if he had brought her here on +purpose, don’t it? But then that’s inconsistent with the +steam-crusher of the sale. That’s the trouble with this +brig racket; any one can make half a dozen theories for +sixty or seventy per cent. of it; but when they’re made, +there’s always a fathom or two of slack hanging out of +the other end.”</p> + +<p>I believe our attention fell next on the papers, of which +we had altogether a considerable bulk. I had hoped to +find among these matter for a full-length character of +Captain Trent; but here I was doomed, on the whole, +to disappointment. We could make out he was an orderly +man, for all his bills were docketed and preserved. That +he was convivial, and inclined to be frugal even in conviviality, +several documents proclaimed. Such letters as +we found were, with one exception, arid notes from tradesmen. +The exception, signed Hannah Trent, was a somewhat +fervid appeal for a loan. “You know what misfortunes +I have had to bear,” wrote Hannah, “and +how much I am disappointed in George. The landlady +appeared a true friend when I first came here, and I +thought her a perfect lady. But she has come out since +then in her <i>true colours</i>; and if you will not be softened +by this last appeal, I can’t think what is to become of +your affectionate——” and then the signature. This +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>233</span> +document was without place or date, and a voice told +me that it had gone likewise without answer. On the +whole, there were few letters anywhere in the ship; but +we found one before we were finished, in a seaman’s chest, +of which I must transcribe some sentences. It was dated +from some place on the Clyde. “My dearist son,” it +ran, “this is to tell you your dearist father passed away, +Jan twelft, in the peace of the Lord. He had your photo +and dear David’s lade upon his bed, made me sit by him. +Let’s be a’ thegither, he said, and gave you all his blessing. +O my dear laddie, why were nae you and Davie +here? He would have had a happier passage. He spok +of both of ye all night most beautiful, and how ye used to +stravaig on the Saturday afternoons, and of <i>auld Kelvinside</i>. +Sooth the tune to me, he said, though it was the +Sabbath, and I had to sooth him ‘Kelvin Grove,’ and he +looked at his fiddle, the dear man. I cannae bear the +sight of it, he’ll never play it mair. O my lamb, come +home to me, I’m all by my lane now.” The rest was in +a religious vein, and quite conventional. I have never +seen any one more put out than Nares, when I handed +him this letter. He had read but a few words, before +he cast it down; it was perhaps a minute ere he picked +it up again, and the performance was repeated the third +time before he reached the end.</p> + +<p>“It’s touching, isn’t it?” said I.</p> + +<p>For all answer, Nares exploded in a brutal oath; and +it was some half an hour later that he vouchsafed an +explanation. “I’ll tell you what broke me up about +that letter,” said he. “My old man played the fiddle, +played it all out of tune: one of the things he played was +’Martyrdom,’ I remember—it was all martyrdom to me. +He was a pig of a father, and I was a pig of a son; but it +sort of came over me I would like to hear that fiddle +squeak again. Natural,” he added; “I guess we’re all +beasts.”</p> + +<p>“All sons are, I guess,” said I. “I have the same +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>234</span> +trouble on my conscience: we can shake hands on that,” +Which (oddly enough, perhaps) we did.</p> + +<p>Amongst the papers we found a considerable sprinkling +of photographs; for the most part either of very +debonair-looking young ladies or old women of the lodging-house +persuasion. But one among them was the means +of our crowning discovery.</p> + +<p>“They’re not pretty, are they, Mr. Dodd?” said +Nares, as he passed it over.</p> + +<p>“Who?” I asked, mechanically taking the card (it +was a quarter-plate) in hand, and smothering a yawn; +for the hour was late, the day had been laborious, and I +was wearying for bed.</p> + +<p>“Trent and Company,” said he. “That’s a historic +picture of the gang.”</p> + +<p>I held it to the light, my curiosity at a low ebb: I +had seen Captain Trent once, and had no delight in viewing +him again. It was a photograph of the deck of the +brig, taken from forward: all in apple-pie order; the +hands gathered in the waist, the officers on the poop. At +the foot of the card was written, “Brig <i>Flying Scud</i>, +Rangoon,” and a date; and above or below each individual +figure the name had been carefully noted.</p> + +<p>As I continued to gaze, a shock went through me; the +dimness of sleep and fatigue lifted from my eyes, as fog +lifts in the Channel; and I beheld with startled clearness +the photographic presentment of a crowd of strangers. +“J. Trent, Master” at the top of the card directed me to +a smallish, wizened man, with bushy eyebrows and full +white beard, dressed in a frock-coat and white trousers; +a flower stuck in his button-hole, his bearded chin set +forward, his mouth clenched with habitual determination. +There was not much of the sailor in his looks, but +plenty of the martinet; a dry, precise man, who might +pass for a preacher in some rigid sect; and, whatever he +was, not the Captain Trent of San Francisco. The men, +too, were all new to me: the cook, an unmistakable Chinaman, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>235</span> +in his characteristic dress, standing apart on the +poop steps. But perhaps I turned on the whole with the +greatest curiosity to the figure labelled “E. Goddedaal, +1st off.” He whom I had never seen, he might be the +identical; he might be the clue and spring of all this +mystery; and I scanned his features with the eye of a +detective. He was of great stature, seemingly blonde as +a Viking, his hair clustering round his head in frowsy +curls, and two enormous whiskers, like the tusks of some +strange animal, jutting from his cheeks. With these +virile appendages and the defiant attitude in which he +stood, the expression of his face only imperfectly harmonised. +It was wild, heroic, and womanish-looking; and +I felt I was prepared to hear he was a sentimentalist, and +to see him weep.</p> + +<p>For some while I digested my discovery in private, +reflecting how best, and how with most of drama, I might +share it with the captain. Then my sketch-book came +in my head, and I fished it out from where it lay, with +other miscellaneous possessions, at the foot of my bunk, +and turned to my sketch of Captain Trent and the +survivors of the British brig <i>Flying Scud</i> in the San +Francisco bar-room.</p> + +<p>“Nares,” said I, “I’ve told you how I first saw Captain +Trent in that saloon in ’Frisco? how he came with his +men, one of them a Kanaka with a canary-bird in a cage? +and how I saw him afterwards at the auction, frightened +to death, and as much surprised at how the figures skipped +up as anybody there. Well,” said I, “there’s the man +I saw”—and I laid the sketch before him—“there’s +Trent of ’Frisco and there are his three hands. Find one +of them in the photograph, and I’ll be obliged.”</p> + +<p>Nares compared the two in silence. “Well,” he said +at last, “I call this rather a relief: seems to clear the +horizon. We might have guessed at something of the +kind from the double ration of chests that figured.”</p> + +<p>“Does it explain anything?” I asked. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>236</span></p> + +<p>“It would explain everything,” Nares replied, “but +for the steam-crusher. It’ll all tally as neat as a patent +puzzle, if you leave out the way these people bid the +wreck up. And there we come to a stone wall. But +whatever it is, Mr. Dodd, it’s on the crook.”</p> + +<p>“And looks like piracy,” I added.</p> + +<p>“Looks like blind hookey!” cried the captain. “No, +don’t you deceive yourself; neither your head nor mine +is big enough to put a name on this business.”</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>237</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h5>THE CARGO OF THE <i>FLYING SCUD</i></h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">In</span> my early days I was a man, the most wedded to his +idols of my generation. I was a dweller under roofs; the +gull of that which we call civilisation; a superstitious +votary of the plastic arts; a cit, and a prop of restaurants. +I had a comrade in those days, somewhat of an outsider, +though he moved in the company of artists, and a man +famous in our small world for gallantry, knee-breeches, +and dry and pregnant sayings. He, looking on the long +meals and waxing bellies of the French, whom I confess +I somewhat imitated, branded me as “a cultivator of +restaurant fat.” And I believe he had his finger on the +dangerous spot; I believe, if things had gone smooth with +me, I should be now swollen like a prize-ox in body, and +fallen in mind to a thing perhaps as low as many types of +<i>bourgeois</i>—the implicit or exclusive artist. That was a +home word of Pinkerton’s, deserving to be writ in letters +of gold on the portico of every school of art: “What I +can’t see is why you should want to do nothing else.” +The dull man is made, not by the nature, but by the +degree of his immersion in a single business. And all +the more if that be sedentary, uneventful, and ingloriously +safe. More than one half of him will then remain unexercised +and undeveloped; the rest will be distended and +deformed by over-nutrition, over-cerebration, and the +heat of rooms. And I have often marvelled at the impudence +of gentlemen who describe and pass judgment on +the life of man, in almost perfect ignorance of all its +necessary elements and natural careers. Those who dwell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>238</span> +in clubs and studios may paint excellent pictures or write +enchanting novels. There is one thing that they should +not do: they should pass no judgment on man’s destiny, +for it is a thing with which they are unacquainted. Their +own life is an excrescence of the moment, doomed, in +the vicissitude of history, to pass and disappear. The +eternal life of man, spent under sun and rain and in +rude physical effort, lies upon one side, scarce changed +since the beginning.</p> + +<p>I would I could have carried along with me to Midway +Island all the writers and the prating artists of my time. +Day after day of hope deferred, of heat, of unremitting +toil; night after night of aching limbs, bruised hands, +and a mind obscured with the grateful vacancy of physical +fatigue. The scene, the nature of my employment, the +rugged speech and faces of my fellow-toilers, the glare of +the day on deck, the stinking twilight in the bilge, the +shrill myriads of the ocean-fowl; above all, the sense of +our immitigable isolation from the world and from the +current epoch—keeping another time, some eras old; the +new day heralded by no daily paper, only by the rising +sun; and the State, the churches, the peopled empires, +war, and the rumours of war, and the voices of the arts, +all gone silent as in the days ere they were yet invented. +Such were the conditions of my new experience in life, of +which (if I had been able) I would have had all my confrčres +and contemporaries to partake, forgetting, for that +while, the orthodoxies of the moment, and devoted to +a single and material purpose under the eye of heaven.</p> + +<p>Of the nature of our task I must continue to give some +summary idea. The forecastle was lumbered with ship’s +chandlery, the hold nigh full of rice, the lazarette crowded +with the teas and silks. These must all be dug out; and +that made but a fraction of our task. The hold was ceiled +throughout; a part, where perhaps some delicate cargo +was once stored, had been lined, in addition, with inch +boards; and between every beam there was a movable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>239</span> +panel into the bilge. Any of these, the bulkheads of +the cabins, the very timbers of the hull itself, might +be the place of hiding. It was therefore necessary to +demolish, as we proceeded, a great part of the ship’s +inner skin and fittings, and to auscultate what remained, +like a doctor sounding for a lung disease. Upon the +return, from any beam or bulkhead, of a doubtful sound, +we must up axe and hew into the timber: a violent and—from +the amount of dry rot in the wreck—a mortifying +exercise. Every night saw a deeper inroad into the bones +of the <i>Flying Scud</i>—more beams tapped and hewn in +splinters, more planking peeled away and tossed aside—and +every night saw us as far as ever from the end and +object of our arduous devastation. In this perpetual disappointment, +my courage did not fail me, but my spirits +dwindled; and Nares himself grew silent and morose. +At night, when supper was done, we passed an hour in the +cabin, mostly without speech: I, sometimes dozing over +a book; Nares, sullenly but busily drilling sea-shells with +the instrument called a Yankee fiddle. A stranger might +have supposed we were estranged; as a matter of fact, in +this silent comradeship of labour, our intimacy grew.</p> + +<p>I had been struck, at the first beginning of our enterprise +upon the wreck, to find the men so ready at the +captain’s lightest word. I dare not say they liked, but +I can never deny that they admired him thoroughly. A +mild word from his mouth was more valued than flattery, +and half a dollar from myself; if he relaxed at all from +his habitual attitude of censure, smiling alacrity surrounded +him; and I was led to believe his theory of +captainship, even if pushed to excess, reposed upon some +ground of reason. But even terror and admiration of +the captain failed us before the end. The men wearied +of the hopeless, unremunerative quest and the long strain +of labour. They began to shirk and grumble. Retribution +fell on them at once, and retribution multiplied the +grumblings. With every day it took harder driving to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>240</span> +keep them to the daily drudge; and we, in our narrow +boundaries, were kept conscious every moment of the +ill-will of our assistants.</p> + +<p>In spite of the best care, the object of our search was +perfectly well known to all on board; and there had +leaked out, besides, some knowledge of those inconsistencies +that had so greatly amazed the captain and myself. I +could overhear the men debate the character of Captain +Trent, and set forth competing theories of where the +opium was stowed; and, as they seemed to have been +eavesdropping on ourselves, I thought little shame to +prick up my ears when I had the return chance of spying +upon them. In this way I could diagnose their temper +and judge how far they were informed upon the mystery +of the <i>Flying Scud</i>. It was after having thus overheard +some almost mutinous speeches that a fortunate idea +crossed my mind. At night I matured it in my bed, and +the first thing the next morning broached it to the +captain.</p> + +<p>“Suppose I spirit up the hands a bit,” I asked, “by +the offer of a reward?”</p> + +<p>“If you think you’re getting your month’s wages out +of them the way it is, I don’t,” was his reply. “However, +they are all the men you’ve got, and you’re the +supercargo.”</p> + +<p>This, from a person of the captain’s character, might +be regarded as complete adhesion; and the crew were +accordingly called aft. Never had the captain worn a +front more menacing. It was supposed by all that some +misdeed had been discovered, and some surprising punishment +was to be announced.</p> + +<p>“See here, you!” he threw at them over his shoulder +as he walked the deck. “Mr. Dodd here is going to offer +a reward to the first man who strikes the opium in that +wreck. There’s two ways of making a donkey go—both +good, I guess: the one’s kicks and the other’s carrots. Mr. +Dodd’s going to try the carrots. Well, my sons”—and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>241</span> +here he faced the men for the first time with his hands +behind him—“if that opium’s not found in five days you +can come to me for the kicks.”</p> + +<p>He nodded to the present narrator, who took up the +tale. “Here is what I propose, men,” said I: “I put +up one hundred and fifty dollars. If any man can lay +hands on the stuff right away, and off his own club, he +shall have the hundred and fifty down. If any one can +put us on the scent of where to look, he shall have a +hundred and twenty-five, and the balance shall be for +the lucky one who actually picks it up. We’ll call it the +Pinkerton Stakes, captain,” I added, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Call it the Grand Combination Sweep, then,” cries +he. “For I go you better.—Look here, men, I make up +this jack-pot to two hundred and fifty dollars, American +gold coin.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Captain Nares,” said I; “that was +handsomely done.”</p> + +<p>“It was kindly meant,” he returned.</p> + +<p>The offer was not made in vain; the hands had scarce +yet realised the magnitude of the reward, they had scarce +begun to buzz aloud in the extremity of hope and wonder, +ere the Chinese cook stepped forward with gracious gestures +and explanatory smiles.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” he began, “I serv-um two year Melican +navy; serv-um six year mail-boat steward. Savvy +plenty.”</p> + +<p>“Oho!” cried Nares, “you savvy plenty, do you? +(Beggar’s seen this trick in the mail-boat, I guess.) Well, +why you no savvy a little sooner, sonny?”</p> + +<p>“I think bimeby make-um reward,” replied the cook, +with smiling dignity.</p> + +<p>“Well, you can’t say fairer than that,” the captain +admitted; “and now the reward’s offered you’ll talk? +Speak up then. Suppose you speak true you get reward. +See?”</p> + +<p>“I think long time,” replied the Chinaman. “See +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>242</span> +plenty litty mat lice; too muchy plenty litty mat lice; +sixty ton litty mat lice. I think all-e-time perhaps plenty +opium plenty litty mat lice.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Dodd, how does that strike you?” asked +the captain. “He may be right, he may be wrong. He’s +likely to be right, for if he isn’t where can the stuff be? +On the other hand, if he’s wrong we destroy a hundred +and fifty tons of good rice for nothing. It’s a point to be +considered.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t hesitate,” said I. “Let’s get to the bottom +of the thing. The rice is nothing; the rice will neither +make nor break us.”</p> + +<p>“That’s how I expected you to see it,” returned Nares. +And we called the boat away and set forth on our new +quest.</p> + +<p>The hold was now almost entirely emptied; the mats +(of which there went forty to the short ton) had been +stacked on deck, and now crowded the ship’s waist and +forecastle. It was our task to disembowel and explore +six thousand individual mats, and incidentally to destroy a +hundred and fifty tons of valuable food. Nor were the +circumstances of the day’s business less strange than its +essential nature. Each man of us, armed with a great +knife, attacked the pile from his own quarter, slashed into +the nearest mat, burrowed in it with his hands, and shed +forth the rice upon the deck, where it heaped up, overflowed, +and was trodden down, poured at last into the +scuppers, and occasionally spouted from the vents. About +the wreck thus transformed into an overflowing granary, +the sea-fowl swarmed in myriads and with surprising +insolence. The sight of so much food confounded them; +they deafened us with their shrill tongues, swooped in our +midst, dashed in our faces, and snatched the grain from +between our fingers. The men—their hands bleeding from +these assaults—turned savagely on the offensive, drove +their knives into the birds, drew them out crimsoned, and +turned again to dig among the rice, unmindful of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>243</span> +gawking creatures that struggled and died among their +feet. We made a singular picture—the hovering and +diving birds; the bodies of the dead discolouring the rice +with blood; the scuppers vomiting breadstuff; the men, +frenzied by the gold hunt, toiling, slaying, and shouting +aloud; over all the lofty intricacy of rigging and the +radiant heaven of the Pacific. Every man there toiled +in the immediate hope of fifty dollars, and I of fifty thousand. +Small wonder if we waded callously in blood and +food.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps about ten in the forenoon when the +scene was interrupted. Nares, who had just ripped open +a fresh mat, drew forth and slung at his feet, among the +rice, a papered tin box.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” he shouted.</p> + +<p>A cry broke from all hands. The next moment, forgetting +their own disappointment in that contagious +sentiment of success, they gave three cheers that scared +the sea-birds; and the next they had crowded round the +captain, and were jostling together and groping with +emulous hands in the new-opened mat. Box after box +rewarded them, six in all; wrapped, as I have said, in +a paper envelope, and the paper printed on in Chinese +characters.</p> + +<p>Nares turned to me and shook my hand. “I began to +think we should never see this day,” said he. “I congratulate +you, Mr. Dodd, on having pulled it through.”</p> + +<p>The captain’s tones affected me profoundly; and +when Johnson and the men pressed round me in turn +with congratulations, the tears came in my eyes.</p> + +<p>“These are five-tael boxes, more than two pounds,” +said Nares, weighing one in his hand. “Say two hundred +and fifty dollars to the mat. Lay into it, boys! We’ll +make Mr. Dodd a millionaire before dark.”</p> + +<p>It was strange to see with what a fury we fell to. The +men had now nothing to expect; the mere idea of great +sums inspired them with disinterested ardour. Mats +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>244</span> +were slashed and disembowelled, the rice flowed to our +knees in the ship’s waist, the sweat ran in our eyes and +blinded us, our arms ached to agony; and yet our fire +abated not. Dinner came; we were too weary to eat, +too hoarse for conversation; and yet dinner was scarce +done, before we were afoot again and delving in the rice. +Before nightfall not a mat was unexplored, and we were +face to face with the astonishing result.</p> + +<p>For of all the inexplicable things in the story of the +<i>Flying Scud</i>, here was the most inexplicable. Out of the +six thousand mats, only twenty were found to have been +sugared; in each we found the same amount, about +twelve pounds of drug; making a grand total of two +hundred and forty pounds. By the last San Francisco +quotation, opium was selling for a fraction over twenty +dollars a pound; but it had been known not long before +to bring as much as forty in Honolulu, where it was +contraband.</p> + +<p>Taking, then, this high Honolulu figure, the value of +the opium on board the <i>Flying Scud</i> fell considerably +short of ten thousand dollars, while at the San Francisco +rate it lacked a trifle of five thousand. And fifty thousand +was the price that Jim and I had paid for it. And Bellairs +had been eager to go higher! There is no language to +express the stupor with which I contemplated this result.</p> + +<p>It may be argued we were not yet sure: there might +be yet another <i>cache</i>; and you may be certain in that +hour of my distress the argument was not forgotten. +There was never a ship more ardently perquested; no +stone was left unturned, and no expedient untried; day +after day of growing despair, we punched and dug in the +brig’s vitals, exciting the men with promises and presents; +evening after evening Nares and I sat face to face in the +narrow cabin, racking our minds for some neglected possibility +of search. I could stake my salvation on the certainty +of the result: in all that ship there was nothing +left of value but the timber and the copper nails. So that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>245</span> +our case was lamentably plain; we had paid fifty thousand +dollars, borne the charges of the schooner, and paid +fancy interest on money; and if things went well with us, +we might realise fifteen per cent, of the first outlay. We +were not merely bankrupt, we were comic bankrupts—a +fair butt for jeering in the streets. I hope I bore the blow +with a good countenance; indeed, my mind had long +been quite made up, and since the day we found the opium +I had known the result. But the thought of Jim and +Mamie ached in me like a physical pain, and I shrank +from speech and companionship.</p> + +<p>I was in this frame of mind when the captain proposed +that we should land upon the island. I saw he had something +to say, and only feared it might be consolation, for +I could just bear my grief, not bungling sympathy; and +yet I had no choice but to accede to his proposal.</p> + +<p>We walked a while along the beach in silence. The +sun overhead reverberated rays of heat; the staring sand, +the glaring lagoon, tortured our eyes; and the birds and +the boom of the far-away breakers made a savage symphony.</p> + +<p>“I don’t require to tell you the game’s up?” Nares +asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of getting to sea to-morrow,” he +pursued.</p> + +<p>“The best thing you can do,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Shall we say Honolulu?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“O, yes; let’s stick to the programme,” I cried. +“Honolulu be it!”</p> + +<p>There was another silence, and then Nares cleared +his throat.</p> + +<p>“We’ve been pretty good friends, you and me, Mr. +Dodd,” he resumed. “We’ve been going through the +kind of thing that tries a man. We’ve had the hardest +kind of work, we’ve been badly backed, and now we’re +badly beaten. And we’ve fetched through without a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>246</span> +word of disagreement. I don’t say this to praise myself: +it’s my trade; it’s what I’m paid for, and trained for, +and brought up to. But it was another thing for you; +it was all new to you; and it did me good to see you stand +right up to it and swing right into it—day in, day out. +And then see how you’ve taken this disappointment, +when everybody knows you must have been tautened +up to shying-point! I wish you’d let me tell you, Mr. +Dodd, that you’ve stood out mighty manly and handsomely +in all this business, and made every one like you +and admire you. And I wish you’d let me tell you, +besides, that I’ve taken this wreck business as much to +heart as you have; something kind of rises in my throat +when I think we’re beaten; and if I thought waiting +would do it, I would stick on this reef until we starved.”</p> + +<p>I tried in vain to thank him for these generous words, +but he was beforehand with me in a moment.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t bring you ashore to sound my praises,” he +interrupted. “We understand one another now, that’s +all; and I guess you can trust me. What I wished to +speak about is more important, and it’s got to be faced. +What are we to do about the <i>Flying Scud</i> and the dime +novel?”</p> + +<p>“I really have thought nothing about that,” I replied; +“but I expect I mean to get at the bottom of it, and if +the bogus Captain Trent is to be found on the earth’s +surface, I guess I mean to find him.”</p> + +<p>“All you’ve got to do is talk,” said Nares; “you can +make the biggest kind of boom; it isn’t often the reporters +have a chance at such a yarn as this; and I can tell you +how it will go. It will go by telegraph, Mr. Dodd; it’ll +be telegraphed by the column, and headlined, and frothed +up, and denied by authority, and it’ll hit bogus Captain +Trent in a Mexican bar-room, and knock over bogus +Goddedaal in a slum somewhere up the Baltic, and bowl +down Hardy and Brown in sailors’ music-halls round +Greenock. O, there’s no doubt you can have a regular +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>247</span> +domestic Judgment Day. The only point is whether you +deliberately want to.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said I, “I deliberately don’t want one thing: +I deliberately don’t want to make a public exhibition of +myself and Pinkerton: so moral—smuggling opium; +such damned fools—paying fifty thousand for a ‘dead +horse’!”</p> + +<p>“No doubt it might damage you in a business sense,” +the captain agreed; “and I’m pleased you take that +view, for I’ve turned kind of soft upon the job. There’s +been some crookedness about, no doubt of it; but, law +bless you! if we dropped upon the troupe, all the premier +artists would slip right out with the boodle in their grip-sacks, +and you’d only collar a lot of old mutton-headed +shell-backs that didn’t know the back of the business +from the front. I don’t take much stock in mercantile +Jack, you know that, but, poor devil, he’s got to go where +he’s told; and if you make trouble, ten to one it’ll make +you sick to see the innocents who have to stand the racket. +It would be different if we understood the operation; +but we don’t, you see: there’s a lot of queer corners in +life, and my vote is to let the blame’ thing lie.”</p> + +<p>“You speak as if we had that in our power,” I objected.</p> + +<p>“And so we have,” said he.</p> + +<p>“What about the men?” I asked. “They know too +much by half, and you can’t keep them from talking.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t I?” returned Nares. “I bet a boarding-master +can! They can be all half-seas-over when they +get ashore, blind drunk by dark, and cruising out of the +Golden Gate in different deep-sea ships by the next morning. +Can’t keep them from talking, can’t I? Well, I +can make ’em talk separate, leastways. If a whole crew +came talking, parties would listen; but if it’s only one +lone old shell-back, it’s the usual yarn. And at least, +they needn’t talk before six months, or—if we have luck, +and there’s a whaler handy—three years. And by that +time, Mr. Dodd, it’s ancient history.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>248</span></p> + +<p>“That’s what they call Shanghaiing, isn’t it?” I +asked. “I thought it belonged to the dime novel.”</p> + +<p>“O, dime novels are right enough,” returned the captain. +“Nothing wrong with the dime novel, only that +things happen thicker than they do in life, and the practical +seamanship is off colour.”</p> + +<p>“So we can keep the business to ourselves,” I +mused.</p> + +<p>“There’s one other person that might blab,” said the +captain. “Though I don’t believe she has anything left +to tell.”</p> + +<p>“And who is <i>she</i>?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“The old girl there,” he answered, pointing to the +wreck; “I know there’s nothing in her; but somehow +I’m afraid of some one else—it’s the last thing you’d +expect, so it’s just the first that’ll happen—some one +dropping into this God-forgotten island where nobody +drops in, waltzing into that wreck that we’ve grown old +with searching, stooping straight down, and picking right +up the very thing that tells the story. What’s that to +me? you may ask, and why am I gone Soft Tommy on +this Museum of Crooks? They’ve smashed up you and +Mr. Pinkerton; they’ve turned my hair grey with conundrums +they’ve been up to larks, no doubt; and that’s +all I know of them—you say. Well, and that’s just where +it is. I don’t know enough; I don’t know what’s uppermost +it’s just such a lot of miscellaneous eventualities as +I don’t care to go stirring up; and I ask you to let me +deal with the old girl after a patent of my own.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly—what you please,” said I, scarce with +attention, for a new thought now occupied my brain. +“Captain,” I broke out, “you are wrong: we cannot +hush this up. There is one thing you have forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“What is that?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“A bogus Captain Trent, a bogus Goddedaal, a whole +bogus crew, have all started home,” said I. “If we are +right, not one of them will reach his journey’s end. And +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>249</span> +do you mean to say that such a circumstance as that can +pass without remark?”</p> + +<p>“Sailors,” said the captain, “only sailors! If they +were all bound for one place in a body, I don’t say so; +but they’re all going separate—to Hull, to Sweden, to the +Clyde, to the Thames. Well, at each place, what is it? +Nothing new. Only one sailor-man missing: got drunk, +or got drowned, or got left—the proper sailor’s end.”</p> + +<p>Something bitter in the thought and in the speaker’s +tones struck me hard. “Here is one that has got left!” +I cried, getting sharply to my feet, for we had been some +time seated. “I wish it were the other. I don’t—don’t +relish going home to Jim with this!”</p> + +<p>“See here,” said Nares, with ready tact, “I must be +getting aboard. Johnson’s in the brig annexing chandlery +and canvas, and there’s some things in the <i>Norah</i> +that want fixing against we go to sea. Would you like +to be left here in the chicken-ranch? I’ll send for you to +supper.”</p> + +<p>I embraced the proposal with delight. Solitude, in +my frame of mind, was not too dearly purchased at the +risk of sunstroke or sand-blindness; and soon I was +alone on the ill-omened islet. I should find it hard to +tell of what I thought—of Jim, of Mamie, of our lost fortune, +of my lost hopes, of the doom before me: to turn +to some mechanical occupation in some subaltern rank, +and to toil there, unremarked and unamused, until the +hour of the last deliverance. I was, at least, so sunk in +sadness that I scarce remarked where I was going; and +chance (or some finer sense that lives in us, and only +guides us when the mind is in abeyance) conducted my +steps into a quarter of the island where the birds were +few. By some devious route, which I was unable to +retrace for my return, I was thus able to mount, without +interruption, to the highest point of land. And here I +was recalled to consciousness by a last discovery.</p> + +<p>The spot on which I stood was level, and commanded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>250</span> +a wide view of the lagoon, the bounding reef, the round +horizon. Nearer hand I saw the sister islet, the wreck, +the <i>Norah Creina</i>, and the <i>Norah’s</i> boat already moving +shoreward. For the sun was now low, flaming on the +sea’s verge; and the galley chimney smoked on board +the schooner.</p> + +<p>It thus befell that though my discovery was both +affecting and suggestive, I had no leisure to examine +further. What I saw was the blackened embers of fire +of wreck. By all the signs, it must have blazed to a +good height and burned for days; from the scantling +of a spar that lay upon the margin only half consumed, +it must have been the work of more than one; and I +received at once the image of a forlorn troop of castaways, +houseless in that lost corner of the earth, and feeding there +their fire of signal. The next moment a hail reached me +from the boat; and bursting through the bushes and the +rising sea-fowl, I said farewell (I trust for ever) to that +desert isle.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>251</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<h5>IN WHICH I TURN SMUGGLER, +AND THE CAPTAIN CASUIST</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> last night at Midway I had little sleep; the next +morning, after the sun was risen, and the clatter of departure +had begun to reign on deck, I lay a long while dozing; +and when at last I stepped from the companion, the +schooner was already leaping through the pass into the +open sea. Close on her board, the huge scroll of a breaker +unfurled itself along the reef with a prodigious clamour; +and behind I saw the wreck vomiting into the morning +air a coil of smoke. The wreaths already blew out far +to leeward, flames already glittered in the cabin skylight, +and the sea-fowl were scattered in surprise as wide +as the lagoon. As we drew farther off, the conflagration +of the <i>Flying Scud</i> flamed higher; and long after we had +dropped all signs of Midway Island, the smoke still hung +in the horizon like that of a distant steamer. With the +fading out of that last vestige, the <i>Norah Creina</i> passed +again into the empty world of cloud and water by which +she had approached; and the next features that appeared, +eleven days later, to break the line of sky, were the arid +mountains of Oahu.</p> + +<p>It has often since been a comfortable thought to me +that we had thus destroyed the tell-tale remnants of the +<i>Flying Scud</i>; and often a strange one that my last sight +and reminiscence of that fatal ship should be a pillar of +smoke on the horizon. To so many others besides myself +the same appearance had played a part in the various +stages of that business; luring some to what they little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>252</span> +imagined, filling some with unimaginable terrors. But +ours was the last smoke raised in the story; and with its +dying away the secret of the <i>Flying Scud</i> became a private +property.</p> + +<p>It was by the first light of dawn that we saw, close on +board, the metropolitan island of Hawaii. We held along +the coast, as near as we could venture, with a fresh breeze +and under an unclouded heaven; beholding, as we went, +the arid mountain sides and scrubby cocoa-palms of that +somewhat melancholy archipelago. About four of the +afternoon we turned Waimanolo Point, the westerly headland +of the great bight of Honolulu; showed ourselves for +twenty minutes in full view, and then fell again to leeward, +and put in the rest of daylight, plying under +shortened sail under the lee of Waimanolo.</p> + +<p>A little after dark we beat once more about the +point, and crept cautiously toward the mouth of the +Pearl Lochs, where Jim and I had arranged I was to +meet the smugglers. The night was happily obscure, the +water smooth. We showed, according to instructions, no +light on deck; only a red lantern dropped from either +cathead to within a couple of feet of the water. A look-out +was stationed on the bowsprit end, another in the +cross-trees; and the whole ship’s company crowded forward, +scouting for enemies or friends. It was now the +crucial moment of our enterprise; we were now risking +liberty and credit, and that for a sum so small to a man +in my bankrupt situation, that I could have laughed aloud +in bitterness. But the piece had been arranged, and we +must play it to the finish.</p> + +<p>For some while we saw nothing but the dark mountain +outline of the island, the torches of native fishermen +glittering here and there along the foreshore, and right +in the midst, that cluster of brave lights with which the +town of Honolulu advertises itself to the seaward. Presently +a ruddy star appeared inshore of us, and seemed +to draw near unsteadily. This was the anticipated signal; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>253</span> +and we made haste to show the countersign, lowering a +white light from the quarter, extinguishing the two others, +and laying the schooner incontinently to. The star +approached slowly; the sounds of oars and of men’s +speech came to us across the water; and then a voice +hailed us—</p> + +<p>“Is that Mr. Dodd?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I returned. “Is Jim Pinkerton there?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied the voice. “But there’s one of his +crowd here, name of Speedy.”</p> + +<p>“I’m here, Mr. Dodd,” added Speedy himself. “I +have letters for you.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” I replied. “Come aboard, gentlemen, +and let me see my mail.”</p> + +<p>A whaleboat accordingly ranged alongside, and three +men boarded us: my old San Francisco friend, the stock-gambler +Speedy, a little wizened person of the name of +Sharpe, and a big, flourishing, dissipated-looking man +called Fowler. The two last (I learned afterward) +were frequent partners; Sharpe supplied the capital, +and Fowler, who was quite a character in the islands, +and occupied a considerable station, brought activity, +daring, and a private influence, highly necessary in the +case. Both seemed to approach the business with a keen +sense of romance; and I believe this was the chief attraction, +at least with Fowler—for whom I early conceived a +sentiment of liking. But in that first moment I had +something else to think of than to judge my new acquaintances +and before Speedy had fished out the letters, the +full extent of our misfortune was revealed.</p> + +<p>“We’ve rather bad news for you, Mr. Dodd,” said +Fowler. “Your firm’s gone up.”</p> + +<p>“Already?” I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Well, it was thought rather a wonder Pinkerton +held on as long as he did,” was the reply. “The wreck +deal was too big for your credit; you were doing a big +business, no doubt, but you were doing it on precious +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>254</span> +little capital, and when the strain came, you were bound +to go. Pinkerton’s through all right: seven cents dividend, +some remarks made, but nothing to hurt; the +press let you down easy—I guess Jim had relations there. +The only trouble is, that all this <i>Flying Scud</i> affair got in +the papers with the rest; everybody’s wide awake in +Honolulu, and the sooner we get the stuff in and the +dollars out, the better for all concerned.”</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” said I, “you must excuse me. My +friend, the captain here, will drink a glass of champagne +with you to give you patience; but as for myself, I am +unfit even for ordinary conversation till I have read these +letters.”</p> + +<p>They demurred a little, and indeed the danger of +delay seemed obvious; but the sight of my distress, which +I was unable entirely to control, appealed strongly to +their good-nature, and I was suffered at last to get by +myself on deck, where, by the light of a lantern smuggled +under shelter of the low rail, I read the following wretched +correspondence:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“<span class="sc">My dear Loudon</span>,” ran the first, “this will be handed you +by your friend Speedy of the <i>Catamount</i>. His sterling character +and loyal devotion to yourself pointed him out as the best man +for our purposes in Honolulu—the parties on the spot being difficult +to manipulate. A man called Billy Fowler (you must have heard +of Billy) is the boss; he is in politics some, and squares the officers. +I have hard times before me in the city, but I feel as bright as +a dollar and as strong as John L. Sullivan. What with Mamie +here, and my partner speeding over the seas, and the bonanza +in the wreck, I feel like I could juggle with the Pyramids of Egypt, +same as conjurers do with aluminium balls. My earnest prayers +follow you, Loudon, that you may feel the way I do—just inspired! +My feet don’t touch the ground; I kind of swim. Mamie is like +Moses and Aaron that held up the other individual’s arms. She +carries me along like a horse and buggy. I am beating the record.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 4em;">“Your true partner,</p> + +<p class="rt sc">“J. Pinkerton.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Number two was in a different style:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“<span class="sc">My dearest Loudon</span>,—How am I to prepare you for this +dire intelligence? O, dear me, it will strike you to the earth. +The flat has gone forth; our firm went bust at a quarter before +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>255</span> +twelve. It was a bill of Bradley’s (for two hundred dollars) that +brought these vast operations to a close, and evolved liabilities +of upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand. O, the shame +and pity of it, and you but three weeks gone! Loudon, don’t +blame your partner; if human hands and brains could have +sufficed I would have held the thing together. But it just slowly +crumbled; Bradley was the last kick, but the blamed business +just <i>melted</i>. I give the liabilities—it’s supposed they’re all in—for +the cowards were waiting, and the claims were filed like taking +tickets to hear Patti. I don’t quite have the hang of the assets +yet, our interests were so extended; but I am at it day and night, +and I guess will make a creditable dividend. If the wreck pans +out only half the way it ought we’ll turn the laugh still. I am +as full of grit and work as ever, and just tower above our troubles. +Mamie is a host in herself. Somehow I feel like it was only me +that had gone bust, and you and she soared clear of it. Hurry up. +That’s all you have to do.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 4em;">“Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="rt sc">“J. Pinkerton.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The third was yet more altered:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“<span class="sc">My poor Loudon</span>,” it began, “I labour far into the night +getting our affairs in order; you could not believe their vastness +and complexity. Douglas B. Longhurst said humorously that the +receiver’s work would be cut out for him. I cannot deny that +some of them have a speculative look. God forbid a sensitive, +refined spirit like yours should ever come face to face with a Commissioner +in Bankruptcy; these men get all the sweetness knocked +right out of them. But I could bear up better if it weren’t for +press comments. Often and often, Loudon, I recall to mind your +most legitimate critiques of the press system. They published an +interview with me, not the least like what I said, and with <i>jeering</i> +comments; it would make your blood boil, it was literally <i>inhumane</i>; +wouldn’t have written it about a yellow dog that was in trouble +like what I am. Mamie just winced, the first time she has turned +a hair right through the whole catastrophe. How wonderfully +true was what you said long ago in Paris about touching on people’s +personal appearance! The fellow said ——” [And then these +words had been scored through and my distressed friend turned +to another subject.] “I cannot bear to dwell upon our assets. +They simply don’t show up. Even <i>Thirteen Star</i>, as sound a line as +can be produced upon this coast, goes begging. The wreck has +thrown a blight on all we ever touched. And where’s the use? +God never made a wreck big enough to fill our deficit I am haunted +by the thought that you may blame me; I know how I despised +your remonstrances. O, Loudon, don’t be hard on your miserable +partner. The funny dog business is what kills. I fear your stern +rectitude of mind like the eye of God. I cannot think but what +some of my books seem mixed up; otherwise, I don’t seem to see +my way as plain as I could wish to. Or else my brain is gone soft. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>256</span> +Loudon, if there should be any unpleasantness you can trust me +to do the right thing and keep you clear. I’ve been telling them +already how you had no business grip and never saw the books. +O, I trust I have done right in this I I knew it was a liberty; I +know you may justly complain, but it was some things that were +said. And mind you, all legitimate business! Not even your +shrinking sensitiveness could find fault with the first look of one +of them if they had panned out right. And you know the <i>Flying +Scud</i> was the biggest gamble of the crowd, and that was your own +idea. Mamie says she never could bear to look you in the face +if that idea had been mine, she is so conscientious!</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 4em;">“Your broken-hearted</p> + +<p class="rt sc">“Jim.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The last began without formality:—</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“This is the end of me commercially. I give up; my nerve +has gone. I suppose I ought to be glad, for we’re through the +court. I don’t know as ever I knew how, and I’m sure I don’t +remember. If it pans out—the wreck, I mean—we’ll go to Europe +and live on the interest of our money. No more work for me. +I shake when people speak to me. I have gone on, hoping and +hoping and working and working, and the lead has pinched right +out. I want to lie on my back in a garden and read Shakespeare +and E.P. Roe. Don’t suppose it’s cowardice, Loudon. I’m a +sick man. Rest is what I must have. I’ve worked hard all my +life; I never spared myself, every dollar I ever made I’ve coined +my brains for it. I’ve never done a mean thing; I’ve lived respectable, +and given to the poor. Who has a better right to a holiday +than I have? And I mean to have a year of it straight out, and +if I don’t I shall lie right down here in my tracks, and die of worry +and brain trouble. Don’t mistake, that’s so. If there are any +pickings at all, <i>trust Speedy</i>; don’t let the creditors get wind of +what there is. I helped you when you were down, help me now. +Don’t deceive yourself; you’ve got to help me right now or never. +I am clerking, and <i>not fit to cipher</i>. Mamie’s typewriting at the +Phoenix Guano Exchange, down town. The light is right out of +my life. I know you’ll not like to do what I propose. Think only +of this, that it’s life or death for</p> + +<p class="rt sc">“Jim Pinkerton.”