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diff --git a/39516-h/39516-h.htm b/39516-h/39516-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..828f711 --- /dev/null +++ b/39516-h/39516-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2920 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<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" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Captain of Industry: Being the Story of a Civilized Man, by Upton Sinclair. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + +hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} + +.blockquot {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} +.bqright {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + +.center {text-align: center;} +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + +.giant {font-size: 200%;} +.huge {font-size: 150%;} +.big {font-size: 125%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Captain of Industry, by Upton Sinclair + +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/license + + +Title: A Captain of Industry + Being the Story of a Civilized Man + +Author: Upton Sinclair + +Release Date: April 23, 2012 [EBook #39516] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY *** + + + + +Produced by David E. Brown, Bryan Ness and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="center"><span class="giant">A Captain of Industry</span></p> + +<p class="center">BEING</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><i>The Story of a Civilized Man</i></span></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="big">BY</span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">UPTON SINCLAIR</span></p> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF "THE JUNGLE," ETC.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">GIRARD, KANSAS<br/> + +<span class="big">THE APPEAL TO REASON</span><br/> + +1906</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +<span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1906,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> J. A. WAYLAND.<br /> +<br /> +<i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/colophon.png" alt="" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="giant">A CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">PREFACE</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">This</span> little story was written nearly five years ago. The verdict upon it +was that it was "unpublishable," and so I put it away until I should be +in position to publish it myself.</p> + +<p>Recently I read it over, and got an interesting vision of how the times +have changed in five years. I put it away a revolutionary document; I +took it out a quiet and rather obvious statement of generally accepted +views. In reading the story, one should bear in mind that it was written +before any of the "literature of exposure" had appeared; that its writer +drew nothing from Mr. Steffens' probing of political corruption, nor +from Miss Tarbell's analysis of the railroad rebate, nor from Mr. +Lawson's exposé of the inner life of "Frenzied Finance."</p> + +<p class="right">U.S.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="giant">A CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I purpose</span> in this chronicle to tell the story of <span class="smcap">A Civilized Man</span>: +casting aside all Dreams and Airy Imaginations, and dealing with that +humble Reality which lies at our doorsteps.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> proverb, every slang phrase and colloquialism, is what one might +call a petrified inspiration. Once upon a time it was a living thing, a +lightning flash in some man's soul; and now it glides off our tongue +without our ever thinking of its meaning. So, when the event transpired +which marks the beginning of my story, the newspapers one and all +remarked that Robert van Rensselaer was born with a silver spoon in his +mouth.</p> + +<p>Into the particular circumstances of the event it is not necessary to +go, furthermore than to say that the arrival occasioned considerable +discomfort, to the annoyance of my hero's mother, who had never +experienced any discomfort before. His father, Mr. Chauncey van +Rensselaer, was a respected member of our metropolitan high society, +combining the major and minor <i>desiderata</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> of wealth and good-breeding, +and residing in a twentieth-century palace at number four thousand +eleven hundred and forty-four Fifth Avenue. At the time of the opening +of our story van Rensselaer <i>père</i> had fled from the scene of the +trouble and was passing the time playing billiards with some sympathetic +friends, and when the telephone-bell rang they opened some champagne and +drank to the health of van Rensselaer <i>fils</i>. Later on, when the father +stood in the darkened apartment and gazed upon the red and purple mite +of life, proud emotions swelled high in his heart, and he vowed that he +would make a gentleman of Robert van Rensselaer,—a gentleman after the +pattern of his father.</p> + +<p>At the outset of the career of my hero I have to note the amount of +attention which he received from the press, and from an anxious public. +Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer was wealthy, according to New York and Fifth +Avenue standards, and Baby van Rensselaer was provided with an +introductory outfit of costumes at an estimated cost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> of seventeen +thousand dollars. I have a file of van Rensselaer clippings, and would +quote the elaborate descriptions, and preserve them to a grateful +posterity; but in the meantime Master Robert van Rensselaer would be +grown up. I pass on to the time when he was a growing boy, with two +governesses, and several tutors, and a groom, and such other attendants +as every boy has to have.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Many</span> lads would have been spoiled by so much attention; and so it is +only fair to say at the outset that "Robbie" was never spoiled; that to +the end of his days he was what is known as "a good fellow," and that it +was only when he could not have what he wanted that anger ever appeared +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Before many more years he went away to a great rich school, followed by +the prayers of a family, and by the valet and the groom. There he had a +suite of rooms, and two horses, and a pair of dogs with pedigrees longer +than his own; and there he learned to smoke a brand of choice +cigarettes, and to play poker, and to take a proper interest in +race-track doings. There also, just when he was ready to come away and +to take a great college by storm, Robbie met with an exciting +adventure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> This is a work of realism, and works of realism always go +into detail as to such matters; and so it must be explained that Robbie +fell desperately in love with a pretty girl who lived in the country +near the school; and that Robbie was young and handsome and wealthy and +witty, and by no means disposed to put up with not having his own way; +and that he had it; and that when he came to leave school, the girl fled +from home and followed him; and that there were some blissful months in +the city, and then some complications; and that when the crisis came +Robbie was just on the point of getting married when the curiosity of +his father was excited by his heavy financial demands; and, finally, +that Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer and Mr. Robert van Rensselaer held an +interview in the former's study.