</p> + +<p>“<i>P.S.</i>—Our figure was seven per cent. O, what a fall was +there! Well, well, it’s past mending; I don’t want to whine. +But, Loudon, I don’t want to live. No more ambition; all I ask +is life. I have so much to make it sweet to me. I am clerking, +and <i>useless at that</i>. I know I would have fired such a clerk inside +of forty minutes in <i>my</i> time. But <i>my</i> time’s over. I can only +cling on to you. Don’t fail</p> + +<p class="rt sc">“Jim Pinkerton.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There was yet one more postscript, yet one more outburst +of self-pity and pathetic adjuration; and a doctor’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>257</span> +opinion, unpromising enough, was besides enclosed. I +pass them both in silence. I think shame to have shown +at so great length the half-baked virtues of my friend +dissolving in the crucible of sickness and distress; and +the effect upon my spirits can be judged already. I got +to my feet when I had done, drew a deep breath, and +stared hard at Honolulu. One moment the world seemed +at an end, the next I was conscious of a rush of independent +energy. On Jim I could rely no longer; I must +now take hold myself. I must decide and act on my own +better thoughts.</p> + +<p>The word was easy to say; the thing, at the first blush, +was undiscoverable. I was overwhelmed with miserable, +womanish pity for my broken friend; his outcries +grieved my spirit; I saw him then and now—then, so +invincible; now, brought so low—and knew neither how +to refuse nor how to consent to his proposal. The remembrance +of my father, who had fallen in the same field +unstained, the image of his monument incongruously +raising a fear of the law, a chill air that seemed to blow +upon my fancy from the doors of prisons, and the +imaginary clank of fetters, recalled me to a different +resolve. And then, again, the wails of my sick partner +intervened. So I stood hesitating, and yet with a strong +sense of capacity behind, sure, if I could but choose my +path, that I should walk in it with resolution.</p> + +<p>Then I remembered that I had a friend on board, and +stepped to the companion.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” said I, “only a few moments more: +but these, I regret to say, I must make more tedious still +by removing your companion. It is indispensable that +I should have a word or two with Captain Nares.”</p> + +<p>Both the smugglers were afoot at once, protesting. +The business, they declared, must be despatched at once; +they had run risk enough, with a conscience, and they +must either finish now, or go.</p> + +<p>“The choice is yours, gentlemen,” said I, “and, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>258</span> +believe, the eagerness. I am not yet sure that I have +anything in your way; even if I have, there are a hundred +things to be considered; and I assure yow it is not at all +my habit to do business with a pistol to my head.”</p> + +<p>“That is all very proper, Mr. Dodd; there is no wish +to coerce you, believe me,” said Fowler; “only, please +consider our position. It is really dangerous; we were +not the only people to see your schooner off Waimanolo.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Fowler,” I replied, “I was not born yesterday. +Will you allow me to express an opinion, in which I may +be quite wrong, but to which I am entirely wedded? If +the Custom House officers had been coming, they would +have been here now. In other words, somebody is working +the oracle, and (for a good guess) his name is Fowler.”</p> + +<p>Both men laughed loud and long; and being supplied +with another bottle of Longhurst’s champagne, suffered +the captain and myself to leave them without further +word.</p> + +<p>I gave Nares the correspondence, and he skimmed it +through.</p> + +<p>“Now, captain,” said I, “I want a fresh mind on +this. What does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“It’s large enough text,” replied the captain. “It +means you’re to stake your pile on Speedy, hand him over +all you can, and hold your tongue. I almost wish you +hadn’t shown it me,” he added wearily. “What with +the specie from the wreck and the opium-money, it comes +to a biggish deal.”</p> + +<p>“That’s supposing that I do it?” said I.</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” said he, “supposing you do it.”</p> + +<p>“And there are pros and cons to that,” I observed.</p> + +<p>“There’s San Quentin, to start in with,” said the +captain; “and suppose you clear the penitentiary, there’s +the nasty taste in the mouth. The figure’s big enough to +make bad trouble, but it’s not big enough to be picturesque +and I should guess a man always feels kind +of small who has sold himself under six ciphers. That +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>259</span> +would be my way at least; there’s an excitement about +a million that might carry me on; but the other way, I +should feel kind of lonely when I woke in bed. Then +there’s Speedy. Do you know him well?”</p> + +<p>“No, I do not,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Well, of course he can vamoose with the entire +speculation, if he chooses,” pursued the captain, “and if +he don’t I can’t see but what you’ve got to support and +bed and board with him to the end of time. I guess it +would weary me. Then there’s Mr. Pinkerton, of course. +He’s been a good friend to you, hasn’t he? Stood by you, +and all that? and pulled you through for all he was +worth?”</p> + +<p>“That he has,” I cried; “I could never begin telling +you my debt to him!”</p> + +<p>“Well, and that’s a consideration,” said the captain. +“As a matter of principle, I wouldn’t look at this business +at the money. ‘Not good enough,’ would be my +word. But even principle goes under when it comes to +friends—the right sort, I mean. This Pinkerton is +frightened, and he seems sick; the medico don’t seem to +care a cent about his state of health; and you’ve got to +figure how you would like it if he came to die. Remember, +the risk of this little swindle is all yours; it’s no sort +of risk to Mr. Pinkerton. Well, you’ve got to put it that +way plainly, and see how you like the sound of it: my +friend Pinkerton is in danger of the New Jerusalem, I am +in danger of San Quentin; which risk do I propose to +run?”</p> + +<p>“That’s an ugly way to put it,” I objected, “and +perhaps hardly fair. There’s right and wrong to be +considered.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know the parties,” replied Nares; “and I’m +coming to them, anyway. For it strikes me, when it +came to smuggling opium, you walked right up?”</p> + +<p>“So I did,” I said. “Sick I am to have to say it.”</p> + +<p>“All the same,” continued Nares, “you went into the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>260</span> +opium-smuggling with your head down; and a good deal +of fussing I’ve listened to, that you hadn’t more of it to +smuggle. Now, maybe your partner’s not quite fixed the +same as you are; maybe he sees precious little difference +between the one thing and the other.”</p> + +<p>“You could not say truer: he sees none, I do believe,” +cried I; “and though I see one, I could never tell you +how.”</p> + +<p>“We never can,” said the oracular Nares; “taste is +all a matter of opinion. But the point is, how will your +friend take it? You refuse a favour, and you take the +high horse at the same time; you disappoint him, and +you rap him over the knuckles. It won’t do, Mr. Dodd; +no friendship can stand that. You must be as good as +your friend, or as bad as your friend, or start on a fresh +deal without him.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see it!” said I. “You don’t know Jim.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you <i>will</i> see,” said Nares. “And now, here’s +another point. This bit of money looks mighty big to +Mr. Pinkerton; it may spell life or health to him; but +among all your creditors, I don’t see that it amounts to a +hill of beans—I don’t believe it’ll pay their car-fares all +round. And don’t you think you’ll ever get thanked. +You were known to pay a long price for the chance of +rummaging that wreck; you do the rummaging, you +come home, and you hand over ten thousand—or twenty, +if you like—a part of which you’ll have to own up you +made by smuggling; and, mind I you’ll never get Billy +Fowler to stick his name to a receipt. Now just glance +at the transaction from the outside, and see what a clear +case it makes. Your ten thousand is a sop; and people +will only wonder you were so damned impudent as to +offer such a small one! Whichever way you take it, Mr. +Dodd, the bottom’s out of your character; so there’s one +thing less to be considered.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say you’ll scarce believe me,” said I, “but I +feel that a positive relief.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>261</span></p> + +<p>“You must be made some way different from me, +then,” returned Nares. “And, talking about me, I might +just mention how I stand. You’ll have no trouble from +me—you’ve trouble enough of your own; and I’m friend +enough, when a friend’s in need, to shut my eyes and go +right where he tells me. All the same, I’m rather queerly +fixed. My owners’ll have to rank with the rest on their +charter-party. Here am I, their representative! and I +have to look over the ship’s side while the bankrupt walks +his assets ashore in Mr. Speedy’s hat-box. It’s a thing +I wouldn’t do for James G. Elaine; but I’ll do it for you, +Mr. Dodd, and only sorry I can’t do more.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, captain; my mind is made up,” said I. +“I’ll go straight, <i>ruat cœlum</i>! I never understood that +old tag before to-night.”</p> + +<p>“I hope it isn’t my business that decides you?” asked +the captain.</p> + +<p>“I’ll never deny it was an element,” said I. “I hope, +I hope I’m not cowardly; I hope I could steal for Jim +myself; but when it comes to dragging in you and Speedy, +and this one and the other, why, Jim has got to die, and +there’s an end. I’ll try and work for him when I get to +’Frisco, I suppose; and I suppose I’ll fail, and look on at +his death, and kick myself: it can’t be helped—I’ll fight +it on this line.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t say as you’re wrong,” replied Nares, “and +I’ll be hanged if I know if you’re right. It suits me, anyway. +And look here—hadn’t you better just show our +friends over the side?” he added; “no good of being at +the risk and worry of smuggling for the benefit of +creditors.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think of the creditors,” said I. “But I’ve +kept this pair so long I haven’t got the brass to fire them +now.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, I believe that was my only reason for entering +upon a transaction which was now outside my interest, +but which (as it chanced) repaid me fifty-fold in entertainment. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>262</span> +Fowler and Sharpe were both preternaturally +sharp; they did me the honour in the beginning to attribute +to myself their proper vices, and before we were +done had grown to regard me with an esteem akin to +worship. This proud position I attained by no more +recondite arts than telling the mere truth and unaffectedly +displaying my indifference to the result. I have doubtless +stated the essentials of all good diplomacy, which +may be rather regarded, therefore, as a grace of state +than the effect of management. For to tell the truth is +not in itself diplomatic, and to have no care for the result +a thing involuntary. When I mentioned, for instance, +that I had but two hundred and forty pounds of drug, +my smugglers exchanged meaning glances, as who should +say, “Here is a foeman worthy of our steel!” But when +I carelessly proposed thirty-five dollars a pound, as an +amendment to their offered twenty, and wound up with +the remark: “The whole thing is a matter of moonshine +to me, gentlemen. Take it or want it, and fill your +glasses”—I had the indescribable gratification to see +Sharpe nudge Fowler warningly, and Fowler choke down +the jovial acceptance that stood ready on his lips, and +lamely substitute a “No—no more wine, please, Mr. +Dodd!” Nor was this all: for when the affair was +settled at thirty dollars a pound—a shrewd stroke of business +for my creditors—and our friends had got on board +their whaleboat and shoved off, it appeared they were +imperfectly acquainted with the conveyance of sound +upon still water, and I had the joy to overhear the following +testimonial:</p> + +<p>“Deep man that Dodd,” said Sharpe.</p> + +<p>And the bass-toned Fowler echoed, “Damned if I +understand his game.”</p> + +<p>Thus we were left once more alone upon the <i>Norah +Creina</i>; and the news of the night, and the lamentations +of Pinkerton, and the thought of my own harsh decision, +returned and besieged me in the dark. According to all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>263</span> +the rubbish I had read, I should have been sustained by +the warm consciousness of virtue. Alas, I had but the +one feeling: that I had sacrificed my sick friend to the +fear of prison-cells and stupid starers. And no moralist +has yet advanced so far as to number cowardice amongst +the things that are their own reward.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>264</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3> + +<h5>LIGHT FROM THE MAN OF WAR</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">In</span> the early sunlight of the next day we tossed close off +the buoy, and saw the city sparkle in its groves about +the foot of the Punch Bowl and the masts clustering thick +in the small harbour. A good breeze, which had risen +with the sea, carried us triumphantly through the intricacies +of the passage; and we had soon brought up not +far from the landing-stairs. I remember to have remarked +an ugly-horned reptile of a modern warship in the usual +moorings across the port, but my mind was so profoundly +plunged in melancholy that I paid no heed.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I had little time at my disposal. Messieurs +Sharpe and Fowler had left the night before in the persuasion +that I was a liar of the first magnitude; the genial +belief brought them aboard again with the earliest opportunity, +proffering help to one who had proved how little +he required it, and hospitality to so respectable a character. +I had business to mind, I had some need both of +assistance and diversion; I liked Fowler—I don’t know +why; and in short, I let them do with me as they desired. +No creditor intervening, I spent the first half of the day +inquiring into the conditions of the tea and silk market +under the auspices of Sharpe; lunched with him in a +private apartment at the Hawaiian Hotel—for Sharpe +was a teetotaler in public; and about four in the afternoon +was delivered into the hands of Fowler. This +gentleman owned a bungalow on the Waikiki beach; +and there, in company with certain young bloods of +Honolulu, I was entertained to a sea-bathe, indiscriminate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>265</span> +cocktails, a dinner, a <i>hula-hula</i>, and (to round off the +night) poker and assorted liquors. To lose money in the +small hours to pale intoxicated youth has always appeared +to me a pleasure overrated. In my then frame of mind, +I confess I found it even delightful; put up my money +(or rather my creditors’) and put down Fowler’s champagne +with equal avidity and success; and awoke the +next morning to a mild headache and the rather agreeable +lees of the last night’s excitement. The young +bloods, many of whom were still far from sober, had taken +the kitchen into their own hands, <i>vice</i> the Chinaman +deposed; and since each was engaged upon a dish of his +own, and none had the least scruple in demolishing his +neighbour’s handiwork, I became early convinced that +many eggs would be broken and few omelets made. The +discovery of a jug of milk and a crust of bread enabled me +to stay my appetite; and since it was Sunday, when no +business could be done, and the festivities were to be +renewed that night in the abode of Fowler, it occurred +to me to slip silently away and enjoy some air and +solitude.</p> + +<p>I turned seaward under the dead crater known as +Diamond Head. My way was for some time under the +shade of certain thickets of green thorny trees, dotted +with houses. Here I enjoyed some pictures of the native +life: wide-eyed, naked children, mingled with pigs; a +youth asleep under a tree; an old gentleman spelling +through glasses his Hawaiian Bible; the somewhat +embarrassing spectacle of a lady at her bath in a spring; +and the glimpse of gaudy-coloured gowns in the deep +shade of the houses. Thence I found a road along the +beach itself, wading in sand, opposed and buffeted by the +whole weight of the Trade: on one hand, the glittering +and sounding surf, and the bay lively with many sails; +on the other, precipitous, arid gullies and sheer cliffs, +mounting towards the crater and the blue sky. For all +the companionship of skimming vessels, the place struck +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>266</span> +me with a sense of solitude. There came in my head +what I had been told the day before at dinner, of a cavern +above in the bowels of the volcano, a place only to be +visited with the light of torches, a treasure-house of the +bones of priests and warriors, and clamorous with the +voice of an unseen river pouring seaward through the +crannies of the mountain. At the thought, it was revealed +to me suddenly how the bungalows, and the Fowlers, +and the bright, busy town and crowding ships, were all +children of yesterday; and for centuries before, the +obscure life of the natives, with its glories and ambitions, +its joys and crimes and agonies, had rolled unseen, like +the mountain river, in that sea-girt place. Not Chaldea +appeared more ancient, nor the Pyramids of Egypt more +abstruse; and I heard time measured by “the drums and +tramplings” of immemorial conquests, and saw myself +the creature of an hour. Over the bankruptcy of Pinkerton +and Dodd, of Montana Block, S.F., and the conscientious +troubles of the junior partner, the spirit of +eternity was seen to smile.</p> + +<p>To this mood of philosophic sadness my excesses of +the night before no doubt contributed, for more things +than virtue are at times their own reward, but I was +greatly healed at least of my distresses. And while I +was yet enjoying my abstracted humour, a turn of the +beach brought me in view of the signal-station, with its +watch-house and flag-staff, perched on the immediate +margin of a cliff. The house was new and clean and bald, +and stood naked to the Trades. The wind beat about it +in loud squalls; the seaward windows rattled without +mercy; the breach of the surf below contributed its +increment of noise; and the fall of my foot in the narrow +verandah passed unheard by those within.</p> + +<p>There were two on whom I thus entered unexpectedly: +the look-out man, with grizzled beard, keen seaman’s +eyes, and that brand on his countenance that comes of +solitary living; and a visitor, an oldish, oratorical fellow, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>267</span> +in the smart tropical array of the British man-o’-war’s +man, perched on a table, and smoking a cigar. I was +made pleasantly welcome, and was soon listening with +amusement to the sea-lawyer.</p> + +<p>“No, if I hadn’t have been born an Englishman,” +was one of his sentiments, “damn me! I’d rather ‘a’ +been born a Frenchy! I’d like to see another nation fit +to black their boots.” Presently after, he developed his +views on home politics with similar trenchancy. “I’d +rather be a brute beast than what I’d be a Liberal,” he +said; “carrying banners and that! a pig’s got more +sense. Why, look at our chief engineer—they do say he +carried a banner with his own ’ands: ‘Hooroar for +Gladstone!’ I suppose, or ‘Down with the Aristocracy!’ +What ’arm does the aristocracy do? Show me a country +any good without one! Not the States; why, it’s the +’ome of corruption! I knew a man—he was a good man, +’ome-born—who was signal-quartermaster in the <i>Wyandotte</i>. +He told me he could never have got there if he +hadn’t have ‘run with the boys’—told it me as I’m +telling you. Now, we’re all British subjects here——” +he was going on.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I am an American,” I said apologetically.</p> + +<p>He seemed the least bit taken aback, but recovered +himself; and, with the ready tact of his betters, paid me the +usual British compliment on the riposte. “You don’t say +so!” he exclaimed; “well, I give you my word of honour +I’d never have guessed it. Nobody could tell it on you,” +said he, as though it were some form of liquor.</p> + +<p>I thanked him, as I always do, at this particular stage, +with his compatriots; not so much, perhaps, for the +compliment to myself and my poor country, as for the +revelation (which is ever fresh to me) of Britannic self-sufficiency +and taste. And he was so far softened by +my gratitude as to add a word of praise on the American +method of lacing sails. “You’re ahead of us in lacing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>268</span> +sails,” he said; “you can say that with a clear conscience.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” I replied; “I shall certainly do so.”</p> + +<p>At this rate we got along swimmingly; and when I +rose to retrace my steps to the Fowlery, he at once started +to his feet and offered me the welcome solace of his company +for the return. I believe I discovered much alacrity +at the idea, for the creature (who seemed to be unique, +or to represent a type like that of the dodo) entertained +me hugely. But when he had produced his hat, I found +I was in the way of more than entertainment, for on the +ribbon I could read the legend, “H.M.S. Tempest.”</p> + +<p>“I say,” I began, when our adieus were paid, and +we were scrambling down the path from the look-out, +“it was your ship that picked up the men on board the +<i>Flying Scud</i>, wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“You may say so,” said he. “And a blessed good +job for the Flying-Scuds. It’s a God-forsaken spot that +Midway Island.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve just come from there,” said I; “it was I who +bought the wreck.”</p> + +<p>“Beg your pardon, sir,” cried the sailor: “gen’lem’n +in the white schooner?”</p> + +<p>“The same,” said I.</p> + +<p>My friend saluted, as though we were now for the +first time formally introduced.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” I continued, “I am rather taken up with +the whole story; and I wish you would tell me what you +can of how the men were saved.”</p> + +<p>“It was like this,” said he. “We had orders to call +at Midway after castaways, and had our distance pretty +nigh run down the day before. We steamed half-speed +all night, looking to make it about noon, for old Tootles—beg +your pardon, sir, the captain—was precious scared +of the place at night. Well, there’s nasty filthy currents +round that Midway; <i>you</i> know, as has been there; and +one on ’em must have set us down. Leastways, about +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>269</span> +six bells, when we had ought to been miles away, some +one sees a sail, and lo and be’old, there was the spars of +a full-rigged brig! We raised her pretty fast, and the +island after her; and made out she was hard aground, +canted on her bilge, and had her ens’n flying, union down. +It was breaking ’igh on the reef, and we laid well out, and +sent a couple of boats. I didn’t go in neither; only stood +and looked on: but it seems they was all badly scared +and muddled, and didn’t know which end was uppermost. +One on ’em kep’ snivelling and wringing of his +’ands; he come on board, all of a sop like a monthly +nurse. That Trent, he come first, with his ’and in a +bloody rag. I was near ’em as I am to you; and I could +make out he was all to bits—’eard his breath rattle in his +blooming lungs as he come down the ladder. Yes, they +was a scared lot, small blame to ’em, <i>I</i> say! The next +after Trent come him as was mate.”</p> + +<p>“Goddedaal!” I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“And a good name for him too,” chuckled the man-o’-war’s +man, who probably confounded the word with a +familiar oath. “A good name too; only it weren’t his. +He was a gen’lem’n born, sir, as had gone maskewerading. +One of our officers knowed him at ’ome, reckonises him, +steps up, ’olds out his ’and right off, and says he, ‘’Ullo, +Norrie, old chappie!’ he says. The other was coming +up, as bold as look at it; didn’t seem put out—that’s +where blood tells, sir! Well, no sooner does he ’ear his +born name given him than he turns as white as the Day +of Judgment, stares at Mr. Sebright like he was looking +at a ghost, and then (I give you my word of honour) +turned to, and doubled up in a dead faint. ‘Take him +down to my berth,’ says Mr. Sebright. ‘’Tis poor old +Norrie Carthew,’ he says.”</p> + +<p>“And what—what sort of a gentleman was this Mr. +Carthew?” I gasped.</p> + +<p>“The ward-room steward told me he was come +of the best blood in England,” was my friend’s reply: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>270</span> +“Eton and ’Arrow bred; and might have been a +bar’net!”</p> + +<p>“No, but to look at?” I corrected him.</p> + +<p>“The same as you or me,” was the uncompromising +answer: “not much to look at. <i>I</i> didn’t know he was +a gen’lem’n; but then, I never see him cleaned up.”</p> + +<p>“How was that?” I cried. “O yes, I remember: he +was sick all the way to ’Frisco, was he not?”</p> + +<p>“Sick, or sorry, or something,” returned my informant. +“My belief, he didn’t hanker after showing up. +He kep’ close; the ward-room steward, what took his +meals in, told me he ate nex’ to nothing; and he was +fetched ashore at ’Frisco on the quiet. Here was how it +was. It seems his brother had took and died, him as had +the estate. This one had gone in for his beer, by what I +could make out; the old folks at ’ome had turned rusty; +no one knew where he had gone to. Here he was, slaving +in a merchant brig, shipwrecked on Midway, and packing +up his duds for a long voyage in a open boat. He +comes on board our ship, and by God, here he is a landed +proprietor, and may be in Parliament to-morrow! It’s +no less than natural he should keep dark: so would you +and me in the same box.”</p> + +<p>“I daresay,” said I. “But you saw more of the +others?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” says he: “no ’arm in them from what +I see. There was one ’Ardy there: colonial born he +was, and had been through a power of money. There +was no nonsense about ’Ardy; he had been up, and he +had come down, and took it so. His ’eart was in the +right place; and he was well-informed, and knew French; +and Latin, I believe, like a native! I liked that ’Ardy: +he was a good-looking boy too.”</p> + +<p>“Did they say much about the wreck?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“There wasn’t much to say, I reckon,” replied the +man-o’-war’s man. “It was all in the papers. ’Ardy +used to yarn most about the coins he had gone through; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>271</span> +he had lived with bookmakers, and jockeys, and pugs, +and actors, and all that—a precious low lot,” added this +judicious person. “But it’s about here my ’orse is +moored, and by your leave I’ll be getting ahead.”</p> + +<p>“One moment,” said I. “Is Mr. Sebright on board?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, he’s ashore to-day,” said the sailor. “I +took up a bag for him to the ’otel.”</p> + +<p>With that we parted. Presently after my friend overtook +and passed me on a hired steed which seemed to +scorn its cavalier; and I was left in the dust of his passage, +a prey to whirling thoughts. For I now stood, or +seemed to stand, on the immediate threshold of these +mysteries. I knew the name of the man Dickson—his +name was Carthew; I knew where the money came from +that opposed us at the sale—it was part of Carthew’s +inheritance; and in my gallery of illustrations to the +history of the wreck, one more picture hung, perhaps the +most dramatic of the series. It showed me the deck of a +warship in that distant part of the great ocean, the officers +and seamen looking curiously on: and a man of birth +and education, who had been sailing under an alias on +a trading brig, and was now rescued from desperate peril, +felled like an ox by the bare sound of his own name. I +could not fail to be reminded of my own experience at +the Occidental telephone. The hero of three styles, +Dickson, Goddedaal, or Carthew, must be the owner of a +lively—or a loaded—conscience, and the reflection recalled +to me the photograph found on board the <i>Flying Scud</i>; +just such a man, I reasoned, would be capable of just +such starts and crises, and I inclined to think that +Goddedaal (of Carthew) was the mainspring of the +mystery.</p> + +<p>One thing was plain: as long as the <i>Tempest</i> was in +reach, I must make the acquaintance of both Sebright +and the doctor. To this end, I excused myself with Mr. +Fowler, returned to Honolulu, and passed the remainder +of the day hanging vainly round the cool verandahs of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>272</span> +the hotel. It was near nine o’clock at night before I was +rewarded.</p> + +<p>“That is the gentleman you were asking for,” said the +clerk.</p> + +<p>I beheld a man in tweeds, of an incomparable languor +of demeanour, and carrying a cane with genteel effort. +From the name, I had looked to find a sort of Viking and +young ruler of the battle and the tempest; and I was the +more disappointed, and not a little alarmed, to come face +to face with this impracticable type.</p> + +<p>“I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Lieutenant +Sebright,” said I, stepping forward.</p> + +<p>“Aw, yes,” replied the hero; “but, aw! I dawn’t +knaw you, do I!” (He spoke for all the world like Lord +Foppington in the old play—a proof of the perennial +nature of man’s affectations. But his limping dialect I +scorn to continue to reproduce.)</p> + +<p>“It was with the intention of making myself known +that I have taken this step,” said I, entirely unabashed +(for impudence begets in me its like—perhaps my only +martial attribute). “We have a common subject of +interest, to me very lively; and I believe I may +be in a position to be of some service to a friend of +yours—to give him, at least, some very welcome +information.”</p> + +<p>The last clause was a sop to my conscience; I could +not pretend, even to myself, either the power or the will +to serve Mr. Carthew; but I felt sure he would like to +hear the <i>Flying Scud</i> was burned.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—I—I don’t understand you,” stammered +my victim. “I don’t have any friends in Honolulu, +don’t you know?”</p> + +<p>“The friend to whom I refer is English,” I replied. +“It is Mr. Carthew, whom you picked up at Midway. +My firm has bought the wreck; I am just returned from +breaking her up; and—to make my business quite clear +to you—I have a communication it is necessary I should +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>273</span> +make; and have to trouble you for Mr. Carthew’s +address.”</p> + +<p>It will be seen how rapidly I had dropped all hope of +interesting the frigid British bear. He, on his side, was +plainly on thorns at my insistence; I judged he was +suffering torments of alarm lest I should prove an undesirable +acquaintance; diagnosed him for a shy, dull, vain, +unamiable animal, without adequate defence—a sort of +dishoused snail; and concluded, rightly enough, that he +would consent to anything to bring our interview to a +conclusion. A moment later he had fled, leaving me with +a sheet of paper thus inscribed:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>Norris Carthew,</i></p> + <p style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Stallbridge-le-Carthew,</i></p> + <p style="margin-left: 12em;"><i>Dorset.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I might have cried victory, the field of battle and +some of the enemy’s baggage remaining in my occupation. +As a matter of fact, my moral sufferings during the +engagement had rivalled those of Mr. Sebright. I was +left incapable of fresh hostilities; I owned that the navy +of old England was (for me) invincible as of yore; and +giving up all thought of the doctor, inclined to salute her +veteran flag, in the future, from a prudent distance. Such +was my inclination when I retired to rest; and my first +experience the next morning strengthened it to certainty. +For I had the pleasure of encountering my fair antagonist +on his way on board; and he honoured me with a recognition +so disgustingly dry, that my impatience overflowed, +and (recalling the tactics of Nelson) I neglected to +perceive or to return it.</p> + +<p>Judge of my astonishment, some half-hour later, to +receive a note of invitation from the <i>Tempest</i>.</p> + +<p>“Dear Sir,” it began, “we are all naturally very much +interested in the wreck of the <i>Flying Scud</i>, and as soon +as I mentioned that I had the pleasure of making your +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>274</span> +acquaintance, a very general wish was expressed that you +would come and dine on board. It will give us all the +greatest pleasure to see you to-night, or in case you should +be otherwise engaged, to luncheon either to-morrow or +to-day.” A note of the hours followed, and the document +wound up with the name of “J. Lascelles Sebright,” +under an undeniable statement that he was sincerely +mine.</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Lascelles Sebright,” I reflected, “you are +not, but I begin to suspect that (like the lady in the song) +you are another’s. You have mentioned your adventure, +my friend; you have been blown up; you have got your +orders; this note has been dictated; and I am asked on +board (in spite of your melancholy protests) not to meet +the men, and not to talk about the <i>Flying Scud</i>, but to +undergo the scrutiny of some one interested in Carthew—the +doctor, for a wager. And for a second wager, all +this springs from your facility in giving the address.” I +lost no time in answering the billet, electing for the earliest +occasion; and at the appointed hour a somewhat blackguard-looking +boat’s crew from the <i>Norah Creina</i> conveyed +me under the guns of the <i>Tempest</i>.</p> + +<p>The ward-room appeared pleased to see me; Sebright’s +brother officers, in contrast to himself, took a boyish +interest in my cruise; and much was talked of the <i>Flying +Scud</i>; of how she had been lost, of how I had found her, +and of the weather, the anchorage, and the currents about +Midway Island. Carthew was referred to more than once +without embarrassment; the parallel case of a late Earl +of Aberdeen, who died mate on board a Yankee schooner, +was adduced. If they told me little of the man, it was +because they had not much to tell, and only felt an interest +in his recognition and pity for his prolonged ill-health. I +could never think the subject was avoided; and it was +clear that the officers, far from practising concealment, +had nothing to conceal.</p> + +<p>So far, then, all seemed natural, and yet the doctor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>275</span> +troubled me. This was a tall, rugged, plain man, on the +wrong side of fifty, already grey, and with a restless mouth +and bushy eyebrows: he spoke seldom, but then with +gaiety; and his great, quaking, silent laughter was infectious. +I could make out that he was at once the quiz +of the ward-room and perfectly respected; and I made +sure that he observed me covertly. It is certain I +returned the compliment. If Carthew had feigned sickness—and +all seemed to point in that direction—here +was the man who knew all—or certainly knew much. +His strong, sterling face progressively and silently persuaded +of his full knowledge. That was not the mouth, +these were not the eyes, of one who would act in ignorance, +or could be led at random. Nor again was it the +face of a man squeamish in the case of malefactors; there +was even a touch of Brutus there, and something of the +hanging judge. In short, he seemed the last character +for the part assigned him in my theories; and wonder +and curiosity contended in my mind.</p> + +<p>Luncheon was over, and an adjournment to the +smoking-room proposed, when (upon a sudden impulse) I +burned my ships, and, pleading indisposition, requested +to consult the doctor.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing the matter with my body, Dr. +Urquart,” said I, as soon as we were alone.</p> + +<p>He hummed, his mouth worked, he regarded me +steadily with his grey eyes, but resolutely held his peace.</p> + +<p>“I want to talk to you about the <i>Flying Scud</i> and +Mr. Carthew,” I resumed. “Come, you must have expected +this. I am sure you know all; you are shrewd, +and must have a guess that I know much. How are we +to stand to one another? and how am I to stand to +Mr. Carthew?”</p> + +<p>“I do not fully understand you,” he replied, after a +pause; and then, after another: “It is the spirit I refer +to, Mr. Dodd.”</p> + +<p>“The spirit of my inquiries?” I asked. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>276</span></p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>“I think we are at cross-purposes,” said I. “The +spirit is precisely what I came in quest of. I bought the +<i>Flying Scud</i> at a ruinous figure, run up by Mr. Carthew +through an agent; and I am, in consequence, a bankrupt. +But if I have found no fortune in the wreck, I +have found unmistakable evidences of foul play. Conceive +my position: I am ruined through this man, whom +I never saw; I might very well desire revenge or compensation; +and I think you will admit I have the means +to extort either.”</p> + +<p>He made no sign in answer to this challenge.</p> + +<p>“Can you not understand, then,” I resumed, “the +spirit in which I come to one who is surely in the secret, +and ask him, honestly and plainly, how do I stand to +Mr. Carthew?”</p> + +<p>“I must ask you to be more explicit,” said he.</p> + +<p>“You do not help me much,” I retorted. “But see +if you can understand: my conscience is not very fine-spun; +still, I have one. Now, there are degrees of foul +play, to some of which I have no particular objection. I +am sure with Mr. Carthew, I am not at all the person to +forego an advantage, and I have much curiosity. But, +on the other hand, I have no taste for persecution; and +I ask you to believe that I am not the man to make bad +worse, or heap trouble on the unfortunate.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I think I understand,” said he. “Suppose I +pass you my word that, whatever may have occurred, +there were excuses—great excuses—I may say, very +great?”</p> + +<p>“It would have weight with me, doctor,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“I may go further,” he pursued. “Suppose I had +been there, or you had been there. After a certain event +had taken place, it’s a grave question what we might have +done—it’s even a question what we could have done—ourselves. +Or take me. I will be plain with you, and +own that I am in possession of the facts. You have a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>277</span> +shrewd guess how I have acted in that knowledge. May +I ask you to judge from the character of my action something +of the nature of that knowledge, which I have no +call, nor yet no title, to share with you?”</p> + +<p>I cannot convey a sense of the rugged conviction and +judicial emphasis of Dr. Urquart’s speech. To those +who did not hear him, it may appear as if he fed me on +enigmas; to myself, who heard, I seemed to have received +a lesson and a compliment.</p> + +<p>“I thank you,” I said; “I feel you have said as much +as possible, and more than I had any right to ask. I take +that as a mark of confidence, which I will try to deserve. +I hope, sir, you will let me regard you as a friend.”</p> + +<p>He evaded my proffered friendship with a blunt +proposal to rejoin the mess; and yet a moment later +contrived to alleviate the snub. For, as we entered the +smoking-room, he laid his hand on my shoulder with a +kind familiarity—</p> + +<p>“I have just prescribed for Mr. Dodd,” says he, “a +glass of our Madeira.”</p> + +<p>I have never again met Dr. Urquart; but he wrote +himself so clear upon my memory that I think I see him +still. And indeed I had cause to remember the man for +the sake of his communication. It was hard enough to +make a theory fit the circumstances of the <i>Flying Scud</i>; +but one in which the chief actor should stand the least +excused, and might retain the esteem or at least the pity +of a man like Dr. Urquart, failed me utterly. Here at +least was the end of my discoveries. I learned no more, +till I learned all; and my reader has the evidence complete. +Is he more astute than I was? or, like me, does +he give it up?</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>278</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> + +<h5>CROSS-QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">I have</span> said hard words of San Francisco; they must +scarce be literally understood (one cannot suppose the +Israelites did justice to the land of Pharaoh); and the +city took a fine revenge of me on my return. She had +never worn a more becoming guise; the sun shone, the +air was lively, the people had flowers in their button-holes +and smiles upon their faces; and as I made my way +towards Jim’s place of employment, with some very black +anxieties at heart, I seemed to myself a blot on the +surrounding gaiety.</p> + +<p>My destination was in a by-street in a mean, rickety +building. “The Franklin H. Dodge Steam Printing +Company” appeared upon its front, and, in characters of +greater freshness, so as to suggest recent conversion, the +watch-cry, “White Labour Only.” In the office in a +dusty pen Jim sat alone before a table. A wretched +change had overtaken him in clothes, body, and bearing; +he looked sick and shabby. He who had once +rejoiced in his day’s employment, like a horse among +pastures, now sat staring on a column of accounts, idly +chewing a pen, at times heavily sighing, the picture of +inefficiency and inattention. He was sunk deep in a +painful reverie; he neither saw nor heard me, and I stood +and watched him unobserved. I had a sudden vain +relenting. Repentance bludgeoned me. As I had predicted +to Nares, I stood and kicked myself. Here was I +come home again, my honour saved; there was my friend +in want of rest, nursing, and a generous diet; and I asked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>279</span> +myself, with Falstaff, “What is in that word honour? +what is that honour?” and, like Falstaff, I told myself +that it was air.</p> + +<p>“Jim!” said I.</p> + +<p>“Loudon!” he gasped, and jumped from his chair +and stood shaking.</p> + +<p>The next moment I was over the barrier, and we were +hand in hand.</p> + +<p>“My poor old man!” I cried.</p> + +<p>“Thank God, you’re home at last!” he gulped, and +kept patting my shoulder with his hand.</p> + +<p>“I’ve no good news for you, Jim,” said I.</p> + +<p>“You’ve come—that’s the good news that I want,” he +replied. “O how I have longed for you, Loudon!”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t do what you wrote me,” I said, lowering +my voice. “The creditors have it all. I couldn’t +do it.”</p> + +<p>“S-s-h!” returned Jim. “I was crazy when I wrote. +I could never have looked Mamie in the face if we had +done it. O, Loudon, what a gift that woman is! You +think you know something of life; you just don’t +know anything. It’s the <i>goodness</i> of the woman, it’s a +revelation!”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said I. “That’s how I hoped to +hear you, Jim.”</p> + +<p>“And so the <i>Flying Scud</i> was a fraud,” he resumed. +“I didn’t quite understand your letter, but I made +out that.”</p> + +<p>“Fraud is a mild term for it,” said I. “The creditors +will never believe what fools we were.—And that reminds +me,” I continued, rejoicing in the transition, “how about +the bankruptcy?”</p> + +<p>“You were lucky to be out of that,” answered Jim, +shaking his head; “you were lucky not to see the papers. +The <i>Occidental</i> called me a fifth-rate kerb-stone broker +with water on the brain; another said I was a tree-frog +that had got into the same meadow with Longhurst, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>280</span> +had blown myself out till I went pop. It was rough on a +man in his honeymoon; so was what they said about my +looks, and what I had on, and the way I perspired. But +I braced myself up with the <i>Flying Scud</i>.—How did it +exactly figure out, anyway? I don’t seem to catch on to +that story, Loudon.”</p> + +<p>“The devil you don’t!” thinks I to myself; and then +aloud, “You see, we had neither one of us good luck. I +didn’t do much more than cover current expenses, and +you got floored immediately. How did we come to go +so soon?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll have to have a talk over all this,” said +Jim, with a sudden start. “I should be getting to my +books, and I guess you had better go up right away to +Mamie. She’s at Speedy’s. She expects you with impatience. +She regards you in the light of a favourite +brother, Loudon.”</p> + +<p>Any scheme was welcome which allowed me to postpone +the hour of explanation, and avoid (were it only for +a breathing space) the topic of the <i>Flying Scud</i>. I +hastened accordingly to Bush Street. Mrs. Speedy, +already rejoicing in the return of a spouse, hailed me with +acclamation. “And it’s beautiful you’re looking, Mr. +Dodd, my dear,” she was kind enough to say. “And a +muracle they naygur waheenies let ye lave the oilands. +I have my suspicions of Shpeedy,” she added roguishly. +“Did ye see him after the naygresses now?”</p> + +<p>I gave Speedy an unblemished character.</p> + +<p>“The one of ye will never bethray the other,” said the +playful dame, and ushered me into a bare room, where +Mamie sat working a type-writer.</p> + +<p>I was touched by the cordiality of her greeting. With +the prettiest gesture in the world she gave me both her +hands, wheeled forth a chair, and produced from a cupboard +a tin of my favourite tobacco, and a book of my +exclusive cigarette-papers.</p> + +<p>“There!” she cried; “you see, Mr. Loudon, we were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>281</span> +all prepared for you: the things were bought the very +day you sailed.”</p> + +<p>I imagined she had always intended me a pleasant +welcome; but the certain fervour of sincerity, which I +could not help remarking, flowed from an unexpected +source. Captain Nares, with a kindness for which I can +never be sufficiently grateful, had stolen a moment +from his occupations, driven to call on Mamie, and +drawn her a generous picture of my prowess at the +wreck. She was careful not to breathe a word of this +interview, till she had led me on to tell my adventures +for myself.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Captain Nares was better,” she cried, when I +had done. “From your account, I have only learned +one new thing, that you are modest as well as brave.”</p> + +<p>I cannot tell with what sort of disclamation I sought +to reply.</p> + +<p>“It is of no use,” said Mamie. “I know a hero. And +when I heard of you working all day like a common +labourer, with your hands bleeding and your nails broken—and +how you told the captain to ‘crack on’ (I think he +said) in the storm, when he was terrified himself—and +the danger of that horrid mutiny”—(Nares had been +obligingly dipping his brush in earthquake and eclipse)—“and +how it was all done, in part at least, for Jim and +me—I felt we could never say how we admired and +thanked you.”</p> + +<p>“Mamie,” I cried, “don’t talk of thanks; it is not +a word to be used between friends. Jim and I have +been prosperous together; now we shall be poor together. +We’ve done our best, and that’s all that need be +said. The next thing is for me to find a situation, and +send you and Jim up country for a long holiday in the +redwoods—for a holiday Jim has got to have.”</p> + +<p>“Jim can’t take your money, Mr. Loudon,” said +Mamie.</p> + +<p>“Jim?” cried I. “He’s got to. Didn’t I take his?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>282</span></p> + +<p>Presently after, Jim himself arrived, and before he +had yet done mopping his brow, he was at me with the +accursed subject. “Now, Loudon,” said he, “here we +are, all together, the day’s work done and the evening +before us; just start in with the whole story.”