</p> + +<p>"Now, Robbie," said he, "how long has this been going on?"</p> + +<p>"About a year, sir," said Robbie, gazing at the floor.</p> + +<p>"A year? Humph! And why didn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> you tell me about it when you first got +into trouble?"</p> + +<p>"I—I didn't like to," said Robbie.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said the father, "boys have no business in such scrapes; +but still, when you get in them, it is your duty to tell me. And so you +want to get married?"</p> + +<p>"I—I love her," said the other, turning various shades of red as he +found the words sounding queer.</p> + +<p>"But, Robbie," protested van Rensselaer <i>père</i>, "one doesn't marry all +the women one loves."</p> + +<p>Then, after a little pause, the father continued gravely, "Now, my boy, +tell me where she is, and I'll arrange it for you."</p> + +<p>Robbie started. "You won't be cross to her?" he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said the father. "I am never cross with any one. It +will all be settled happily, I promise you."</p> + +<p>And so a day or two later it was announced that Robbie was going abroad +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> a year's tour; and when he sought Daisy to bid her good-by, it was +reported that Daisy had left for the West—a circumstance which caused +Robbie several days' anxiety.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> hero had gone abroad with a congenial friend a little older than +himself, and the two stayed considerably over their time and enjoyed +themselves immensely. They were plentifully provided with money, and +Robbie had been told that he might do anything he liked, except get +married. Therefore they wandered through all the cities of Europe, and +saw all the beautiful things of the past, and all the gay things of the +present. They stopped at the best hotels, and everywhere they went men +bowed before them, and fled to do their bidding. Also there were many +beautiful women who did their best to make Robbie happy. Robert was +always a favorite with the girls, being a generous-hearted boy; he +always paid for what he got, and paid the very highest prices in the +market. He hired a pretty little yacht and took his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> friend and some +congenial ladies for a beautiful trip upon the Mediterranean; and the +sky was blue and the air warm, and Robbie stretched himself upon the +deck, and basked in the sunlight and imbibed the soft fragrance of +cigars and perfumes, and opened his heart and was happy as never in his +life before.</p> + +<p>After which the two travellers turned homeward again. There was some +thought of Robbie's going to college; in fact, he hired chambers and +started, at some expense. But it was only for a year, for Robbie had +seen too much of the world to go back into a college chrysalis, and when +it was evident that he could not get through his exams, he quit and came +back to New York to stay.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">V</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> now you may behold him fairly settled at the task that fate had set +before him,—that of being a gentleman like his father. No suggestions +were offered—he managed it all in his own way. He took a suite of +rooms, and furnished them so that they were a joy to the few eyes that +ever beheld them, and were described by the society journals as one of +the great educational influences of the city. Also he joined some of the +clubs, and took a box at the opera, and did everything else that was +necessary to a young man of his station. It must be understood that +Robbie moved in the highest "circles," and was invited to dinner-parties +and balls where only a choice two dozen could go. He had a reputation as +a golfer and polo player, and was one of Newport's most far-famed +yachtsmen; but of course it was upon his automobile records<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> that his +reputation really rested. He was daily to be seen speeding about the +metropolis in his favorite machine, <i>The Green Ghost</i>, and now and then +he sent his valet to court to pay his fines. On the one unfortunate +occasion when he killed a little boy, the parents of the child were made +happy forever by Robbie's princely munificence.</p> + +<p>Also Robbie was making a reputation as a clubman and <i>bon vivant</i>. He +knew a great deal about the world by that time; in fact, he knew +everything there was to know about it; he had watched men, and +understood them thoroughly, and all their ways. I would not have it +imagined that he was a cynic, having already stated that he was the +best-hearted fellow in the world; but he had a certain dry manner which +was not to be imitated, and when he told an anecdote all the world +stopped to listen. Robbie's stories were on all sorts of themes; but of +course telling the truth about a man does not include telling his +stories, even in the most realistic of biographies.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>I would not have any one get the idea that my hero was bad; on the +contrary, he was a member of a church whose orthodoxy and respectability +were beyond cavil, and every Sunday morning he escorted some exquisitely +gowned young lady of his set to listen to the famous eloquence of the +rector, the Reverend Doctor Lettuce Spray. Also whenever the church gave +a fair for the benefit of the Fiji Islanders, Robbie bought up all the +shares left over in the raffles, and allowed the young ladies to pin +bouquets in his button-hole. In addition he actually taught +Sunday-school for six whole weeks, at a time when he was desperately +enamoured of a certain young lady who did likewise; bearing bravely all +the chaffing on the subject, he put away <i>Les Œuvres de T. Gautier</i> +from his table and primed up every Saturday night and taught little boys +how the good Lord made the fleece of Gideon to stay dry, and caused the +soldiers to fall down to drink out of the stream, and did other unusual +things calculated to impress little boys. Nothing came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> of this +Sunday-school adventure, however, for van Rensselaer <i>père</i> was of the +opinion that the young lady was nothing like the match Robbie ought to +make; and so the young man's affections returned to an elegantly +furnished flat on the West Side, where there was a liberal stock of +champagne and fine cigars, and two young ladies of Robbie's +acquaintance. Three or four evenings every week you might have seen his +automobile, and the automobiles of several friends, drawn up before the +door of this apartment-house, and might have heard evidence to the fact +that Robbie was happy, as so good-hearted a young fellow deserved to +be.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">VI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Enough</span> has been told about Mr. Robert van Rensselaer's early period to +indicate how those pleasant days were passed. Including the suite, the +flat, and the clubs, the automobile, the yacht, and the polo stud, our +friend's total expenses came to something in the neighborhood of three +hundred thousand a year. And since, if he had been a master-poet, or an +inspired musician, or a prophet with a new message for mankind, society +would have paid about one one-thousandth of that sum to keep him alive, +it is apparent that he was considered by society to be equivalent to one +thousand such hypothetical persons.