</p> + +<p>“One word on business first,” said I, speaking from +the lips outward, and meanwhile (in the private apartments +of my brain) trying for the thousandth time to find +some plausible arrangement of my story. “I want to +have a notion how we stand about the bankruptcy.”</p> + +<p>“O, that’s ancient history,” cried Jim. “We paid +seven cents, and a wonder we did as well. The receiver——” +(methought a spasm seized him at the name +of this official, and he broke off). “But it’s all past and +done with, anyway; and what I want to get at is the +facts about the wreck. I don’t seem to understand it; +appears to me like as there was something underneath.”</p> + +<p>“There was nothing <i>in</i> it, anyway,” I said, with a +forced laugh.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I want to judge of,” returned Jim.</p> + +<p>“How the mischief is it I can never keep you to that +bankruptcy? It looks as if you avoided it,” said I—for +a man in my situation, with unpardonable folly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t it look a little as if you were trying to avoid +the wreck?” asked Jim.</p> + +<p>It was my own doing; there was no retreat. “My +dear fellow, if you make a point of it, here goes!” said I, +and launched with spurious gaiety into the current of my +tale. I told it with point and spirit; described the island +and the wreck, mimicked Anderson and the Chinese, maintained +the suspense.... My pen has stumbled on the +fatal word. I maintained the suspense so well that it +was never relieved; and when I stopped—I dare not say +concluded, where there was no conclusion—I found Jim +and Mamie regarding me with surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s all,” said I. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>283</span></p> + +<p>“But how do you explain it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I can’t explain it,” said I.</p> + +<p>Mamie wagged her head ominously.</p> + +<p>“But, Great Cęsar’s ghost, the money was offered!” +cried Jim. “It won’t do, Loudon; it’s nonsense on the +face of it! I don’t say but what you and Nares did your +best; I’m sure, of course, you did; but I do say you +got fooled. I say the stuff is in that ship to-day, and I +say I mean to get it.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing in the ship, I tell you, but old +wood and iron!” said I.</p> + +<p>“You’ll see,” said Jim. “Next time I go myself. +I’ll take Mamie for the trip: Longhurst won’t refuse +me the expense of a schooner. You wait till I get the +searching of her.”</p> + +<p>“But you can’t search her!” cried I. “She’s +burned!”</p> + +<p>“Burned!” cried Mamie, starting a little from the +attitude of quiescent capacity in which she had hitherto +sat to hear me, her hands folded in her lap.</p> + +<p>There was an appreciable pause.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Loudon,” began Jim at last, +“but why in snakes did you burn her?”</p> + +<p>“It was an idea of Nares’s,” said I.</p> + +<p>“This is certainly the strangest circumstance of all,” +observed Mamie.</p> + +<p>“I must say, Loudon, it does seem kind of unexpected,” +added Jim. “It seems kind of crazy even. What did +you—what did Nares expect to gain by burning her?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; it didn’t seem to matter; we had +got all there was to get,” said I.</p> + +<p>“That’s the very point,” cried Jim. “It was quite +plain you hadn’t.”</p> + +<p>“What made you so sure?” asked Mamie.</p> + +<p>“How can I tell you?” I cried. “We had been +all through her. We <i>were</i> sure; that’s all that I can +say.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>284</span></p> + +<p>“I begin to think you were,” she returned, with a +significant emphasis.</p> + +<p>Jim hurriedly intervened. “What I don’t quite make +out, Loudon, is, that you don’t seem to appreciate the +peculiarities of the thing,” said he. “It doesn’t seem +to have struck you same as it does me.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! why go on with this?” cried Mamie, suddenly +rising. “Mr. Dodd is not telling us either what he +thinks or what he knows.”</p> + +<p>“Mamie!” cried Jim.</p> + +<p>“You need not be concerned for his feelings, James; +he is not concerned for yours,” returned the lady. “He +dare not deny it, besides. And this is not the first time +he has practised reticence. Have you forgotten that he +knew the address, and did not tell it you until that man +had escaped?”</p> + +<p>Jim turned to me pleadingly—we were all on our feet. +“Loudon,” he said, “you see Mamie has some fancy, and +I must say there’s just a sort of a shadow of an excuse; +for it <i>is</i> bewildering—even to me, Loudon, with my +trained business intelligence. For God’s sake clear it up.”</p> + +<p>“This serves me right,” said I. “I should not have +tried to keep you in the dark; I should have told you at +first that I was pledged to secrecy; I should have asked +you to trust me in the beginning. It is all I can do now. +There is more of the story, but it concerns none of us. +My tongue is tied. I have given my word of honour. +You must trust me, and try to forgive me.”</p> + +<p>“I daresay I am very stupid, Mr. Dodd,” began +Mamie, with an alarming sweetness, “but I thought you +went upon this trip as my husband’s representative and +with my husband’s money? You tell us now that you +are pledged, but I should have thought you were pledged +first of all to James. You say it does not concern us; +we are poor people, and my husband is sick, and it concerns +us a great deal to understand how we come to have +lost our money, and why our representative comes back +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>285</span> +to us with nothing. You ask that we should trust you; +you do not seem to understand—the question we are +asking ourselves is whether we have not trusted you too +much.”</p> + +<p>“I do not ask you to trust me,” I replied. “I ask +Jim. He knows me.”</p> + +<p>“You think you can do what you please with James; +you trust to his affection, do you not? And me, I suppose, +you do not consider,” said Mamie. “But it was +perhaps an unfortunate day for you when we were married, +for I at least am not blind. The crew run away, the +ship is sold for a great deal of money, you know that +man’s address and you conceal it; you do not find what +you were sent to look for, and yet you burn the ship; +and now, when we ask explanations, you are pledged to +secrecy! But I am pledged to no such thing; I will not +stand by in silence and see my sick and ruined husband +betrayed by his condescending friend. I will give you +the truth for once. Mr. Dodd, you have been bought +and sold.”</p> + +<p>“Mamie,” cried Jim, “no more of this! It’s me you’re +striking; it’s only me you hurt. You don’t know, you +cannot understand these things. Why, to-day, if it hadn’t +been for Loudon, I couldn’t have looked you in the face. +He saved my honesty.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard plenty of this talk before,” she replied. +“You are a sweet-hearted fool, and I love you for it. +But I am a clear-headed woman; my eyes are open, +and I understand this man’s hypocrisy. Did he not come +here to-day and pretend he would take a situation—pretend +he would share his hard-earned wages with us until you +were well? Pretend! It makes me furious! His wages! +a share of his wages! That would have been your pittance, +that would have been your share of the <i>Flying +Scud</i>—you who worked and toiled for him when he was +a beggar in the streets of Paris. But we do not want +your charity; thank God, I can work for my own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>286</span> +husband! See what it is to have obliged a gentleman! +He would let you pick him up when he was begging; +he would stand and look on and let you black his shoes, +and sneer at you. For you were always sneering at my +James; you always looked down upon him in your heart, +you know it!” She turned back to Jim. “And now +when he is rich,” she began, and then swooped again on +me. “For you are rich, I dare you to deny it; I defy +you to look me in the face and try to deny that you are +rich—rich with our money—my husband’s money——”</p> + +<p>Heaven knows to what a height she might have risen, +being, by this time, bodily whirled away in her own hurricane +of words. Heart-sickness, a black depression, a +treacherous sympathy with my assailant, pity unutterable +for poor Jim, already filled, divided, and abashed my +spirit. Flight seemed the only remedy; and making a +private sign to Jim, as if to ask permission, I slunk from +the unequal field.</p> + +<p>I was but a little way down the street, when I was +arrested by the sound of some one running, and Jim’s +voice calling me by name. He had followed me with a +letter which had been long awaiting my return.</p> + +<p>I took it in a dream. “This has been a devil of a +business,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Don’t think hard of Mamie,” he pleaded. “It’s the +way she’s made; it’s her high-toned loyalty. And of +course I know it’s all right. I know your sterling character; +but you didn’t, somehow, make out to give us the +thing straight, Loudon. Anybody might have—I mean +it—I mean——”</p> + +<p>“Never mind what you mean, my poor Jim,” said I. +“She’s a gallant little woman and a loyal wife: and I +thought her splendid. My story was as fishy as the devil. +I’ll never think the less of either her or you.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll blow over; it must blow over,” said he.</p> + +<p>“It never can,” I returned, sighing: “and don’t you +try to make it! Don’t name me, unless it’s with an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>287</span> +oath. And get home to her right away. Good-bye, my +best of friends. Good-bye, and God bless you. We shall +never meet again.”</p> + +<p>“O, Loudon, that we should live to say such words!” +he cried.</p> + +<p>I had no views on life, beyond an occasional impulse +to commit suicide, or to get drunk, and drifted down the +street, semi-conscious, walking apparently on air in the +light-headedness of grief. I had money in my pocket, +whether mine or my creditors’ I had no means of guessing; +and, the “Poodle Dog” lying in my path, I went +mechanically in and took a table. A waiter attended +me, and I suppose I gave my orders; for presently I found +myself, with a sudden return of consciousness, beginning +dinner. On the white cloth at my elbow lay the letter, +addressed in a clerk’s hand, and bearing an English stamp +and the Edinburgh postmark. A bowl of bouillon and a +glass of wine awakened in one corner of my brain (where +all the rest was in mourning, the blinds down as for a +funeral) a faint stir of curiosity; and while I waited the +next course, wondering the while what I had ordered, I +opened and began to read the epoch-making document:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“<span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>,—I am charged with the melancholy duty of announcing +to you the death of your excellent grandfather, Mr. +Alexander Loudon, on the 17th ult. On Sunday, the 13th, he +went to church as usual in the forenoon, and stopped on his way +home, at the corner of Princes Street, in one of our seasonable +east winds, to talk with an old friend. The same evening acute +bronchitis declared itself; from the first, Dr. M’Combie anticipated +a fatal result, and the old gentleman appeared to have no +illusion as to his own state. He repeatedly assured me it was +’by’ with him now; ‘and high time too,’ he once added with +characteristic asperity. He was not in the least changed on the +approach of death: only (what I am sure must be very grateful +to your feelings) he seemed to think and speak even more kindly +than usual of yourself, referring to you as ‘Jeannie’s yin,’ with +strong expressions of regard. ‘He was the only one I ever liket +of the hale jing-bang,’ was one of his expressions; and you will +be glad to know that he dwelt particularly on the dutiful respect +you had always displayed in your relations. The small codicil, +by which he bequeaths you his Molesworth, and other professional +works, was added (you will observe) on the day before his death; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>288</span> +so that you were in his thoughts until the end. I should say that, +though rather a trying patient, he was most tenderly nursed by +your uncle, and your cousin, Miss Euphemia. I enclose a copy +of the testament, by which you will see that you share equally +with Mr. Adam, and that I hold at your disposal a sum nearly +approaching seventeen thousand pounds. I beg to congratulate +you on this considerable acquisition, and expect your orders, to +which I shall hasten to give my best attention. Thinking that +you might desire to return at once to this country, and not knowing +how you may be placed, I enclose a credit for six hundred pounds. +Please sign the accompanying slip, and let me have it at your +earliest convenience.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 6em;">“I am, dear sir, yours truly,</p> +<p class="rt sc">“W. Rutherford Gregg.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“God bless the old gentleman!” I thought; “and for +that matter God bless Uncle Adam! and my cousin +Euphemia! and Mr. Gregg!” I had a vision of that +grey old life now brought to an end—“and high time too”—a +vision of those Sabbath streets alternately vacant and +filled with silent people; of the babel of the bells, the +long-drawn psalmody, the shrewd sting of the east wind, +the hollow, echoing, dreary house to which “Ecky” had +returned with the hand of death already on his shoulder; +a vision, too, of the long, rough country lad, perhaps a +serious courtier of the lasses in the hawthorn den, perhaps +a rustic dancer on the green, who had first earned and +answered to that harsh diminutive. And I asked myself if, +on the whole, poor Ecky had succeeded in life; if the last +state of that man were not on the whole worse than the +first; and the house in Randolph Crescent a less admirable +dwelling than the hamlet where he saw the day and +grew to manhood. Here was a consolatory thought for +one who was himself a failure.</p> + +<p>Yes, I declare the word came in my mind; and all +the while, in another partition of the brain, I was glowing +and singing for my new-found opulence. The pile +of gold—four thousand two hundred and fifty double +eagles, seventeen thousand ugly sovereigns, twenty-one +thousand two hundred and fifty Napoleons—danced, and +rang and ran molten, and lit up life with their effulgence, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>289</span> +in the eye of fancy. Here were all things made plain to +me: Paradise—Paris, I mean—regained, Carthew protected, +Jim restored, the creditors ...</p> + +<p>“The creditors!” I repeated, and sank back benumbed. +It was all theirs to the last farthing: my +grandfather had died too soon to save me.</p> + +<p>I must have somewhere a rare vein of decision. In +that revolutionary moment I found myself prepared for +all extremes except the one: ready to do anything, or +to go anywhere, so long as I might save my money. At +the worst, there was flight, flight to some of those blest +countries where the serpent extradition has not yet +entered in.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center f80">On no condition is extradition<br /> + Allowed in Callao!</p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="noind">—the old lawless words haunted me; and I saw myself +hugging my gold in the company of such men as had +once made and sung them, in the rude and bloody wharf-side +drinking-shops of Chili and Peru. The run of my +ill-luck, the breach of my old friendship, this bubble +fortune flaunted for a moment in my eyes and snatched +again, had made me desperate and (in the expressive +vulgarism) ugly. To drink vile spirits among vile companions +by the flare of a pine-torch; to go burthened +with my furtive treasure in a belt; to fight for it knife +in hand, rolling on a clay floor; to flee perpetually in +fresh ships and to be chased through the sea from isle to +isle, seemed, in my then frame of mind, a welcome series +of events.</p> + +<p>That was for the worst; but it began to dawn slowly +on my mind that there was yet a possible better. Once +escaped, once safe in Callao, I might approach my +creditors with a good grace; and, properly handled by +a cunning agent, it was just possible they might accept +some easy composition. The hope recalled me to the +bankruptcy. It was strange, I reflected; often as I had +questioned Jim, he had never obliged me with an answer. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>290</span> +In his haste for news about the wreck, my own no less +legitimate curiosity had gone disappointed. Hateful as +the thought was to me, I must return at once and find +out where I stood.</p> + +<p>I left my dinner still unfinished, paying for the whole, +of course, and tossing the waiter a gold piece. I was +reckless; I knew not what was mine, and cared not: I +must take what I could get and give as I was able; to +rob and to squander seemed the complementary parts +of my new destiny. I walked up Bush Street, whistling, +brazening myself to confront Mamie in the first place, and +the world at large and a certain visionary judge upon a +bench in the second. Just outside, I stopped and lighted +a cigar to give me greater countenance; and puffing this +and wearing what (I am sure) was a wretched assumption +of braggadocio, I reappeared on the scene of my +disgrace.</p> + +<p>My friend and his wife were finishing a poor meal—rags +of old mutton, the remainder cakes from breakfast +eaten cold, and a starveling pot of coffee.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Pinkerton,” said I. “Sorry +to inflict my presence where it cannot be desired; but +there is a piece of business necessary to be discussed.”</p> + +<p>“Pray do not consider me,” said Mamie, rising, and +she sailed into the adjoining bedroom.</p> + +<p>Jim watched her go and shook his head; he looked +miserably old and ill.</p> + +<p>“What is it now?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you remember you answered none of my +questions,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Your questions?” faltered Jim.</p> + +<p>“Even so, Jim; my questions,” I repeated. “I put +questions as well as yourself; and however little I may +have satisfied Mamie with my answers, I beg to remind +you that you gave me none at all.”</p> + +<p>“You mean about the bankruptcy?” asked Jim.</p> + +<p>I nodded. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>291</span></p> + +<p>He writhed in his chair. “The straight truth is, I was +ashamed,” he said. “I was trying to dodge you. I’ve +been playing fast and loose with you, Loudon; I’ve +deceived you from the first, I blush to own it. And here +you came home and put the very question I was fearing. +Why did we bust so soon? Your keen business eye had +not deceived you. That’s the point, that’s my shame; +that’s what killed me this afternoon when Mamie was +treating you so, and my conscience was telling me all +the time, ‘Thou art the man.’”</p> + +<p>“What was it, Jim?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“What I had been at all the time, Loudon,” he +wailed; “and I don’t know how I’m to look you in the +face and say it, after my duplicity. It was stocks,” he +added in a whisper.</p> + +<p>“And you were afraid to tell me that!” I cried. +“You poor, old, cheerless dreamer! what would it matter +what you did or didn’t? Can’t you see we’re doomed? +And anyway, that’s not my point. It’s how I stand that +I want to know. There is a particular reason. Am I clear? +Have I a certificate, or what have I to do to get one? +And when will it be dated? You can’t think what hangs +by it!”</p> + +<p>“That’s the worst of all,” said Jim, like a man in a +dream; “I can’t see how to tell him!”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” I cried, a small pang of terror +at my heart.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I sacrificed you, Loudon,” he said, looking +at me pitifully.</p> + +<p>“Sacrificed me?” I repeated. “How? What do +you mean by sacrifice?”</p> + +<p>“I know it’ll shock your delicate self-respect,” he +said; “but what was I to do? Things looked so bad. +The receiver—” (as usual, the name stuck in his throat, +and he began afresh). “There was a lot of talk, the +reporters were after me already; there was the trouble, +and all about the Mexican business; and I got scared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>292</span> +right out, and I guess I lost my head. You weren’t +there, you see, and that was my temptation.”</p> + +<p>I did not know how long he might thus beat about +the bush with dreadful hintings, and I was already beside +myself with terror. What had he done? I saw he had +been tempted; I knew from his letters that he was in +no condition to resist. How had he sacrificed the +absent?</p> + +<p>“Jim,” I said, “you must speak right out. I’ve got +all that I can carry.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said—“I know it was a liberty—I made +it out you were no business man, only a stone-broke +painter; that half the time you didn’t know anything, +anyway, particularly money and accounts. I said you +never could be got to understand whose was whose. I +had to say that because of some entries in the books——”</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake,” I cried, “put me out of this agony! +What did you accuse me of?”</p> + +<p>“Accuse you of?” repeated Jim. “Of what I’m +telling you. And there being no deed of partnership, I +made out you were only a kind of clerk that I called a +partner just to give you taffy; and so I got you ranked +a creditor on the estate for your wages and the money +you had lent. And——”</p> + +<p>I believe I reeled. “A creditor!” I roared; “a +creditor! I’m not in the bankruptcy at all?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Jim. “I know it was a liberty——”</p> + +<p>“O, damn your liberty! read that,” I cried, dashing +the letter before him on the table, “and call in your wife, +and be done with eating this truck”—as I spoke I slung +the cold mutton in the empty grate—“and let’s all go +and have a champagne supper. I’ve dined—I’m sure I +don’t remember what I had; I’d dine again ten scores of +times upon a night like this. Read it, you blazing ass! +I’m not insane.—Here, Mamie,” I continued, opening the +bedroom door, “come out and make it up with me, and +go and kiss your husband; and I’ll tell you what, after +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>293</span> +the supper, let’s go to some place where there’s a band, +and I’ll waltz with you till sunrise.”</p> + +<p>“What does it all mean?” cried Jim.</p> + +<p>“It means we have a champagne supper to-night, and +all go to Vapor Valley or to Monterey to-morrow,” said I. +—“Mamie, go and get your things on; and you, Jim, sit +down right where you are, take a sheet of paper, and tell +Franklin Dodge to go to Texas.—Mamie, you were right, +my dear; I was rich all the time, and didn’t know it.”</p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>294</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX</h3> + +<h5>TRAVELS WITH A SHYSTER</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> absorbing and disastrous adventure of the <i>Flying +Scud</i> was now quite ended; we had dashed into these +deep waters and we had escaped again to starve; we had +been ruined and were saved, had quarrelled and made +up; there remained nothing but to sing <i>Te Deum</i>, draw +a line, and begin on a fresh page of my unwritten diary. +I do not pretend that I recovered all I had lost with +Mamie, it would have been more than I had merited; and +I had certainly been more uncommunicative than became +either the partner or the friend. But she accepted the +position handsomely; and during the week that I now +passed with them, both she and Jim had the grace to +spare me questions. It was to Calistoga that we went; +there was some rumour of a Napa land-boom at the +moment, the possibility of stir attracted Jim, and he +informed me he would find a certain joy in looking on, +much as Napoleon on St. Helena took a pleasure to read +military works. The field of his ambition was quite +closed; he was done with action, and looked forward to +a ranch in a mountain dingle, a patch of corn, a pair of +kine, a leisurely and contemplative age in the green shade +of forests. “Just let me get down on my back in a hayfield,” +said he, “and you’ll find there’s no more snap to +me than that much putty.”</p> + +<p>And for two days the perfervid being actually rested. +The third, he was observed in consultation with the local +editor, and owned he was in two minds about purchasing +the press and paper. “It’s a kind of a hold for an idle +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>295</span> +man,” he said pleadingly; “and if the section was to +open up the way it ought to, there might be dollars in +the thing.” On the fourth day he was gone till dinner-time +alone; on the fifth we made a long picnic drive to +the fresh field of enterprise; and the sixth was passed +entirely in the preparation of prospectuses. The pioneer +of M’Bride City was already upright and self-reliant, as of +yore; the fire rekindled in his eye, the ring restored to +his voice; a charger sniffing battle and saying “ha-ha” +among the spears. On the seventh morning we signed a +deed of partnership, for Jim would not accept a dollar of +my money otherwise; and having once more engaged +myself—or that mortal part of me, my purse—among the +wheels of his machinery, I returned alone to San Francisco +and took quarters in the Palace Hotel.</p> + +<p>The same night I had Nares to dinner. His sunburnt +face, his queer and personal strain of talk, recalled days +that were scarce over and that seemed already distant. +Through the music of the band outside, and the chink +and clatter of the dining-room, it seemed to me as if I +heard the foaming of the surf and the voices of the seabirds +about Midway Island. The bruises on our hands +were not yet healed; and there we sat, waited on by +elaborate darkies, eating pompino and drinking iced +champagne.</p> + +<p>“Think of our dinners on the <i>Norah</i>, captain, and then +oblige me by looking round the room for contrast.”</p> + +<p>He took the scene in slowly. “Yes, it is like a dream,” +he said: “like as if the darkies were really about as big +as dimes; and a great big scuttle might open up there, +and Johnson stick in a great big head and shoulders, and +cry, ‘Eight bells!’—and the whole thing vanish.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s the other thing that has done that,” I +replied. “It’s all bygone now, all dead and buried. +Amen! say I.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that, Mr. Dodd; and to tell you the +fact, I don’t believe it,” said Nares. “There’s more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>296</span> +<i>Flying Scud</i> in the oven; and the baker’s name, I take it, +is Bellairs. He tackled me the day we came in: sort of +a razee of poor old humanity—jury clothes—full new suit +of pimples: knew him at once from your description. +I let him pump me till I saw his game. He knows a good +deal that we don’t know, a good deal that we do, and +suspects the balance. There’s trouble brewing for somebody.”</p> + +<p>I was surprised I had not thought of this before. +Bellairs had been behind the scenes; he had known +Dickson; he knew the flight of the crew; it was hardly +possible but what he should suspect; it was certain if he +suspected that he would seek to trade on the suspicion. +And sure enough, I was not yet dressed the next morning +ere the lawyer was knocking at my door. I let him in, +for I was curious; and he, after some ambiguous prolegomena, +roundly proposed I should go shares with +him.</p> + +<p>“Shares in what?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“If you will allow me to clothe my idea in a somewhat +vulgar form,” said he, “I might ask you, did you +go to Midway for your health?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I did,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“Similarly, Mr. Dodd, you may be sure I would never +have taken the present step without influential grounds,” +pursued the lawyer. “Intrusion is foreign to my character. +But you and I, sir, are engaged on the same ends. +If we can continue to work the thing in company, I place +at your disposal my knowledge of the law and a considerable +practice in delicate negotiations similar to this. +Should you refuse to consent, you might find in me a formidable +and”—he hesitated—“and to my own regret, +perhaps a dangerous competitor.”</p> + +<p>“Did you get this by heart?” I asked genially.</p> + +<p>“I advise <i>you</i> to!” he said, with a sudden sparkle of +temper and menace, instantly gone, instantly succeeded +by fresh cringing. “I assure you, sir, I arrive in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>297</span> +character of a friend, and I believe you underestimate +my information. If I may instance an example, I am +acquainted to the last dime with what you made (or +rather lost), and I know you have since cashed a considerable +draft on London.”</p> + +<p>“What do you infer?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I know where that draft came from,” he cried, +wincing back like one who has greatly dared, and instantly +regrets the venture.</p> + +<p>“So?” said I.</p> + +<p>“You forget I was Mr. Dickson’s confidential agent,” +he explained. “You had his address, Mr. Dodd. We +were the only two that he communicated with in San +Francisco. You see my deductions are quite obvious; +you see how open and frank I deal with you, as I should +wish to do with any gentleman with whom I was conjoined +in business. You see how much I know; and it +can scarcely escape your strong common-sense how much +better it would be if I knew all. You cannot hope to +get rid of me at this time of day; I have my place in the +affair, I cannot be shaken off; I am, if you will excuse +a rather technical pleasantry, an encumbrance on the +estate. The actual harm I can do I leave you to valuate +for yourself. But without going so far, Mr. Dodd, and +without in any way inconveniencing myself, I could make +things very uncomfortable. For instance, Mr. Pinkerton’s +liquidation. You and I know, sir—and you better +than I—on what a large fund you draw. Is Mr. Pinkerton +in the thing at all? It was you only who knew the +address, and you were concealing it. Suppose I should +communicate with Mr. Pinkerton——”</p> + +<p>“Look here!” I interrupted, “communicate with +him (if you will permit me to clothe my idea in a vulgar +shape) till you are blue in the face. There is only one +person with whom I refuse to allow you to communicate +further, and that is myself. Good-morning.”</p> + +<p>He could not conceal his rage, disappointment, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>298</span> +surprise; and in the passage (I have no doubt) was shaken +by St. Vitus.</p> + +<p>I was disgusted by this interview; it struck me hard +to be suspected on all hands, and to hear again from this +trafficker what I had heard already from Jim’s wife; and +yet my strongest impression was different, and might +rather be described as an impersonal fear. There was +something against nature in the man’s craven impudence; +it was as though a lamb had butted me; such daring at +the hands of such a dastard implied unchangeable resolve, +a great pressure of necessity, and powerful means. I +thought of the unknown Carthew, and it sickened me to +see this ferret on his trail.</p> + +<p>Upon inquiry I found the lawyer was but just disbarred +for some malpractice, and the discovery added excessively +to my disquiet. Here was a rascal without money +or the means of making it, thrust out of the doors of his +own trade, publicly shamed, and doubtless in a deuce of +a bad temper with the universe. Here, on the other +hand, was a man with a secret—rich, terrified, practically +in hiding—who had been willing to pay ten thousand +pounds for the bones of the <i>Flying Scud</i>. I slipped insensibly +into a mental alliance with the victim. The business +weighed on me all day long; I was wondering how much +the lawyer knew, how much he guessed, and when he +would open his attack.</p> + +<p>Some of these problems are unsolved to this day; +others were soon made clear. Where he got Carthew’s +name is still a mystery; perhaps some sailor on the +<i>Tempest</i>, perhaps my own sea-lawyer served him for a +tool; but I was actually at his elbow when he learned +the address. It fell so. One evening when I had an +engagement, and was killing time until the hour, I chanced +to walk in the court of the hotel while the band played. +The place was bright as day with the electric light, and +I recognised, at some distance among the loiterers, the +person of Bellairs in talk with a gentleman whose face +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>299</span> +appeared familiar. It was certainly some one I had seen, +and seen recently; but who or where I knew not. A +porter standing hard by gave me the necessary hint. The +stranger was an English navy man invalided home from +Honolulu, where he had left his ship; indeed, it was +only from the change of clothes and the effects of sickness +that I had not immediately recognised my friend and +correspondent, Lieutenant Sebright.</p> + +<p>The conjunction of these planets seeming ominous, I +drew near; but it seemed Bellairs had done his business; +he vanished in the crowd, and I found my officer alone.</p> + +<p>“Do you know whom you have been talking to, Mr. +Sebright?” I began.</p> + +<p>“No,” said he; “I don’t know him from Adam. +Anything wrong?”</p> + +<p>“He is a disreputable lawyer, recently disbarred,” +said I. “I wish I had seen you in time. I trust you +told him nothing about Carthew?”</p> + +<p>He flushed to his ears. “I’m awfully sorry,” he said. +“He seemed civil, and I wanted to get rid of him. It was +only the address he asked.”</p> + +<p>“And you gave it?” I cried.</p> + +<p>“I’m really awfully sorry,” said Sebright. “I’m +afraid I did.”</p> + +<p>“God forgive you!” was my only comment, and I +turned my back upon the blunderer.</p> + +<p>The fat was in the fire now: Bellairs had the address, +and I was the more deceived or Carthew would have news +of him. So strong was this impression, and so painful, that +the next morning I had the curiosity to pay the lawyer’s +den a visit. An old woman was scrubbing the stair, and +the board was down.</p> + +<p>“Lawyer Bellairs?” said the old woman; “gone +East this morning. There’s Lawyer Dean next block up.”</p> + +<p>I did not trouble Lawyer Dean, but walked slowly +back to my hotel, ruminating as I went. The image of +the old woman washing that desecrated stair had struck +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>300</span> +my fancy; it seemed that all the water-supply of the city +and all the soap in the State would scarce suffice to cleanse +it, it had been so long a clearing-house of dingy secrets +and a factory of sordid fraud. And now the corner was +untenanted; some judge, like a careful housewife, had +knocked down the web; and the bloated spider was +scuttling elsewhere after new victims. I had of late (as I +have said) insensibly taken sides with Carthew; now +when his enemy was at his heels, my interest grew more +warm; and I began to wonder if I could not help. The +drama of the <i>Flying Scud</i> was entering on a new phase. +It had been singular from the first: it promised an extraordinary +conclusion; and I, who had paid so much to +learn the beginning, might pay a little more and see the +end. I lingered in San Francisco, indemnifying myself +after the hardships of the cruise, spending money, regretting +it, continually promising departure for the morrow. +Why not go indeed, and keep a watch upon Bellairs? If +I missed him, there was no harm done, I was the nearer +Paris. If I found and kept his trail, it was hard if I could +not put some stick in his machinery, and at the worst I +could promise myself interesting scenes and revelations.</p> + +<p>In such a mixed humour, I made up what it pleases me +to call my mind, and once more involved myself in the +story of Carthew and the <i>Flying Scud</i>. The same night I +wrote a letter of farewell to Jim, and one of anxious warning +to Dr. Urquart, begging him to set Carthew on his +guard; the morrow saw me in the ferry-boat; and ten +days later, I was walking the hurricane-deck on the <i>City +of Denver</i>. By that time my mind was pretty much made +down again, its natural condition: I told myself that I +was bound for Paris or Fontainebleau to resume the study +of the arts; and I thought no more of Carthew or Bellairs, +or only to smile at my own fondness. The one I could not +serve, even if I wanted; the other I had no means of +finding, even if I could have at all influenced him after he +was found. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>301</span></p> + +<p>And for all that, I was close on the heels of an absurd +adventure. My neighbour at table that evening was a +’Frisco man whom I knew slightly. I found he had crossed +the plains two days in front of me, and this was the first +steamer that had left New York for Europe since his +arrival. Two days before me meant a day before Bellairs; +and dinner was scarce done before I was closeted with +the purser.</p> + +<p>“Bellairs?” he repeated. “Not in the saloon, I am +sure. He may be in the second class. The lists are not +made out, but—Hullo! ‘Harry D. Bellairs?’ That’s +the name? He’s there right enough.”</p> + +<p>And the next morning I saw him on the forward deck, +sitting in a chair, a book in his hand, a shabby puma skin +rug about his knees: the picture of respectable decay. +Off and on, I kept him in my eye. He read a good deal, +he stood and looked upon the sea, he talked occasionally +with his neighbours, and once when a child fell he picked +it up and soothed it. I damned him in my heart; the +book, which I was sure he did not read—the sea, to which +I was ready to take oath he was indifferent—the child, +whom I was certain he would as leave have tossed overboard—all +seemed to me elements in a theatrical performance; +and I made no doubt he was already nosing after +the secrets of his fellow-passengers. I took no pains to +conceal myself, my scorn for the creature being as strong +as my disgust. But he never looked my way, and it was +night before I learned he had observed me.</p> + +<p>I was smoking by the engine-room door, for the air +was a little sharp, when a voice rose close beside me in +the darkness.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Dodd,” it said.</p> + +<p>“That you, Bellairs?” I replied.</p> + +<p>“A single word, sir. Your presence on this ship has +no connection with our interview?” he asked. “You +have no idea, Mr. Dodd, of returning upon your determination?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>302</span></p> + +<p>“None,” said I; and then, seeing he still lingered, I +was polite enough to add “Good-evening”; at which he +sighed and went away.</p> + +<p>The next day he was there again with the chair and +the puma skin; read his book and looked at the sea with +the same constancy; and though there was no child to +be picked up, I observed him to attend repeatedly on a +sick woman. Nothing fosters suspicion like the act of +watching; a man spied upon can hardly blow his nose +but we accuse him of designs; and I took an early opportunity +to go forward and see the woman for myself. She +was poor, elderly, and painfully plain; I stood abashed at +the sight, felt I owed Bellairs amends for the injustice of +my thoughts, and, seeing him standing by the rail in his +usual attitude of contemplation, walked up and addressed +him by name.</p> + +<p>“You seem very fond of the sea,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I may really call it a passion, Mr. Dodd,” he replied. +“‘<i>And the tall cataract haunted me like a passion</i>,’” he +quoted. “I never weary of the sea, sir. This is my first +ocean voyage. I find it a glorious experience.” And once +more my disbarred lawyer dropped into poetry: “<i>Roll +on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!</i>’”</p> + +<p>Though I had learned the piece in my reading-book +at school, I came into the world a little too late on the one +hand—and I daresay a little too early on the other—to +think much of Byron; and the sonorous verse, prodigiously +well delivered, struck me with surprise.</p> + +<p>“You are fond of poetry too?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I am a great reader,” he replied. “At one time I +had begun to amass quite a small but well-selected library; +and when that was scattered, I still managed to preserve +a few volumes—chiefly of pieces designed for recitation—which +have been my travelling companions.”</p> + +<p>“Is that one of them?” I asked, pointing to the +volume in his hand.</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” he replied, showing me a translation of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>303</span> +the “Sorrows of Werther”; “that is a novel I picked +up some time ago. It has afforded me great pleasure, +though immoral.”</p> + +<p>“O, immoral!” cried I, indignant as usual at any +complication of art and ethics.</p> + +<p>“Surely you cannot deny that, sir, if you know the +book,” he said. “The passion is illicit, although certainly +drawn with a good deal of pathos. It is not a work +one could possibly put into the hands of a lady; which +is to be regretted on all accounts, for I do not know how +it may strike you; but it seems to me—as a depiction, if I +make myself clear—to rise high above its compeers—even +famous compeers. Even in Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, +or Hawthorne, the sentiment of love appears to me to be +frequently done less justice to.”</p> + +<p>“You are expressing a very general opinion,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Is that so, indeed, sir?” he exclaimed, with unmistakable +excitement. “Is the book well known? and +who was <i>Go-eath</i>? I am interested in that, because upon +the title-page the usual initials are omitted, and it runs +simply ‘by <i>Go-eath</i>.’ Was he an author of distinction? +Has he written other works?”</p> + +<p>Such was our first interview, the first of many; and +in all he showed the same attractive qualities and defects. +His taste for literature was native and unaffected; his +sentimentality, although extreme and a thought ridiculous, +was plainly genuine. I wondered at my own innocent +wonder. I knew that Homer nodded, that Cęsar had +compiled a jest-book, that Turner lived by preference +the life of Puggy Booth, that Shelley made paper boats, +and Wordsworth wore green spectacles! and with all +this mass of evidence before me, I had expected Bellairs +to be entirely of one piece, subdued to what he worked +in, a spy all through. As I abominated the man’s trade, +so I had expected to detest the man himself; and behold, +I liked him. Poor devil! he was essentially a man on +wires, all sensibility and tremor, brimful of a cheap poetry, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>304</span> +not without parts, quite without courage. His boldness +was despair; the gulf behind him thrust him on; he +was one of those who might commit a murder rather +than confess the theft of a postage-stamp. I was sure +that his coming interview with Carthew rode his imagination +like a nightmare; when the thought crossed his +mind, I used to think I knew of it, and that the qualm +appeared in his face visibly. Yet he would never flinch—necessity +stalking at his back, famine (his old pursuer) +talking in his ear; and I used to wonder whether I more +admired or more despised this quivering heroism for evil. +The image that occurred to me after his visit was just; +I had been butted by a lamb, and the phase of life that +I was now studying might be called the Revolt of a Sheep.</p> + +<p>It could be said of him that he had learned in sorrow +what he taught in song—or wrong; and his life was that +of one of his victims. He was born in the back parts of +the State of New York; his father a farmer, who became +subsequently bankrupt and went West. The lawyer and +money-lender who had ruined this poor family seems to +have conceived in the end a feeling of remorse; he turned +the father out indeed, but he offered, in compensation, to +charge himself with one of the sons: and Harry, the fifth +child, and already sickly, was chosen to be left behind. +He made himself useful in the office: picked up the +scattered rudiments of an education; read right and left; +attended and debated at the Young Men’s Christian Association +and in all his early years was the model for a +good story-book. His landlady’s daughter was his bane. +He showed me her photograph; she was a big, handsome, +dashing, dressy, vulgar hussy, without character, +without tenderness, without mind, and (as the result +proved) without virtue. The sickly and timid boy was +in the house; he was handy; when she was otherwise +unoccupied, she used and played with him—Romeo and +Cressida; till in that dreary life of a poor boy in a country +town, she grew to be the light of his days and the subject +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305" id="page305"></a>305</span> +of his dreams. He worked hard, like Jacob, for a wife; +he surpassed his patron in sharp practice; he was made +head clerk; and the same night, encouraged by a hundred +freedoms, depressed by the sense of his youth and his +infirmities, he offered marriage and was received with +laughter. Not a year had passed, before his master, +conscious of growing infirmities, took him for a partner. +He proposed again; he was accepted; led two years of +troubled married life; and awoke one morning to find +his wife had run away with a dashing drummer, and had +left him heavily in debt. The debt, and not the drummer, +was supposed to be the cause of this hegira; she had +concealed her liabilities, they were on the point of bursting +forth, she was weary of Bellairs; and she took the +drummer as she might have taken a cab. The blow disabled +her husband, his partner was dead; he was now +alone in the business, for which he was no longer fit; the +debts hampered him; bankruptcy followed; and he fled +from city to city, falling daily into lower practice. It is +to be considered that he had been taught, and had learned +as a delightful duty, a kind of business whose highest +merit is to escape the commentaries of the bench: that +of the usurious lawyer in a county town. With this +training, he was now shot, a penniless stranger, into the +deeper gulfs of cities; and the result is scarce a thing +to be surprised at.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard of your wife again?” I asked.</p> + +<p>He displayed a pitiful agitation. “I am afraid you +will think ill of me,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Have you taken her back?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I trust I have too much self-respect,” he +answered, “and, at least, I was never tempted. She +won’t come, she dislikes, she seems to have conceived a +positive distaste for me, and yet I was considered an +indulgent husband.”</p> + +<p>“You are still in relations, then?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I place myself in your hands, Mr. Dodd,” he replied. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306" id="page306"></a>306</span> +“The world is very hard; I have found it bitter hard +myself—bitter hard to live. How much worse for a +woman, and one who has placed herself (by her own misconduct, +I am far from denying that) in so unfortunate +a position!”</p> + +<p>“In short, you support her?” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“I cannot deny it. I practically do,” he admitted. +“It has been a millstone round my neck. But I think +she is grateful. You can see for yourself.”</p> + +<p>He handed me a letter in a sprawling, ignorant hand, +but written with violet ink on fine, pink paper, with a +monogram. It was very foolishly expressed, and I +thought (except for a few obvious cajoleries) very heartless +and greedy in meaning. The writer said she had +been sick, which I disbelieved; declared the last remittance +was all gone in doctor’s bills, for which I took the +liberty of substituting dress, drink, and monograms; and +prayed for an increase, which I could only hope had been +denied her.</p> + +<p>“I think she is really grateful?” he asked, with some +eagerness, as I returned it.</p> + +<p>“I daresay,” said I. “Has she any claim on you?”</p> + +<p>“O no, sir. I divorced her,” he replied. “I have a +very strong sense of self-respect in such matters, and I +divorced her immediately.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of life is she leading now?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I will not deceive you, Mr. Dodd. I do not know, I +make a point of not knowing; it appears more dignified. +I have been very harshly criticised,” he added, sighing.