</p> + +<p>This idyllic existence continued for about three years all together; and +then one bright winter day Robbie was invited to pay a call upon his +father at his office, where the two had a long and serious +conversation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>"Now, Robbie," said van Rensselaer senior, "I haven't objected to your +wild oats. That's every young fellow's right, and you haven't gone +beyond the limit. I have always meant to give my son everything a +gentleman ought to have; but now I think it's about time you'd had +enough—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Um-m," said Robbie, meditatively, "I hadn't thought about it."</p> + +<p>"You know," said van Rensselaer <i>père</i>, "the life of man isn't all play. +We have some serious duties in the world—we owe something to society."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robbie, "I suppose so. But it's the hell of a nuisance."</p> + +<p>"It may seem so," said the other; "but one can get interested in the +end."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," admitted Robbie, dubiously.</p> + +<p>"What I mean," said the father, "is that it's time you got ready to take +your place in the world. You've seen life pretty much, and you know what +I mean. You can't always be your father's son; you'll have to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> be +yourself. I may die some day, and then somebody'll have to take over my +affairs. Then, too, you might want to marry; you've wanted to twice +already, you know" (Robbie blushed), "and if you have a family, you'll +find they'll expect from you pretty much what you've had from me. The +life of man, my boy, is a battle; and there comes a time when every one +has to fight it."</p> + +<p>Robbie had never known his father to be philosophical before, and found +it a curious experience; their talk was prolonged late into the +afternoon, and by that time Robbie had expressed his willingness to make +an effort to perform some of his duties to society.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">VII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Robbie's</span> father was president and chief stockholder of a certain vast +manufacturing establishment; he was also a capitalist of national +reputation, and a man whose hand was often felt by the stock markets of +the world. Robbie knew about these things vaguely, and was not uncurious +to know more; and so he took to rising at ten o'clock in the morning, +and to turning his automobile down-townward; and his clubs saw him less +and less often, and heard his merry laugh almost never.</p> + +<p>For a strange change came over Robbie. I do not know how I can better +explain the phenomenon than by his father's words already quoted—that +he was learning that the life of man is a battle. Formerly all that he +had known had been the play side of it. When one goes in for a game of +golf, he lays out all his cleverness and skill, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> gets nothing but a +silver cup and some newspaper clippings for the trouble; but when he +plays at stocks, he gets real prizes of hard cash and negotiable +securities.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert van Rensselaer had set to work to learn the rules of this new +game; and as he was a clever fellow, and had, besides, all the capital +any one could need, it came about quickly that his name was one men +reckoned with. He carried out some strokes that perplexed his adoring +father, and it was not very long before the latter ceased to have to +sign checks to the credit of his son's bank account. Before five years +were past "young van Rensselaer" had taken his seat at the +council-boards of several great corporations, and the things that he +said there were always attended to; or if they were not he was apt to +turn elsewhere, and in such cases it was generally not long before some +one was sorry.</p> + +<p>And of course this could not take place without producing a change in +him. To be sure, he was still "Robbie" to his old friends, and still as +good-hearted a fellow as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> ever lived; to be sure, likewise, he still +kept the yacht, and the automobile, and the flat. But before this he had +never had an enemy, and now he had thousands; and every day his time was +given up to a desperate hand-to-hand combat, as grim as any jungle ever +saw. And so his mouth became set and his brow knit; and since he no +longer had his way with absolute regularity, his temper was not so sweet +as before.</p> + +<p>It is of importance to explain this, because our friend was much in the +papers in those days, and secured a great deal of notoriety through an +unfortunate exhibition of ill temper. It happened at a time when he had +been for over ten years the new man we have pictured, and had supplanted +his father as the president of a large and important manufacturing +concern. The reader will perhaps divine that I refer to the historic +Hungerville Steel Mills, and to the occasion of the great Hungerville +strike that once shook the country.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">VIII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Hungerville Mills Company was one of the creations of the financial +genius of van Rensselaer senior; the mills had existed before, but they +had been run by several rival companies, which were always at war with +each other, with the consequence that their stock was a by-word among +men. But one day a rumor went flying through Wall Street, and then the +stocks of those companies began to climb the ladder two steps at a time. +And when they had once risen they stayed risen, and stood before the +world like prosperity upon a monument. Robert van Rensselaer had quietly +secured a controlling interest in them; and a few weeks later their +affairs were combined, and the career of the Hungerville Mills Company +began.</p> + +<p>There was war, of course, from the very beginning, a war of rates that +broke the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> smaller mills by the dozen. The company nearly killed itself, +and came still nearer to killing its employees. It ran for months at a +loss, and on money furnished by the grim, far-seeing president; until at +last came the time when the rivals went to smash, and afterward prices +went soaring, and the Hungerville Company was safe.</p> + +<p>The mill employees had helped to bear these trials; and so they +afterward submitted a new schedule, asking twenty per cent raise. They +got five per cent, and the world seemed rosy indeed. But very soon the +price of steel billets, the standard of the wages, began to go down, as +fast as the prices of all other steel things rose; and men noticed how +the new tariff act made the duty on billets so very low, and wondered if +the Company had known anything about it.