</p> + +<p>It will be seen that I had fallen into an ignominious +intimacy with the man I had gone out to thwart. My +pity for the creature, his admiration for myself, his +pleasure in my society, which was clearly unassumed, +were the bonds with which I was fettered; perhaps I +should add, in honesty, my own ill-regulated interest in +the phases of life and human character. The fact is (at +least) that we spent hours together daily, and that I was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307" id="page307"></a>307</span> +nearly as much on the forward deck as in the saloon. Yet +all the while I could never forget he was a shabby trickster, +embarked that very moment in a dirty enterprise. +I used to tell myself at first that our acquaintance was a +stroke of art, and that I was somehow fortifying Carthew. +I told myself, I say; but I was no such fool as to believe +it, even then. In these circumstances I displayed the +two chief qualities of my character on the largest scale—my +helplessness and my instinctive love of procrastination—and +fell upon a course of action so ridiculous that +I blush when I recall it.</p> + +<p>We reached Liverpool one forenoon, the rain falling +thickly and insidiously on the filthy town. I had no +plans, beyond a sensible unwillingness to let my rascal +escape; and I ended by going to the same inn with him, +dining with him, walking with him in the wet streets, +and hearing with him in a penny gaff that venerable +piece, <i>The Ticket-of-Leave Man</i>. It was one of his first +visits to a theatre, against which places of entertainment +he had a strong prejudice; and his innocent, pompous +talk, innocent old quotations, and innocent reverence for +the character of Hawkshaw delighted me beyond relief. +In charity to myself, I dwell upon and perhaps exaggerate +my pleasures. I have need of all conceivable excuses, +when I confess that I went to bed without one word upon +the matter of Carthew, but not without having covenanted +with my rascal for a visit to Chester the next day. At +Chester we did the Cathedral, walked on the walls, discussed +Shakespeare and the musical glasses—and made a +fresh engagement for the morrow. I do not know, and +I am glad to have forgotten, how long these travels were +continued. We visited at least, by singular zig-zags, +Stratford, Warwick, Coventry, Gloucester, Bristol, Bath, +and Wells. At each stage we spoke dutifully of the scene +and its associations; I sketched, the Shyster spouted +poetry and copied epitaphs. Who could doubt we were +the usual Americans, travelling with a design of self-improvement? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308"></a>308</span> +Who was to guess that one was a black-mailer, +trembling to approach the scene of action—the +other a helpless, amateur detective, waiting on events?</p> + +<p>It is unnecessary to remark that none occurred, or +none the least suitable with my design of protecting +Carthew. Two trifles, indeed, completed though they +scarcely changed my conception of the Shyster. The first +was observed in Gloucester, where we spent Sunday, and +I proposed we should hear service in the Cathedral. To +my surprise, the creature had an <i>ism</i> of his own, to which +he was loyal; and he left me to go alone to the Cathedral—or +perhaps not to go at all—and stole off down a +deserted alley to some Bethel or Ebenezer of the proper +shade. When we met again at lunch, I rallied him, and +he grew restive.</p> + +<p>“You need employ no circumlocutions with me, Mr. +Dodd,” he said suddenly. “You regard my behaviour +from an unfavourable point of view: you regard me, I +much fear, as hypocritical.”</p> + +<p>I was somewhat confused by the attack. “You know +what I think of your trade,” I replied lamely and coarsely.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, if I seem to press the subject,” he continued; +“but if you think my life erroneous, would you +have me neglect the means of grace? Because you +consider me in the wrong on one point, would you have +me place myself in the wrong in all? Surely, sir, the +church is for the sinner.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ask a blessing on your present enterprise?” +I sneered.</p> + +<p>He had a bad attack of St. Vitus, his face was changed, +and his eyes flashed. “I will tell you what I did,” he +cried. “I prayed for an unfortunate man and a wretched +woman whom he tries to support.”</p> + +<p>I cannot pretend that I found any repartee.</p> + +<p>The second incident was at Bristol, where I lost sight +of my gentleman some hours. From this eclipse he +returned to me with thick speech, wandering footsteps, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page309" id="page309"></a>309</span> +and a back all whitened with plaster. I had half +expected, yet I could have wept to see it. All disabilities +were piled on that weak back—domestic misfortune, +nervous disease, a displeasing exterior, empty pockets, and +the slavery of vice.</p> + +<p>I will never deny that our prolonged conjunction was +the result of double cowardice. Each was afraid to leave +the other, each was afraid to speak, or knew not what +to say. Save for my ill-judged allusion at Gloucester, +the subject uppermost in both our minds was buried. +Carthew, Stallbridge-le-Carthew, Stallbridge-Minster—which +we had long since (and severally) identified to be +the nearest station—even the name of Dorsetshire was +studiously avoided. And yet we were making progress all +the time, tacking across broad England like an unweatherly +vessel on a wind; approaching our destination, +not openly, but by a sort of flying sap. And at +length, I can scarce tell how, we were set down by a +dilatory butt-end of local train on the untenanted platform +of Stallbridge-Minster.</p> + +<p>The town was ancient and compact—a domino of tiled +houses and walled gardens, dwarfed by the disproportionate +bigness of the church. From the midst of the +thoroughfare which divided it in half, fields and trees +were visible at either end; and through the sally-port of +every street there flowed in from the country a silent +invasion of green grass. Bees and birds appeared to make +the majority of the inhabitants; every garden had its +row of hives, the eaves of every house were plastered with +the nests of swallows, and the pinnacles of the church +were flickered about all day long by a multitude of wings. +The town was of Roman foundation; and as I looked out +that afternoon from the low windows of the inn, I should +scarce have been surprised to see a centurion coming up +the street with a fatigue draft of legionaries. In short, +Stallbridge-Minster was one of those towns which appear +to be maintained by England for the instruction and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310" id="page310"></a>310</span> +delight of the American rambler; to which he seems +guided by an instinct not less surprising than the setter’s; +and which he visits and quits with equal enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>I was not at all in the humour of the tourist. I had +wasted weeks of time and accomplished nothing; we +were on the eve of the engagement, and I had neither +plans nor allies. I had thrust myself into the trade of +private providence, and amateur detective; I was spending +money and I was reaping disgrace. All the time I +kept telling myself that I must at least speak; that this +ignominious silence should have been broken long ago, +and must be broken now. I should have broken it when +he first proposed to come to Stallbridge-Minster; I should +have broken it in the train; I should break it there and +then, on the inn doorstep, as the omnibus rolled off. I +turned toward him at the thought; he seemed to wince, +the words died on my lips, and I proposed instead that +we should visit the Minster.</p> + +<p>While we were engaged upon this duty, it came on to +rain in a manner worthy of the tropics. The vault reverberated; +every gargoyle instantly poured its full discharge; +we waded back to the inn, ankle-deep in <i>impromptu</i> +brooks; and the rest of the afternoon sat +weatherbound, hearkening to the sonorous deluge. For +two hours I talked of indifferent matters, laboriously feeding +the conversation; for two hours my mind was quite +made up to do my duty instantly—and at each particular +instant I postponed it till the next. To screw up my +faltering courage, I called at dinner for some sparkling +wine. It proved, when it came, to be detestable; I +could not put it to my lips; and Bellairs, who had as +much palate as a weevil, was left to finish it himself. +Doubtless the wine flushed him; doubtless he may have +observed my embarrassment of the afternoon; doubtless +he was conscious that we were approaching a crisis, and +that that evening, if I did not join with him, I must +declare myself an open enemy. At least he fled. Dinner +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page311" id="page311"></a>311</span> +was done; this was the time when I had bound myself +to break my silence; no more delays were to be allowed, +no more excuses received. I went upstairs after some +tobacco, which I felt to be a mere necessity in the circumstances +and when I returned, the man was gone. The +waiter told me he had left the house.</p> + +<p>The rain still plumped, like a vast shower-bath, over +the deserted town. The night was dark and windless: +the street lit glimmeringly from end to end, lamps, house-windows, +and the reflections in the rain-pools all contributing. +From a public-house on the other side of the +way, I heard a harp twang and a doleful voice upraised +in the “Larboard Watch,” “The Anchor’s Weighed,” +and other naval ditties. Where had my shyster wandered? +In all likelihood to that lyrical tavern; there +was no choice of diversion; in comparison with Stallbridge-Minster +on a rainy night a sheepfold would seem +gay.</p> + +<p>Again I passed in review the points of my interview, +on which I was always constantly resolved so long as +my adversary was absent from the scene, and again they +struck me as inadequate. From this dispiriting exercise +I turned to the native amusements of the inn coffee-room, +and studied for some time the mezzotints that +frowned upon the wall. The railway guide, after showing +me how soon I could leave Stallbridge and how quickly +I could reach Paris, failed to hold my attention. An +illustrated advertisement-book of hotels brought me very +low indeed; and when it came to the local paper, I could +have wept. At this point I found a passing solace in a +copy of Whitaker’s Almanack, and obtained in fifty +minutes more information than I have yet been able to +use.</p> + +<p>Then a fresh apprehension assailed me. Suppose +Bellairs had given me the slip? Suppose he was now +rolling on the road to Stallbridge-le-Carthew? or perhaps +there already and laying before a very white-laced +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312" id="page312"></a>312</span> +auditor his threats and propositions? A hasty person +might have instantly pursued. Whatever I am, I am +not hasty, and I was aware of three grave objections. +In the first place, I could not be certain that Bellairs +was gone. In the second, I had no taste whatever for +a long drive at that hour of the night and in so merciless +a rain. In the third, I had no idea how I was to get +admitted if I went, and no idea what I should say if I +got admitted. “In short,” I concluded, “the whole +situation is the merest farce. You have thrust yourself +in where you had no business and have no power. You +would be quite as useful in San Francisco; far happier +in Paris; and being (by the wrath of God) at Stallbridge-Minster, +the wisest thing is to go quietly to bed.” On +the way to my room I saw (in a flash) that which I ought +to have done long ago, and which it was now too late to +think of—written to Carthew, I mean, detailing the facts +and describing Bellairs, letting him defend himself if he +were able, and giving him time to flee if he were not. +It was the last blow to my self-respect; and I flung +myself into my bed with contumely.</p> + +<p>I have no guess what hour it was when I was wakened +by the entrance of Bellairs carrying a candle. He had +been drunk, for he was bedaubed with mire from head +to foot; but he was now sober, and under the empire of +some violent emotion which he controlled with difficulty. +He trembled visibly; and more than once, during the +interview which followed, tears suddenly and silently +overflowed his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“I have to ask your pardon, sir, for this untimely +visit,” he said. “I make no defence, I have no excuse, +I have disgraced myself, I am properly punished; I +appear before you to appeal to you in mercy for the most +trifling aid, or, God help me! I fear I may go mad.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth is wrong?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I have been robbed,” he said. “I have no defence +to offer; it was of my own fault, I am properly punished.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313" id="page313"></a>313</span></p> + +<p>“But, gracious goodness me!” I cried, “who is there +to rob you in a place like this?”</p> + +<p>“I can form no opinion,” he replied. “I have no +idea. I was lying in a ditch inanimate. This is a degrading +confession, sir; I can only say in self-defence that +perhaps (in your good-nature) you have made yourself +partly responsible for my shame. I am not used to these +rich wines.”</p> + +<p>“In what form was your money? Perhaps it may +be traced,” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“It was in English sovereigns. I changed it in New +York; I got very good exchange,” he said, and then, +with a momentary outbreak, “God in heaven, how I +toiled for it!” he cried.</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t sound encouraging,” said I. “It may +be worth while to apply to the police, but it doesn’t sound +a hopeful case.”</p> + +<p>“And I have no hope in that direction,” said Bellairs. +“My hopes, Mr. Dodd, are all fixed upon yourself. I could +easily convince you that a small, a very small advance, +would be in the nature of an excellent investment; but +I prefer to rely on your humanity. Our acquaintance +began on an unusual footing; but you have now known +me for some time, we have been some time—I was going +to say we had been almost intimate. Under the impulse +of instinctive sympathy, I have bared my heart to you, +Mr. Dodd, as I have done to few—and I believe—I trust—I +may say that I feel sure—you heard me with a kindly +sentiment. This is what brings me to your side at this +most inexcusable hour. But put yourself in my place—how +could I sleep—how could I dream of sleeping, in this +blackness of remorse and despair? There was a friend +at hand—so I ventured to think of you; it was instinctive: +I fled to your side, as the drowning man clutches +at a straw. These expressions are not exaggerated, they +scarcely serve to express the agitation of my mind. And +think, sir, how easily you can restore me to hope and, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page314" id="page314"></a>314</span> +may say, to reason. A small loan, which shall be faithfully +repaid. Five hundred dollars would be ample.” He +watched me with burning eyes. “Four hundred would +do. I believe, Mr. Dodd, that I could manage with +economy on two.”</p> + +<p>“And then you will repay me out of Carthew’s +pocket?” I said. “I am much obliged. But I will +tell you what I will do: I will see you on board a steamer, +pay your fare through to San Francisco, and place fifty +dollars in the purser’s hands, to be given you in New +York.”</p> + +<p>He drank in my words; his face represented an +ecstasy of cunning thought. I could read there, plain +as print, that he but thought to overreach me.</p> + +<p>“And what am I to do in ’Frisco?” he asked. “I +am disbarred, I have no trade, I cannot dig, to beg——” +he paused in the citation. “And you know that I am +not alone,” he added, “others depend upon me.”</p> + +<p>“I will write to Pinkerton,” I returned. “I feel sure +he can help you to some employment, and in the meantime, +and for three months after your arrival, he shall +pay to yourself personally, on the first and the fifteenth, +twenty-five dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dodd, I scarce believe you can be serious in +this offer,” he replied. “Have you forgotten the circumstances +of the case? Do you know these people are +the magnates of the section? They were spoken of +to-night in the saloon; their wealth must amount to +many millions of dollars in real estate alone; their house +is one of the sights of the locality, and you offer me a +bribe of a few hundred!”</p> + +<p>“I offer you no bribe, Mr. Bellairs; I give you alms,” +I returned. “I will do nothing to forward you in your +hateful business; yet I would not willingly have you +starve.”</p> + +<p>“Give me a hundred dollars then, and be done with +it,” he cried. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315" id="page315"></a>315</span></p> + +<p>“I will do what I have said, and neither more nor +less,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Take care,” he cried. “You are playing a fool’s +game; you are making an enemy for nothing; you will +gain nothing by this, I warn you of it!” And then +with one of his changes, “Seventy dollars—only seventy—in +mercy, Mr. Dodd, in common charity. Don’t dash +the bowl from my lips! You have a kindly heart. Think +of my position, remember my unhappy wife.”</p> + +<p>“You should have thought of her before,” said I. +“I have made my offer, and I wish to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Is that your last word, sir? Pray consider; pray +weigh both sides: my misery, your own danger. I warn +you—I beseech you; measure it well before you answer,” +so he half pleaded, half threatened me, with clasped +hands.</p> + +<p>“My first word, and my last,” said I.</p> + +<p>The change upon the man was shocking. In the storm +of anger that now shook him, the lees of his intoxication +rose again to the surface; his face was deformed, his +words insane with fury; his pantomime, excessive in +itself, was distorted by an access of St. Vitus.</p> + +<p>“You will perhaps allow me to inform you of my +cold opinion,” he began, apparently self-possessed, truly +bursting with rage: “when I am a glorified saint, I +shall see you howling for a drop of water, and exult to +see you. That your last word! Take it in your face, +you spy, you false friend, you fat hypocrite! I defy, I +defy and despise and spit upon you! I’m on the trail, +his trail or yours; I smell blood, I’ll follow it on my +hands and knees, I’ll starve to follow it! I’ll hunt you +down, hunt you, hunt you down! If I were strong, I’d +tear your vitals out, here in this room—tear them out—I’d +tear them out! Damn, damn, damn! You think me +weak? I can bite, bite to the blood, bite you, hurt you, +disgrace you ...”</p> + +<p>He was thus incoherently raging when the scene was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page316" id="page316"></a>316</span> +interrupted by the arrival of the landlord and inn servants +in various degrees of deshabille, and to them I gave my +temporary lunatic in charge.</p> + +<p>“Take him to his room,” I said, “he’s only drunk.”</p> + +<p>These were my words; but I knew better. After all +my study of Mr. Bellairs, one discovery had been reserved +for the last moment—that of his latent and essential +madness.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page317" id="page317"></a>317</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX</h3> + +<h5>STALLBRIDGE-LE-CARTHEW</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Long</span> before I was awake the shyster had disappeared, +leaving his bill unpaid. I did not need to inquire where +he was gone, I knew too well, I knew there was nothing +left me but to follow; and about ten in the morning, +set forth in a gig for Stallbridge-le-Carthew.</p> + +<p>The road, for the first quarter of the way, deserts the +valley of the river, and crosses the summit of a chalkdown, +grazed over by flocks of sheep and haunted by +innumerable larks. It was a pleasant but a vacant scene, +arousing but not holding the attention; and my mind +returned to the violent passage of the night before. My +thought of the man I was pursuing had been greatly +changed. I conceived of him, somewhere in front of me, +upon his dangerous errand, not to be turned aside, not +to be stopped, by either fear or reason. I had called +him a ferret; I conceived him now as a mad dog. Methought +he would run, not walk; methought, as he ran, +that he would bark and froth at the lips; methought, if +the great wall of China were to rise across his path, he +would attack it with his nails.</p> + +<p>Presently the road left the down, returned by a precipitous +descent into the valley of the Stall, and ran +thenceforward among enclosed fields and under the continuous +shade of trees. I was told we had now entered +on the Carthew property. By and by, a battlemented +wall appeared on the left hand, and a little after I had +my first glimpse of the mansion. It stood in a hollow of +a bosky park, crowded, to a degree that surprised and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318" id="page318"></a>318</span> +even displeased me, with huge timber and dense shrubberies +of laurel and rhododendron. Even from this low +station and the thronging neighbourhood of the trees, the +pile rose conspicuous like a cathedral. Behind, as we +continued to skirt the park wall, I began to make out a +straggling town of offices which became conjoined to the +rear with those of the home farm. On the left was an +ornamental water sailed in by many swans. On the +right extended a flower garden, laid in the old manner, +and at this season of the year as brilliant as stained glass. +The front of the house presented a faēade of more than +sixty windows, surmounted by a formal pediment and +raised upon a terrace. A wide avenue, part in gravel, +part in turf, and bordered by triple alleys, ran to the +great double gateways. It was impossible to look without +surprise on a place that had been prepared through +so many generations, had cost so many tons of minted +gold, and was maintained in order by so great a company +of emulous servants. And yet of these there was no sign +but the perfection of their work. The whole domain was +drawn to the line and weeded like the front plot of some +suburban amateur; and I looked in vain for any belated +gardener, and listened in vain for any sounds of labour. +Some lowing of cattle and much calling of birds alone +disturbed the stillness, and even the little hamlet, which +clustered at the gates, appeared to hold its breath in +awe of its great neighbour, like a troop of children who +should have strayed into a king’s anteroom.</p> + +<p>The “Carthew Arms,” the small, but very comfortable +inn, was a mere appendage and outpost of the family +whose name it bore. Engraved portraits of bygone +Carthews adorned the walls; Fielding Carthew, Recorder +of the City of London; Major-General John Carthew in +uniform, commanding some military operations; the +Right Honourable Bailley Carthew, Member of Parliament +for Stallbridge, standing by a table and brandishing +a document; Singleton Carthew, Esquire, represented in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page319" id="page319"></a>319</span> +the foreground of a herd of cattle—doubtless at the desire +of his tenantry, who had made him a compliment of this +work of art; and the Venerable Archdeacon Carthew, +D.D., LL.D., A.M., laying his hand on the head of a +little child in a manner highly frigid and ridiculous. So +far as my memory serves me, there were no other pictures +in this exclusive hostelry; and I was not surprised to +learn that the landlord was an ex-butler, the landlady +an ex-lady’s-maid, from the great house; and that the +bar-parlour was a sort of perquisite of former servants.</p> + +<p>To an American, the sense of the domination of this +family over so considerable a tract of earth was even +oppressive; and as I considered their simple annals, +gathered from the legends of the engravings, surprise +began to mingle with my disgust. “Mr. Recorder” +doubtless occupies an honourable post; but I thought +that, in the course of so many generations, one Carthew +might have clambered higher. The soldier had stuck at +Major-General; the churchman bloomed unremarked in +an archdeaconry; and though the Right Honourable +Bailley seemed to have sneaked into the Privy Council, I +have still to learn what he did when he had got there. +Such vast means, so long a start, and such a modest +standard of achievement, struck in me a strong sense of +the dulness of that race.</p> + +<p>I found that to come to the hamlet and not visit the +Hall would be regarded as a slight. To feed the swans, +to see the peacocks and the Raphaels—for these commonplace +people actually possessed two Raphaels,—to +risk life and limb among a famous breed of cattle called +the Carthew Chillinghams, and to do homage to the sire +(still living) of Donibristle, a renowned winner of the +Oaks: these, it seemed, were the inevitable stations of +the pilgrimage. I was not so foolish as to resist, for I +might have need, before I was done, of general goodwill; +and two pieces of news fell in which changed my resignation +to alacrity. It appeared, in the first place, that Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page320" id="page320"></a>320</span> +Norris was from home “travelling”; in the second, +that a visitor had been before me, and already made the +tour of the Carthew curiosities. I thought I knew who +this must be; I was anxious to learn what he had done +and seen, and fortune so far favoured me that the under-gardener +singled out to be my guide had already performed +the same function for my predecessor.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” he said, “an American gentleman right +enough. At least, I don’t think he was quite a gentleman, +but a very civil person.”</p> + +<p>The person, it seems, had been civil enough to be +delighted with the Carthew Chillinghams, to perform the +whole pilgrimage with rising admiration, and to have +almost prostrated himself before the shrine of Donibristle’s +sire.</p> + +<p>“He told me, sir,” continued the gratified under-gardener, +“that he had often read of the ‘stately ’omes of +England,’ but ours was the first he had the chance to +see. When he came to the ’ead of the long alley, he +fetched his breath. ‘This is indeed a lordly domain!’ +he cries. And it was natural he should be interested in the +place, for it seems Mr. Carthew had been kind to him +in the States. In fact, he seemed a grateful kind of +person, and wonderful taken up with flowers.”</p> + +<p>I heard this story with amazement. The phrases +quoted told their own tale; they were plainly from the +shyster’s mint. A few hours back I had seen him a mere +bedlamite and fit for a strait-waistcoat; he was penniless +in a strange country; it was highly probable he had +gone without breakfast; the absence of Norris must +have been a crushing blow; the man (by all reason) +should have been despairing. And now I heard of him, +clothed and in his right mind, deliberate, insinuating, +admiring vistas, smelling flowers, and talking like a book. +The strength of character implied amazed and daunted +me.</p> + +<p>“This is curious,” I said to the under-gardener; “I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321" id="page321"></a>321</span> +have had the pleasure of some acquaintance with Mr. +Carthew myself; and I believe none of our western friends +ever were in England. Who can this person be? He +couldn’t—no, that’s impossible, he could never have had +the impudence. His name was not Bellairs?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t ’ear the name, sir. Do you know anything +against him?” cried my guide.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said I, “he is certainly not the person +Carthew would like to have here in his absence.”</p> + +<p>“Good gracious me!” exclaimed the gardener. “He +was so pleasant-spoken too; I thought he was some form +of a schoolmaster. Perhaps, sir, you wouldn’t mind going +right up to Mr. Denman? I recommended him to Mr. +Denman, when he had done the grounds. Mr. Denman +is our butler, sir,” he added.</p> + +<p>The proposal was welcome, particularly as affording +me a graceful retreat from the neighbourhood of the +Carthew Chillinghams; and, giving up our projected +circuit, we took a short cut through the shrubbery and +across the bowling-green to the back quarters of the Hall.</p> + +<p>The bowling-green was surrounded by a great hedge +of yew, and entered by an archway in the quick. As we +were issuing from this passage, my conductor arrested me.</p> + +<p>“The Honourable Lady Ann Carthew,” he said, in an +august whisper. And looking over his shoulder I was +aware of an old lady with a stick, hobbling somewhat +briskly along the garden path. She must have been +extremely handsome in her youth; and even the limp +with which she walked could not deprive her of an unusual +and almost menacing dignity of bearing. Melancholy was +impressed besides on every feature, and her eyes, as she +looked straight before her, seemed to contemplate misfortune.</p> + +<p>“She seems sad,” said I, when she had hobbled past +and we had resumed our walk.</p> + +<p>“She enjoy rather poor spirits, sir,” responded the +under-gardener. “Mr. Carthew—the old gentleman, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page322" id="page322"></a>322</span> +mean—died less than a year ago; Lord Tillibody, her +ladyship’s brother, two months after; and then there +was the sad business about the young gentleman. Killed +in the ’unting-fleld, sir; and her ladyship’s favourite. +The present Mr. Norris has never been so equally.”</p> + +<p>“So I have understood,” said I persistently, and (I +think) gracefully pursuing my inquiries and fortifying my +position as a family friend. “Dear, dear, how sad! And +has this change—poor Carthew’s return, and all—has this +not mended matters?”</p> + +<p>“Well, no, sir, not a sign of it,” was the reply. +“Worse, we think, than ever.”</p> + +<p>“Dear, dear!” said I again.</p> + +<p>“When Mr. Norris arrived she <i>did</i> seem glad to see +him,” he pursued, “and we were all pleased, I’m sure; +for no one knows the young gentleman but what likes him. +Ah, sir, it didn’t last long! That very night they had a +talk, and fell out or something; her ladyship took on +most painful: it was like old days, but worse. And the +next morning Mr. Norris was off again upon his travels. +’Denman,’ he said to Mr. Denman, ‘Denman, I’ll never +come back,’ he said, and shook him by the ’and. I +wouldn’t be saying all this to a stranger, sir,” added my +informant, overcome with a sudden fear lest he had gone +too far.</p> + +<p>He had indeed told me much, and much that was unsuspected +by himself. On that stormy night of his return, +Carthew had told his story; the old lady had more upon +her mind than mere bereavements; and among the +mental pictures on which she looked, as she walked staring +down the path, was one of Midway Island and the +<i>Flying Scud</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. Denman heard my inquiries with discomposure, +but informed me the shyster was already gone.</p> + +<p>“Gone?” cried I. “Then what can he have come +for? One thing I can tell you, it was not to see the +house.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323" id="page323"></a>323</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t see it could have been anything else,” replied +the butler.</p> + +<p>“You may depend upon it, it was,” said I. “And +whatever it was, he has got it.—By the way, where is Mr. +Carthew at present? I was sorry to find he was from +home.”</p> + +<p>“He is engaged in travelling, sir,” replied the butler +drily.</p> + +<p>“Ah, bravo!” cried I. “I laid a trap for you there, +Mr. Denman. Now I need not ask you; I am sure you +did not tell this prying stranger.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure not, sir,” said the butler.</p> + +<p>I went through the form of “shaking him by the +’and”—like Mr. Norris—not, however, with genuine +enthusiasm. For I had failed ingloriously to get the +address for myself; and I felt a sure conviction that +Bellairs had done better, or he had still been here and +still cultivating Mr. Denman.</p> + +<p>I had escaped the grounds and the cattle; I could +not escape the house. A lady with silver hair, a slender +silver voice, and a stream of insignificant information not +to be diverted, led me through the picture gallery, the +music-room, the great dining-room, the long drawing-room, +the Indian room, the theatre, and every corner (as +I thought) of that interminable mansion. There was but +one place reserved, the garden-room, whither Lady Ann +had now retired. I paused a moment on the outside of +the door, and smiled to myself. The situation was indeed +strange, and these thin boards divided the secret of the +<i>Flying Scud</i>.</p> + +<p>All the while, as I went to and fro, I was considering +the visit and departure of Bellairs. That he had got the +address, I was quite certain; that he had not got it by +direct questioning, I was convinced; some ingenuity, +some lucky accident, had served him. A similar chance, +an equal ingenuity, was required; or I was left helpless; +the ferret must run down his prey, the great oaks fall, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page324" id="page324"></a>324</span> +the Raphaels be scattered, the house let to some stockbroker +suddenly made rich, and the name which now filled +the mouths of five or six parishes dwindle to a memory. +Strange that such great matters, so old a mansion, a family +so ancient and so dull, should come to depend for perpetuity +upon the intelligence, the discretion, and the +cunning of a Latin-Quarter student! What Bellairs had +done, I must do likewise. Chance or ingenuity, ingenuity or +chance—so I continued to ring the changes as I walked down +the avenue, casting back occasional glances at the red brick +faēade and the twinkling windows of the house. How was +I to command chance? where was I to find the ingenuity?</p> + +<p>These reflections brought me to the door of the inn. +And here, pursuant to my policy of keeping well with all +men, I immediately smoothed my brow, and accepted +(being the only guest in the house) an invitation to dine +with the family in the bar-parlour. I sat down accordingly +with Mr. Higgs, the ex-butler, Mrs. Higgs, the ex-lady’s-maid, +and Miss Agnes Higgs, their frowsy-headed +little girl, the least promising and (as the event showed) +the most useful of the lot. The talk ran endlessly on the +great house and the great family; the roast beef, the +Yorkshire pudding, the jam-roll, and the cheddar cheese +came and went, and still the stream flowed on; near four +generations of Carthews were touched upon without +eliciting one point of interest; and we had killed Mr. +Henry in “the ’unting-field,” with a vast elaboration of +painful circumstance, and buried him in the midst of a +whole sorrowing county, before I could so much as manage +to bring upon the stage my intimate friend, Mr. Norris. +At the name the ex-butler grew diplomatic, and the ex-lady’s-maid +tender. He was the only person of the whole +featureless series who seemed to have accomplished anything +worth mention; and his achievements, poor dog, +seemed to have been confined to going to the devil and +leaving some regrets. He had been the image of the Right +Honourable Bailley, one of the lights of that dim house, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page325" id="page325"></a>325</span> +and a career of distinction had been predicted of him in +consequence, almost from the cradle. But before he was +out of long clothes the cloven foot began to show; he +proved to be no Carthew, developed a taste for low +pleasures and bad company, went birdnesting with a +stable-boy before he was eleven, and when he was near +twenty, and might have been expected to display at least +some rudiments of the family gravity, rambled the country +over with a knapsack, making sketches and keeping company +in wayside inns. He had no pride about him, I +was told; he would sit down with any man; and it was +somewhat woundingly implied that I was indebted to +this peculiarity for my own acquaintance with the hero. +Unhappily, Mr. Norris was not only eccentric, he was +fast. His debts were still remembered at the University; +still more, it appeared, the highly humorous circumstances +attending his expulsion. “He was always fond +of his jest,” commented Mrs. Higgs.</p> + +<p>“That he were,” observed her lord.</p> + +<p>But it was after he went into the diplomatic service +that the real trouble began.</p> + +<p>“It seems, sir, that he went the pace extraordinary,” +said the ex-butler, with a solemn gusto.</p> + +<p>“His debts were somethink awful,” said the lady’s-maid. +“And as nice a young gentleman all the time as +you would wish to see!”</p> + +<p>“When word came to Mr. Carthew’s ears the turn-up +was ’orrible,” continued Mr. Higgs. “I remember it +as if it was yesterday. The bell was rung after her la’ship +was gone, which I answered it myself, supposing it were +the coffee. There was Mr. Carthew on his feet. ‘’Iggs,’ +he says, pointing with his stick, for he had a turn of the +gout, ‘order the dog-cart instantly for this son of mine +which has disgraced hisself.’ Mr. Norris say nothink: +he sit there with his ’ead down, making belief to be looking +at a walnut. You might have bowled me over with +a straw,” said Mr. Higgs. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page326" id="page326"></a>326</span></p> + +<p>“Had he done anything very bad?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Not he, Mr. Dodsley!” cried the lady—it was so +she had conceived my name. “He never did anythink +to call really wrong in his poor life. The ’ole affair was +a disgrace. It was all rank favouritising.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. ’Iggs! Mrs. ’Iggs!” cried the butler warningly.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do I care?” retorted the lady, shaking +her ringlets. “You know it was, yourself, Mr. ’Iggs, and +so did every member of the staff.”</p> + +<p>While I was getting these facts and opinions, I by no +means neglected the child. She was not attractive; +but fortunately she had reached the corrupt age of seven, +when half-a-crown appears about as large as a saucer and +is fully as rare as the dodo. For a shilling down, sixpence +in her money-box, and an American gold dollar which I +happened to find in my pocket, I bought the creature +soul and body. She declared her intention to accompany +me to the ends of the earth; and had to be chidden by +her sire for drawing comparisons between myself and her +Uncle William, highly damaging to the latter.</p> + +<p>Dinner was scarce done, the cloth was not yet removed, +when Miss Agnes must needs climb into my lap +with her stamp album, a relic of the generosity of Uncle +William. There are few things I despise more than old +stamps, unless perhaps it be crests; for cattle (from the +Carthew Chillinghams down to the old gate-keeper’s milk-cow +in the lane) contempt is far from being my first sentiment. +But it seemed I was doomed to pass that day in +viewing curiosities, and, smothering a yawn, I devoted +myself once more to tread the well-known round. I +fancy Uncle William must have begun the collection himself +and tired of it, for the book (to my surprise) was +quite respectably filled. There were the varying shades +of the English penny, Russians with the coloured heart, +old undecipherable Thurn-und-Taxis, obsolete triangular +Cape of Good Hopes, Swan Rivers with the Swan, and +Guianas with the sailing ship. Upon all these I looked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327" id="page327"></a>327</span> +with the eyes of a fish and the spirit of a sheep; I think, +indeed, I was at times asleep; and it was probably +in one of these moments that I capsized the album, +and there fell from the end of it, on the floor, a considerable +number of what I believe to be called +“exchanges.”</p> + +<p>Here, against all probability, my chance had come +to me; for as I gallantly picked them up, I was struck +with the disproportionate amount of five-sous French +stamps. Some one, I reasoned, must write very regularly +from France to the neighbourhood of Stallbridge-le-Carthew. +Could it be Norris? On one stamp I made +out an initial C; upon a second I got as far as CH; +beyond which point the postmark used was in every +instance undecipherable. CH, when you consider that +about a quarter of the towns in France begin with +“chāteau,” was an insufficient clue; and I promptly +annexed the plainest of the collection in order to consult +the post-office.</p> + +<p>The wretched infant took me in the fact.</p> + +<p>“Naughty man, to ’teal my ’tamp!” she cried; and +when I would have brazened it off with a denial, recovered +and displayed the stolen article.</p> + +<p>My position was now highly false; and I believe it +was in mere pity that Mrs. Higgs came to my rescue with +a welcome proposition. If the gentleman was really +interested in stamps, she said, probably supposing me +a monomaniac on the point, he should see Mr. Denman’s +album. Mr. Denman had been collecting forty years, +and his collection was said to be worth a mint of money. +“Agnes,” she went, on, “if you were a kind little girl, +you would run over to the ’All, tell Mr. Denman there’s +a connaisseer in the ’ouse, and ask him if one of the young +gentleman might bring the album down.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to see his exchanges too,” I cried, rising +to the occasion. “I may have some of mine in my +pocket-book, and we might trade.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page328" id="page328"></a>328</span></p> + +<p>Half an hour later Mr. Denman arrived himself with +a most unconscionable volume under his arm.</p> + +<p>“Ah, sir,” he cried, “when I ’eard you was a collector +I dropped all. It’s a saying of mine, Mr. Dodsley, +that collecting stamps makes all collectors kin. It’s a +bond, sir; it creates a bond.”</p> + +<p>Upon the truth of this I cannot say; but there is +no doubt that the attempt to pass yourself off for a +collector falsely creates a precarious situation.</p> + +<p>“Ah, here’s the second issue!” I would say, after +consulting the legend at the side. “The pink—no, I +mean the mauve—yes, that’s the beauty of this lot. +Though of course, as you say,” I would hasten to add, +“this yellow on the thin paper is more rare.”</p> + +<p>Indeed I must certainly have been detected, had I +not plied Mr. Denman in self-defence with his favourite +liquor—a port so excellent that it could never have +ripened in the cellar of the Carthew Arms, but must have +been transported, under cloud of night, from the neighbouring +vaults of the great house. At each threat of +exposure, and in particular whenever I was directly +challenged for an opinion, I made haste to fill the butler’s +glass, and by the time we had got to the exchanges, he +was in a condition in which no stamp-collector need be +seriously feared. God forbid I should hint that he was +drunk; he seemed incapable of the necessary liveliness; +but the man’s eyes were set, and so long as he was suffered +to talk without interruption, he seemed careless of my +heeding him.</p> + +<p>In Mr. Denman’s exchanges, as in those of little +Agnes, the same peculiarity was to be remarked,—an +undue preponderance of that despicably common stamp, +the French twenty-five centimes. And here joining them +in stealthy review, I found the C and the CH; then something +of an A just following; and then a terminal Y. +Here was almost the whole name spelt out to me; it seemed +familiar too; and yet for some time I could not bridge +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329" id="page329"></a>329</span> +the imperfection. Then I came upon another stamp, in +which an L was legible before the Y, and in a moment +the word leaped up complete. Chailly, that was the +name: Chailly-en-Bičre, the post town of Barbizon—ah, +there was the very place for any man to hide himself—there +was the very place for Mr. Norris, who had rambled +over England making sketches—the very place for Goddedaal, +who had left a palette-knife on board the <i>Flying +Scud</i>. Singular, indeed, that while I was drifting over +England with the shyster, the man we were in quest of +awaited me at my own ultimate destination.</p> + +<p>Whether Mr. Denman had shown his album to Bellairs, +whether, indeed, Bellairs could have caught (as I did) +this hint from an obliterated postmark, I shall never +know, and it mattered not. We were equal now; my +task at Stallbridge-le-Carthew was accomplished; my +interest in postage-stamps died shamelessly away; the +astonished Denman was bowed out; and, ordering the +horse to be put in, I plunged into the study of the time-table.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page330" id="page330"></a>330</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI</h3> + +<h5>FACE TO FACE</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">I fell</span> from the skies on Barbizon about two o’clock +of a September afternoon. It is the dead hour of the +day; all the workers have gone painting, all the idlers +strolling, in the forest or the plain; the winding causewayed +street is solitary, and the inn deserted. I was +the more pleased to find one of my old companions in +the dining-room; his town clothes marked him for a man +in the act of departure; and indeed his portmanteau +lay beside him on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Why, Stennis,” I cried, “you’re the last man I +expected to find here.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t find me here long,” he replied. “‘<i>King +Pandion he is dead; all his friends are lapped in lead.</i>’ +For men of our antiquity, the poor old shop is played +out.”</p> + +<p>“‘<i>I have had playmates, I have had companions</i>,’” I +quoted in return. We were both moved, I think, to +meet again in this scene of our old pleasure parties so +unexpectedly, after so long an interval, and both already +so much altered.</p> + +<p>“That is the sentiment,” he replied. “‘<i>All, all are +gone, the old familiar faces.</i>’ I have been here a week, +and the only living creature who seemed to recollect me +was the Pharaon. Bar the Sirons, of course, and the +perennial Bodmer.”</p> + +<p>“Is there no survivor?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“Of our geological epoch? not one,” he replied. +“This is the city of Petra in Edom.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page331" id="page331"></a>331</span></p> + +<p>“And what sort of Bedouins encamp among the +ruins?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Youth, Dodd, youth; blooming, conscious youth,” +he returned. “Such a gang, such reptiles! to think we +were like that! I wonder Siron didn’t sweep us from his +premises.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps we weren’t so bad,” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let me depress you,” said he. “We were +both Anglo-Saxons, anyway, and the only redeeming +feature to-day is another.”</p> + +<p>The thought of my quest, a moment driven out by +this rencounter, revived in my mind. “Who is he?” I +cried. “Tell me about him.”</p> + +<p>“What, the Redeeming Feature?” said he. “Well, +he’s a very pleasing creature, rather dim, and dull, and +genteel, but really pleasing. He is very British, though, +the artless Briton! Perhaps you’ll find him too much +so for the transatlantic nerves. Come to think of it, on +the other hand, you ought to get on famously, he is an +admirer of your great republic in one of its (excuse me) +shoddiest features; he takes in and sedulously reads a +lot of American papers. I warned you he was artless.”</p> + +<p>“What papers are they?” cried I.</p> + +<p>“San Francisco papers,” said he. “He gets a bale +of them about twice a week, and studies them like the +Bible. That’s one of his weaknesses; another is to be +incalculably rich. He has taken Masson’s old studio—you +remember?—at the corner of the road; he has furnished +it regardless of expense, and lives there surrounded +with <i>vins fins</i> and works of art. When the youth of +to-day goes up to the Caverne des Brigands to make +punch—they do all that we did, like some nauseous form +of ape (I never appreciated before what a creature of +tradition mankind is)—this Madden follows with a basket +of champagne. I told him he was wrong, and the punch +tasted better; but he thought the boys liked the style +of the thing, and I suppose they do. He is a very good-natured +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page332" id="page332"></a>332</span> +soul, and a very melancholy, and rather a helpless. +O, and he has a third weakness which I came near +forgetting. He paints. He has never been taught, and +he’s well on for thirty, and he paints.”</p> + +<p>“How?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Rather well, I think,” was the reply. “That’s the +annoying part of it. See for yourself. That panel is +his.”