</p> + +<p>It was several years after all this that there came the dreadful winter +when the snow lay two feet deep in the streets, and the price of coal +went five per cent higher a month; and then the Hungerville Company,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> in +the person of its new president, began to be pestered by delegations +from this union and that union, a very annoying thing to the president, +who was new at the business. No one must imagine, of course, that he was +harsh in the matter. I might quote the experience of the good clergyman +who had been persuaded by the unions to plead for them, and narrate how +the president told him several capital stories, and finally begged off +because he had an engagement to a poker party that night, and laughingly +promised the clergyman all his winnings to help the poor along. And what +could a good clergyman say to that—especially as Mr. van Rensselaer had +only a few months ago donated to the same church a wonderful window +representing the miracle of the loaves and fishes?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IX</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> dreadful winter passed by without change, and without the promised +rise in the price of billets. The Hungerville Savings Bank suspended +business, because deposits were so few; and the Hungerville constables +had their hands full preventing incendiary speeches to the excited +crowds that filled the Hungerville saloons. But all through the long +panting summer the giant mills toiled on, turning out their tens of +thousands of dollars and thousands of tons of steel every day. The +delegations could no longer see the president, for the <i>Aurora</i>, the +magnificent single-sticker built for Robert van Rensselaer at a cost of +two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, was in those days electrifying +the country by her wonderful performances at Newport.</p> + +<p>And then came the chill days of autumn and the prospect of another +dreadful winter, with the price of billets three per cent lower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> yet. +Mr. Robert van Rensselaer's palatial steam yacht, the <i>Comet</i>, was about +to start on a trip down the coast of Florida, when he was called to +Hungerville by an urgent telegram, saying that the crisis was at hand.</p> + +<p>And truly there was some bad feeling—even the president could see that; +when one walked about the streets of Hungerville, he saw pale, sickly +children, bent and haggard women, and men glaring at him from under +lowering brows. He saw houses out of repair, and starving people being +turned away from them. He saw angry crowds harangued by wild-eyed men, +in Polish and other strange tongues.</p> + +<p>These things the president noticed as his carriage whirled through the +streets, but they did not daunt him, and after a long and angry +conference the delegates of the unions came back to report that all +concessions had been refused. The next morning men read in the papers +that the unions had demanded a final conference, and that if nothing was +granted, then there would be a strike, and a war to the end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">X</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the first place, the president was in an angry mood when he went to +that conference. The sailing of the <i>Comet</i> had had to be postponed yet +another day, and besides that a stone had been flung at his head only +five minutes before. I mention the stone particularly because, as I have +said, an unfortunate incident occurred at the conference.</p> + +<p>They sat at a long table one October afternoon,—eight men, seven of +them pale and trembling, fingering their hats and gazing about them +nervously, with long agony written on their faces, a certain hunted look +that sportsmen know, but do not heed.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Robert van Rensselaer—it has been some time since we have +looked at him. He was a gentleman of forty now, grown somewhat portly +and a little florid, but not too much so. He had always been a man of +distinction—you would have taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> him for a diplomat, or a general, at +the very least.</p> + +<p>He was a little pale just then about the lips, and he began the +conference in a tone whose calmness any one could have told was forced. +He began at the beginning—he explained the losses of the mills, and how +they were barely established now. He mentioned the new machinery, and +showed the cost of it. He laid before them a great mass of papers, and +made plain how the new machinery had increased the output and been +equivalent to a raise. He went on to the price of billets, he showed the +state of the market with elaborately marshalled figures, and proved what +the price must soon be. To all of which, a speech of nearly two hours, +the men listened fixedly.</p> + +<p>Afterward one of the delegates, a little wiry, black-bearded Hungarian, +took up the question. He wandered from the point at once, discussing the +price of food, and the condition of the workingmen, much to the +president's annoyance. The latter tried to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> bring him back to the point +at issue—he returned to the papers again, and they argued back and +forth for a long time. Several times Mr. van Rensselaer choked down an +angry word.</p> + +<p>"You talk to me about the condition of the workingmen," he exclaimed, +tapping on the table with his pencil. "But how can I help the condition +of the workingmen? You say his wages are not living wages—but who can +decide a question such as that? What one man can live on, another +cannot. What if the workingmen spend much of their wages in +intemperance, and then tell me they cannot live? What—" But then the +president stopped, and frowning with annoyance, went on in a different +voice: "But there is no use arguing about such questions as that! I have +tried to explain to you the state of the market, and just what the +Company can do. I can do nothing more. You must remember that we have +trials, also, and that ruin is possible for companies, too. The laws of +economy apply to companies just as well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> as men; there are living wages +for companies—"</p> + +<p>The president stopped, and immediately the argumentative delegate +observed, "We do not see any signs that the Company is afflicted with +poverty."</p> + +<p>The president gazed at him sharply. "Hey?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I say," repeated the man in a louder voice, "that anybody can go +through this town and see what is happening to the workingmen. I know of +a child that died yesterday of hunger, but I don't read that any of the +officers of the Company are suffering from want."</p> + +<p>A flush shot over the president's face. "Do you mean to be impertinent?" +he cried.</p> + +<p>"I mean nothing of the kind," said the man, amid breathless silence. +"But you have not hesitated to talk of the workingman's intemperance—"</p> + +<p>And Mr. Robert van Rensselaer clutched the table. "Now," he cried, "this +thing's gone far enough, and we'll settle it right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> now! You might as +well quit your nonsense and understand this,—that the Hungerville Mills +belong to Robert van Rensselaer, and not to a union, or to anybody else; +and that they're going to be run the way Robert van Rensselaer chooses +they shall be run; that they're run for his profit, that the wages they +pay are the wages he chooses to pay, and that anybody who doesn't like +it is welcome to go wherever else it happens to suit him! And you go out +and give <i>that</i> as my message, and, damn it, don't you ever come up here +into my office to insult me again!"</p> + +<p>Then he stopped, purple with rage; and for half a minute the members of +the union stared at him and at each other. Finally they arose and made +their way from the room, leaving the president glaring at the closed +door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> van Rensselaer ceased pacing the room, he went to the table and +wrote an order closing the mills. Then he sent two telegrams, one to the +governor and one to the sheriff, telling them that violence was +threatened, calling upon them to enforce the law, and declaring that all +damages would fall upon the county. After that he rang for his manager.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Grinder," he said, "I have closed the mills, and I intend to leave +them in your charge. You will get three hundred private detectives, or +three thousand, as may be necessary, to protect the property; and you +will set to work to gather new hands, and in one week the mills will be +running again. Let there be no shilly-shallying about it; I mean to put +an end to this nonsense once and for all time: the mills are to be run, +and run at once, if it takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> all the troops in the state to do it. And +that is all,—only that the members of the union are under no +circumstances to be taken back except as individuals. I bid you good +afternoon."</p> + +<p>So he put on his coat and left the building to enter his carriage. A +fine rain was falling, and he buttoned his coat tightly and sat gazing +fixedly ahead while he was whirled down the street. Suddenly, however, +the carriage stopped, and he came out of his revery and saw that the way +was obstructed by a crowd.</p> + +<p>They were opposite a dilapidated house, whose pitiful furniture had all +been deposited upon the sidewalk; two half-starved, shivering children +clung to an old bed that men were dragging out of the door, and a woman +was crouching by the doorway, with a baby in her arms, crying +hysterically above the hoarse murmurs.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the bystanders saw who was in the carriage. A yell went +up: "It's van Rensselaer! van Rensselaer!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> Like a wave the mob surged +about him. Hoots and hisses filled the air. The men shook their fists, +the women shrilled abuse, and some one flung a stone. The president +leaned forward to the coachman. "Drive on!" he shouted. "Drive on!"</p> + +<p>The man hesitated, gazing at the crowd in front and back at his master. +"Drive on!" yelled the latter, again.</p> + +<p>And so the coachman lashed the horses, and forward they bounded like +mad. Several of the crowd were knocked down; the rest scattered in +terror; and away down the street sped the carriage, amid a rain of +missiles and a din of curses.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Robert van Rensselaer</span> drove on to the depot, where stood his private +car; as he sped away to the city he first took something to drink, and +then sat smoking and meditating until the depot was reached. Here he +heard street voices: "Extra! Extra!" and bought a paper. He stepped into +his automobile, with the word "Home," and then settled back to read the +news. There was the whole scene of the conference, with the +embellishments of the usual kind, and the story of the strike +resolutions and the beginning of rioting. There were also some savage +editorials—it was a "yellow" journal. Mr. Robert van Rensselaer read +them and smiled.</p> + +<p>He arrived at his residence,—which, it should be added, was no longer a +little apartment, but a palatial mansion just a few blocks above the +paternal one. As he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> still meditating about the strike, it was with +a start that he came back to himself when the butler, who opened the +door for him, remarked:—</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir. There's a lady in the parlor to see you."</p> + +<p>Mr. van Rensselaer opened his eyes. "A lady?" he said.</p> + +<p>"A lady, I presume, sir," said the butler.</p> + +<p>"What's her name?"</p> + +<p>"She didn't give any name, sir. She just said she must see you; and she +would not take any refusal, sir."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said the other. "I'll go in."</p> + +<p>And so in he went and gazed at the woman, who wore a heavy veil. She +rose up and flung it aside, disclosing a face ghastly white, and so like +a death's head that the other started back.</p> + +<p>"Do you know me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Er—no," said Mr. van Rensselaer.</p> + +<p>"You really don't know me, Robbie?"</p> + +<p>And then suddenly he gave a gasp, and cried, "Daisy!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>"Yes," said the other, "Daisy."</p> + +<p>They sat for a full minute gazing at each other: she at a well-filled +face and waist-coat; he at a trembling skeleton.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said he, suddenly; "what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much," she replied. "I'm dying, you know, Robbie."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"Consumption."</p> + +<p>"Humph! It's been a long time. What have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"I've been living up north—in Albany. I took another name, you know, as +soon as I left New York. There's a child, Robbie."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed the other. "Sure enough! A boy?"</p> + +<p>"No, a girl."</p> + +<p>"Humph! Must be—let's see—twelve years old now."</p> + +<p>"Thirteen, Robbie. That's what I've come to see you about."</p> + +<p>"So I guessed. Is she here—in New York?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>"No; she's up in Albany—with some kind people. I couldn't bear to bring +her; but I—I—"</p> + +<p>The woman stopped and gazed into his eyes a moment. Then she went on +swiftly, stretching out her lean arms to him. "Do something for her, +Robbie, won't you? That's what I want. I'm not for this world long, and +I can't help her, but you can. I've led a hard life, but she hasn't an +idea of it; she has the locket you gave me, but I've kept the secret +from her, and she doesn't even know her father's name. I've never +bothered you, Robbie; but do for her what you might have done for me."</p> + +<p>"I imagine the old gentleman did pretty well by you, didn't he?" said +the other in a matter-of-fact way.</p> + +<p>"I'm not complaining," said she. "Only promise you'll find her and do +something for her. It won't hurt you—do promise me, do."</p> + +<p>The woman's voice quivered, and she leaned forward in the chair, +steadying her shaking form. The other, always a kind-hearted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> man, was +touched. "I will, Daisy," he said, "I will."</p> + +<p>"You promise me?" gasped the woman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I promise you."</p> + +<p>All right," said she, starting to rise. "That's all I want. You won't +have any trouble in finding her. Her name—her—"</p> + +<p>And then suddenly she staggered. She lurched backward, grasping at the +chair, and turned white, a horrible sound coming from her throat. The +man leaped forward and caught her. She lay limp in his arms. He shouted +for help, and when the butler came, sent him on the run for a cab.