</p> + +<p>I stepped toward the window. It was the old familiar +room, with the tables set like a Greek Π, and the side-board, +and the aphasic piano, and the panels on the wall. +There were Romeo and Juliet, Antwerp from the river, +Enfleld’s ships among the ice, and the huge huntsman +winding a huge horn; mingled with them a few new +ones, the thin crop of a succeeding generation, not better +and not worse. It was to one of these I was directed: a +thing coarsely and wittily handled, mostly with the +palette-knife; the colour in some parts excellent, the +canvas in others loaded with mere clay. But it was the +scene and not the art or want of it that riveted my notice. +The foreground was of sand and scrub and wreckwood; +in the middle distance the many-hued and smooth expanse +of a lagoon, enclosed by a wall of breakers; beyond, a +blue strip of ocean. The sky was cloudless, and I could +hear the surf break. For the place was Midway Island; +the point of view the very spot at which I had landed +with the captain for the first time, and from which I +had re-embarked the day before we sailed. I had already +been gazing for some seconds before my attention was +arrested by a blur on the sea-line, and, stooping to look, +I recognised the smoke of a steamer.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said I, turning toward Stennis, “it has merit. +What is it?”</p> + +<p>“A fancy piece,” he returned. “That’s what pleased +me. So few of the fellows in our time had the imagination +of a garden-snail.”</p> + +<p>“Madden, you say his name is?” I pursued. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page333" id="page333"></a>333</span></p> + +<p>“Madden,” he repeated.</p> + +<p>“Has he travelled much?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t an idea. He is one of the least autobiographical +of men. He sits, and smokes, and giggles, and +sometimes he makes small jests; but his contributions +to the art of pleasing are generally confined to looking +like a gentleman and being one. No,” added Stennis, +“he’ll never suit you, Dodd; you like more head on +your liquor. You’ll find him as dull as ditchwater.”</p> + +<p>“Has he big blonde side-whiskers like tusks?” I +asked, mindful of the photograph of Goddedaal.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not; why should he?” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Does he write many letters?” I continued.</p> + +<p>“God knows,” said Stennis.—“What is wrong with +you? I never saw you taken this way before.”</p> + +<p>“The fact is, I think I know the man,” said I. “I +think I’m looking for him. I rather think he is my long-lost +brother.”</p> + +<p>“Not twins, anyway,” returned Stennis.</p> + +<p>And about the same time, a carriage driving up to the +inn, he took his departure.</p> + +<p>I walked till dinner-time in the plain, keeping to the +fields; for I instinctively shunned observation, and was +racked by many incongruous and impatient feelings. +Here was a man whose voice I had once heard, whose +doings had filled so many days of my life with interest +and distress, whom I had lain awake to dream of like a +lover, and now his hand was on the door; now we were +to meet; now I was to learn at last the mystery of the +substituted crew. The sun went down over the plain of +the Angelus, and as the hour approached my courage +lessened. I let the laggard peasants pass me on the homeward +way. The lamps were lit, the soup was served, the +company were all at table, and the room sounded already +with multitudinous talk before I entered. I took my +place and found I was opposite to Madden. Over six +feet high and well set up, the hair dark and streaked with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334" id="page334"></a>334</span> +silver, the eyes dark and kindly, the mouth very good-natured, +the teeth admirable; linen and hands exquisite; +English clothes, an English voice, an English bearing—the +man stood out conspicuous from the company. Yet +he had made himself at home, and seemed to enjoy a +certain quiet popularity among the noisy boys of the +table d’hōte. He had an odd silver giggle of a laugh that +sounded nervous even when he was really amused, and +accorded ill with his big stature and manly, melancholy +face. This laugh fell in continually all through dinner +like the note of the triangle in a piece of modern French +music; and he had at times a kind of pleasantry, rather +of manner than of words, with which he started or maintained +the merriment. He took his share in these diversions, +not so much like a man in high spirits, but like one +of an approved good-nature, habitually self-forgetful, +accustomed to please and to follow others. I have +remarked in old soldiers much the same smiling sadness +and sociable self-effacement.</p> + +<p>I feared to look at him, lest my glances should betray +my deep excitement, and chance served me so well that +the soup was scarce removed before we were naturally +introduced. My first sip of Chāteau Siron, a vintage from +which I had been long estranged, startled me into speech.</p> + +<p>“O, this’ll never do!” I cried, in English.</p> + +<p>“Dreadful stuff, isn’t it?” said Madden, in the same +language. “Do let me ask you to share my bottle. They +call it Chambertin, which it isn’t; but it’s fairly palatable, +and there’s nothing in this house that a man can +drink at all.”</p> + +<p>I accepted; anything would do that paved the way to +better knowledge.</p> + +<p>“Your name is Madden, I think,” said I. “My old +friend Stennis told me about you when I came.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am sorry he went; I feel such a Grandfather +William, alone among all these lads,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“My name is Dodd,” I resumed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335" id="page335"></a>335</span></p> + +<p>“Yes,” said he, “so Madame Siron told me.”</p> + +<p>“Dodd, of San Francisco,” I continued. “Late of +Pinkerton and Dodd.”</p> + +<p>“Montana Block, I think?” said he.</p> + +<p>“The same,” said I.</p> + +<p>Neither of us looked at each other; but I could see +his hand deliberately making bread pills.</p> + +<p>“That’s a nice thing of yours,” I pursued, “that +panel. The foreground is a little clayey, perhaps, but +the lagoon is excellent.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to know,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” returned I, “I’m rather a good judge of—that +panel.”</p> + +<p>There was a considerable pause.</p> + +<p>“You know a man by the name of Bellairs, don’t +you?” he resumed.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” cried I, “you have heard from Dr. Urquart?”</p> + +<p>“This very morning,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“Well, there is no hurry about Bellairs,” said I. “It’s +rather a long story, and rather a silly one. But I think +we have a good deal to tell each other, and perhaps we +had better wait till we are more alone.”</p> + +<p>“I think so,” said he. “Not that any of these fellows +know English, but we’ll be more comfortable over at my +place.—Your health, Dodd.”</p> + +<p>And we took wine together across the table.</p> + +<p>Thus had this singular introduction passed unperceived +in the midst of more than thirty persons, art-students, +ladies in dressing-gowns and covered with rice +powder, six foot of Siron whisking dishes over our head, +and his noisy sons clattering in and out with fresh relays.</p> + +<p>“One question more,” said I: “did you recognise +my voice?”</p> + +<p>“Your voice?” he repeated. “How should I? I +had never heard it—we have never met.”</p> + +<p>“And yet we have been in conversation before now,” +said I, “and I asked you a question which you never +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336" id="page336"></a>336</span> +answered, and which I have since had many thousand +better reasons for putting to myself.”</p> + +<p>He turned suddenly white. “Good God!” he cried, +“are you the man in the telephone?”</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, well!” said he. “It would take a good deal +of magnanimity to forgive you that. What nights I have +passed! That little whisper has whistled in my ear ever +since, like the wind in a keyhole. Who could it be? +What could it mean? I suppose I have had more real, +solid misery out of that....” He paused, and looked +troubled. “Though I had more to bother me, or ought +to have,” he added, and slowly emptied his glass.</p> + +<p>“It seems we were born to drive each other crazy +with conundrums,” said I. “I have often thought my +head would split.”</p> + +<p>Carthew burst into his foolish laugh. “And yet neither +you nor I had the worst of the puzzle,” he cried. “There +were others deeper in.”</p> + +<p>“And who were they?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“The underwriters,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Why, to be sure!” cried I. “I never thought of +that. What could they make of it?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” replied Carthew. “It couldn’t be explained. +They were a crowd of small dealers at Lloyd’s +who took it up in syndicate; one of them has a carriage +now; and people say he is a deuce of a deep fellow, and +has the makings of a great financier. Another furnished +a small villa on the profits. But they’re all hopelessly +muddled; and when they meet each other they don’t +know where to look, like the Augurs.”</p> + +<p>Dinner was no sooner at an end than he carried me +across the road to Masson’s old studio. It was strangely +changed. On the walls were tapestry, a few good etchings, +and some amazing pictures—a Rousseau, a Corot, a really +superb old Crome, a Whistler, and a piece which my host +claimed (and I believe) to be a Titian. The room was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337" id="page337"></a>337</span> +furnished with comfortable English smoking-room chairs, +some American rockers, and an elaborate business table; +spirits and soda-water (with the mark of Schweppe, no +less) stood ready on a butler’s tray, and in one corner, +behind a half-drawn curtain, I spied a camp-bed and a +capacious tub. Such a room in Barbizon astonished the +beholder, like the glories of the cave of Monte Cristo.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said he, “we are quiet. Sit down, if you don’t +mind, and tell me your story all through.”</p> + +<p>I did as he asked, beginning with the day when Jim +showed me the passage in the <i>Daily Occidental</i>, and winding +up with the stamp album and the Chailly post-mark. +It was a long business; and Carthew made it longer, for +he was insatiable of details; and it had struck midnight +on the old eight-day clock in the corner before I had made +an end.</p> + +<p>“And now,” said he, “turn about: I must tell you +my side, much as I hate it. Mine is a beastly story. +You’ll wonder how I can sleep. I’ve told it once before, +Mr. Dodd.”</p> + +<p>“To Lady Ann?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“As you suppose,” he answered; “and, to say the +truth, I had sworn never to tell it again. Only, you +seem somehow entitled to the thing; you have paid dear +enough, God knows; and God knows I hope you may +like it, now you’ve got it!”</p> + +<p>With that he began his yarn. A new day had dawned, +the cocks crew in the village and the early woodmen were +afoot, when he concluded.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page338" id="page338"></a>338</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII</h3> + +<h5>THE REMITTANCE MAN</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Singleton Carthew</span>, the father of Norris, was heavily +built and feebly vitalised, sensitive as a musician, dull as +a sheep, and conscientious as a dog. He took his position +with seriousness, even with pomp; the long rooms, the +silent servants, seemed in his eyes like the observances +of some religion of which he was the mortal god. He had +the stupid man’s intolerance of stupidity in others; the +vain man’s exquisite alarm lest it should be detected in +himself. And on both sides Norris irritated and offended +him. He thought his son a fool, and he suspected that +his son returned the compliment with interest. The +history of their relation was simple; they met seldom, +they quarrelled often. To his mother, a fiery, pungent, +practical woman, already disappointed in her husband +and her elder son, Norris was only a fresh disappointment.</p> + +<p>Yet the lad’s faults were no great matter; he was +diffident, placable, passive, unambitious, unenterprising; +life did not much attract him; he watched it like a +curious and dull exhibition, not much amused, and not +tempted in the least to take a part. He beheld his father +ponderously grinding sand, his mother fierily breaking +butterflies, his brother labouring at the pleasures of the +Hawbuck with the ardour of a soldier in a doubtful +battle; and the vital sceptic looked on wondering. They +were careful and troubled about many things; for him +there seemed not even one thing needful. He was born +disenchanted, the world’s promises awoke no echo in his +bosom, the world’s activities and the world’s distinctions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page339" id="page339"></a>339</span> +seemed to him equally without a base in fact. He liked +the open air; he liked comradeship, it mattered not +with whom, his comrades were only a remedy for solitude. +And he had a taste for painted art. An array of fine +pictures looked upon his childhood, and from these roods +of jewelled canvas he received an indelible impression. +The gallery at Stallbridge betokened generations of picture-lovers; +Norris was perhaps the first of his race to +hold the pencil. The taste was genuine, it grew and +strengthened with his growth; and yet he suffered it to +be suppressed with scarce a struggle. Time came for +him to go to Oxford, and he resisted faintly. He was +stupid, he said; it was no good to put him through the +mill; he wished to be a painter. The words fell on his +father like a thunderbolt, and Norris made haste to give +way. “It didn’t really matter, don’t you know?” said +he. “And it seemed an awful shame to vex the old +boy.”</p> + +<p>To Oxford he went obediently, hopelessly; and at +Oxford became the hero of a certain circle. He was +active and adroit; when he was in the humour, he +excelled in many sports; and his singular melancholy +detachment gave him a place apart. He set a fashion in +his clique. Envious undergraduates sought to parody his +unaffected lack of zeal and fear; it was a kind of new +Byronism more composed and dignified. “Nothing really +mattered”; among other things this formula embraced +the dons; and though he always meant to be civil, the +effect on the college authorities was one of startling rudeness. +His indifference cut like insolence; and in some +outbreak of his constitutional levity (the complement of +his melancholy) he was “sent down” in the middle of +the second year.</p> + +<p>The event was new in the annals of the Carthews, and +Singleton was prepared to make the most of it. It had +been long his practice to prophesy for his second son a +career of ruin and disgrace. There is an advantage in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340" id="page340"></a>340</span> +this artless parental habit. Doubtless the father is interested +in his son; but doubtless also the prophet grows +to be interested in his prophecies. If the one goes wrong, +the others come true. Old Carthew drew from this source +esoteric consolations; he dwelt at length on his own +foresight; he produced variations hitherto unheard from +the old theme “I told you so,” coupled his son’s name +with the gallows and the hulks, and spoke of his small +handful of college debts as though he must raise money +on a mortgage to discharge them.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think that is fair, sir,” said Norris; “I +lived at college exactly as you told me. I am sorry I +was sent down, and you have a perfect right to blame me +for that; but you have no right to pitch into me about +these debts.”</p> + +<p>The effect upon a stupid man not unjustly incensed +need scarcely be described. For a while Singleton raved.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what, father,” said Norris at last, “I +don’t think this is going to do. I think you had better +let me take to painting. It’s the only thing I take a spark +of interest in. I shall never be steady as long as I’m at +anything else.”</p> + +<p>“When you stand here, sir, to the neck in disgrace,” +said the father, “I should have hoped you would have had +more good taste than to repeat this levity.”</p> + +<p>The hint was taken; the levity was never more +obtruded on the father’s notice, and Norris was inexorably +launched upon a backward voyage. He went abroad +to study foreign languages, which he learned, at a very +expensive rate; and a fresh crop of debts fell soon to be +paid, with similar lamentations, which were in this case +perfectly justified, and to which Norris paid no regard. +He had been unfairly treated over the Oxford affair; +and with a spice of malice very surprising in one so +placable, and an obstinacy remarkable in one so weak, +refused from that day forward to exercise the least captaincy +on his expenses. He wasted what he would; he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341" id="page341"></a>341</span> +allowed his servants to despoil him at their pleasure; +he sowed insolvency; and, when the crop was ripe, notified +his father with exasperating calm. His own capital +was put in his hands, he was planted in the diplomatic +service, and told he must depend upon himself.</p> + +<p>He did so till he was twenty-five, by which time he +had spent his money, laid in a handsome choice of debts +and acquired (like so many other melancholic and uninterested +persons) a habit of gambling. An Austrian +colonel—the same who afterwards hanged himself at +Monte Carlo—gave him a lesson which lasted two-and-twenty +hours, and left him wrecked and helpless. Old +Singleton once more repurchased the honour of his name, +this time at a fancy figure; and Norris was set afloat +again on stern conditions. An allowance of three hundred +pounds in the year was to be paid to him quarterly by a +lawyer in Sydney, New South Wales. He was not to +write. Should he fail on any quarter-day to be in Sydney, +he was to be held for dead, and the allowance tacitly +withdrawn. Should he return to Europe, an advertisement +publicly disowning him was to appear in every paper +of repute.</p> + +<p>It was one of his most annoying features as a son that +he was always polite, always just, and in whatever whirlwind +of domestic anger always calm. He expected trouble; +when trouble came he was unmoved; he might have +said with Singleton, “<i>I told you so</i>”: he was content +with thinking, “<i>Just as I expected</i>.” On the fall of these +last thunderbolts he bore himself like a person only distantly +interested in the event, pocketed the money and +the reproaches, obeyed orders punctually; took ship and +came to Sydney. Some men are still lads at twenty-five; +and so it was with Norris. Eighteen days after he landed +his quarter’s allowance was all gone, and with the light-hearted +hopefulness of strangers in what is called a new +country he began to besiege offices and apply for all +manner of incongruous situations. Everywhere, and last +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342" id="page342"></a>342</span> +of all from his lodgings, he was bowed out; and found +himself reduced, in a very elegant suit of summer tweeds, +to herd and camp with the degraded outcasts of the city.</p> + +<p>In this strait he had recourse to the lawyer who paid +him his allowance.</p> + +<p>“Try to remember that my time is valuable, Mr. +Carthew,” said the lawyer. “It is quite unnecessary you +should enlarge on the peculiar position in which you +stand. <i>Remittance men</i>, as we call them here, are not +so rare in my experience; and in such cases I act upon a +system. I make you a present of a sovereign—here it +is. Every day you choose to call my clerk will advance +you a shilling; on Saturday, since my office is closed on +Sunday, he will advance you half-a-crown. My conditions +are these. That you do not come to me, but to +my clerk, that you do not come here the worse of liquor; +and you go away the moment you are paid and have +signed a receipt.—I wish you a good morning.”</p> + +<p>“I have to thank you, I suppose,” said Carthew. +“My position is so wretched that I cannot even refuse +this starvation allowance.”</p> + +<p>“Starvation!” said the lawyer, smiling. “No man +will starve here on a shilling a day. I had on my hands +another young gentleman who remained continuously +intoxicated for six years on the same allowance.” And +he once more busied himself with his papers.</p> + +<p>In the time that followed, the image of the smiling +lawyer haunted Carthew’s memory. “That three minutes’ +talk was all the education I ever had worth talking of,” +says he. “It was all life in a nutshell. Confound it,” I +thought, “have I got to the point of envying that ancient +fossil?”</p> + +<p>Every morning for the next two or three weeks the +stroke of ten found Norris, unkempt and haggard, at the +lawyer’s door. The long day and longer night he spent +in the Domain, now on a bench, now on the grass under +a Norfolk Island pine, the companion of perhaps the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343" id="page343"></a>343</span> +lowest class on earth, the Larrikins of Sydney. Morning +after morning, the dawn behind the lighthouse recalled +him from slumber; and he would stand and gaze upon +the changing east, the fading lenses, the smokeless city, +and the many-armed and many-masted harbour growing +slowly clear under his eyes. His bed-fellows (so to call +them) were less active; they lay sprawled upon the grass +and benches, the dingy men, the frowsy women, prolonging +their late repose; and Carthew wandered among the +sleeping bodies alone, and cursed the incurable stupidity +of his behaviour. Day brought a new society of nurserymaids +and children, and fresh-dressed and (I am sorry to +say) tight-laced maidens, and gay people in rich traps; +upon the skirts of which Carthew and “the other black-guards”—his +own bitter phrase—skulked, and chewed +grass, and looked on. Day passed, the light died, the +green and leafy precinct sparkled with lamps or lay in +shadow, and the round of the night began again—the +loitering women, the lurking men, the sudden outburst +of screams, the sound of flying feet. “You mayn’t believe +it,” says Carthew, “but I got to that pitch that I didn’t +care a hang. I have been wakened out of my sleep to +hear a woman screaming, and I have only turned upon +my other side. Yes, it’s a queer place, where the dowagers +and the kids walk all day, and at night you can hear +people bawling for help as if it was the Forest of Bondy, +with the lights of a great town all round, and parties +spinning through in cabs from Government House and +dinner with my lord!”</p> + +<p>It was Norris’s diversion, having none other, to scrape +acquaintance, where, how, and with whom he could. +Many a long, dull talk he held upon the benches or the +grass; many a strange waif he came to know; many +strange things he heard, and saw some that were abominable. +It was to one of these last that he owed his deliverance +from the Domain. For some time the rain had +been merciless; one night after another he had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344" id="page344"></a>344</span> +obliged to squander fourpence on a bed and reduce his +board to the remaining eightpence: and he sat one morning +near the Macquarrie Street entrance, hungry, for he +had gone without breakfast, and wet, as he had already +been for several days, when the cries of an animal in distress +attracted his attention. Some fifty yards away, in +the extreme angle of the grass, a party of the chronically +unemployed had got hold of a dog, whom they were +torturing in a manner not to be described. The heart of +Norris, which had grown indifferent to the cries of human +anger or distress, woke at the appeal of the dumb creature. +He ran amongst the Larrikins, scattered them, rescued +the dog, and stood at bay. They were six in number, +shambling gallows-birds; but for once the proverb was +right, cruelty was coupled with cowardice, and the wretches +cursed him and made off. It chanced that this act of +prowess had not passed unwitnessed. On a bench near by +there was seated a shopkeeper’s assistant out of employ, +a diminutive, cheerful, red-headed creature by the +name of Hemstead. He was the last man to have +interfered himself, for his discretion more than equalled +his valour: but he made haste to congratulate Carthew, +and to warn him that he might not always be so +fortunate.</p> + +<p>“They’re a dyngerous lot of people about this park. +My word! it doesn’t do to ply with them!” he observed, +in that <i>rycy Austrylian</i> English, which (as it has received +the imprimatur of Mr. Froude) we should all make haste +to imitate.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’m one of that lot myself,” returned Carthew.</p> + +<p>Hemstead laughed, and remarked that he knew a +gentleman when he saw one.</p> + +<p>“For all that, I am simply one of the unemployed,” +said Carthew, seating himself beside his new acquaintance, +as he had sat (since this experience began) beside +so many dozen others.</p> + +<p>“I’m out of a plyce myself,” said Hemstead. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345" id="page345"></a>345</span></p> + +<p>“You beat me all the way and back,” says Carthew. +“My trouble is that I have never been in one.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’ve no tryde?” asked Hemstead.</p> + +<p>“I know how to spend money,” replied Carthew, +“and I really do know something of horses and something +of the sea. But the unions head me off; if it +weren’t for them, I might have had a dozen berths.”</p> + +<p>“My word!” cried the sympathetic listener. “Ever +try the mounted police?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“I did, and was bowled out,” was the reply; +“couldn’t pass the doctors.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do <i>you</i> think of the ryleways, then?” +asked Hemstead.</p> + +<p>“What do <i>you</i> think of them, if you come to that?” +asked Carthew.</p> + +<p>“O, <i>I</i> don’t think of them; I don’t go in for manual +labour,” said the little man proudly. “But if a man don’t +mind that, he’s pretty sure of a job there.”</p> + +<p>“By George, you tell me where to go!” cried Carthew +rising.</p> + +<p>The heavy rains continued, the country was already +overrun with floods; the railway system daily required +more hands, daily the superintendent advertised; but +“the unemployed” preferred the resources of charity +and rapine, and a navvy, even an amateur navvy, commanded +money in the market. The same night, after +a tedious journey, and a change of trains to pass a landslip, +Norris found himself in a muddy cutting behind +South Clifton, attacking his first shift of manual labour.</p> + +<p>For weeks the rain scarce relented. The whole front +of the mountain slipped seaward from above, avalanches +of clay, rock, and uprooted forest spewed over the cliffs +and fell upon the beach or in the breakers. Houses were +carried bodily away and smashed like nuts; others were +menaced and deserted, the door locked, the chimney cold, +the dwellers fled elsewhere for safety. Night and day +the fire blazed in the encampment; night and day hot +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346" id="page346"></a>346</span> +coffee was served to the overdriven toilers in the shift; +night and day the engineer of the section made his rounds +with words of encouragement, hearty and rough and well +suited to his men. Night and day, too, the telegraph +clicked with disastrous news and anxious inquiry. Along +the terraced line of rail, rare trains came creeping and +signalling; and paused at the threatened corner, like +living things conscious of peril. The commandant of the +post would hastily review his labours, make (with a dry +throat) the signal to advance; and the whole squad line +the way and look on in a choking silence, or burst into +a brief cheer as the train cleared the point of danger and +shot on, perhaps through the thin sunshine between +squalls, perhaps with blinking lamps into the gathering +rainy twilight.</p> + +<p>One such scene Carthew will remember till he dies. +It blew great guns from the seaward; a huge surf bombarded, +five hundred feet below him, the steep mountain’s +foot; close in was a vessel in distress, firing shots from +a fowling-piece, if any help might come. So he saw and +heard her the moment before the train appeared and +paused, throwing up a Babylonian tower of smoke into +the rain and oppressing men’s hearts with the scream of +her whistle. The engineer was there himself; he paled +as he made the signal: the engine came at a foot’s pace; +but the whole bulk of mountain shook and seemed to +nod seaward, and the watching navvies instinctively +clutched at shrubs and trees: vain precautions, vain as +the shots from the poor sailors. Once again fear was +disappointed; the train passed unscathed; and Norris, +drawing a long breath, remembered the labouring ship, +and glanced below. She was gone.</p> + +<p>So the days and the nights passed: Homeric labour +in Homeric circumstance. Carthew was sick with sleeplessness +and coffee; his hands, softened by the wet, were +cut to ribbons; yet he enjoyed a peace of mind and +health of body hitherto unknown. Plenty of open air, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page347" id="page347"></a>347</span> +plenty of physical exertion, a continual instancy of toil—here +was what had been hitherto lacking in that misdirected +life, and the true cure of vital scepticism. To +get the train through, there was the recurrent problem: +no time remained to ask if it were necessary. Carthew, +the idler, the spendthrift, the drifting dilettante, was +soon remarked, praised, and advanced. The engineer +swore by him and pointed him out for an example. “I’ve +a new chum, up here,” Norris heard him saying, “a young +swell. He’s worth any two in the squad.” The words +fell on the ears of the discarded son like music; and from +that moment he not only found an interest, he took a +pride, in his plebeian tasks.</p> + +<p>The press of work was still at its highest when quarter-day +approached. Norris was now raised to a position of +some trust; at his discretion, trains were stopped or +forwarded at the dangerous cornice near North Clifton; +and he found in this responsibility both terror and delight. +The thought of the seventy-five pounds that would soon +await him at the lawyer’s, and of his own obligation to +be present every quarter-day in Sydney, filled him for a +little with divided councils. Then he made up his mind, +walked in a slack moment to the inn at Clifton, ordered +a sheet of paper and a bottle of beer, and wrote, explaining +that he held a good appointment which he would +lose if he came to Sydney, and asking the lawyer to accept +this letter as an evidence of his presence in the colony, +and retain the money till next quarter-day. The answer +came in course of post, and was not merely favourable +but cordial. “Although what you propose is contrary to +the terms of my instructions,” it ran, “I willingly accept +the responsibility of granting your request. I should say +I am agreeably disappointed in your behaviour. My +experience has not led me to found much expectations on +gentlemen in your position.”</p> + +<p>The rains abated, and the temporary labour was discharged; +not Norris, to whom the engineer clung as to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348" id="page348"></a>348</span> +found money; not Norris, who found himself a ganger +on the line in the regular staff of navvies. His camp +was pitched in a grey wilderness of rock and forest, far +from any house; as he sat with his mates about the +evening fire, the trains passing on the track were their +next, and indeed their only, neighbours, except the wild +things of the wood. Lovely weather, light and monotonous +employment, long hours of somnolent camp-fire +talk, long sleepless nights, when he reviewed his foolish +and fruitless career as he rose and walked in the moonlit +forest, an occasional paper of which he would read all, +the advertisements with as much relish as the text; such +was the tenor of an existence which soon began to weary +and harass him. He lacked and regretted the fatigue, +the furious hurry, the suspense, the fires, the midnight +coffee, the rude and mud-bespattered poetry of the first +toilful weeks. In the quietness of his new surroundings +a voice summoned him from this exorbital part of life, and +about the middle of October he threw up his situation +and bade farewell to the camp of tents and the shoulder +of Bald Mountain.</p> + +<p>Clad in his rough clothes, with a bundle on his shoulder +and his accumulated wages in his pocket, he entered +Sydney for the second time, and walked with pleasure +and some bewilderment in the cheerful streets, like a man +landed from a voyage. The sight of the people led him +on. He forgot his necessary errands, he forgot to eat. +He wandered in moving multitudes like a stick upon a +river. Last he came to the Domain and strolled there, +and remembered his shame and sufferings, and looked +with poignant curiosity at his successors. Hemstead, not +much shabbier and no less cheerful than before, he recognised +and addressed like an old family friend.</p> + +<p>“That was a good turn you did me,” said he. “That +railway was the making of me. I hope you’ve had luck +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“My word, no!” replied the little man. “I just sit +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349" id="page349"></a>349</span> +here and read the <i>Dead Bird</i>. It’s the depression in +tryde, you see. There’s no positions goin’ that a man +like me would care to look at.” And he showed Norris +his certificates and written characters, one from a grocer +in Wooloomooloo, one from an ironmonger, and a third +from a billiard saloon. “Yes,” he said, “I tried bein’ a +billiard-marker. It’s no account; these lyte hours are +no use for a man’s health. I won’t be no man’s slyve,” +he added firmly.</p> + +<p>On the principle that he who is too proud to be a slave +is usually not too modest to become a pensioner, Carthew +gave him half a sovereign and departed, being suddenly +struck with hunger, in the direction of the Paris House. +When he came to that quarter of the city, the barristers +were trotting in the streets in wig and gown, and he +stood to observe them with his bundle on his shoulder, +and his mind full of curious recollections of the +past.</p> + +<p>“By George!” cried a voice, “it’s Mr. Carthew!”</p> + +<p>And turning about he found himself face to face with +a handsome sunburnt youth, somewhat fatted, arrayed in +the finest of fine raiment, and sporting about a sovereign’s +worth of flowers in his button-hole. Norris had met him +during his first days in Sydney at a farewell supper; had +even escorted him on board a schooner full of cockroaches +and black-boy sailors, in which he was bound for six +months among the islands; and had kept him ever since +in entertained remembrance. Tom Hadden (known to the +bulk of Sydney folk as <i>Tommy</i>) was heir to a considerable +property, which a prophetic father had placed in +the hands of rigorous trustees. The income supported +Mr. Hadden in splendour for about three months out of +twelve; the rest of the year he passed in retreat among +the islands. He was now about a week returned from his +eclipse, pervading Sydney in hansom cabs and airing the +first bloom of six new suits of clothes; and yet the unaffected +creature hailed Carthew in his working jeans +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page350" id="page350"></a>350</span> +and with the damning bundle on his shoulder, as he might +have claimed acquaintance with a duke.</p> + +<p>“Come and have a drink?” was his cheerful cry.</p> + +<p>“I’m just going to have lunch at the Paris House,” +returned Carthew. “It’s a long time since I have had a +decent meal.”</p> + +<p>“Splendid scheme!” said Hadden. “I’ve only had +breakfast half an hour ago; but we’ll have a private room, +and I’ll manage to pick something. It’ll brace me up. +I was on an awful tear last night, and I’ve met no end of +fellows this morning.” To meet a fellow, and to stand +and share a drink, were with Tom synonymous +terms.</p> + +<p>They were soon at table in the corner room upstairs, +and paying due attention to the best fare in Sydney. +The odd similarity of their positions drew them together, +and they began soon to exchange confidences. Carthew +related his privations in the Domain, and his toils as a +navvy; Hadden gave his experience as an amateur copra +merchant in the South Seas, and drew a humorous picture +of life in a coral island. Of the two plans of retirement, +Carthew gathered that his own had been vastly the more +lucrative; but Hadden’s trading outfit had consisted +largely of bottled stout and brown sherry for his own +consumption.</p> + +<p>“I had champagne, too,” said Hadden, “but I kept +that in case of sickness, until I didn’t seem to be going +to be sick, and then I opened a pint every Sunday. Used +to sleep all morning, then breakfast with my pint of fizz, +and lie in a hammock and read Hallam’s ‘Middle Ages.’ +Have you read that? I always take something solid to +the islands. There’s no doubt I did the thing in rather +a fine style; but if it was gone about a little cheaper, +or there were two of us to bear the expense, it ought to +pay hand over fist. I’ve got the influence, you see. I’m +a chief now, and sit in the speak-house under my own +strip of roof. I’d like to see them taboo <i>me!</i> They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351" id="page351"></a>351</span> +daren’t try it; I’ve a strong party, I can tell you. Why +I’ve had upwards of thirty cowtops sitting in my front +verandah eating tins of salmon.”</p> + +<p>“Cowtops?” asked Carthew, “what are they?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what Hallam would call feudal retainers,” +explained Hadden, not without vainglory. “They’re My +Followers. They belong to My Family. I tell you, they +come expensive, though; you can’t fill up all these +retainers on tinned salmon for nothing; but whenever +I could get it, I would give ’em squid. Squid’s good for +natives, but I don’t care for it, do you?—or shark either. +It’s like the working classes at home. With copra at the +price it is, they ought to be willing to bear their share of +the loss; and so I’ve told them again and again. I think +it’s a man’s duty to open their minds, and I try to, but +you can’t get political economy into them; it doesn’t +seem to reach their intelligence.”</p> + +<p>There was an expression still sticking in Carthew’s +memory, and he returned upon it with a smile. “Talking +of political economy,” said he, “you said if there +were two of us to bear the expense, the profits would +increase. How do you make out that?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you! I’ll figure it out for you!” cried +Hadden, and with a pencil on the back of the bill of fare +proceeded to perform miracles. He was a man, or let +us rather say a lad, of unusual projective power. Give +him the faintest hint of any speculation, and the figures +flowed from him by the page. A lively imagination, +and a ready, though inaccurate memory, supplied his +data; he delivered himself with an inimitable heat that +made him seem the picture of pugnacity; lavished contradiction +had a form of words, with or without significance, +for every form of criticism; and the looker-on +alternately smiled at his simplicity and fervour, or was +amazed by his unexpected shrewdness. He was a kind +of Pinkerton in play. I have called Jim’s the romance +of business; this was its Arabian tale. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page352" id="page352"></a>352</span></p> + +<p>“Have you any idea what this would cost?” he asked, +pausing at an item.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” said Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Ten pounds ought to be ample,” concluded the +projector.</p> + +<p>“O, nonsense!” cried Carthew. “Fifty at the very +least.”</p> + +<p>“You told me yourself this moment you knew nothing +about it!” cried Tommy. “How can I make a calculation +if you blow hot and cold? You don’t seem able to +be serious!”</p> + +<p>But he consented to raise his estimate to twenty; +and a little after, the calculation coming out with a deficit, +cut it down again to five pounds ten, with the remark, +“I told you it was nonsense. This sort of thing has to be +done strictly, or where’s the use?”</p> + +<p>Some of these processes struck Carthew as unsound; +and he was at times altogether thrown out by the capricious +starlings of the prophet’s mind. These plunges +seemed to be gone into for exercise and by the way, like +the curvets of a willing horse. Gradually the thing took +shape; the glittering if baseless edifice arose; and the +hare still ran on the mountains, but the soup was already +served in silver plate. Carthew in a few days could command +a hundred and fifty pounds; Hadden was ready +with five hundred; why should they not recruit a fellow +or two more, charter an old ship, and go cruising on their +own account? Carthew was an experienced yachtsman; +Hadden professed himself able to “work an approximate +sight.” Money was undoubtedly to be made, or why +should so many vessels cruise about the islands? they +who worked their own ship, were sure of a still higher +profit.</p> + +<p>“And whatever else comes of it, you see,” cried +Hadden, “we get our keep for nothing.—Come, buy some +togs, that’s the first thing you have to do of course; and +then we’ll take a hansom and go to the ‘Currency Lass.’” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page353" id="page353"></a>353</span></p> + +<p>“I’m going to stick to the togs I have,” said Norris.</p> + +<p>“Are you?” cried Hadden. “Well, I must say I +admire you. You’re a regular sage. It’s what you call +Pythagoreanism, isn’t it? if I haven’t forgotten my +philosophy.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I call it economy,” returned Carthew. “If +we are going to try this thing on, I shall want every sixpence.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll see if we’re going to try it!” cried Tommy, +rising radiant from table. “Only, mark you, Carthew, +it must be all in your name. I have capital, you see; but +you’re all right. You can play <i>vacuus viator</i> if the thing +goes wrong.”</p> + +<p>“I thought we had just proved it was quite safe,” +said Carthew.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing safe in business, my boy,” replied +the sage; “not even bookmaking.”</p> + +<p>The public-house and tea-garden called the “Currency +Lass” represented a moderate fortune gained by its proprietor, +Captain Bostock, during a long, active, and occasionally +historic career, among the islands. Anywhere +from Tonga to the Admiralty Isles, he knew the ropes +and could lie in the native dialect. He had seen the end +of sandalwood, the end of oil, and the beginning of copra; +and he was himself a commercial pioneer, the first that +ever carried human teeth into the Gilberts. He was +tried for his life in Fiji in Sir Arthur Gordon’s time; and +if ever he prayed at all, the name of Sir Arthur was +certainly not forgotten. He was speared in seven places +in New Ireland—the same time his mate was killed—the +famous “outrage on the brig <i>Jolly Roger</i>”; but the +treacherous savages made little by their wickedness, and +Bostock, in spite of their teeth, got seventy-five head of +volunteer labour on board, of whom not more than a +dozen died of injuries. He had a hand, besides, in the +amiable pleasantry which cost the life of Patteson; and +when the sham bishop landed, prayed, and gave his benediction +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page354" id="page354"></a>354</span> +to the natives, Bostock, arrayed in a female +chemise out of the trade-room, had stood at his right hand +and boomed amens. This, when he was sure he was +among good fellows, was his favourite yarn. “Two +hundred head of labour for a hatful of amens,” he used +to name the tale; and its sequel, the death of the real +bishop, struck him as a circumstance of extraordinary +humour.</p> + +<p>Many of these details were communicated in the +hansom, to the surprise of Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Why do we want to visit this old ruffian?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“You wait till you hear him,” replied Tommy. “That +man knows everything.”</p> + +<p>On descending from the hansom at the “Currency +Lass,” Hadden was struck with the appearance of the +cabman, a gross, salt-looking man, red-faced, blue-eyed, +short-handed and short-winded, perhaps nearing forty.</p> + +<p>“Surely I know you?” said he. “Have you driven +me before?”</p> + +<p>“Many’s the time, Mr. Hadden,” returned the driver. +“The last time you was back from the islands it was +me that drove you to the races, sir.”</p> + +<p>“All right: jump down and have a drink then,” said +Tom, and he turned and led the way into the garden.</p> + +<p>Captain Bostock met the party: he was a slow, sour +old man, with fishy eyes; greeted Tommy offhand, and +(as was afterwards remembered) exchanged winks with +the driver.</p> + +<p>“A bottle of beer for the cabman there at that table,” +said Tom. “Whatever you please from shandy-gaff to +champagne at this one here; and you sit down with us. +Let me make you acquainted with my friend Mr. Carthew. +I’ve come on business, Billy; I want to consult you as +a friend; I’m going into the island trade upon my own +account.”</p> + +<p>Doubtless the captain was a mine of counsel, but opportunity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355" id="page355"></a>355</span> +was denied him. He could not venture on a statement, +he was scarce allowed to finish a phrase, before +Hadden swept him from the field with a volley of protest +and correction. That projector, his face blazing with +inspiration, first laid before him at inordinate length a +question, and as soon as he attempted to reply, leaped at +his throat, called his facts into question, derided his +policy, and at times thundered on him from the heights +of moral indignation.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said once. “I am a gentleman, +Mr. Carthew here is a gentleman, and we don’t +mean to do that class of business. Can’t you see who +you are talking to? Can’t you talk sense? Can’t you +give us ‘a dead bird’ for a good traderoom?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t suppose I can,” returned old Bostock; +“not when I can’t hear my own voice for two seconds +together. It was gin and guns I did it with.”</p> + +<p>“Take your gin and guns to Putney,” cried Hadden. +“It was the thing in your times, that’s right enough; +but you’re old now, and the game’s up. I’ll tell you +what’s wanted nowadays, Bill Bostock,” said he; and did, +and took ten minutes to it.</p> + +<p>Carthew could not refrain from smiling. He began +to think less seriously of the scheme, Hadden appearing +too irresponsible a guide; but on the other hand, he +enjoyed himself amazingly. It was far from being the +same with Captain Bostock.</p> + +<p>“You know a sight, don’t you?” remarked that +gentleman bitterly, when Tommy paused.</p> + +<p>“I know a sight more than you, if that’s what you +mean,” retorted Tom. “It stands to reason I do. You’re +not a man of any education; you’ve been all your life +at sea, or in the islands; you don’t suppose you can give +points to a man like me.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s your health, Tommy,” returned Bostock. +“You’ll make an A1 bake in the New Hebrides.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I call talking,” cried Tom, not perhaps +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page356" id="page356"></a>356</span> +grasping the spirit of this doubtful compliment. “Now +you give me your attention. We have the money and the +enterprise, and I have the experience; what we want is +a cheap, smart boat, a good captain, and an introduction +to some house that will give us credit for the trade.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Captain Bostock. “I have +seen men like you baked and eaten, and complained +of afterwards. Some was tough, and some hadn’t no +flaviour,” he added grimly.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by that?” cried Tom.</p> + +<p>“I mean I don’t care,” cried Bostock. “It ain’t any +of my interests. I haven’t underwrote your life. Only +I’m blest if I’m not sorry for the cannibal as tries to eat +your head. And what I recommend is a cheap, smart +coffin and a good undertaker. See if you can find a house +to give you credit for a coffin! Look at your friend there: +<i>he’s</i> got some sense; he’s laughing at you so as he can’t +stand.”</p> + +<p>The exact degree of ill-feeling in Mr. Bostock’s mind +was difficult to gauge; perhaps there was not much, +perhaps he regarded his remarks as a form of courtly +badinage. But there is little doubt that Hadden resented +them. He had even risen from his place, and the conference +was on the point of breaking up when a new voice +joined suddenly in the conversation.