</p> + +<p>"Take her around the corner to the hospital," he commanded.</p> + +<p>So they bore out the gasping form; and Mr. Robert van Rensselaer went +slowly and thoughtfully upstairs. "Devilish annoying," he mused. "How +shall I find the girl after that?"</p> + +<p>When the butler came back he inquired anxiously. "She was dead before we +got there, sir," said the man.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XIII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> death of "Daisy" came to seem more and more annoying the more Robert +van Rensselaer thought it over. Open-handed man as he was, he would have +thought nothing of sending the girl a few thousand dollars; but now all +kinds of trouble might result from an attempt to do it. There were no +means of identification about the body; and if he were to ask the police +to find the woman's child, how long would it be then before scandal was +busy? There are so many people ready to believe evil about a wealthy +man; and besides, there were hundreds who had known about Daisy. To be +sure, they never thought of it, at this late date; but how long would it +take them to put two and two together, and to have the whole town +gabbling and winking? And if he were to turn the matter over to private +detectives, he would lay himself equally open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> to suspicion. One can +never tell about such men, he mused—they might find out the story, and +then anything could happen.</p> + +<p>It was by no means pleasant to think of one's own flesh and blood +suffering poverty. But then van Rensselaer reflected that people would +probably take care of her; and that in any case she had never been used +to wealth, and would not feel the difference; also that if he sent her +money it would very probably serve but to teach her extravagance and +lead her into temptation. So it would seem to be his duty to let the +whole matter drop and forget it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XIV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">These</span> things he was meditating while with the assistance of his valet he +was donning a dress-suit; afterward he descended and entered his +automobile, and in half an hour they reached the dock. It was then +nearing sundown, and the rain was gone, and the river was golden. Van +Rensselaer drank in the fresh sea breeze as he alighted, and moved +toward the waiting <i>Comet</i>. Steam was pouring out from the funnels of +the yacht, and the captain stood at the gang-plank.</p> + +<p>"All ready, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"Every one on board?" inquired the owner.</p> + +<p>"Half an hour ago, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Cast off."</p> + +<p>And then, amid the shouting of orders, Mr. Robert van Rensselaer moved +forward to the stern, where a dozen ladies and gentlemen were seated, +wrapped warmly in coats and shawls, and enjoying the beautiful scene. +They greeted him with laughter and merry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> welcome; they had cause to be +a happy party, for in America there was no host like Robert van +Rensselaer.</p> + +<p>And his guests were worthy of him. Here was the peerless Mrs. +Dyemandust, mistress of seventy-two millions, and of all society; here +was Mrs. Miner-Gold, worth fifty-seven and a half in her own name; here +was Victor de Vere, leader in the smart set and wittiest man in town; +here was Pidgin of the great Steal Trust, and Mergem, owner of forty-two +railroads. Here was Miss Paragon, the <i>dèbutante</i>, about whom the town +was mad, and here was his Grace the Duc de Petitebourse, the +distinguished French visitor, who cried out that Miss Paragon was +"<i>ravissante—un miracle!</i>" It is boldness merely to name such company +in a novel.</p> + +<p>"And oh, by the way," asks Mrs. Dyemandust, suddenly, "how did you +settle the strike?"</p> + +<p>"Strike?" echoes Mr. Robert van Rensselaer (he had forgotten it +completely), "there are no strikes on the <i>Comet</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> nine o'clock that evening the guests of the yacht, being then twenty +miles off Sandy Hook, sat down to dinner in the saloon. Mr. van +Rensselaer's banquets were things that one did not soon forget; as also +was his dining saloon.</p> + +<p>There were two state apartments in the <i>Comet</i>; the one with which we +have now to do was lit with a blaze of electric lights, set amid +flashing crystal and silver. One of its walls was occupied by a great +buffet, dazzling with the same radiance; and the other three were +occupied by life-size paintings, brilliant with the rich colors that +only great artists dare. The subject was the Decameron—the beautiful +gardens with the elegant ladies and gentlemen clad in all the splendor +of the time, and hovering above them the immortal figures that peopled +their dreams, the airy pageant of a poet's fancy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>And the table! Mr. Robert van Rensselaer was not merely an American +millionnaire, he was a man of exquisite culture, a traveller and a +connoisseur. Every <i>pièce-de-service</i> upon his table was of individual +design, numbers of them the work of the celebrated Germain. The +<i>surtout-de-table</i> was a magnificent creation in glittering silver and +gold—"<i>d' après Meissonier, XVIII<sup>e</sup> siècle</i>." At either end were +golden baskets filled with Indian orchids of priceless beauty. At every +place were hand-painted menus upon satin, promising a delicate and +unique repast.</p> + +<p>The wines of Mr. Robert van Rensselaer were one of the problems of +metropolitan society; he got them from abroad, from an unknown estate of +his own—if indeed he did not get them by means of a compact with the +devil. Suffice it to say that a man or woman in New York would give up +any other engagement for some of the wine of the president of the +Hungerville Mills Company; and that when people asked him any questions +about it, he merely smiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> charmingly and said, "<i>On ne parle pas de +cela!</i>"</p> + +<p>After the soup he served a bottle of a wonderful Madeira, and then by +way of a prelude, so to speak, a taste of a dry Sicilian wine, for the +secret of which a certain bank president was known to have offered a +prize. The <i>premier service</i> was a Burgundy,—<i>type côte de Nuits</i>,—a +wine of a distinctive taste, approaching a Bordeaux; rich, full of fire, +a little <i>enveloppé</i>, but of the greatest delicacy.</p> + +<p>The second service, with the roast, was a champagne, not the kind that +one buys for money, but the kind that haunts one's dreams. With the +<i>entremets</i> was a Bordeaux—<i>Saint Estephe</i>. Then there was another +champagne, and with the dessert a port, a new port of a deep, grand +purple. His Grace the Duc de Petitebourse raised it on high and gazed +upon it long, the company listening with interest for his sentiments, +for his Grace was a famous gourmet. "<i>Magnifique!</i>" he observed, +meditatively. "<i>C'est a'un gout savoureux—a'une grande rondeur! Corsé, +mon Dieu!</i>"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>Such were the wines. There remains only to mention the little anteroom +from which a hidden quartet sent ravishing strains. As to the company, +one could not describe that—one could not describe even the dinner gown +of Mrs. Dyemandust within the limits of a single chapter. And as for the +conversation, when you bring together the élite of the earth, and warm +their souls with a wine from heaven, perhaps there are authors who could +write conversation for them, but I cannot.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XVI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> midnight the guests went up on deck. It was cool, but a heavenly +night, the stars like diamonds, and the sea rolling gently; the yacht +sped swiftly onward, throwing aside the water with a faint, lulling +splash, as of a fountain. Warm wraps were brought, and the guests sat +conversing and gazing out over the water; afterward some of them rose in +couples and began pacing up and down the deck. Mr. Robert van +Rensselaer, the host, was with Miss Paragon, the "<i>ravissante</i>"; but it +was not very long before Miss Paragon felt chilly, and so the two went +down into the main saloon.</p> + +<p>A wonderful apartment was the great saloon of the <i>Comet</i>; but we have +to do with only the Oriental corner of it, with its divans, its precious +silks and draperies, and its lamp, with the faint, soft glow. Miss +Paragon, a dark, languishing brunette,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> with long, black lashes and a +seductive gaze, sank down upon the divan with a sigh. She was clad in +glowing red, a soft filmy stuff of wonderful beauty; and with her snowy +arms and her perfect neck and shoulders, she made a picture not to be +gazed upon too steadily. And Mr. Robert van Rensselaer bent toward her +in soft conversation, feeding his hungry eyes; Mr. van Rensselaer had +drunk a great deal of his own precious wine.</p> + +<p>There were those who did not see the idyllic side of this affair, who +did not think of Miss Paragon as the tender, soft-hearted young person, +but who believed that she knew quite well what she was doing. Certainly +Robbie was not going in with his eyes shut, having argued the subject +out with his father. Miss Paragon was hardly up to his standard, +financially; but then Robbie argued that he was by this time wealthy +enough himself to count beauty as something.</p> + +<p>So his voice became lower and lower, and his words more and more tender; +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> Miss Paragon gazed upon him languishingly, until at last he +ventured to take her hand. She did not resist, and the touch of it made +his pulses leap, and made him eloquent. He told her how long he had +watched her, and how charming he had thought her; with his arm half +about her, and half sunk upon one knee, he went on to reveal what he +could no longer hide—that he loved her with all his soul. And as the +wonderful, the incomparable Miss Paragon, with all her ravishing beauty, +whispered her reply, he pressed her to his heart in ecstasy, and kissed +her upon her cheeks and lips.</p> + +<p>When the merry company descended, van Rensselaer was pouring some wine +from a decanter that stood on the centre-table. A few minutes later, +when every one was gathered there, the host took Mr. de Vere, the +celebrated wit, aside, and said things that made the celebrated wit +first stare, and then slap his thigh; and afterward he made an +irresistible speech which convulsed the company; and while the host +stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> blushing like a schoolboy, overwhelmed with all the applause, +they opened more champagne, and drank far into the night to the health +of the future Mrs. Robert van Rensselaer. It was dawn when at last they +parted, and the sky was paling over the shores of Maryland, past which +the <i>Comet</i> was speeding on her southward way.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XVII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> that the cruise of the <i>Comet</i> was a sort of preliminary +honeymoon; and never did a gayer, happier party sail upon the rolling +deep, nor was there ever a happier bridegroom-to-be than Robbie. All day +long he fed his eyes upon the radiant vision, and whispered to himself +that she was his. And so they steamed down the Florida coast, and at +last came to Palm Beach, and went ashore; there he found a telegram +awaiting him, signed by the superintendent of the Hungerville Mills.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="smcap">"Mr. R. van Rensselaer</span>,<br/> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Palm Beach, Florida.</span></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"The trouble is over and the strike broken. Damage has been +repaired, and the mills are moving as usual. Have retained chiefly +non-union men. Newspapers virulent.</p> + +<p class="bqright"><span class="smcap">"Grinder."</span></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>And Mr. van Rensselaer folded the telegram, and put it in his pocket, +and smiled. "Damn the newspapers," he said meditatively, and sent his +valet to procure some. When he got them he sat on the deck and read them +while the cool sea breeze fanned his forehead.</p> + +<p>There had been quite a time at Hungerville, so it appeared. The strikers +had held meetings; the whole town had been in an uproar. Strange as it +might seem, a considerable part of the press had taken the side of the +men. There had been no violence, however, until strange faces began to +appear in the town, and some old abandoned freight cars outside the +mills were burned. Then a force of five hundred detectives were rushed +into the mills, and a high fence was put up, with loopholes. On the +third day the Company sent up a car load of non-union men—men who had +been out of work for a year, since the closing of the mills the +Hungerville Company had beaten down. Instantly the town was in an +uproar, and in spite of all precautions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> the "scabs" were stoned and +beaten. The detectives fired upon the mob, killing three men, a woman, +and two children, and wounding a dozen more; and that same night, the +sheriff having appealed to the governor, the first companies of militia +arrived.</p> + +<p>Following that were three days of furious excitement; on several +occasions a pitched battle all but occurred. Twice the soldiers fired on +the mob, killing several, and one militiaman was stabbed in the dark. +But the Company insisted upon starting the mills; and the strikers being +without money, and many of them half-dead with starvation, they gave up +in scores. At last reports the union had been on the point of abandoning +the strike, so that its members might secure what few places were left.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Robert van Rensselaer read his telegram again, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, dearest," said Miss Paragon, "what good news have you heard?"