</p> + +<p>The cabman sat with his back turned upon the party, +smoking a meerschaum pipe. Not a word of Tommy’s +eloquence had missed him, and he now faced suddenly +about with these amazing words—</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, gentlemen; if you’ll buy me the ship I +want, I’ll get you the trade on credit.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do <i>you</i> mean?” gasped Tommy.</p> + +<p>“Better tell ’em who I am, Billy,” said the cabman.</p> + +<p>“Think it safe, Joe?” inquired Mr. Bostock.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take my risk of it,” returned the cabman.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” said Bostock, rising suddenly, “let me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357" id="page357"></a>357</span> +make you acquainted with Captain Wicks of the <i>Grace +Darling</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, gentlemen, that is what I am,” said the cabman. +“You know I’ve been in trouble, and I don’t +deny but what I struck the blow, and where was I to get +evidence of my provocation? So I turned to and took +a cab, and I’ve driven one for three year now, and nobody +the wiser.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Carthew, joining almost +for the first time, “I’m a new chum. What was the +charge?”</p> + +<p>“Murder,” said Captain Wicks, “and I don’t deny +but what I struck the blow. And there’s no sense in +my trying to deny I was afraid to go to trial, or why would +I be here? But it’s a fact it was flat mutiny. Ask Billy +here. He knows how it was.”</p> + +<p>Carthew breathed long; he had a strange, half-pleasurable +sense of wading deeper in the tide of life. “Well,” +said he, “you were going on to say?”</p> + +<p>“I was going on to say this,” said the captain sturdily. +“I’ve overheard what Mr. Hadden has been saying, and +I think he talks good sense. I like some of his ideas first +chop. He’s sound on traderooms; he’s all there on the +traderoom, and I see that he and I would pull together. +Then you’re both gentlemen, and I like that,” observed +Captain Wicks. “And then I’ll tell you I’m tired of this +cabbing cruise, and I want to get to work again. Now, +here’s my offer. I’ve a little money I can stake up—all +of a hundred, anyway. Then my old firm will give me +trade, and jump at the chance; they never lost by me; +they know what I’m worth as supercargo. And, last of +all, you want a good captain to sail your ship for you. +Well, here I am. I’ve sailed schooners for ten years. +Ask Billy if I can handle a schooner.”</p> + +<p>“No man better,” said Billy.</p> + +<p>“And as for my character as a shipmate,” concluded +Wicks, “go and ask my old firm.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page358" id="page358"></a>358</span></p> + +<p>“But, look here!” cried Hadden, “how do you mean +to manage? You can whisk round in a hansom and no +questions asked; but if you try to come on a quarter-deck, +my boy, you’ll get nabbed.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to keep back till the last,” replied Wicks, +“and take another name.”</p> + +<p>“But how about clearing? What other name?” +asked Tommy, a little bewildered.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know yet,” returned the captain, with a +grin. “I’ll see what the name is on my new certificate, +and that’ll be good enough for me. If I can’t get one to +buy, though I never heard of such a thing, there’s old +Kirkup, he’s turned some sort of farmer down Bondi way; +he’ll hire me his.”</p> + +<p>“You seemed to speak as if you had a ship in view,” +said Carthew.</p> + +<p>“So I have too,” said Captain Wicks, “and a beauty. +Schooner yacht <i>Dream</i>—got lines you never saw the beat +of, and a witch to go. She passed me once off Thursday +Island, doing two knots to my one and lying a point and +a half better, and the <i>Grace Darling</i> was a ship that I +was proud of. I took and tore my hair. The <i>Dream’s</i> +been <i>my</i> dream ever since. That was in the old days, +when she carried a blue ens’n. Grant Sanderson was the +party as owned her; he was rich and mad, and got a +fever at last somewhere about the Fly River and took and +died. The captain brought the body back to Sydney and +paid off. Well, it turned out Grant Sanderson had left +any quantity of wills and any quantity of widows, and +no fellow could make out which was the genuine article. +All the widows brought lawsuits against all the rest, and +every will had a firm of lawyers on the quarter-deck as +long as your arm. They tell me it was one of the biggest +turns-to that ever was seen, bar Tichborne; the Lord +Chamberlain himself was floored, and so was the Lord +Chancellor, and all that time the <i>Dream</i> lay rotting up +by Glebe Point. Well, it’s done now; they’ve picked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page359" id="page359"></a>359</span> +out a widow and a will—tossed up for it, as like as not—and +the <i>Dream</i>’s for sale. She’ll go cheap; she’s had a +long turn-to at rotting.”</p> + +<p>“What size is she?”</p> + +<p>“Well, big enough. We don’t want her bigger. A +hundred and ninety, going two hundred,” replied the +captain. “She’s fully big for us three; it would be all +the better if we had another hand, though it’s a pity too, +when you can pick up natives for half nothing. Then we +must have a cook. I can fix raw sailor-men, but there’s +no going to sea with a new-chum cook. I can lay hands +on the man we want for that: a Highway boy, an old +shipmate of mine, of the name of Amalu. Cooks first-rate, +and it’s always better to have a native; he ain’t +fly, you can turn him to as you please, and he don’t know +enough to stand out for his rights.”</p> + +<p>From the moment that Captain Wicks joined in the +conversation, Carthew recovered interest and confidence; +the man (whatever he might have done) was plainly +good-natured, and plainly capable; if he thought well of +the enterprise, offered to contribute money, brought +experience, and could thus solve at a word the problem +of the trade, Carthew was content to go ahead. As for +Hadden, his cup was full; he and Bostock forgave each +other in champagne; toast followed toast; it was proposed +and carried amid acclamation to change the name +of the schooner (when she should be bought) to the +<i>Currency Lass</i>; and the “Currency Lass Island Trading +Company” was practically founded before dusk.</p> + +<p>Three days later, Carthew stood before the lawyer, +still in his jean suit, received his hundred and fifty pounds, +and proceeded rather timidly to ask for more indulgence.</p> + +<p>“I have a chance to get on in the world,” he said. +“By to-morrow evening I expect to be part owner of a +ship.”</p> + +<p>“Dangerous property, Mr. Carthew,” said the +lawyer. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page360" id="page360"></a>360</span></p> + +<p>“Not if the partners work her themselves, and stand +to go down along with her,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“I conceive it possible you might make something of it +in that way,” returned the other. “But are you a seaman? +I thought you had been in the diplomatic service.”</p> + +<p>“I am an old yachtsman,” said Norris; “and I must +do the best I can. A fellow can’t live in New South Wales +upon diplomacy. But the point I wish to prepare you for +is this. It will be impossible I should present myself +here next quarter-day; we expect to make a six months’ +cruise of it among the islands.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry, Mr. Carthew: I can’t hear of that,” replied +the lawyer.</p> + +<p>“I mean upon the same conditions as the last,” said +Carthew.</p> + +<p>“The conditions are exactly opposite,” said the lawyer. +“Last time I had reason to know you were in the +colony, and even then I stretched a point. This time, by +your own confession, you are contemplating a breach of +the agreement; and I give you warning if you carry it +out, and I receive proof of it (for I will agree to regard +this conversation as confidential), I shall have no choice +but to do my duty. Be here on quarter-day, or your +allowance ceases.”</p> + +<p>“This is very hard, and, I think, rather silly,” returned +Carthew.</p> + +<p>“It is not of my doing. I have my instructions,” said +the lawyer.</p> + +<p>“And you so read these instructions that I am to be +prohibited from making an honest livelihood?” asked +Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Let us be frank,” said the lawyer; “I find nothing +in these instructions about an honest livelihood. I have +no reason to suppose my clients care anything about that. +I have reason to suppose only one thing—that they mean +you shall stay in this colony, and to guess another, Mr. +Carthew. And to guess another.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page361" id="page361"></a>361</span></p> + +<p>“What do you mean by that?” asked Norris.</p> + +<p>“I mean that I imagine, on very strong grounds, that +your family desire to see no more of you,” said the lawyer. +“O, they may be very wrong; but that is the impression +conveyed, that is what I suppose I am paid to bring +about, and I have no choice but to try and earn my hire.”</p> + +<p>“I would scorn to deceive you,” said Norris, with a +strong flush; “you have guessed rightly. My family +refuse to see me; but I am not going to England, I +am going to the islands. How does that affect the +islands?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but I don’t know that you are going to the +islands,” said the lawyer, looking down, and spearing the +blotting-paper with a pencil.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon. I have the pleasure of informing +you,” said Norris.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, Mr. Carthew, that I cannot regard that +communication as official,” was the slow reply.</p> + +<p>“I am not accustomed to have my word doubted!” +cried Norris.</p> + +<p>“Hush! I allow no one to raise his voice in my office,” +said the lawyer. “And for that matter—you seem to be +a young gentleman of sense—consider what I know of +you. You are a discarded son; your family pays money +to be shut of you. What have you done? I don’t know. +But do you not see how foolish I should be, if I exposed +my business reputation on the safeguard of the honour of +a gentleman of whom I know just so much and no more? +This interview is very disagreeable. Why prolong it? +Write home, get my instructions changed, and I will +change my behaviour. Not otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“I am very fond of three hundred a year,” said Norris, +“but I cannot pay the price required. I shall not have +the pleasure of seeing you again.”</p> + +<p>“You must please yourself,” said the lawyer. “Fail +to be here next quarter-day, and the thing stops. But I +warn you, and I mean the warning in a friendly spirit. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page362" id="page362"></a>362</span> +Three months later you will be here begging, and I shall +have no choice but to show you in the street.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you a good-evening,” said Norris.</p> + +<p>“The same to you, Mr. Carthew,” retorted the lawyer, +and rang for his clerk.</p> + +<p>So it befell that Norris, during what remained to him +of arduous days in Sydney, saw not again the face of his +legal adviser; and he was already at sea, and land was +out of sight, when Hadden brought him a Sydney paper, +over which he had been dozing in the shadow of the +galley, and showed him an advertisement:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Norris Carthew is earnestly entreated to call +without delay at the office of Mr. ——, where important +intelligence awaits him.”</p> + +<p>“It must manage to wait for me for six months,” +said Norris lightly enough, but yet conscious of a pang +of curiosity.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page363" id="page363"></a>363</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> + +<h5>THE BUDGET OF THE <i>CURRENCY LASS</i></h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Before</span> noon, on the 26th November, there cleared from +the port of Sydney the schooner <i>Currency Lass</i>. The +owner, Norris Carthew, was on board in the somewhat +unusual position of mate; the master’s name purported +to be William Kirkup; the cook was a Hawaiian boy, +Joseph Amalu; and there were two hands before the +mast, Thomas Hadden and Richard Hemstead, the latter +chosen partly because of his humble character, partly +because he had an odd-job-man’s handiness with tools. +The <i>Currency Lass</i> was bound for the South Sea Islands, +and first of all for Butaritari in the Gilberts, on a register; +but it was understood about the harbour that her cruise +was more than half a pleasure trip. A friend of the late +Grant Sanderson (of Auchentroon and Kilclarty) might +have recognised in that tall-masted ship the transformed +and rechristened <i>Dream</i>; and the Lloyd’s surveyor, had +the services of such a one been called in requisition, must +have found abundant subject of remark.</p> + +<p>For time, during her three years’ inaction, had eaten +deep into the <i>Dream</i> and her fittings; she had sold in +consequence a shade above her value as old junk; and +the three adventurers had scarce been able to afford even +the most vital repairs. The rigging, indeed, had been +partly renewed, and the rest set up; all Grant Sanderson’s +old canvas had been patched together into one decently +serviceable suit of sails; Grant Sanderson’s masts still +stood, and might have wondered at themselves. “I +haven’t the heart to tap them,” Captain Wicks used to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page364" id="page364"></a>364</span> +observe, as he squinted up their height or patted their +rotundity; and “as rotten as our foremast” was an +accepted metaphor in the ship’s company. The sequel +rather suggests it may have been sounder than was +thought; but no one knew for certain, just as no one +except the captain appreciated the dangers of the cruise. +The captain, indeed, saw with clear eyes and spoke his +mind aloud; and though a man of an astonishing hot-blooded +courage, following life and taking its dangers +in the spirit of a hound upon the slot, he had made a point +of a big whaleboat. “Take your choice,” he had said; +“either new masts and rigging or that boat. I simply +ain’t going to sea without the one or the other. Chickencoops +are good enough, no doubt, and so is a dinghy; but +they ain’t for Joe.” And his partners had been forced to +consent, and saw six-and-thirty pounds of their small +capital vanish in the turn of a hand.</p> + +<p>All four had toiled the best part of six weeks getting +ready; and though Captain Wicks was of course not seen +or heard of, a fifth was there to help them, a fellow in a +bushy red beard, which he would sometimes lay aside +when he was below, and who strikingly resembled Captain +Wicks in voice and character. As for Captain Kirkup, +he did not appear till the last moment, when he proved +to be a burly mariner, bearded like Abou Ben Adhem. +All the way down the harbour and through the Heads, +his milk-white whiskers blew in the wind and were conspicuous +from shore; but the <i>Currency Lass</i> had no sooner +turned her back upon the lighthouse than he went below +for the inside of five seconds and reappeared clean shaven. +So many doublings and devices were required to get to +sea with an unseaworthy ship and a captain that was +“wanted.” Nor might even these have sufficed, but for +the fact that Hadden was a public character, and the +whole cruise regarded with an eye of indulgence as one of +Tom’s engaging eccentricities. The ship, besides, had +been a yacht before: and it came the more natural to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page365" id="page365"></a>365</span> +allow her still some of the dangerous liberties of her old +employment.</p> + +<p>A strange ship they had made of it, her lofty spars +disfigured with patched canvas, her panelled cabin fitted +for a traderoom with rude shelves. And the life they +led in that anomalous schooner was no less curious than +herself. Amalu alone berthed forward; the rest occupied +staterooms, camped upon the satin divans, and sat +down in Grant Sanderson’s parquetry smoking-room to +meals of junk and potatoes, bad of their kind, and often +scant in quantity. Hemstead grumbled; Tommy had +occasional moments of revolt, and increased the ordinary +by a few haphazard tins or a bottle of his own brown +sherry. But Hemstead grumbled from habit, Tommy +revolted only for the moment, and there was underneath +a real and general acquiescence in these hardships. For +besides onions and potatoes, the <i>Currency Lass</i> may be +said to have gone to sea without stores. She carried two +thousand pounds’ worth of assorted trade, advanced on +credit, their whole hope and fortune. It was upon this +that they subsisted—mice in their own granary. They +dined upon their future profits; and every scanty meal +was so much in the savings bank.</p> + +<p>Republican as were their manners, there was no practical, +at least no dangerous, lack of discipline. Wicks +was the only sailor on board, there was none to criticise; +and besides, he was so easy-going, and so merry-minded, +that none could bear to disappoint him. Carthew did +his best, partly for the love of doing it, partly for love +of the captain; Amalu was a willing drudge, and even +Hemstead and Hadden turned to upon occasion with a +will. Tommy’s department was the trade and traderoom; +he would work down in the hold or over the shelves +of the cabin, till the Sydney dandy was unrecognisable; +come up at last, draw a bucket of sea-water, bathe, +change, and lie down on deck over a big sheaf of Sydney +<i>Heralds</i> and <i>Dead Birds</i>, or perhaps with a volume of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page366" id="page366"></a>366</span> +Buckle’s “History of Civilisation,” the standard work +selected for that cruise. In the latter case a smile went +round the ship, for Buckle almost invariably laid his +student out, and when Tom woke again he was almost +always in the humour for brown sherry. The connection +was so well established that “a glass of Buckle” or “a +bottle of civilisation” became current pleasantries on +board the <i>Currency Lass</i>.</p> + +<p>Hemstead’s province was that of the repairs, and he +had his hands full. Nothing on board but was decayed +in a proportion: the lamps leaked, so did the decks; +door-knobs came off in the hand, mouldings parted company +with the panels, the pump declined to suck, and the +defective bathroom came near to swamp the ship. Wicks +insisted that all the nails were long ago consumed, and +that she was only glued together by the rust. “You +shouldn’t make me laugh so much, Tommy,” he would +say. “I am afraid I’ll shake the sternpost out of her.” +And, as Hemstead went to and fro with his tool-basket +on an endless round of tinkering, Wicks lost no opportunity +of chaffing him upon his duties. “If you’d turn +to at sailoring or washing paint or something useful, +now,” he would say, “I could see the fun of it. But to +be mending things that haven’t no insides to them appears +to me the height of foolishness.” And doubtless these +continual pleasantries helped to reassure the landsmen, +who went to and fro unmoved, under circumstances that +might have daunted Nelson.</p> + +<p>The weather was from the outset splendid, and the +wind fair and steady. The ship sailed like a witch. “This +<i>Currency Lass</i> is a powerful old girl, and has more complaints +than I would care to put a name on,” the captain +would say, as he pricked the chart; “but she could show +her blooming heels to anything of her size in the Western +Pacific.” To wash decks, relieve the wheel, do the day’s +work after dinner on the smoking-room table, and take +in kites at night—such was the easy routine of their life. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page367" id="page367"></a>367</span> +In the evening—above all, if Tommy had produced some +of his civilisation—yarns and music were the rule. Amalu +had a sweet Hawaiian voice; and Hemstead, a great +hand upon the banjo, accompanied his own quavering +tenor with effect. There was a sense in which the little +man could sing. It was great to hear him deliver “My +Boy Tammie” in Austrylian; and the words (some of +the worst of the ruffian Macneill’s) were hailed in his +version with inextinguishable mirth.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>“Where hye ye been a’ dye?”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">he would ask, and answer himself:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>“I’ve been by burn and flowery brye,</p> +<p>Meadow green and mountain grye,</p> +<p>Courtin’ o’ this young thing,</p> + <p class="i2">Just come frye her mammie.”</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind">It was the accepted jest for all hands to greet the conclusion +of this song with the simultaneous cry, “My +word!” thus winging the arrow of ridicule with a feather +from the singer’s wing. But he had his revenge with +“Home, Sweet Home,” and “Where is my Wandering +Boy To-night?”—ditties into which he threw the most +intolerable pathos. It appeared he had no home, nor +had ever had one, nor yet any vestige of a family, except +a truculent uncle, a baker in Newcastle, N.S.W. His +domestic sentiment was therefore wholly in the air, and +expressed an unrealised ideal. Or perhaps, of all his +experiences, this of the <i>Currency Lass</i>, with its kindly, +playful, and tolerant society, approached it the most +nearly.</p> + +<p>It is perhaps because I know the sequel, but I can never +think upon this voyage without a profound sense of pity +and mystery; of the ship (once the whim of a rich blackguard) +faring with her battered fineries and upon her +homely errand, across the plains of ocean, and past the +gorgeous scenery of dawn and sunset; and the ship’s +company, so strangely assembled, so Britishly chuckle-headed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page368" id="page368"></a>368</span> +filling their days with chaff in place of conversation; +no human book on board with them except Hadden’s +Buckle, and not a creature fit either to read or to +understand it; and the one mark of any civilised interest +being when Carthew filled in his spare hours with the +pencil and the brush: the whole unconscious crew of +them posting in the meanwhile towards so tragic a +disaster.</p> + +<p>Twenty-eight days out of Sydney, on Christmas Eve, +they fetched up to the entrance of the lagoon, and plied +all that night outside, keeping their position by the lights +of fishers on the reef, and the outlines of the palms against +the cloudy sky. With the break of day the schooner +was hove-to, and the signal for a pilot shown. But it +was plain her lights must have been observed in the darkness +by the native fishermen, and word carried to the +settlement, for a boat was already under weigh. She +came towards them across the lagoon under a great press +of sail, lying dangerously down, so that at times, in the +heavier puffs, they thought she would turn turtle; covered +the distance in fine style, luffed up smartly alongside, +and emitted a haggard-looking white man in pyjamas.</p> + +<p>“Good-mornin’, cap’n,” said he, when he had made +good his entrance. “I was taking you for a Fiji man-of-war, +what with your flush decks and them spars. Well, +gen’lemen all, here’s wishing you a merry Christmas and +a happy New Year,” he added, and lurched against a +stay.</p> + +<p>“Why, you’re never the pilot?” exclaimed Wicks, +studying him with a profound disfavour. “You’ve never +taken a ship in—don’t tell me!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I should guess I have,” returned the pilot. +“I’m Captain Dobbs, I am; and when I take charge, +the captain of that ship can go below and shave.”</p> + +<p>“But, man alive! you’re drunk, man!” cried the +captain.</p> + +<p>“Drunk!” repeated Dobbs. “You can’t have seen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page369" id="page369"></a>369</span> +much life if you call me drunk. I’m only just beginning. +Come night, I won’t say; I guess I’ll be properly full by +then. But now I’m the soberest man in all Big Muggin.”</p> + +<p>“It won’t do,” retorted Wicks. “Not for Joseph, sir. +I can’t have you piling up my schooner.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Dobbs, “lay and rot where you are, +or take and go in and pile her up for yourself like the +captain of the <i>Leslie</i>. That’s business, I guess; grudged +me twenty dollars’ pilotage, and lost twenty thousand in +trade and a brand-new schooner; ripped the keel right +off of her, and she went down in the inside of four minutes, +and lies in twenty fathom, trade and all.”</p> + +<p>“What’s all this?” cried Wicks. “Trade? What +vessel was this <i>Leslie</i>, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>“Consigned to Cohen and Co., from ’Frisco,” returned +the pilot, “and badly wanted. There’s a barque inside +filling up for Hamburg—you see her spars over there; +and there’s two more ships due, all the way from Germany, +one in two months, they say, and one in three; Cohen +and Co.’s agent (that’s Mr. Topelius) has taken and lain +down with the jaundice on the strength of it. I guess +most people would, in his shoes; no trade, no copra, and +twenty hundred ton of shipping due. If you’ve any copra +on board, cap’n, here’s your chance. Topelius will buy, +gold down, and give three cents. It’s all found money to +him, the way it is, whatever he pays for it. And that’s +what come of going back on the pilot.”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me one moment, Captain Dobbs. I wish to +speak with my mate,” said the captain, whose face had +begun to shine and his eyes to sparkle.</p> + +<p>“Please yourself,” replied the pilot.—“You couldn’t +think of offering a man a nip, could you? just to brace +him up. This kind of thing looks damned inhospitable, +and gives a schooner a bad name.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll talk about that after the anchor’s down,” returned +Wicks, and he drew Carthew forward.—“I say,” +he whispered, “here’s a fortune.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page370" id="page370"></a>370</span></p> + +<p>“How much do you call that?” asked Carthew.</p> + +<p>“I can’t put a figure on it yet—I daren’t!” said the +captain. “We might cruise twenty years and not find +the match of it. And suppose another ship came in to-night? +Everything’s possible! And the difficulty is this +Dobbs. He’s as drunk as a marine. How can we trust +him? We ain’t insured—worse luck!”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you took him aloft and got him to point +out the channel?” suggested Carthew. “If he tallied +at all with the chart, and didn’t fall out of the rigging, +perhaps we might risk it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all’s risk here,” returned the captain. “Take +the wheel yourself, and stand by. Mind, if there’s two +orders, follow mine, not his. Set the cook for’ard with +the heads’ls, and the two others at the main sheet, and see +they don’t sit on it.” With that he called the pilot; they +swarmed aloft in the fore rigging, and presently after there +was bawled down the welcome order to ease sheets and +fill away.</p> + +<p>At a quarter before nine o’clock on Christmas morning +the anchor was let go.</p> + +<p>The first cruise of the <i>Currency Lass</i> had thus ended +in a stroke of fortune almost beyond hope. She had +brought two thousand pounds’ worth of trade, straight as +a homing pigeon, to the place where it was most required. +And Captain Wicks (or, rather Captain Kirkup) showed +himself the man to make the best of his advantage. For +hard upon two days he walked a verandah with Topelius; +for hard upon two days his partners watched from the +neighbouring public-house the field of battle; and the +lamps were not yet lighted on the evening of the second +before the enemy surrendered. Wicks came across to +the “Sans Souci,” as the saloon was called, his face nigh +black, his eyes almost closed and all bloodshot, and yet +bright as lighted matches.</p> + +<p>“Come out here, boys,” he said; and when they were +some way off among the palms, “I hold twenty-four,” he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page371" id="page371"></a>371</span> +added in a voice scarcely recognisable, and doubtless +referring to the venerable game of cribbage.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” asked Tommy.</p> + +<p>“I’ve sold the trade,” answered Wicks; “or, rather, +I’ve sold only some of it, for I’ve kept back all the mess +beef, and half the flour and biscuit, and, by God, we’re +still provisioned for four months! By God, it’s as good +as stolen!”</p> + +<p>“My word!” cried Hemstead.</p> + +<p>“But what have you sold it for?” gasped Carthew, the +captain’s almost insane excitement shaking his nerve.</p> + +<p>“Let me tell it my own way,” cried Wicks, loosening +his neck. “Let me get at it gradual or I’ll explode. I’ve +not only sold it, boys, I’ve wrung out a charter on my +own terms to ’Frisco and back,—on my own terms. I +made a point of it. I fooled him first by making believe I +wanted copra, which, of course, I knew he wouldn’t hear +of—couldn’t, in fact; and whenever he showed fight I +trotted out the copra, and that man dived! I would take +nothing but copra, you see; and so I’ve got the blooming +lot in specie—all but two short bills on ’Frisco. And the +sum? Well, this whole adventure, including two thousand +pounds of credit, cost us two thousand seven hundred +and some odd. That’s all paid back; in thirty days’ +cruise we’ve paid for the schooner and the trade. Heard +ever any man the match of that? And it’s not all! For +besides that,” said the captain, hammering his words, +“we’ve got thirteen blooming hundred pounds of profit +to divide. I bled him in four thou.!” he cried, in a voice +that broke like a schoolboy’s.</p> + +<p>For a moment the partners looked upon their chief with +stupefaction, incredulous surprise their only feeling. +Tommy was the first to grasp the consequences.</p> + +<p>“Here,” he said in a hard business tone, “come back +to that saloon: I’ve got to get drunk.”</p> + +<p>“You must please excuse me, boys,” said the captain +earnestly. “I daren’t taste nothing. If I was to drink +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page372" id="page372"></a>372</span> +one glass of beer it’s my belief I’d have the apoplexy. The +last scrimmage and the blooming triumph pretty nigh-hand +done me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, three cheers for the captain,” proposed +Tommy.</p> + +<p>But Wicks held up a shaking hand. “Not that either, +boys,” he pleaded. “Think of the other buffer, and let +him down easy. If I’m like this, just fancy what +Topelius is. If he heard us singing out, he’d have the +staggers.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Topelius accepted his defeat with +a good grace; but the crew of the wrecked <i>Leslie</i>, who +were in the same employment, and loyal to their firm, took +the thing more bitterly. Rough words and ugly looks +were common. Once even they hooted Captain Wicks +from the saloon verandah; the Currency Lasses drew out +on the other side; for some minutes there had like to have +been a battle in Butaritari; and though the occasion +passed off without blows, it left on either side an increase +of ill-feeling.</p> + +<p>No such small matter could affect the happiness of the +successful traders. Five days more the ship lay in the +lagoon, with little employment for any one but Tommy +and the captain, for Topelius’s natives discharged cargo +and brought ballast. The time passed like a pleasant +dream; the adventurers sat up half the night debating +and praising their good fortune, or stayed by day in the +narrow isle gaping like Cockney tourists, and on the first +of the new year the <i>Currency Lass</i> weighed anchor for the +second time and set sail for ’Frisco, attended by the +same fine weather and good luck. She crossed the doldrums +with but small delay; on a wind and in ballast of +broken coral she outdid expectations; and, what added to +the happiness of the ship’s company, the small amount +of work that fell on them to do was now lessened by the +presence of another hand. This was the boatswain of the +<i>Leslie</i>. He had been on bad terms with his own captain, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page373" id="page373"></a>373</span> +had already spent his wages in the saloons of Butaritari, +had wearied of the place, and while all his shipmates +coldly refused to set foot on board the <i>Currency Lass</i>, he +had offered to work his passage to the coast. He was a +north of Ireland man, between Scotch and Irish, rough, +loud, humorous, and emotional, not without sterling +qualities, and an expert and careful sailor. His frame of +mind was different indeed from that of his new shipmates. +Instead of making an unexpected fortune he +had lost a berth, and he was besides disgusted with the +rations, and really appalled at the condition of the +schooner. A stateroom door had stuck the first day at +sea, and Mac (as they called him) laid his strength to it +and plucked it from the hinges.</p> + +<p>“Glory!” said he, “this ship’s rotten!”</p> + +<p>“I believe you, my boy,” said Captain Wicks.</p> + +<p>The next day the sailor was observed with his nose +aloft.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you get looking at these sticks,” the captain +said, “or you’ll have a fit and fall overboard.”</p> + +<p>Mac turned to the speaker with rather a wild eye. +“Why, I see what looks like a patch of dry rot up yonder, +that I bet I could stick my fist into,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Looks as if a fellow could stick his head into it, don’t +it?” returned Wicks. “But there’s no good prying into +things that can’t be mended.”</p> + +<p>“I think I was a Currency Ass to come on board of +her!” reflected Mac.</p> + +<p>“Well, I never said she was seaworthy,” replied the +captain; “I only said she could show her blooming heels +to anything afloat. And besides, I don’t know that it’s +dry rot; I kind of sometimes hope it isn’t.—Here; turn +to and heave the log; that’ll cheer you up.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s no denying it, you’re a holy captain,” +said Mac.</p> + +<p>And from that day on he made but the one reference +to the ship’s condition; and that was whenever Tommy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page374" id="page374"></a>374</span> +drew upon his cellar. “Here’s to the junk trade!” he +would say, as he held out his can of sherry.</p> + +<p>“Why do you always say that?” asked Tommy.</p> + +<p>“I had an uncle in the business,” replied Mac, and +launched at once into a yarn, in which an incredible number +of the characters were “laid out as nice as you would +want to see,” and the oaths made up about two-fifths of +every conversation.</p> + +<p>Only once he gave them a taste of his violence; he +talked of it, indeed, often; “I’m rather a voilent man,” he +would say, not without pride; but this was the only +specimen. Of a sudden he turned on Hemstead in the +ship’s waist, knocked him against the foresail boom, then +knocked him under it, and had set him up and knocked +him down once more, before any one had drawn a breath.</p> + +<p>“Here! Belay that!” roared Wicks, leaping to his +feet. “I won’t have none of this.”</p> + +<p>Mac turned to the captain with ready civility. “I +only want to learn him manners,” said he. “He took +and called me Irishman.”</p> + +<p>“Did he?” said Wicks. “O, that’s a different story!—What +made you do it, you tomfool? You ain’t big +enough to call any man that.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t call him it,” spluttered Hemstead, through +his blood and tears. “I only mentioned-like he was.”</p> + +<p>“Well, let’s have no more of it,” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>“But you <i>are</i> Irish, ain’t you?” Carthew asked of his +new shipmate shortly after.</p> + +<p>“I may be,” replied Mac, “but I’ll allow no Sydney +duck to call me so. No,” he added, with a sudden heated +countenance, “nor any Britisher that walks! Why, look +here,” he went on, “you’re a young swell, aren’t you? +Suppose I called you that! ‘I’ll show you,’ you would +say, and turn to and take it out of me straight.”</p> + +<p>On the 28th of January, when in lat. 27° 20′ N., long. +177° W., the wind chopped suddenly into the west, not +very strong, but puffy and with flaws of rain. The captain, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page375" id="page375"></a>375</span> +eager for easting, made a fair wind of it, and guyed the +booms out wing and wing. It was Tommy’s trick at the +wheel, and as it was within half an hour of the relief (7.30 +in the morning), the captain judged it not worth while to +change him.</p> + +<p>The puffs were heavy, but short; there was nothing +to be called a squall, no danger to the ship, and scarce +more than usual to the doubtful spars. All hands were +on deck in their oilskins, expecting breakfast; the galley +smoked, the ship smelt of coffee, all were in good humour to +be speeding eastward a full nine; when the rotten foresail +tore suddenly between two cloths, and then split to +either hand. It was for all the world as though some archangel +with a huge sword had slashed it with the figure of +a cross; all hands ran to secure the slatting canvas; and +in the sudden uproar and alert, Tommy Hadden lost +his head. Many of his days have been passed since then +in explaining how the thing happened; of these explanations +it will be sufficient to say that they were all different, +and none satisfactory; and the gross fact remains that +the main boom gybed, carried away the tackle, broke the +mainmast some three feet above the deck and whipped +it overboard. For near a minute the suspected foremast +gallantly resisted; then followed its companion; and by +the time the wreck was cleared, of the whole beautiful +fabric that enabled them to skim the seas, two ragged +stumps remained.</p> + +<p>In these vast and solitary waters, to be dismasted is +perhaps the worst calamity. Let the ship turn turtle +and go down, and at least the pang is over. But men +chained on a hulk may pass months scanning the empty +sea-line and counting the steps of death’s invisible approach. +There is no help but in the boats, and what a +help is that! There heaved the <i>Currency Lass</i>, for +instance, a wingless lump, and the nearest human coast +(that of Kauai in the Sandwiches) lay about a thousand +miles to south and east of her. Over the way there, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page376" id="page376"></a>376</span> +men contemplating that passage in an open boat, all +kinds of misery, and the fear of death and of madness, +brooded.</p> + +<p>A serious company sat down to breakfast; but the +captain helped his neighbours with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Now, boys,” he said, after a pull at the hot coffee, +“we’re done with this <i>Currency Lass</i> and no mistake. +One good job: we made her pay while she lasted, and +she paid first-rate; and if we were to try our hand again, +we can try in style. Another good job: we have a fine, +stiff, roomy boat, and you know who you have to thank +for that. We’ve got six lives to save, and a pot of money; +and the point is, where are we to take ’em?”</p> + +<p>“It’s all two thousand miles to the nearest of the +Sandwiches, I fancy,” observed Mac.</p> + +<p>“No, not so bad as that,” returned the captain. “But +it’s bad enough; rather better’n a thousand.”</p> + +<p>“I know a man who once did twelve hundred in a +boat,” said Mac, “and he had all he wanted. He fetched +ashore in the Marquesas, and never set a foot on anything +floating from that day to this. He said he would rather +put a pistol to his head and knock his brains out.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay!” said Wicks. “Well, I remember a boat’s +crew that made this very island of Kauai, and from just +about where we lie, or a bit further. When they got up +with the land they were clean crazy. There was an iron-bound +coast and an Old Bob Ridley of a surf on. The +natives hailed ’em from fishing-boats, and sang out it +couldn’t be done at the money. Much they cared! there +was the land, that was all they knew; and they turned +to and drove the boat slap ashore in the thick of it, and +was all drowned but one. No; boat trips are my eye,” +concluded the captain gloomily.</p> + +<p>The tone was surprising in a man of his indomitable +temper. “Come, captain,” said Carthew, “you have +something else up your sleeve; out with it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a fact,” admitted Wicks. “You see there’s a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page377" id="page377"></a>377</span> +raft of little bally reefs about here, kind of chicken-pox +on the chart. Well, I looked ’em all up, and there’s one—Midway +or Brooks they call it, not forty mile from our +assigned position—that I got news of. It turns out +it’s a coaling station of the Pacific Mail,” he said +simply.</p> + +<p>“Well, and I know it ain’t no such a thing,” said +Mac. “I been quartermaster in that line myself.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” returned Wicks. “There’s the book. +Read what Hoyt says—read it aloud and let the others +hear.”</p> + +<p>Hoyt’s falsehood (as readers know) was explicit; +incredulity was impossible, and the news itself delightful +beyond hope. Each saw in his mind’s eye the boat draw +in to a trim island with a wharf, coal-sheds, gardens, the +Stars and Stripes, and the white cottage of the keeper; +saw themselves idle a few weeks in tolerable quarters, +and then step on board the China mail, romantic waifs, +and yet with pocketsful of money, calling for champagne, +and waited on by troops of stewards. Breakfast, that +had begun so dully, ended amid sober jubilation, and all +hands turned immediately to prepare the boat.</p> + +<p>Now that all spars were gone, it was no easy job to +get her launched. Some of the necessary cargo was first +stowed on board: the specie, in particular, being packed +in a strong chest and secured with lashings to the after-thwart +in case of a capsize. Then a piece of the bulwarks +was razed to the level of the deck, and the boat swung +thwart-ship, made fast with a slack line to either stump, +and successfully run out. For a voyage of forty miles +to hospitable quarters, not much food or water was required +but they took both in superfluity. Amalu and +Mac, both ingrained sailor-men, had chests which were +the headquarters of their lives; two more chests with +handbags, oilskins, and blankets supplied the others; +Hadden, amid general applause, added the last case of the +brown sherry; the captain brought the log, instruments, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page378" id="page378"></a>378</span> +and chronometer; nor did Hemstead forget the banjo or +a pinned handkerchief of Butaritari shells.</p> + +<p>It was about three P.M. when they pushed off, and +(the wind being still westerly) fell to the oars. “Well, +we’ve got the guts out of <i>you</i>!” was the captain’s nodded +farewell to the hulk of the <i>Currency Lass</i>, which presently +shrank and faded in the sea. A little after a calm succeeded, +with much rain; and the first meal was eaten, +and the watch below lay down to their uneasy slumber on +the bilge under a roaring shower-bath. The twenty-ninth +dawned overhead from out of ragged clouds; there is no +moment when a boat at sea appears so trenchantly black +and so conspicuously little; and the crew looked about +them at the sky and water with a thrill of loneliness and +fear. With sunrise the Trade set in, lusty and true to +the point; sail was made; the boat flew; and by about +four in the afternoon, they were well up with the closed +part of the reef, and the captain standing on the thwart, +and holding by the mast, was studying the island through +the binoculars.</p> + +<p>“Well, and where’s your station?” cried Mac.</p> + +<p>“I don’t someway pick it up,” replied the captain.</p> + +<p>“No, nor never will!” retorted Mac, with a clang of +despair and triumph in his tones.</p> + +<p>The truth was soon plain to all. No buoys, no beacons, +no lights, no coal, no station; the castaways pulled +through a lagoon and landed on an isle, where was no +mark of man but wreckwood, and no sound but of the +sea. For the sea-fowl that harboured and lived there at +the epoch of my visit were then scattered into the uttermost +parts of the ocean, and had left no traces of their +sojourn besides dropped feathers and addled eggs. It +was to this they had been sent, for this they had stooped +all night over the dripping oars, hourly moving further +from relief. The boat, for as small as it was, was yet +eloquent of the hands of men, a thing alone indeed upon +the sea, but yet in itself all human; and the isle, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page379" id="page379"></a>379</span> +which they had exchanged it, was ingloriously savage, a +place of distress, solitude, and hunger unrelieved. There +was a strong glare and shadow of the evening over all; +in which they sat or lay, not speaking, careless even to +eat, men swindled out of life and riches by a lying book. +In the great good-nature of the whole party, no word of +reproach had been addressed to Hadden, the author of +these disasters. But the new blow was less magnanimously +borne, and many angry glances rested on the +captain.</p> + +<p>Yet it was himself who roused them from their lethargy. +Grudgingly they obeyed, drew the boat beyond tidemark, +and followed him to the top of the miserable islet, +whence a view was commanded of the whole wheel of the +horizon, then part darkened under the coming night, part +dyed with the hues of the sunset, and populous with the +sunset clouds. Here the camp was pitched, and a tent run +up with the oars, sails, and mast. And here Amalu, at +no man’s bidding, from the mere instinct of habitual +service, built a fire and cooked a meal. Night was come, +and the stars and the silver sickle of new moon beamed +overhead, before the meal was ready. The cold sea shone +about them, and the fire glowed in their faces as they ate. +Tommy had opened his case, and the brown sherry went the +round; but it was long before they came to conversation.</p> + +<p>“Well, is it to be Kauai, after all?” asked Mac +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“This is bad enough for me,” said Tommy. “Let’s +stick it out where we are.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can tell ye one thing,” said Mac, “if ye care +to hear it: when I was in the China mail we once made +this island. It’s in the course from Honolulu.”</p> + +<p>“Deuce it is!” cried Carthew. “That settles it, then. +Let’s stay. We must keep good fires going; and there’s +plenty wreck.”</p> + +<p>“Lashings of wreck!” said the Irishman. “There’s +nothing here but wreck and coffin-boards.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page380" id="page380"></a>380</span></p> + +<p>“But we’ll have to make a proper blyze,” objected +Hemstead. “You can’t see a fire like this, not any wye +awye, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you?” said Carthew. “Look round.”</p> + +<p>They did, and saw the hollow of the night, the bare, +bright face of the sea, and the stars regarding them; and +the voices died in their bosoms at the spectacle. In that +huge isolation, it seemed they must be visible from China +on the one hand and California on the other.</p> + +<p>“My God, it’s dreary!” whispered Hemstead.</p> + +<p>“Dreary?” cried Mac, and fell suddenly silent.</p> + +<p>“It’s better than a boat, anyway,” said Hadden. +“I’ve had my bellyful of boat.”</p> + +<p>“What kills me is that specie!” the captain broke +out. “Think of all that riches—four thousand in gold, +bad silver, and short bills—all found money too!—and +no more use than that much dung!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you one thing,” said Tommy. “I don’t like +it being in the boat—I don’t care to have it so far away.”</p> + +<p>“Why, who’s to take it?” cried Mac, with a guffaw +of evil laughter.</p> + +<p>But this was not at all the feeling of the partners, +who rose, clambered down the isle, brought back the +inestimable treasure-chest slung upon two oars, and set +it conspicuous in the shining of the fire.</p> + +<p>“There’s my beauty!” cried Wicks, viewing it with +a cocked head; “that’s better than a bonfire. What! +we have a chest here, and bills for close upon two thousand +pounds; there’s no show to that—it would go in your +vest-pocket—but the rest! upwards of forty pounds +avoirdupois of coined gold, and close on two hundredweight +of Chile silver! What! ain’t that good enough to +fetch a fleet? Do you mean to say that won’t affect a +ship’s compass? Do you mean to tell me that the look-out +won’t turn to and <i>smell</i> it?” he cried.</p> + +<p>Mac, who had no part nor lot in the bills, the forty +pounds of gold, or the two hundredweight of silver, heard +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page381" id="page381"></a>381</span> +this with impatience, and fell into a bitter, choking +laughter. “You’ll see!” he said harshly. “You’ll be +glad to feed them bills into the fire before you’re through +with ut!” And he turned, passed by himself out of the +ring of the firelight, and stood gazing seaward.</p> + +<p>His speech and his departure extinguished instantly +those sparks of better humour kindled by the dinner and +the chest. The group fell again to an ill-favoured silence, +and Hemstead began to touch the banjo, as was his habit +of an evening. His repertory was small: the chords of +“Home, Sweet Home” fell under his fingers; and when +he had played the symphony, he instinctively raised up +his voice, “Be it never so ’umble, there’s no plyce like +’ome,” he sang. The last word was still upon his lips, +when the instrument was snatched from him and dashed +into the fire; and he turned with a cry to look into the +furious countenance of Mac.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be damned if I stand this!” cried the captain, +leaping up belligerent.</p> + +<p>“I told ye I was a voilent man,” said Mac, with a +movement of deprecation very surprising in one of his +character. “Why don’t he give me a chance then? +Haven’t we enough to bear the way we are?” And to +the wonder and dismay of all, the man choked upon a +sob. “It’s ashamed of meself I am,” he said presently, +his Irish accent twenty-fold increased. “I ask all your +pardons for me voilence; and especially the little man’s, +who is a harmless craytur, and here’s me hand to’m, if +he’ll condescend to take me by’t.”</p> + +<p>So this scene of barbarity and sentimentalism passed +off, leaving behind strange and incongruous impressions. +True, every one was perhaps glad when silence succeeded +that all too appropriate music; true, Mac’s apology and +subsequent behaviour rather raised him in the opinion +of his fellow-castaways. But the discordant note had +been struck, and its harmonics tingled in the brain. In +that savage, houseless isle, the passions of man had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page382" id="page382"></a>382</span> +sounded, if only for the moment, and all men trembled +at the possibilities of horror.</p> + +<p>It was determined to stand watch and watch in case +of passing vessels; and Tommy, on fire with an idea, +volunteered to stand the first. The rest crawled under +the tent, and were soon enjoying that comfortable gift of +sleep, which comes everywhere and to all men, quenching +anxieties and speeding time. And no sooner were all +settled, no sooner had the drone of many snorers begun to +mingle with and overcome the surf, than Tommy stole +from his post with the case of sherry, and dropped it in a +quiet cove in a fathom of water. But the stormy inconstancy +of Mac’s behaviour had no connection with a gill +or two of wine; his passions, angry and otherwise, were +on a different sail-plan from his neighbours’; and there +were possibilities of good and evil in that hybrid Celt +beyond their prophecy.</p> + +<p>About two in the morning, the starry sky—or so it +seemed, for the drowsy watchman had not observed the +approach of any cloud—brimmed over in a deluge; and +for three days it rained without remission. The islet +was a sponge, the castaways sops; the view all gone, even +the reef concealed behind the curtain of the falling water. +The fire was soon drowned out; after a couple of boxes +of matches had been scratched in vain, it was decided to +wait for better weather; and the party lived in wretchedness +on raw tins and a ration of hard bread.</p> + +<p>By the 2nd February, in the dark hours of the morning +watch, the clouds were all blown by; the sun rose +glorious; and once more the castaways sat by a quick +fire, and drank hot coffee with the greed of brutes and +sufferers. Thenceforward their affairs moved in a routine. +A fire was constantly maintained; and this occupied one +hand continuously, and the others for an hour or so in the +day. Twice a day all hands bathed in the lagoon, their +chief, almost their only, pleasure. Often they fished in +the lagoon with good success. And the rest was passed in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page383" id="page383"></a>383</span> +lolling, strolling, yarns, and disputation. The time of the +China steamers was calculated to a nicety; which done, +the thought was rejected and ignored. It was one that +would not bear consideration. The boat voyage having +been tacitly set aside, the desperate part chosen to wait +there for the coming of help or of starvation, no man had +courage left to look his bargain in the face, far less to +discuss it with his neighbours. But the unuttered terror +haunted them; in every hour of idleness, at every moment +of silence, it returned, and breathed a chill about the +circle, and carried men’s eyes to the horizon. Then, in a +panic of self-defence, they would rally to some other +subject. And, in that lone spot, what else was to be found +to speak of but the treasure?</p> + +<p>That was indeed the chief singularity, the one thing +conspicuous in their island life; the presence of that +chest of bills and specie dominated the mind like a +cathedral; and there were besides connected with it +certain irking problems well fitted to occupy the idle. +Two thousand pounds were due to the Sydney firm; +two thousand pounds were clear profit, and fell to be +divided in varying proportions among six. It had been +agreed how the partners were to range; every pound of +capital subscribed, every pound that fell due in wages, +was to count for one “lay.” Of these Tommy could +claim five hundred and ten, Carthew one hundred and +seventy, Wicks one hundred and forty, and Hemstead +and Amalu ten apiece: eight hundred and forty “lays” +in all. What was the value of a lay? This was at first +debated in the air, and chiefly by the strength of Tommy’s +lungs. Then followed a series of incorrect calculations; +from which they issued, arithmetically foiled, but agreed +from weariness upon an approximate value of £2 7s. 7¼d. +The figures were admittedly incorrect; the sum of the +shares came not to £2,000, but to £1,996 6s.—£3 14s. being +thus left unclaimed. But it was the nearest they had +yet found, and the highest as well, so that the partners +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page384" id="page384"></a>384</span> +were made the less critical by the contemplation of their +splendid dividends. Wicks put in £100, and stood to +draw captain’s wages for two months; his taking was +£333 3s. 6¾d. Carthew put in £150; he was to take +out £401 18s. 6½d. Tommy’s £500 had grown to be +£1,213 12s. 9¾d.; and Amalu and Hemstead, ranking for +wages only, had £22 16s. 0½d. each.</p> + +<p>From talking and brooding on these figures it was +but a step to opening the chest, and once the chest open +the glamour of the cash was irresistible. Each felt that +he must see his treasure separate with the eye of flesh, +handle it in the hard coin, mark it for his own, and stand +forth to himself the approved owner. And here an insurmountable +difficulty barred the way. There were +some seventeen shillings in English silver, the rest was +Chile; and the Chile dollar, which had been taken at the +rate of six to the pound sterling, was practically their +smallest coin. It was decided, therefore, to divide the +pounds only, and to throw the shillings, pence, and fractions +in a common fund. This, with the three pound +fourteen already in the heel, made a total of seven pounds +one shilling.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” said Wicks. “Let Carthew and +Tommy and me take one pound apiece, and Hemstead +and Amalu split the other four, and toss up for the odd +bob.”</p> + +<p>“O, rot!” said Carthew. “Tommy and I are bursting +already. We can take half a sov. each, and let the +other three have forty shillings.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you now, it’s not worth splitting,” broke in +Mac. “I’ve cards in my chest. Why don’t you play +for the lump sum?”</p> + +<p>In that idle place the proposal was accepted with +delight. Mac, as the owner of the cards, was given a +stake; the sum was played for in five games of cribbage; +and when Amalu, the last survivor in the tournament, +was beaten by Mac it was found the dinner-hour was past. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page385" id="page385"></a>385</span> +After a hasty meal they fell again immediately to cards, +this time (on Carthew’s proposal) to Van John. It was +then probably two P.M. of the 9th of February, and they +played with varying chances for twelve hours, slept +heavily, and rose late on the morrow to resume the game. +All day on the 10th, with grudging intervals for food, and +with one long absence on the part of Tommy, from which +he returned dripping with the case of sherry, they continued +to deal and stake. Night fell; they drew the +closer to the fire. It was maybe two in the morning, and +Tommy was selling his deal by auction, as usual with that +timid player, when Carthew, who didn’t intend to bid, +had a moment of leisure and looked round him. He beheld +the moonlight on the sea, the money piled and scattered +in that incongruous place, the perturbed faces of the +players. He felt in his own breast the familiar tumult; +and it seemed as if there rose in his ears a sound of music, +and the moon seemed still to shine upon a sea, but the +sea was changed, and the Casino towered from among +lamp-lit gardens, and the money clinked on the green +board. “Good God!” he thought, “am I gambling +again?” He looked the more curiously about the sandy +table. He and Mac had played and won like gamblers; the +mingled gold and silver lay by their places in the heap. +Amalu and Hemstead had each more than held their +own, but Tommy was cruel far to leeward, and the captain +was reduced to perhaps fifty pounds.</p> + +<p>“I say, let’s knock off,” said Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Give that man a glass of Buckle,” said some one, and +a fresh bottle was opened, and the game went inexorably +on.</p> + +<p>Carthew was himself too heavy a winner to withdraw +or to say more, and all the rest of the night he must look +on at the progress of this folly, and make gallant attempts +to lose, with the not uncommon consequence of winning +more. The first dawn of the 11th February found him +well-nigh desperate. It chanced he was then dealer, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page386" id="page386"></a>386</span> +still winning. He had just dealt a round of many tens; +every one had staked heavily. The captain had put up +all that remained to him—twelve pounds in gold and a +few dollars,—and Carthew, looking privately at his cards +before he showed them, found he held a natural.</p> + +<p>“See here, you fellows,” he broke out, “this is a +sickening business, and I’m done with it for one.” So +saying, he showed his cards, tore them across, and rose +from the ground.</p> + +<p>The company stared and murmured in mere amazement; +but Mac stepped gallantly to his support.</p> + +<p>“We’ve had enough of it, I do believe,” said he. +“But of course it was all fun, and here’s my counters +back. All counters in, boys!” and he began to pour +his winnings into the chest, which stood fortunately near +him.</p> + +<p>Carthew stepped across and wrung him by the hand. +“I’ll never forget this,” he said.</p> + +<p>“And what are ye going to do with the Highway boy +and the plumber?” inquired Mac, in a low tone of voice. +“They’ve both wan, ye see.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true!” said Carthew aloud.—“Amalu and +Hemstead, count your winnings; Tommy and I pay +that.”</p> + +<p>It was carried without speech; the pair glad enough +to receive their winnings, it mattered not from whence; +and Tommy, who had lost about five hundred pounds, +delighted with the compromise.</p> + +<p>“And how about Mac?” asked Hemstead. “Is he +to lose all?”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, plumber. I’m sure ye mean well,” +returned the Irishman, “but you’d better shut your face, +for I’m not that kind of a man. If I t’ought I had wan that +money fair, there’s never a soul here could get it from me. +But I t’ought it was in fun; that was my mistake, ye +see; and there’s no man big enough upon this island +to give a present to my mother’s son. So there’s my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page387" id="page387"></a>387</span> +opinion to ye, plumber, and you can put it in your pockut +till required.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I will say, Mac, you’re a gentleman,” said +Carthew, as he helped him to shovel back his winnings +into the treasure-chest.</p> + +<p>“Divil a fear of it, sir, a drunken sailor-man,” said +Mac.</p> + +<p>The captain had sat somewhile with his face in his +hands; now he rose mechanically, shaking and stumbling +like a drunkard after a debauch. But as he rose, his face +was altered, and his voice rang out over the isle, “Sail +ho!”</p> + +<p>All turned at the cry, and there, in the wild light of +the morning, heading straight for Midway Reef, was the +brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of Hull.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page388" id="page388"></a>388</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> + +<h5>A HARD BARGAIN</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">The</span> ship which thus appeared before the castaways had +long “tramped” the ocean, wandering from one port to +another as freights offered. She was two years out from +London, by the Cape of Good Hope, India, and the +Archipelago; and was now bound for San Francisco in +the hope of working homeward round the Horn. Her +captain was one Jacob Trent. He had retired some five +years before to a suburban cottage, a patch of cabbages, +a gig, and the conduct of what he called a Bank. The +name appears to have been misleading. Borrowers were +accustomed to choose works of art and utility in the front +shop; loaves of sugar and bolts of broadcloth were deposited +in pledge; and it was a part of the manager’s duty +to dash in his gig on Saturday evenings from one small +retailer’s to another, and to annex in each the bulk of the +week’s takings. His was thus an active life, and, to a +man of the type of a rat, filled with recondite joys. An +unexpected loss, a lawsuit, and the unintelligent commentary +of the judge upon the bench, combined to +disgust him of the business. I was so extraordinarily +fortunate as to find, in an old newspaper, a report of the +proceedings in Lyall <i>v.</i> The Cardiff Mutual Accommodation +Banking Co. “I confess I fail entirely to understand +the nature of the business,” the judge had remarked, +while Trent was being examined in chief; a little after, +on fuller information—“They call it a bank,” he had +opined, “but it seems to me to be an unlicensed pawn-shop”; +and he wound up with this appalling allocution: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page389" id="page389"></a>389</span> +“Mr. Trent, I must put you on your guard; you +must be very careful, or we shall see you here again.” +In the inside of a week the captain disposed of the bank, +the cottage, and the gig and horse; and to sea again in +the <i>Flying Scud</i>, where he did well, and gave high satisfaction +to his owners. But the glory clung to him; he +was a plain sailor-man, he said, but he could never long +allow you to forget that he had been a banker.</p> + +<p>His mate, Elias Goddedaal, was a huge Viking of a +man, six feet three, and of proportionate mass, strong, +sober, industrious, musical, and sentimental. He ran +continually over into Swedish melodies, chiefly in the +minor. He had paid nine dollars to hear Patti; to hear +Nilsson, he had deserted a ship and two months’ wages; +and he was ready at any time to walk ten miles for a good +concert or seven to a reasonable play. On board he had +three treasures: a canary bird, a concertina, and a blinding +copy of the works of Shakespeare. He had a gift, +peculiarly Scandinavian, of making friends at sight; and +elemental innocence commended him; he was without +fear, without reproach, and without money or the hope +of making it.</p> + +<p>Holdorsen was second mate, and berthed aft, but +messed usually with the hands.</p> + +<p>Of one more of the crew some image lives. This was a +foremast hand out of the Clyde, of the name of Brown. A +small, dark, thick-set creature, with dog’s eyes, of a disposition +incomparably mild and harmless, he knocked +about seas and cities, the uncomplaining whiptop of one +vice. “The drink is my trouble, ye see,” he said to +Carthew shyly; “and it’s the more shame to me because +I’m come of very good people at Bowling, down the +wa’er.” The letter that so much affected Nares, in case +the reader should remember it, was addressed to this man +Brown.</p> + +<p>Such was the ship that now carried joy into the bosoms +of the castaways. After the fatigue and the bestial +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page390" id="page390"></a>390</span> +emotions of their night of play, the approach of salvation +shook them from all self-control. Their hands trembled, +their eyes shone, they laughed and shouted like children +as they cleared their camp: and some one beginning to +whistle “Marching Through Georgia,” the remainder of +the packing was conducted, amidst a thousand interruptions, +to these martial strains. But the strong head of +Wicks was only partly turned.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” he said, “easy all! We’re going aboard of +a ship of which we don’t know nothing; we’ve got a chest +of specie, and seeing the weight, we can’t turn to and +deny it. Now, suppose she was fishy; suppose it was +some kind of a Bully Hayes business! It’s my opinion +we’d better be on hand with the pistols.”</p> + +<p>Every man of the party but Hemstead had some kind +of a revolver; these were accordingly loaded and disposed +about the persons of the castaways, and the packing +was resumed and finished in the same rapturous spirit as +it was begun. The sun was not yet ten degrees above +the eastern sea, but the brig was already close in and +hove-to, before they had launched the boat and sped, +shouting at the oars, towards the passage.</p> + +<p>It was blowing fresh outside with a strong send of sea. +The spray flew in the oarsmen’s faces. They saw the +Union Jack blow abroad from the <i>Flying Scud</i>, the men +clustered at the rail, the cook in the galley-door, the +captain on the quarter-deck with a pith helmet and binoculars. +And the whole familiar business, the comfort, +company, and safety of a ship, heaving nearer at each +stroke, maddened them with joy.</p> + +<p>Wicks was the first to catch the line, and swarm on +board, helping hands grabbing him as he came and hauling +him across the rail.</p> + +<p>“Captain, sir, I suppose?” he said, turning to the +hard old man in the pith helmet.</p> + +<p>“Captain Trent, sir,” returned the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m Captain Kirkup, and this is the crew of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page391" id="page391"></a>391</span> +the Sydney schooner <i>Currency Lass</i>, dismasted at sea +January 28th.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay,” said Trent. “Well, you’re all right now. +Lucky for you I saw your signal. I didn’t know I was +so near this beastly island, there must be a drift to the +south’ard here; and when I came on deck this morning +at eight bells, I thought it was a ship afire.”</p> + +<p>It had been agreed that, while Wicks was to board +the ship and do the civil, the rest were to remain in the +whaleboat and see the treasure safe. A tackle was passed +down to them; to this they made fast the invaluable +chest, and gave the word to heave. But the unexpected +weight brought the hand at the tackle to a stand; two +others ran to tail on and help him, and the thing caught +the eye of Trent.</p> + +<p>“‘Vast heaving!” he cried sharply; and then to +Wicks: “What’s that? I don’t ever remember to have +seen a chest weigh like that.”</p> + +<p>“It’s money,” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>“It’s what?” cried Trent.</p> + +<p>“Specie,” said Wicks; “saved from the wreck.”</p> + +<p>Trent looked at him sharply. “Here, let go that chest +again, Mr. Goddedaal,” he commanded, “shove the boat +off, and stream her with a line astern.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay, sir!” from Goddedaal.</p> + +<p>“What the devil’s wrong?” asked Wicks.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, I daresay,” returned Trent. “But you’ll +allow it’s a queer thing when a boat turns up in mid-ocean +with half a ton of specie and everybody armed,” he +added, pointing to Wicks’s pocket. “Your boat will +lay comfortably astern, while you come below and make +yourself satisfactory.”</p> + +<p>“O, if that’s all!” said Wicks. “My log and papers +are as right as the mail; nothing fishy about us.” And +he hailed his friends in the boat, bidding them have +patience, and turned to follow Captain Trent.</p> + +<p>“This way, Captain Kirkup,” said the latter. “And +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page392" id="page392"></a>392</span> +don’t blame a man for too much caution; no offence +intended; and these China rivers shake a fellow’s nerve. +All I want is just to see you’re what you say you are; +it’s only my duty, sir, and what you would do yourself +in the circumstances. I’ve not always been a ship-captain: +I was a banker once, and I tell you that’s the +trade to learn caution in. You have to keep your weather-eye +lifting Saturday nights.” And with a dry, business-like +cordiality, he produced a bottle of gin.</p> + +<p>The captains pledged each other; the papers were +overhauled; the tale of Topelius and the trade was told +in appreciative ears and cemented their acquaintance. +Trent’s suspicions, thus finally disposed of, were succeeded +by a fit of profound thought, during which he sat lethargic +and stern, looking at and drumming on the table.</p> + +<p>“Anything more?” asked Wicks.</p> + +<p>“What sort of a place is it inside?” inquired Trent, +sudden as though Wicks had touched a spring.</p> + +<p>“It’s a good enough lagoon—a few horses’ heads, but +nothing to mention,” answered Wicks.</p> + +<p>“I’ve a good mind to go in,” said Trent. “I was new +rigged in China; it’s given very bad, and I’m getting +frightened for my sticks. We could set it up as good as +new in a day. For I daresay your lot would turn to and +give us a hand?”</p> + +<p>“You see if we don’t!” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>“So be it, then,” concluded Trent. “A stitch in +time saves nine.”</p> + +<p>They returned on deck; Wicks cried the news to the +Currency Lasses; the foretopsail was filled again, and +the brig ran into the lagoon lively, the whaleboat dancing +in her wake, and came to single anchor off Middle Brooks +Island before eight. She was boarded by the castaways, +breakfast was served, the baggage slung on board and +piled in the waist, and all hands turned to upon the rigging. +All day the work continued, the two crews rivalling +each other in expense of strength. Dinner was served on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page393" id="page393"></a>393</span> +deck, the officers messing aft under the slack of the +spanker, the men fraternising forward. Trent appeared +in excellent spirits, served out grog to all hands, opened +a bottle of Cape wine for the after-table, and obliged his +guests with many details of the life of a financier in Cardiff. +He had been forty years at sea, had five times suffered +shipwreck, was once nine months the prisoner of a pepper +rajah, and had seen service under fire in Chinese rivers; +but the only thing he cared to talk of, the only thing of +which he was vain, or with which he thought it possible +to interest a stranger, was his career as a money-lender +in the slums of a seaport town.</p> + +<p>The afternoon spell told cruelly on the Currency Lasses. +Already exhausted as they were with sleeplessness and +excitement, they did the last hours of this violent employment +on bare nerves; and, when Trent was at last satisfied +with the condition of his rigging, expected eagerly +the word to put to sea. But the captain seemed in no +hurry. He went and walked by himself softly, like a +man in thought. Presently he hailed Wicks.</p> + +<p>“You’re a kind of company, ain’t you, Captain +Kirkup?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’re all on board on lays,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, you won’t mind if I ask the lot of you +down to tea in the cabin?” asked Trent.</p> + +<p>Wicks was amazed, but he naturally ventured no +remark; and a little after, the six Currency Lasses sat +down with Trent and Goddedaal to a spread of marmalade, +butter, toast, sardines, tinned tongue, and steaming +tea. The food was not very good, and I have no doubt +Nares would have reviled it, but it was manna to the +castaways. Goddedaal waited on them with a kindness far +before courtesy, a kindness like that of some old, honest +countrywoman in her farm. It was remembered afterwards +that Trent took little share in these attentions, but +sat much absorbed in thought, and seemed to remember +and forget the presence of his guests alternately. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page394" id="page394"></a>394</span></p> + +<p>Presently he addressed the Chinaman.</p> + +<p>“Clear out,” said he, and watched him till he had disappeared +in the stair.—“Now, gentlemen,” he went on, +“I understand you’re a joint-stock sort of crew, and that’s +why I’ve had you all down; for there’s a point I want +made clear. You see what sort of a ship this is—a good +ship, though I say it, and you see what the rations are—good +enough for sailor-men.”</p> + +<p>There was a hurried murmur of approval, but curiosity +for what was coming next prevented an articulate reply.</p> + +<p>“Well,” continued Trent, making bread pills and +looking hard at the middle of the table, “I’m glad of +course to be able to give you a passage to ’Frisco; one +sailor-man should help another, that’s my motto. But +when you want a thing in this world, you generally always +have to pay for it.” He laughed a brief, joyless laugh. +“I have no idea of losing by my kindness.”</p> + +<p>“We have no idea you should, captain,” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>“We are ready to pay anything in reason,” added +Carthew.</p> + +<p>At the words, Goddedaal, who sat next to him, touched +him with his elbow, and the two mates exchanged a significant +look. The character of Captain Trent was given +and taken in that silent second.</p> + +<p>“In reason?” repeated the captain of the brig. “I +was waiting for that. Reason’s between two people, and +there’s only one here. I’m the judge; I’m reason. If +you want an advance you have to pay for it”—he hastily +corrected himself—“If you want a passage in my ship, +you have to pay my price,” he substituted. “That’s +business, I believe. I don’t want you; you want me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” said Carthew, “and what <i>is</i> your price?”</p> + +<p>The captain made bread pills. “If I were like you,” +he said, “when you got hold of that merchant in the +Gilberts, I might surprise you. You had your chance +then; seems to me it’s mine now. Turn about’s fair +play. What kind of mercy did you have on that Gilbert +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page395" id="page395"></a>395</span> +merchant?” he cried, with a sudden stridency. “Not +that I blame you. All’s fair in love and business,” and he +laughed again, a little frosty giggle.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir?” said Carthew gravely.</p> + +<p>“Well, this ship’s mine, I think?” he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m of that way of thinking myself,” observed +Mac.</p> + +<p>“I say it’s mine, sir!” reiterated Trent, like a man +trying to be angry. “And I tell you all if I was a driver +like what you are, I would take the lot. But there’s two +thousand pounds there that don’t belong to you, and I’m +an honest man. Give me the two thousand that’s yours, +and I’ll give you a passage to the coast, and land every +man-jack of you in ’Frisco with fifteen pounds in his +pocket, and the captain here with twenty-five.”</p> + +<p>Goddedaal laid down his head on the table like a man +ashamed.</p> + +<p>“You’re joking,” cried Wicks, purple in the face.</p> + +<p>“Am I?” said Trent. “Please yourselves. You’re +under no compulsion. This ship’s mine, but there’s that +Brooks Island don’t belong to me, and you can lay there +till you die for what I care.”</p> + +<p>“It’s more than your blooming brig’s worth!” cried +Wicks.</p> + +<p>“It’s my price anyway,” returned Trent.</p> + +<p>“And do you mean to say you would land us there to +starve?” cried Tommy.</p> + +<p>Captain Trent laughed the third time. “Starve? I +defy you to,” said he. “I’ll sell you all the provisions +you want at a fair profit.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Mac, “but my case is +by itself. I’m working me passage; I got no share in +that two thousand pounds, nor nothing in my pockut; +and I’ll be glad to know what you have to say to me?”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t a hard man,” said Trent; “that shall make +no difference. I’ll take you with the rest, only of course +you get no fifteen pound.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page396" id="page396"></a>396</span></p> + +<p>The impudence was so extreme and startling that all +breathed deep, and Goddedaal raised up his face and +looked his superior sternly in the eye.</p> + +<p>But Mac was more articulate. “And you’re what ye +call a British sayman, I suppose? the sorrow in your +guts!” he cried.</p> + +<p>“One more such word, and I clap you in irons!” said +Trent, rising gleefully at the face of opposition.</p> + +<p>“And where would I be the while you were doin’ ut?” +asked Mac. “After you and your rigging, too! Ye ould +puggy, ye haven’t the civility of a bug, and I’ll learn ye +some.”</p> + +<p>His voice did not even rise as he uttered the threat; +no man present, Trent least of all, expected that which +followed. The Irishman’s hand rose suddenly from below +the table, an open clasp-knife balanced on the palm; +there was a movement swift as conjuring; Trent started +half to his feet, turning a little as he rose so as to escape +the table, and the movement was his bane. The missile +struck him in the jugular; he fell forward, and his blood +flowed among the dishes on the cloth.</p> + +<p>The suddenness of the attack and the catastrophe, +the instant change from peace to war, and from life to +death, held all men spellbound. Yet a moment they sat +about the table staring open-mouthed upon the prostrate +captain and the flowing blood. The next, Goddedaal +had leaped to his feet, caught up the stool on which he +had been sitting, and swung it high in air, a man transfigured, +roaring (as he stood) so that men’s ears were +stunned with it. There was no thought of battle in the +Currency Lasses; none drew his weapon; all huddled +helplessly from before the face of the baresark Scandinavian. +His first blow sent Mac to ground with a broken +arm. His second dashed out the brains of Hemstead. +He turned from one to another, menacing and trumpeting +like a wounded elephant, exulting in his rage. But +there was no counsel, no light of reason, in that ecstasy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page397" id="page397"></a>397</span> +of battle; and he shied from the pursuit of victory to +hail fresh blows upon the supine Hemstead, so that the +stool was shattered and the cabin rang with their violence. +The sight of that post-mortem cruelty recalled Carthew +to the life of instinct, and his revolver was in hand and +he had aimed and fired before he knew. The ear-bursting +sound of the report was accompanied by a yell of pain; +the colossus paused, swayed, tottered, and fell headlong +on the body of his victim.</p> + +<p>In the instant silence that succeeded, the sound of +feet pounding on deck and in the companion leaped into +hearing; and a face, that of the sailor Holdorsen, appeared +below the bulkheads in the cabin doorway. Carthew +shattered it with a second shot, for he was a marksman.</p> + +<p>“Pistols!” he cried, and charged at the companion, +Wicks at his heels, Tommy and Amalu following. They +trod the body of Holdorsen under foot, and flew upstairs +and forth into the dusky blaze of a sunset red as blood. +The numbers were still equal, but the Flying Scuds +dreamed not of defence, and fled with one accord for the +forecastle scuttle. Brown was first in flight; he disappeared +below unscathed; the Chinaman followed head-foremost +with a ball in his side; and the others shinned +into the rigging.</p> + +<p>A fierce composure settled upon Wicks and Carthew, +their fighting second wind. They posted Tommy at the +fore and Amalu at the main to guard the masts and +shrouds, and going themselves into the waist, poured out +a box of cartridges on deck and filled the chambers. The +poor devils aloft bleated aloud for mercy. But the hour +of any mercy was gone by; the cup was brewed and +must be drunken to the dregs; since so many had fallen +all must fall. The light was bad, the cheap revolvers +fouled and carried wild, the screaming wretches were swift +to flatten themselves against the masts and yards, or find +a momentary refuge in the hanging sails. The fell business +took long, but it was done at last. Hardy the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page398" id="page398"></a>398</span> +Londoner was shot on the fore-royal yard, and hung horribly +suspended in the brails. Wallen, the other, had +his jaw broken on the maintop-gallant crosstrees, and +exposed himself, shrieking, till a second shot dropped him +on the deck.</p> + +<p>This had been bad enough, but worse remained behind. +There was still Brown in the forepeak. Tommy, with a +sudden clamour of weeping, begged for his life. “One +man can’t hurt us,” he sobbed. “We can’t go on with +this. I spoke to him at dinner. He’s an awful decent +little cad. It can’t be done. Nobody can go into that +place and murder him. It’s too damned wicked.”</p> + +<p>The sound of his supplications was perhaps audible to +the unfortunate below.</p> + +<p>“One left and we all hang,” said Wicks. “Brown +must go the same road.” The big man was deadly white +and trembled like an aspen; and he had no sooner finished +speaking than he went to the ship’s side and vomited.</p> + +<p>“We can never do it if we wait,” said Carthew. “Now +or never,” and he marched towards the scuttle.</p> + +<p>“No, no, no!” wailed Tommy, clutching at his +jacket.</p> + +<p>But Carthew flung him off, and stepped down the +ladder, his heart rising with disgust and shame. The +Chinaman lay on the floor, still groaning; the place was +pitch dark.</p> + +<p>“Brown!” cried Carthew; “Brown, where are you?”</p> + +<p>His heart smote him for the treacherous apostrophe, +but no answer came.</p> + +<p>He groped in the bunks: they were all empty. Then +he moved towards the forepeak, which was hampered +with coils of rope and spare chandlery in general.</p> + +<p>“Brown!” he said again.</p> + +<p>“Here, sir,” answered a shaking voice; and the poor +invisible caitiff called on him by name, and poured forth +out of the darkness an endless, garrulous appeal for mercy. +A sense of danger, of daring, had alone nerved Carthew +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page399" id="page399"></a>399</span> +to enter the forecastle; and here was the enemy crying +and pleading like a frightened child. His obsequious +“Here, sir,” his horrid fluency of obtestation, made the +murder tenfold more revolting. Twice Carthew raised the +pistol, once he pressed the trigger (or thought he did) with +all his might, but no explosion followed; and with that +the lees of his courage ran quite out, and he turned and +fled from before his victim.</p> + +<p>Wicks sat on the fore hatch, raised the face of a man +of seventy, and looked a wordless question. Carthew +shook his head. With such composure as a man displays +marching towards the gallows, Wicks arose, walked to the +scuttle, and went down. Brown thought it was Carthew +returning, and discovered himself, half-crawling from his +shelter, with another incoherent burst of pleading. Wicks +emptied his revolver at the voice, which broke into mouse-like +whimperings and groans. Silence succeeded, and the +murderer ran on deck like one possessed.</p> + +<p>The other three were now all gathered on the fore +hatch, and Wicks took his place beside them without +question asked or answered. They sat close like children in +the dark, and shook each other with their shaking. The +dusk continued to fall; and there was no sound but the +beating of the surf and the occasional hiccup of a sob from +Tommy Hadden.</p> + +<p>“God, if there was another ship!” cried Carthew of a +sudden.</p> + +<p>Wicks started and looked aloft with the trick of all +seamen, and shuddered as he saw the hanging figure on +the royal-yard.</p> + +<p>“If I went aloft, I’d fall,” he said simply. “I’m +done up.”</p> + +<p>It was Amalu who volunteered, climbed to the very +truck, swept the fading horizon, and announced nothing +within sight.</p> + +<p>“No odds,” said Wicks. “We can’t sleep....”</p> + +<p>“Sleep!” echoed Carthew; and it seemed as if the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page400" id="page400"></a>400</span> +whole of Shakespeare’s <i>Macbeth</i> thundered at the gallop +through his mind.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, we can’t sit and chitter here,” said Wicks, +“till we’ve cleaned the ship; and I can’t turn to till I’ve +had gin, and the gin’s in the cabin, and who’s to fetch it?”</p> + +<p>“I will,” said Carthew, “if any one has matches.”</p> + +<p>Amalu passed him a box, and he went aft and down +the companion and into the cabin, stumbling upon bodies. +Then he struck a match, and his looks fell upon two living +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well?” asked Mac, for it was he who still survived +in that shambles of a cabin.</p> + +<p>“It’s done; they’re all dead,” answered Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Christ!” said the Irishman, and fainted.</p> + +<p>The gin was found in the dead captain’s cabin; it +was brought on deck, and all hands had a dram, and +attacked their further task. The night was come, the +moon would not be up for hours; a lamp was set on the +main hatch to light Amalu as he washed down decks; +and the galley lantern was taken to guide the others in +their graveyard business. Holdorsen, Hemstead, Trent, +and Goddedaal were first disposed of, the last still breathing +as he went over the side; Wallen followed; and then +Wicks, steadied by the gin, went aloft with the boathook +and succeeded in dislodging Hardy. The Chinaman was +their last task; he seemed to be light-headed, talked aloud +in his unknown language as they brought him up, and it +was only with the splash of his sinking body that the +gibberish ceased. Brown, by common consent, was left +alone. Flesh and blood could go no further.</p> + +<p>All this time they had been drinking undiluted gin like +water; three bottles stood broached in different quarters; +and none passed without a gulp. Tommy collapsed against +the mainmast; Wicks fell on his face on the poop ladder +and moved no more; Amalu had vanished unobserved. +Carthew was the last afoot: he stood swaying at the break +of the poop, and the lantern, which he still carried, swung +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page401" id="page401"></a>401</span> +with his movement. His head hummed; it swarmed +with broken thoughts; memory of that day’s abominations +flared up and died down within him like the light +of a lamp in a strong draught. And then he had a +drunkard’s inspiration.</p> + +<p>“There must be no more of this,” he thought, and +stumbled once more below.</p> + +<p>The absence of Holdorsen’s body brought him to a +stand. He stood and stared at the empty floor, and then +remembered and smiled. From the captain’s room he +took the open case with one dozen and three bottles of +gin, put the lantern inside, and walked precariously forth. +Mac was once more conscious, his eyes haggard, his face +drawn with pain and flushed with fever; and Carthew +remembered he had never been seen to, had lain there +helpless, and was so to lie all night, injured, perhaps +dying. But it was now too late; reason had now fled from +that silent ship. If Carthew could get on deck again, it +was as much as he could hope; and casting on the unfortunate +a glance of pity, the tragic drunkard shouldered +his way up the companion, dropped the case overboard, +and fell in the scuppers helpless.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page402" id="page402"></a>402</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV</h3> + +<h5>A BAD BARGAIN</h5> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">With</span> the first colour in the east, Carthew awoke and +sat up. A while he gazed at the scroll of the morning +bank and the spars and hanging canvas of the brig, like +a man who wakes in a strange bed, with a child’s simplicity +of wonder. He wondered above all what ailed +him, what he had lost, what disfavour had been done +him, which he knew he should resent, yet had forgotten. +And then, like a river bursting through a dam, the truth +rolled on him its instantaneous volume: his memory +teemed with speech and pictures that he should never again +forget; and he sprang to his feet, stood a moment hand +to brow, and began to walk violently to and fro by the +companion. As he walked he wrung his hands. “God—God—God,” +he kept saying, with no thought of prayer, +uttering a mere voice of agony.</p> + +<p>The time may have been long or short, it was perhaps +minutes, perhaps only seconds, ere he awoke to find himself +observed, and saw the captain sitting up and watching +him over the break of the poop, a strange blindness +as of fever in his eyes, a haggard knot of corrugations on +his brow. Cain saw himself in a mirror. For a flash they +looked upon each other, and then glanced guiltily aside; +and Carthew fled from the eye of his accomplice, and stood +leaning on the taffrail.</p> + +<p>An hour went by, while the day came brighter, and +the sun rose and drank up the clouds: an hour of silence +in the ship, an hour of agony beyond narration for the +sufferers. Brown’s gabbling prayers, the cries of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page403" id="page403"></a>403</span> +sailors in the rigging, strains of the dead Hemstead’s +minstrelsy, ran together in Carthew’s mind with sickening +iteration. He neither acquitted nor condemned himself: +he did not think he suffered. In the bright water +into which he stared, the pictures changed and were +repeated: the baresark rage of Goddedaal; the blood-red +light of the sunset into which they had run forth; +the face of the babbling Chinaman as they cast him over; +the face of the captain, seen a moment since, as he +awoke from drunkenness into remorse. And time passed, +and the sun swam higher, and his torment was not +abated.</p> + +<p>Then were fulfilled many sayings, and the weakest of +these condemned brought relief and healing to the others. +Amalu the drudge awoke (like the rest) to sickness of body +and distress of mind; but the habit of obedience ruled +in that simple spirit, and, appalled to be so late, he went +direct into the galley, kindled the fire, and began to get +breakfast. At the rattle of dishes, the snapping of the +fire, and the thin smoke that went up straight into the +air, the spell was lifted. The condemned felt once more +the good dry land of habit under foot; they touched +again the familiar guide-ropes of sanity; they were +restored to a sense of the blessed revolution and return +of all things earthly. The captain drew a bucket of +water and began to bathe. Tommy sat up, watched him +a while, and slowly followed his example; and Carthew, +remembering his last thoughts of the night before, hastened +to the cabin.</p> + +<p>Mac was awake; perhaps had not slept. Over his +head Goddedaal’s canary twittered shrilly from its cage.</p> + +<p>“How are you?” asked Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Me arrum’s broke,” returned Mac; “but I can stand +that. It’s this place I can’t aboide. I was coming on +deck anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Stay where you are, though,” said Carthew. “It’s +deadly hot above, and there’s no wind. I’ll wash out +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page404" id="page404"></a>404</span> +this——” and he paused, seeking a word and not finding +one for the grisly foulness of the cabin.</p> + +<p>“Faith, I’ll be obloiged to ye, then,” replied the Irishman. +He spoke mild and meek, like a sick child with +its mother. There was no violence in the violent man; +and as Carthew fetched a bucket and swab and the +steward’s sponge, and began to cleanse the field of battle, +he alternately watched him or shut his eyes and sighed +like a man near fainting. “I have to ask all your pardons,” +he began again presently, “and the more shame to +me as I got ye into trouble and couldn’t do nothing when +it came. Ye saved me life, sir; ye’re a clane shot.”</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake, don’t talk of it!” cried Carthew. +“It can’t be talked of; you don’t know what it was. +It was nothing down here; they fought. On deck—O, +my God!” And Carthew, with the bloody sponge pressed +to his face, struggled a moment with hysteria.</p> + +<p>“Kape cool, Mr. Cart’ew. It’s done now,” said +Mac; “and ye may bless God ye’re not in pain, and +helpless in the bargain.”</p> + +<p>There was no more said by one or other, and the +cabin was pretty well cleansed when a stroke on the ship’s +bell summoned Carthew to breakfast. Tommy had been +busy in the meanwhile; he had hauled the whaleboat close +aboard, and already lowered into it a small keg of beef +that he found ready broached beside the galley door; it +was plain he had but the one idea—to escape.</p> + +<p>“We have a shipful of stores to draw upon,” he said. +“Well, what are we staying for? Let’s get off at once +for Hawaii. I’ve begun preparing already.”</p> + +<p>“Mac has his arm broken,” observed Carthew; “how +would he stand the voyage?”</p> + +<p>“A broken arm?” repeated the captain. “That all? +I’ll set it after breakfast. I thought he was dead like the +rest. That madman hit out like——” and there, at the +evocation of the battle, his voice ceased and the talk died +with it. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page405" id="page405"></a>405</span></p> + +<p>After breakfast the three white men went down into +the cabin.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come to set your arm,” said the captain.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, captain,” replied Mac; “but +the firrst thing ye got to do is to get this ship to sea. +We’ll talk of me arrum after that.”</p> + +<p>“O, there’s no such blooming hurry,” returned Wicks.</p> + +<p>“When the next ship sails in ye’ll tell me stories!” +retorted Mac.</p> + +<p>“But there’s nothing so unlikely in the world,” objected +Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be deceivin’ yourself,” said Mac. “If ye +want a ship, divil a one’ll look near ye in six year; but +if ye don’t, ye may take my word for ut, we’ll have a +squadron layin’ here.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I say,” cried Tommy; “that’s what I +call sense! Let’s stock that whaleboat and be off.”</p> + +<p>“And what will Captain Wicks be thinking of the +whaleboat?” asked the Irishman.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think of it at all,” said Wicks. “We’ve a +smart-looking brig under foot; that’s all the whaleboat I +want.”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me!” cried Tommy. “That’s childish talk. +You’ve got a brig, to be sure, and what use is she? You +daren’t go anywhere in her. What port are you to sail +for?”</p> + +<p>“For the port of Davy Jones’s Locker, my son,” +replied the captain. “This brig’s going to be lost at sea. +I’ll tell you where, too, and that’s about forty miles to +windward of Kauai. We’re going to stay by her till she’s +down; and once the masts are under, she’s the <i>Flying +Scud</i> no more, and we never heard of such a brig; and it’s +the crew of the schooner <i>Currency Lass</i> that comes ashore +in the boat, and takes the first chance to Sydney.”</p> + +<p>“Captain, dear, that’s the first Christian word I’ve +heard of ut!” cried Mac. “And now, just let me arrum +be, jewel, and get the brig outside.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page406" id="page406"></a>406</span></p> + +<p>“I’m as anxious as yourself, Mac,” returned Wicks; +“but there’s not wind enough to swear by. So let’s see +your arm, and no more talk.”</p> + +<p>The arm was set and splinted; the body of Brown +fetched from the forepeak, where it lay stiff and cold, +and committed to the waters of the lagoon; and the +washing of the cabin rudely finished. All these were done +ere mid-day; and it was past three when the first cat’s-paw +ruffled the lagoon, and the wind came in a dry squall, +which presently sobered to a steady breeze.</p> + +<p>The interval was passed by all in feverish impatience, +and by one of the party in secret and extreme concern of +mind. Captain Wicks was a fore-and-aft sailor; he could +take a schooner through a Scotch reel, felt her mouth +and divined her temper like a rider with a horse; she, +on her side, recognising her master and following his +wishes like a dog. But by a not very unusual train of +circumstance, the man’s dexterity was partial and circumscribed. +On a schooner’s deck he was Rembrandt, +or (at the least) Mr. Whistler; on board a brig he was +Pierre Grassou. Again and again in the course of the +morning he had reasoned out his policy and rehearsed +his orders; and ever with the same depression and weariness. +It was guess-work; it was chance; the ship might +behave as he expected, and might not; suppose she +failed him, he stood there helpless, beggared of all the +proved resources of experience. Had not all hands been +so weary, had he not feared to communicate his own +misgivings, he could have towed her out. But these +reasons sufficed, and the most he could do was to take all +possible precautions. Accordingly he had Carthew aft, +explained what was to be done with anxious patience, and +visited along with him the various sheets and braces.</p> + +<p>“I hope I’ll remember,” said Carthew. “It seems +awfully muddled.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the rottenest kind of rig,” the captain admitted: +“all blooming pocket-handkerchiefs! and not one sailor-man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page407" id="page407"></a>407</span> +on deck! Ah, if she’d only been a brigantine now! +But it’s lucky the passage is so plain; there’s no manœuvring +to mention. We get under weigh before the wind, +and run right so till we begin to get foul of the island; +then we haul our wind and lie as near south-east as may +be till we’re on that line; ’bout ship there and stand +straight out on the port tack. Catch the idea?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I see the idea,” replied Carthew, rather dismally, +and the two incompetents studied for a long time +in silence the complicated gear above their heads.</p> + +<p>But the time came when these rehearsals must be +put in practice. The sails were lowered, and all hands +heaved the anchor short. The whaleboat was then cut +adrift, the upper topsails and the spanker set, the yards +braced up, and the spanker sheet hauled out to starboard.</p> + +<p>“Heave away on your anchor, Mr. Carthew.”</p> + +<p>“Anchor’s gone, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Set jibs.”</p> + +<p>It was done, and the brig still hung enchanted. Wicks, +his head full of a schooner’s mainsail, turned his mind +to the spanker. First he hauled in the sheet, and then he +hauled it out, with no result.</p> + +<p>“Brail the damned thing up!” he bawled at last, +with a red face. “There ain’t no sense in it.”</p> + +<p>It was the last stroke of bewilderment for the poor +captain, that he had no sooner brailed up the spanker +than the vessel came before the wind. The laws of nature +seemed to him to be suspended; he was like a man in a +world of pantomime tricks; the cause of any result, and +the probable result of any action, equally concealed from +him. He was the more careful not to shake the nerve +of his amateur assistants. He stood there with a face +like a torch; but he gave his orders with <i>aplomb</i>, and +indeed, now the ship was under weigh, supposed his difficulties +over.</p> + +<p>The lower topsails and courses, were then set, and the +brig began to walk the water like a thing of life, her forefoot +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page408" id="page408"></a>408</span> +discoursing music, the birds flying and crying over +her spars. Bit by bit the passage began to open and the +blue sea to show between the flanking breakers on the +reef; bit by bit, on the starboard bow, the low land of +the islet began to heave closer aboard. The yards were +braced up, the spanker sheet hauled aft again; the brig +was close hauled, lay down to her work like a thing in +earnest, and had soon drawn near to the point of advantage, +where she might stay and lie out of the lagoon in a +single tack.</p> + +<p>Wicks took the wheel himself, swelling with success. +He kept the brig full to give her heels, and began to bark +his orders: “Ready about. Helm’s a-lee. Tacks and +sheets. Mainsail haul.” And then the fatal words: +“That’ll do your mainsail; jump for’ard and haul round +your foreyards.”</p> + +<p>To stay a square-rigged ship is an affair of knowledge +and swift sight: and a man used to the succinct evolutions +of a schooner will always tend to be too hasty with +a brig. It was so now. The order came too soon; the +topsails set flat aback; the ship was in irons. Even yet, +had the helm been reversed, they might have saved her. +But to think of a sternboard at all, far more to think of +profiting by one, were foreign to the schooner-sailor’s +mind. Wicks made haste instead to wear ship, a +manœuvre for which room was wanting, and the <i>Flying +Scud</i> took ground on a bank of sand and coral about +twenty minutes before five.</p> + +<p>Wicks was no hand with a square-rigger, and he had +shown it. But he was a sailor and a born captain of men +for all homely purposes, where intellect is not required +and an eye in a man’s head and a heart under his jacket +will suffice. Before the others had time to understand +the misfortune, he was bawling fresh orders, and had the +sails clewed up, and took soundings round the ship.</p> + +<p>“She lies lovely,” he remarked, and ordered out a +boat with the starboard anchor. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page409" id="page409"></a>409</span></p> + +<p>“Here! steady!” cried Tommy. “You ain’t going +to turn us to, to warp her off?”</p> + +<p>“I am though,” replied Wicks.</p> + +<p>“I won’t set a hand to such tomfoolery for one,” +replied Tommy. “I’m dead beat.” He went and sat +down doggedly on the main hatch. “You got us on; +get us off again,” he added.</p> + +<p>Garthew and Wicks turned to each other.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you don’t know how tired we are,” said +Carthew.</p> + +<p>“The tide’s flowing!” cried the captain. “You +wouldn’t have me miss a rising tide?”</p> + +<p>“O, gammon! there’s tides to-morrow!” retorted +Tommy.</p> + +<p>“And I’ll tell you what,” added Carthew, “the breeze +is failing fast, and the sun will soon be down. We may +get into all kinds of fresh mess in the dark and with +nothing but light airs.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t deny it,” answered Wicks, and stood a while +as if in thought. “But what I can’t make out,” he began +again, with agitation, “what I can’t make out is what +you’re made of! To stay in this place is beyond me. +There’s the bloody sun going down—and to stay here is +beyond me.”</p> + +<p>The others looked upon him with horrified surprise. +This fall of their chief pillar—this irrational passion in +the practical man, suddenly barred out of his true sphere—the +sphere of action—shocked and daunted them. But +it gave to another and unseen hearer the chance for which +he had been waiting. Mac, on the striking of the brig, +had crawled up the companion, and he now showed himself +and spoke up.</p> + +<p>“Captain Wicks,” said he, “it’s me that brought this +trouble on the lot of ye. I’m sorry for ut, I ask all your +pardons, and if there’s any one can say ‘I forgive ye,’ it’ll +make my soul the lighter.”</p> + +<p>Wicks stared upon the man in amaze; then his self-control +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page410" id="page410"></a>410</span> +returned to him. “We’re all in glass houses +here,” he said; “we ain’t going to turn to and throw +stones. I forgive you, sure enough; and much good may +it do you!”</p> + +<p>The others spoke to the same purpose.</p> + +<p>“I thank ye for ut, and ’tis done like gentlemen,” +said Mac. “But there’s another thing I have upon my +mind. I hope we’re all Prodestans here?”</p> + +<p>It appeared they were; it seemed a small thing for +the Protestant religion to rejoice in!</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s as it should be,” continued Mac. “And +why shouldn’t we say the Lord’s Prayer? There can’t +be no hurt in ut.”</p> + +<p>He had the same quiet, pleading, childlike way with +him as in the morning; and the others accepted his proposal, +and knelt down without a word.</p> + +<p>“Knale if ye like!” said he. “I’ll stand.” And he +covered his eyes.</p> + +<p>So the prayer was said to the accompaniment of the +surf and sea-birds, and all rose refreshed and felt lightened +of a load. Up to then, they had cherished their guilty +memories in private, or only referred to them in the heat +of a moment, and fallen immediately silent. Now they +had faced their remorse in company, and the worst seemed +over. Nor was it only that. But the petition “Forgive +us our trespasses,” falling in so apposite after they had +themselves forgiven the immediate author of their miseries, +sounded like an absolution.</p> + +<p>Tea was taken on deck in the time of the sunset, and +not long after the five castaways—castaways once more—lay +down to sleep.</p> + +<p>Day dawned windless and hot. Their slumbers had +been too profound to be refreshing, and they woke listless, +and sat up, and stared about them with dull eyes. +Only Wicks, smelling a hard day’s work ahead, was more +alert. He went first to the well, sounded it once and then +a second time, and stood a while with a grim look, so that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page411" id="page411"></a>411</span> +all could see he was dissatisfied. Then he shook himself, +stripped to the buff, clambered on the rail, drew himself +up, and raised his arms to plunge. The dive was never +taken. He stood, instead, transfixed, his eyes on the +horizon.</p> + +<p>“Hand up that glass,” he said.</p> + +<p>In a trice they were all swarming aloft, the nude +captain leading with the glass.</p> + +<p>On the northern horizon was a finger of grey smoke, +straight in the windless air like a point of admiration.</p> + +<p>“What do you make it?” they asked of Wicks.</p> + +<p>“She’s truck down,” he replied; “no telling yet. By +the way the smoke builds, she must be heading right here.”</p> + +<p>“What can she be?”</p> + +<p>“She might be a China mail,” returned Wicks, “and +she might be a blooming man-of-war, come to look for +castaways. Here! This ain’t the time to stand staring. +On deck, boys!”</p> + +<p>He was the first on deck, as he had been the first aloft, +handed down the ensign, bent it again to the signal halliards, +and ran it up union down.</p> + +<p>“Now hear me,” he said, jumping into his trousers, +“and everything I say you grip on to. If that’s a man-of-war, +she’ll be in a tearing hurry; all these ships are +what don’t do nothing and have their expenses paid. +That’s our chance; for we’ll go with them, and they +won’t take the time to look twice or to ask a question. +I’m Captain Trent; Carthew, you’re Goddedaal; Tommy, +you’re Hardy; Mac’s Brown; Amalu—hold hard! we +can’t make a Chinaman of him! Ah Wing must have +deserted; Amalu stowed away; and I turned him to +as cook, and was never at the bother to sign him. Catch +the idea? Say your names.”</p> + +<p>And that pale company recited their lesson earnestly.</p> + +<p>“What were the names of the other two?” he asked. +“Him Carthew shot in the companion, and the one I +caught in the jaw on the main top-gallant?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page412" id="page412"></a>412</span></p> + +<p>“Holdorsen and Wallen,” said some one.</p> + +<p>“Well, they’re drowned,” continued Wicks; “drowned +alongside trying to lower a boat. We had a bit of a +squall last night; that’s how we got ashore.” He ran +and squinted at the compass. “Squall out of nor’-nor’west-half-west; +blew hard; every one in a mess, falls +jammed, and Holdorsen and Wallen spilt overboard. See? +Clear your blooming heads!” He was in his jacket now, +and spoke with a feverish impatience and contention that +rang like anger.</p> + +<p>“But is it safe?” asked Tommy.</p> + +<p>“Safe?” bellowed the captain. “We’re standing +on the drop, you moon-calf! If that ship’s bound for +China (which she don’t look to be), we’re lost as soon as +we arrive; if she’s bound the other way, she comes from +China, don’t she? Well, if there’s a man on board of +her that ever clapped eyes on Trent or any blooming hand +out of this brig, we’ll all be in irons in two hours. Safe! +no, it ain’t safe; it’s a beggarly last chance to shave the +gallows, and that’s what it is.”</p> + +<p>At this convincing picture fear took hold on all.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t we a hundred times better stay by the +brig?” cried Carthew. “They would give us a hand +to float her off.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll make me waste this holy day in chattering!” +cried Wicks. “Look here, when I sounded the well this +morning there was two feet of water there against eight +inches last night. What’s wrong? I don’t know; might +be nothing; might be the worst kind of smash. And +then, there we are in for a thousand miles in an open +boat, if that’s your taste!”</p> + +<p>“But it may be nothing, and anyway, their carpenters +are bound to help us repair her,” argued Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Moses Murphy!” cried the captain. “How did she +strike? Bows on, I believe. And she’s down by the +head now. If any carpenter comes tinkering here where’ll +he go first? Down in the forepeak, I suppose! And +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page413" id="page413"></a>413</span> +then, how about all that blood among the chandlery? +You would think you were a lot of members of Parliament +discussing Plimsoll; and you’re just a pack of +murderers with the halter round your neck. Any other +ass got any time to waste? No? Thank God for that! +Now, all hands! I’m going below, and I leave you here +on deck. You get the boat-cover off that boat; then you +turn to and open the specie chest. There are five of us; +get five chests, and divide the specie equal among the five—put +it at the bottom—and go at it like tigers. Get +blankets, or canvas, or clothes, so it won’t rattle. It’ll +make five pretty heavy chests, but we can’t help that. +You, Carthew—dash me!—You, Mr. Goddedaal, come +below. We’ve our share before us.”</p> + +<p>And he cast another glance at the smoke, and hurried +below with Carthew at his heels.</p> + +<p>The logs were found in the main cabin behind the +canary cage; two of them, one kept by Trent, one by +Goddedaal. Wicks looked first at one, then at the other, +and his lip stuck out.</p> + +<p>“Can you forge hand of write?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Carthew.</p> + +<p>“There’s luck for you—no more can I!” cried the +captain. “Hullo! here’s worse yet—here’s this Goddedaal +up to date; he must have filled it in before supper. +See for yourself: ‘Smoke observed.—Captain Kirkup +and five hands of the schooner <i>Currency Lass</i>.’ Ah! this +is better,” he added, turning to the other log, “The old +man ain’t written anything for a clear fortnight. We’ll +dispose of your log altogether, Mr. Goddedaal, and stick +to the old man’s—to mine, I mean; only I ain’t going to +write it up for reasons of my own. You are. You’re going +to sit down right here and fill it in the way I tell you.”</p> + +<p>“How to explain the loss of mine?” asked Carthew.</p> + +<p>“You never kept one,” replied the captain. “Gross +neglect of duty. You’ll catch it.”</p> + +<p>“And the change of writing?” resumed Carthew. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page414" id="page414"></a>414</span> +“You began; why do you stop and why do I come in? +And you’ll have to sign anyway.”</p> + +<p>“O! I’ve met with an accident and can’t write,” +replied Wicks.</p> + +<p>“An accident,” repeated Carthew. “It don’t sound +natural. What kind of an accident?”</p> + +<p>Wicks spread his hand face up on the table, and drove +a knife through his palm.</p> + +<p>“That kind of an accident,” said he. “There’s a way +to draw to windward of most difficulties if you’ve a head +on your shoulders.” He began to bind up his hand with +a handkerchief, glancing the while over Goddedaal’s log. +“Hullo!” he said; “this’ll never do for us—this is an +impossible kind of yarn. Here, to begin with, is this +Captain Trent, trying some fancy course, leastways he’s +a thousand miles to south’ard of the great circle. And +here, it seems, he was close up with this island on the +sixth, sails all these days, and is close up with it again by +daylight on the eleventh.”</p> + +<p>“Goddedaal said they had the deuce’s luck,” said +Carthew.</p> + +<p>“Well, it don’t look like real life—that’s all I can +say,” returned Wicks.</p> + +<p>“It’s the way it was, though,” argued Carthew.</p> + +<p>“So it is; and what the better are we for that, if it +don’t look so?” cried the captain, sounding unwonted +depths of art criticism. “Here! try and see if you can +tie this bandage; I’m bleeding like a pig.”</p> + +<p>As Carthew sought to adjust the handkerchief, his +patient seemed sunk in a deep muse, his eye veiled, his +mouth partly open. The job was yet scarce done when +he sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>“I have it,” he broke out and ran on deck. “Here, +boys!” he cried, “we didn’t come here on the eleventh; +we came in here on the evening of the sixth, and lay here +ever since becalmed. As soon as you’ve done with these +chests,” he added, “you can turn to and roll out beef and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page415" id="page415"></a>415</span> +water-breakers; it’ll look more ship-shape—like as if we +were getting ready for the boat voyage.”</p> + +<p>And he was back again in a moment, cooking the new +log. Goddedaal’s was then carefully destroyed, and a +hunt began for the ship’s papers. Of all the agonies of that +breathless morning this was perhaps the most poignant. +Here and there the two men searched, cursing, cannoning +together, streaming with heat, freezing with terror. News +was bawled down to them that the ship was indeed a man-of-war, +that she was close up, that she was lowering a +boat; and still they sought in vain. By what accident +they missed the iron box with the money and accounts is +hard to fancy, but they did. And the vital documents +were found at last in the pocket of Trent’s shore-going +coat, where he had left them when last he came on +board.</p> + +<p>Wicks smiled for the first time that morning. “None +too soon,” said he. “And now for it! Take these others +for me; I’m afraid I’ll get them mixed if I keep both.”</p> + +<p>“What are they?” Carthew asked.</p> + +<p>“They’re the Kirkup and <i>Currency Lass</i> papers,” he +replied. “Pray God we need ’em again!”</p> + +<p>“Boat’s inside the lagoon, sir,” hailed down Mac, +who sat by the skylight doing sentry while the others +worked.</p> + +<p>“Time we were on deck, then, Mr. Goddedaal,” said +Wicks.</p> + +<p>As they turned to leave the cabin, the canary burst +into piercing song.</p> + +<p>“My God!” cried Carthew, with a gulp, “we can’t +leave that wretched bird to starve. It was poor Goddedaal’s.”</p> + +<p>“Bring the bally thing along!” cried the captain.</p> + +<p>And they went on deck.</p> + +<p>An ugly brute of a modern man-of-war lay just without +the reef, now quite inert, now giving a flap or two with +her propeller. Nearer hand, and just within, a big white +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page416" id="page416"></a>416</span> +boat came skimming to the stroke of many oars, her ensign +blowing at the stern.</p> + +<p>“One word more,” said Wicks, after he had taken in +the scene. “Mac, you’ve been in China ports? All +right; then you can speak for yourself. The rest of +you I kept on board all the time we were in Hong Kong, +hoping you would desert; but you fooled me and stuck to +the brig. That’ll make your lying come easier.”</p> + +<p>The boat was now close at hand; a boy in the stern +sheets was the only officer, and a poor one plainly, for +the men were talking as they pulled.</p> + +<p>“Thank God, they’ve only sent a kind of a middy!” +ejaculated Wicks.—“Here you, Hardy, stand for’ard! +I’ll have no deck hands on my quarter-deck,” he cried, +and the reproof braced the whole crew like a cold douche.</p> + +<p>The boat came alongside with perfect neatness, and the +boy officer stepped on board, where he was respectfully +greeted by Wicks.</p> + +<p>“You the master of this ship?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Wicks. “Trent is my name, and this +is the <i>Flying Scud</i> of Hull.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to have got into a mess,” said the officer.</p> + +<p>“If you’ll step aft with me here, I’ll tell you all there +is of it,” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>“Why, man, you’re shaking!” cried the officer.</p> + +<p>“So would you, perhaps, if you had been in the same +berth,” returned Wicks; and he told the whole story of +the rotten water, the long calm, the squall, the seamen +drowned, glibly and hotly, talking, with his head in the +lion’s mouth, like one pleading in the dock. I heard the +same tale from the same narrator in the saloon in San +Francisco; and even then his bearing filled me with +suspicion. But the officer was no observer.</p> + +<p>“Well, the captain is in no end of a hurry,” said he; +“but I was instructed to give you all the assistance in +my power, and signal back for another boat if more hands +were necessary. What can I do for you?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page417" id="page417"></a>417</span></p> + +<p>“O, we won’t keep you no time,” replied Wicks +cheerily. “We’re all ready, bless you—men’s chests, +chronometer, papers, and all.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to leave her?” cried the officer. “She +seems to me to lie nicely; can’t we get your ship off?”</p> + +<p>“So we could, and no mistake; but how we’re to +keep her afloat’s another question. Her bows is stove +in,” replied Wicks.</p> + +<p>The officer coloured to the eyes. He was incompetent, +and knew he was; thought he was already detected, and +feared to expose himself again. There was nothing further +from his mind than that the captain should deceive him; +if the captain was pleased, why, so was he. “All right,” +he said. “Tell your men to get their chests aboard.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Goddedaal, turn the hands to to get the chests +aboard,” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>The four Currency Lasses had waited the while on +tenter-hooks. This welcome news broke upon them like +the sun at midnight; and Hadden burst into a storm of +tears, sobbing aloud as he heaved upon the tackle. But +the work went none the less briskly forward; chests, +men, and bundles were got over the side with alacrity; +the boat was shoved off; it moved out of the long shadow +of the <i>Flying Scud</i>, and its bows were pointed at the +passage.</p> + +<p>So much, then, was accomplished. The sham wreck +had passed muster; they were clear of her, they were +safe away; and the water widened between them and her +damning evidences. On the other hand, they were drawing +nearer to the ship of war, which might very well prove +to be their prison and a hangman’s cart to bear them to +the gallows of which they had not yet learned either +whence she came or whither she was bound; and the +doubt weighed upon their heart like mountains.</p> + +<p>It was Wicks who did the talking. The sound was +small in Carthew’s ears, like the voices of men miles away, +but the meaning of each word struck home to him like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page418" id="page418"></a>418</span> +a bullet. “What did you say your ship was?” inquired +Wicks.</p> + +<p>“<i>Tempest</i>, don’t you know?” returned the officer.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know?” What could that mean? Perhaps +nothing: perhaps that the ships had met already. +Wicks took his courage in both hands. “Where is she +bound?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“O, we’re just looking in at all these miserable islands +here,” said the officer. “Then we bear up for San Francisco.”</p> + +<p>“O yes, you’re from China ways, like us?” pursued +Wicks.</p> + +<p>“Hong Kong,” said the officer, and spat over the +side.</p> + +<p>Hong Kong. Then the game was up; as soon as +they set foot on board, they would be seized: the wreck +would be examined, the blood found, the lagoon perhaps +dredged, and the bodies of the dead would reappear to +testify. An impulse almost incontrollable bade Carthew +rise from the thwart, shriek out aloud, and leap overboard: +it seemed so vain a thing to dissemble longer, to +dally with the inevitable, to spin out some hundred +seconds more of agonised suspense, with shame and death +thus visibly approaching. But the indomitable Wicks +persevered. His face was like a skull, his voice scarce +recognisable; the dullest of men and officers (it seemed) +must have remarked that tell-tale countenance and broken +utterance. And still he persevered, bent upon certitude.</p> + +<p>“Nice place, Hong Kong?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know,” said the officer. “Only a +day and a half there; called for orders and came straight +on here. Never heard of such a beastly cruise.” And he +went on describing and lamenting the untoward fortunes +of the <i>Tempest</i>.</p> + +<p>But Wicks and Carthew heeded him no longer. They +lay back on the gunwale, breathing deep, sunk in a stupor +of the body; the mind within still nimbly and agreeably +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page419" id="page419"></a>419</span> +at work, measuring the past danger, exulting in the +present relief, numbering with ecstasy their ultimate +chances of escape. For the voyage in the man-of-war +they were now safe; yet a few more days of peril, activity +and presence of mind in San Francisco, and the whole +horrid tale was blotted out; and Wicks again became +Kirkup, and Goddedaal became Carthew—men beyond all +shot of possible suspicion, men who had never heard of +the <i>Flying Scud</i>, who had never been in sight of Midway +Reef.</p> + +<p>So they came alongside, under many craning heads of +seamen and projecting mouths of guns; so they climbed +on board somnambulous, and looked blindly about them +at the tall spars, the white decks, and the crowding ship’s +company, and heard men as from far away, and answered +them at random.</p> + +<p>And then a hand fell softly on Carthew’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Why, Norrie, old chappie, where have you dropped +from? All the world’s been looking for you. Don’t you +know you’ve come into your kingdom?”</p> + +<p>He turned, beheld the face of his old schoolmate +Sebright, and fell unconscious at his feet.</p> + +<p>The doctor was attending him, a while later, in Lieutenant +Sebright’s cabin, when he came to himself. He +opened his eyes, looked hard in the strange face, and +spoke with a kind of solemn vigour.</p> + +<p>“Brown must go the same road,” he said, “now or +never.” And then paused, and his reason coming to him +with more clearness, spoke again: “What was I saying +Where am I? Who are you?”</p> + +<p>“I am the doctor of the <i>Tempest</i>,” was the reply. +“You are in Lieutenant Sebright’s berth, and you may +dismiss all concern from your mind. Your troubles are +over, Mr. Carthew.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you call me that?” he asked. “Ah, I +remember—Sebright knew me! O!” and he groaned +and shook. “Send down Wicks to me; I must see +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page420" id="page420"></a>420</span> +Wicks at once!” he cried, and seized the doctor’s wrist +with unconscious violence.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the doctor. “Let’s make a bargain. +You swallow down this draught, and I’ll go and +fetch Wicks.”</p> + +<p>And he gave the wretched man an opiate that laid him +out within ten minutes, and in all likelihood preserved his +reason.</p> + +<p>It was the doctor’s next business to attend to Mac; +and he found occasion, while engaged upon his arm, to +make the man repeat the names of the rescued crew. It +was now the turn of the captain, and there is no doubt he +was no longer the man that we have seen; sudden relief, +the sense of perfect safety, a square meal, and a good +glass of grog, had all combined to relax his vigilance and +depress his energy.</p> + +<p>“When was this done?” asked the doctor, looking +at the wound.</p> + +<p>“More than a week ago,” replied Wicks, thinking +singly of his log.</p> + +<p>“Hey?” cried the doctor, and he raised his head +and looked the captain in the eyes.</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember exactly,” faltered Wicks.</p> + +<p>And at this remarkable falsehood the suspicions of +the doctor were at once quadrupled.</p> + +<p>“By the way, which of you is called Wicks?” he +asked easily.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” snapped the captain, falling white +as paper.</p> + +<p>“Wicks,” repeated the doctor; “which of you is he? +That’s surely a plain question.”</p> + +<p>Wicks stared upon his questioner in silence.</p> + +<p>“Which is Brown, then?” pursued the doctor.</p> + +<p>“What are you talking of? what do you mean by +this?” cried Wicks, snatching his half-bandaged hand +away, so that the blood sprinkled in the surgeon’s face.</p> + +<p>He did not trouble to remove it; looking straight at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page421" id="page421"></a>421</span> +his victim, he pursued his questions. “Why must Brown +go the same way?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Wicks fell trembling on a locker. “Carthew told you,” +he cried.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the doctor, “he has not. But he and +you between you have set me thinking, and I think there’s +something wrong.”</p> + +<p>“Give me some grog,” said Wicks. “I’d rather tell +than have you find out. I’m damned if it’s half as bad +as what anyone would think.”</p> + +<p>And with the help of a couple of strong grogs, the +tragedy of the <i>Flying Scud</i> was told for the first +time.</p> + +<p>It was a fortunate series of accidents that brought +the story to the doctor. He understood and pitied the +position of these wretched men, and came whole-heartedly +to their assistance. He and Wicks and Carthew (so soon +as he was recovered) held a hundred councils and prepared +a policy for San Francisco. It was he who certified +“Goddedaal” unfit to be moved, and smuggled Carthew +ashore under cloud of night; it was he who kept Wicks’s +wound open that he might sign with his left hand; he +who took all their Chile silver and (in the course of the +first day) got it converted for them into portable gold. +He used his influence in the ward-room to keep the +tongues of the young officers in order, so that Carthew’s +identification was kept out of the papers. And he rendered +another service yet more important. He had a +friend in San Francisco, a millionaire: to this man he +privately presented Carthew as a young gentleman come +newly into a huge estate, but troubled with Jew debts +which he was trying to settle on the quiet. The millionaire +came readily to help; and it was with his money +that the wrecker gang was to be fought. What was his +name, out of a thousand guesses? It was Douglas +Longhurst.</p> + +<p>As long as the Currency Lasses could all disappear +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page422" id="page422"></a>422</span> +under fresh names, it did not greatly matter if the brig +were bought, or any small discrepancies should be discovered +in the wrecking. The identification of one of +their number had changed all that. The smallest scandal +must now direct attention to the movements of Norris. +It would be asked how he who had sailed in a schooner +from Sydney had turned up so shortly after in a brig out +of Hong Kong; and from one question to another all his +original shipmates were pretty sure to be involved. Hence +arose naturally the idea of preventing danger, profiting +by Carthew’s new-found wealth, and buying the brig +under an <i>alias</i>; and it was put in hand with equal energy +and caution. Carthew took lodgings alone under a false +name, picked up Bellairs at random, and commissioned +him to buy the wreck.</p> + +<p>“What figure, if you please?” the lawyer asked.</p> + +<p>“I want it bought,” replied Carthew. “I don’t mind +about the price.”</p> + +<p>“Any price is no price,” said Bellairs. “Put a name +upon it.”</p> + +<p>“Call it ten thousand pounds then, if you like!” said +Carthew.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile, the captain had to walk the streets, +appear in the consulate, be cross-examined by Lloyd’s +agent, be badgered about his lost accounts, sign papers +with his left hand, and repeat his lies to every skipper in +San Francisco; not knowing at what moment he might +run into the arms of some old friend who should hail him +by the name of Wicks, or some new enemy who should be +in a position to deny him that of Trent. And the latter +incident did actually befall him, but was transformed by +his stout countenance into an element of strength. It +was in the consulate (of all untoward places) that he +suddenly heard a big voice inquiring for Captain Trent. +He turned with the customary sinking at his heart.</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> ain’t Captain Trent!” said the stranger, falling +back. “Why, what’s all this? They tell me you’re +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page423" id="page423"></a>423</span> +passing off as Captain Trent—Captain Jacob Trent—a +man I knew since I was that high.”</p> + +<p>“O, you’re thinking of my uncle as had the bank in +Cardiff,” replied Wicks, with desperate <i>aplomb</i>.</p> + +<p>“I declare I never knew he had a nevvy!” said the +stranger.</p> + +<p>“Well, you see he has!” says Wicks.</p> + +<p>“And how is the old man?” asked the other.</p> + +<p>“Fit as a fiddle,” answered Wicks, and was opportunely +summoned by the clerk.</p> + +<p>This alert was the only one until the morning of the +sale, when he was once more alarmed by his interview +with Jim; and it was with some anxiety that he attended +the sale, knowing only that Carthew was to be represented, +but neither who was to represent him nor what +were the instructions given. I suppose Captain Wicks is +a good life. In spite of his personal appearance and his +own known uneasiness, I suppose he is secure from apoplexy, +or it must have struck him there and then, as he +looked on at the stages of that insane sale and saw the +old brig and her not very valuable cargo knocked down at +last to a total stranger for ten thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>It had been agreed that he was to avoid Carthew, and +above all Carthew’s lodging, so that no connection might +be traced between the crew and the pseudonymous purchaser. +But the hour for caution was gone by, and he +caught a tram and made all speed to Mission Street.</p> + +<p>Carthew met him in the door.</p> + +<p>“Come away, come away from here,” said Carthew; +and when they were clear of the house, “All’s up!” he +added.</p> + +<p>“O, you’ve heard of the sale, then?” said Wicks.</p> + +<p>“The sale!” cried Carthew. “I declare I had forgotten +it.” And he told of the voice in the telephone, +and the maddening question: “Why did you want to +buy the <i>Flying Scud</i>?”</p> + +<p>This circumstance, coming on the back of the monstrous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page424" id="page424"></a>424</span> +improbabilities of the sale, was enough to have +shaken the reason of Immanuel Kant. The earth seemed +banded together to defeat them; the stones and the boys +on the street appeared to be in possession of their guilty +secret. Flight was their one thought. The treasure of +the <i>Currency Lass</i> they packed in waistbelts, expressed +their chests to an imaginary address in British Columbia, +and left San Francisco the same afternoon, booked for +Los Angeles.</p> + +<p>The next day they pursued their retreat by the +Southern Pacific route, which Carthew followed on his +way to England; but the other three branched off for +Mexico.</p> + + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page425" id="page425"></a>425</span></p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>EPILOGUE</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page426" id="page426"></a>426</span></p> +<hr class="art" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page427" id="page427"></a>427</span></p> +<h3>EPILOGUE</h3> + +<h5>TO WILL H. LOW</h5> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc">Dear Low</span>,—The other day (at Manihiki of all places) +I had the pleasure to meet Dodd. We sat some two +hours in the neat little toy-like church, set with pews +after the manner of Europe, and inlaid with mother-of-pearl +in the style (I suppose) of the New Jerusalem. The +natives, who are decidedly the most attractive inhabitants +of this planet, crowded round us in the pew, and fawned +upon and patted us; and here it was I put my questions, +and Dodd answered me.</p> + +<p>I first carried him back to the night in Barbizon when +Carthew told his story, and asked him what was done +about Bellairs. It seemed he had put the matter to his +friend at once, and that Carthew had taken to it with +an inimitable lightness. “He’s poor and I’m rich,” he +had said. “I can afford to smile at him. I go somewhere +else, that’s all—somewhere that’s far away and +dear to get to. Persia would be found to answer, I fancy. +No end of a place, Persia. Why not come with me?” +And they had left the next afternoon for Constantinople, +on their way to Teheran. Of the shyster, it is only known +(by a newspaper paragraph) that he returned somehow +to San Francisco and died in the <span class="correction" title="amended from hosiptal">hospital</span>.</p> + +<p>“Now there’s another point,” said I. “There you are +off to Persia with a millionaire, and rich yourself. How +come you here in the South Seas, running a trader?”</p> + +<p>He said, with a smile, that I had not yet heard of +Jim’s last bankruptcy. “I was about cleaned out once +more,” he said; “and then it was that Carthew had this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page428" id="page428"></a>428</span> +schooner built and put me in as supercargo. It’s his +yacht and it’s my trader; and as nearly all the expenses +go to the yacht, I do pretty well. As for Jim, he’s right +again; one of the best businesses, they say, in the West—fruit, +cereals, and real estate; and he has a Tartar of +a partner now—Nares, no less. Nares will keep him +straight, Nares has a big head. They have their country +places next door at Saucelito, and I stayed with them time +about, the last time I was on the coast. Jim had a paper +of his own—I think he has a notion of being senator one +of these days—and he wanted me to throw up the schooner +and come and write his editorials. He holds strong views +on the State Constitution, and so does Mamie.”</p> + +<p>“And what became of the other three Currency Lasses +after they left Carthew?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>“Well, it seems they had a huge spree in the city of +Mexico,” said Dodd; “and then Hadden and the Irishman +took a turn at the gold-fields in Venezuela, and +Wicks went on alone to Valparaiso. There’s a Kirkup +in the Chilean navy to this day; I saw the name in the +papers about the Balmaceda war. Hadden soon wearied +of the mines, and I met him the other day in Sydney. +The last news he had from Venezuela, Mac had been +knocked over in an attack on the gold train. So there’s +only the three of them left, for Amalu scarcely counts. +He lives on his own land in Maui, at the side of Hale-a-ka-la, +where he keeps Goddedaal’s canary; and they say +he sticks to his dollars, which is a wonder in a Kanaka. +He had a considerable pile to start with, for not only +Hemstead’s share but Carthew’s was divided equally +among the other four—Mac being counted.”</p> + +<p>“What did that make for him altogether?” I could +not help asking, for I had been diverted by the number +of calculations in his narrative.</p> + +<p>“One hundred and twenty-eight pounds nineteen +shillings and elevenpence-halfpenny,” he replied with +composure; “that’s leaving out what little he won +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page429" id="page429"></a>429</span> +at Van John. It’s something for a Kanaka, you +know.”</p> + +<p>And about that time we were at last obliged to yield +to the solicitations of our native admirers, and go to the +pastor’s house to drink green cocoanuts. The ship I was +in was sailing the same night, for Dodd had been beforehand +and got all the shell in the island; and though he +pressed me to desert and return with him to Auckland +(whither he was now bound to pick up Carthew) I was +firm in my refusal.</p> + +<p>The truth is, since I have been mixed up with Havens +and Dodd in the design to publish the latter’s narrative, +I seem to feel no want for Carthew’s society. Of course, +I am wholly modern in sentiment, and think nothing +more noble than to publish people’s private affairs at so +much a line. They like it, and if they don’t they ought to. +But a still small voice keeps telling me they will not like +it always, and perhaps not always stand it. Memory +besides supplies me with the face of a pressman (in the +sacred phrase) who proved altogether too modern for one +of his neighbours, and</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p><i>Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum</i></p> +<p>—<i>nos pręcedens</i>—</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>as it were, marshalling us our way. I am in no haste +to be that man’s successor. Carthew has a record as “a +clane shot,” and for some years Samoa will be good enough +for me.</p> + +<p>We agreed to separate, accordingly; but he took me +on board in his own boat with the hardwood fittings and +entertained me on the way with an account of his late +visit to Butaritari, whither he had gone on an errand for +Carthew, to see how Topelius was getting along, and, if +necessary, to give him a helping hand. But Topelius +was in great force, and had patronised and—well—out-manœuvred +him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page430" id="page430"></a>430</span></p> + +<p>“Carthew will be pleased,” said Dodd; “for there’s +no doubt they oppressed the man abominably when they +were in the <i>Currency Lass</i>. It’s diamond cut diamond +now.”</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>This, I think, was the most of the news I got from my +friend Loudon; and I hope I was well inspired, and have +put all the questions to which you would be curious to +hear an answer.</p> + +<p>But there is one more that I daresay you are burning +to put to myself; and that is, what your own name is +doing in this place, cropping up (as it were uncalled-for) +on the stern of our poor ship? If you were not born in +Arcadia, you linger in fancy on its margin; your thoughts +are busied with the flutes of antiquity, with daffodils, +and the classic poplar, and the footsteps of the nymphs, +and the elegant and moving aridity of ancient art. Why +dedicate to you a tale of a cast so modern:—full of details +of our barbaric manners and unstable morals; full of the +need and the lust of money, so that there is scarce a page +in which the dollars do not jingle; full of the unrest and +movement of our century, so that the reader is hurried +from place to place and sea to sea, and the book is +less a romance than a panorama—in the end, as blood-bespattered +as an epic?</p> + +<p>Well, you are a man interested in all problems of art, +even the most vulgar; and it may amuse you to hear the +genesis and growth of “The Wrecker.” On board the +schooner <i>Equator</i>, almost within sight of the Johnstone +Islands (if anybody knows where these are), and on a +moonlit night when it was a joy to be alive, the authors +were amused with several stories of the sales of wrecks. +The subject tempted them; and they sat apart in the +alleyway to discuss its possibilities. “What a tangle it +would make,” suggested one, “if the wrong crew were +aboard. But how to get the wrong crew there?”—“I +have it!” cried the other; “the so-and-so affair!” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page431" id="page431"></a>431</span> +For not so many months before, and not so many hundred +miles from where we were then sailing, a proposition +almost tantamount to that of Captain Trent had been +made by a British skipper to some British castaways.</p> + +<p>Before we turned in, the scaffolding of the tale had +been put together. But the question of treatment was +as usual more obscure. We had long been at once +attracted and repelled by that very modern form of the +police novel or mystery story, which consists in beginning +your yarn anywhere but at the beginning, and finishing +it anywhere but at the end; attracted by its peculiar +interest when done, and the peculiar difficulties that +attend its execution; repelled by that appearance of +insincerity and shallowness of tone, which seems its inevitable +drawback. For the mind of the reader, always +bent to pick up clues, receives no impression of reality or +life, rather of an airless, elaborate mechanism; and the +book remains enthralling but insignificant, like a game +of chess, not a work of human art. It seemed the cause +might lie partly in the abrupt attack; and that if the tale +were gradually approached, some of the characters introduced +(as it were) beforehand, and the book started in +the tone of a novel of manners and experience briefly +treated, this defect might be lessened and our mystery +seem to inhere in life. The tone of the age, its movement, +the mingling of races and classes in the dollar hunt, the +fiery and not quite unromantic struggle for existence, with +its changing trades and scenery, and two types in particular, +that of the American handy-man of business and that of +the Yankee merchant sailor—we agreed to dwell upon +at some length, and make the woof to our not very +precious warp. Hence Dodd’s father, and Pinkerton, and +Nares, and the Dromedary picnics, and the railway work +in New South Wales—the last and unsolicited testimonial +from the powers that be, for the tale was half written +before I saw Carthew’s squad toil in the rainy cutting at +South Clifton, or heard from the engineer of his “young +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page432" id="page432"></a>432</span> +swell.” After we had invented at some expense of time +this method of approaching and fortifying our police +novel, it occurred to us it had been invented previously +by some one else, and was in fact—however painfully +different the results may seem—the method of Charles +Dickens in his later work.</p> + +<p>I see you staring. Here, you will say, is a prodigious +quantity of theory to our halfpenny-worth of police novel; +and withal not a shadow of an answer to your question.</p> + +<p>Well, some of us like theory. After so long a piece +of practice, these may be indulged for a few pages. And +the answer is at hand. It was plainly desirable, from +every point of view of convenience and contrast, that +our hero and narrator should partly stand aside from +those with whom he mingles, and be but a pressed-man in +the dollar hunt. Thus it was that Loudon Dodd became +a student of the plastic arts, and that our globe-trotting +story came to visit Paris and look in at Barbizon. And +thus it is, dear Low, that your name appears in the address +of this epilogue.</p> + +<p>For sure, if any person can here appreciate and read +between the lines, it must be you—and one other, our +friend. All the dominos will be transparent to your better +knowledge; the statuary contract will be to you a piece +of ancient history; and you will not have now heard +for the first time of the dangers of Roussillon. Dead +leaves from the Bas Breau, echoes from Lavenue’s and +the Rue Racine, memories of a common past, let these +be your bookmarkers as you read. And if you care for +naught else in the story, be a little pleased to breathe once +more for a moment the airs of our youth.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<h5>END OF VOL. XIII</h5> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="center noind sc" style="font-size: 65%;"> +Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - +Swanston Edition Vol. 13 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF STEVENSON *** + +***** This file should be named 30954-h.htm or 30954-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/9/5/30954/ + +Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30954-h/images/image1.jpg b/30954-h/images/image1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb2a1d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/30954-h/images/image1.jpg |