</p> + +<p>"That you will soon be mine," he answered her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XVIII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wedding came off about four months later, after Miss Paragon's Paris +trousseau had safely arrived. Just how to describe such a wedding in +reasonable space is a problem, for the plans of it were described in the +newspapers weeks beforehand,—all the decorations and preparations, as +well as the ancestry, possessions, and accomplishments of both bride and +groom. The Associated Press sent out two descriptions of the wedding +gown,—one technical, by an expert, and one imaginative, by a +sympathetic artist. On the day before the wedding the Fifth Avenue +church—the church where "Robbie" had taught Sunday-school, and had for +thirty years listened to the edifying sermons of the Reverend Doctor +Lettuce Spray, the church, with all its marvellous riot of flowers—was +pictured with pen and pencil, and after the great event the front pages +of all the New<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> York papers were given up to telling an eager and +expectant people everything about it that could be described or +imagined. By that time, of course, the radical press had forgotten all +its vehemence about Hungerville, and Mr. Robert van Rensselaer was again +the noted financier, the prominent social light, the eminent citizen, +and the inimitable <i>raconteur</i>. After the couple were safely married, +and had spent a long honeymoon upon the <i>Comet</i>, and drunk the full cup +of their bliss, I remember reading in the New York papers an address +which our Robbie had delivered before the Young Men's Mohammedan +Association of Podunk, the theme being industrial brotherhood and the +community of interest between capital and labor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XIX</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> now will the reader kindly imagine that four or five years more have +sped by; and that Mrs. Robert van Rensselaer is a mother of two +children, and a proud and majestic social queen,—<i>a grande +dame</i>,—wearing serenely the crown of her exalted station; and that Mr. +van Rensselaer is more than ever a power in the financial circles of the +country, a man able to make governors and senators by the signing of his +pen. His affairs have prospered steadily, fortunes springing up at his +command like fruit trees beneath the hand of a Hindoo conjurer. He has +organized a great corporation of the rivals of his Company for the +preventing of ruinous competition; and he has done other things that +have left Wall Street equally aghast.</p> + +<p>I should venture upon this portion of my hero's career with great +trepidation, feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> dubious of my ability to conduct him safely amid +the labyrinths of "the street"; but fortunately this story has been told +by experts as to whose authority there can be no question, and I avail +myself of the opportunity to quote from their narrative. The language of +them is somewhat technical, to be sure; but every branch of human +science has to have a vocabulary of its own, and the seeker of knowledge +has to master it. All van Rensselaer's life in these days was Wall +Street life, and it is necessary to give some idea of what manner of +life that was.</p> + +<p>In Jabbergrab, "Heroes of Finance," p. 1492, one reads as follows:—</p> + +<p>"The way that Robert van Rensselaer defended the stock on a certain +occasion is still one of the stories of the town. He was in the act of +stepping off the <i>Aurora</i> on that immortal Tuesday—after sailing the +race of his life—when a messenger handed him a telegram informing him +that the bears, evidently underrating the speed of his yacht, had begun +one more savage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> onslaught upon Kalamazoo Airship. There was plainly a +conspiracy—the stock was going down by the point. Van Rensselaer +immediately wired his brokers to take all the seller's options they +could get, and likewise to buy the market bare of all cash stock; so +that by the time his special reached New York he was the owner of pretty +nearly the whole of K. A. except some he was quite sure would not +appear.</p> + +<p>"Van Rensselaer was angry, for K. A. was a pet child of his. He had been +meditating all the way to the city, and when he arrived, the bear-houses +received orders to turn the stock, to buy cash from the cornering party +and sell back on buyer's options of a month, the object of which game +was that the bears, knowing that van Rensselaer was the defender of the +stock, would conclude that he was short of cash, selling for ready money +and buying to keep his corner by an option. The trick worked to +perfection; the cash stock was taken up by van Rensselaer's own buyers, +and the bears, taking new courage, fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> upon the stock, and van +Rensselaer purchased options in blocks of five and ten thousand, until +the bears stopped short from sheer exhaustion.</p> + +<p>"And of course he had the money ready, and laughed gleefully while he +sprung the trap. The options matured, and behold there was no K. A. on +the market! The corner was the kind that one dreams of—the price went +up by bounds; it began with 110, and before the market closed men were +offering 190, and all in vain. There were sixty thousand shares to be +delivered to van Rensselaer, sixty thousand shares that had been sold +short at 110, and that now could not be covered at 190!</p> + +<p>"They came to him and begged for mercy; and he, generously, told them +that they could not have the stock at 190, but that they might +compromise and gain time, at the cost of five per cent per day on the +par value of the stock. They, not having yet seen through the trick he +had played them, and thinking that a break must soon come, were glad to +accept. They paid the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> interest for ten days, and then the corner was as +tight as ever; and in the end they paid him 260 for the stock, and thus +he made two hundred dollars a share on sixty thousand shares. It was +long before the bears ever interfered again with the pet stock of Robert +van Rensselaer!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XX</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the day of that curious "compromise," our friend and his victims had +been arguing till late in the evening; and then van Rensselaer had taken +a cab and driven up town. Feeling the need of fresh air and movement, he +had done something unusual with him—gotten out and strolled along upper +Broadway.</p> + +<p>It was after the dinner hour at home, and he was bending his steps +toward his club; but passing a brilliantly lighted restaurant, from +which strains of music poured, he yielded to a sudden impulse and went +in.</p> + +<p>It was an unusual adventure to our hero; for it was rather a flashy +restaurant, with gayly dressed women in it and men smoking. He watched +them awhile, and then turned to study the menu.</p> + +<p>Famous as were his banquets, van Rensselaer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> himself was a man of very +simple tastes, all his splendor coming from his desire to please other +people. At present he ordered a cocktail, and sipped it meditatively +while the waiter placed before him a plate of raw oysters, of a delicate +and palatable variety. Before he ate them he ordered the next course, +some sweetbreads and a quail on toast, fresh asparagus, and artichokes +prepared in a special way; the waiter listened carefully to the +description of exactly how the sweetbreads were to be cooked, and +exactly the kind of sauce desired with the asparagus. "And bring me a +pint of <i>Chambertin</i>," added the guest; "the best you have."</p> + +<p>While the waiter departed Mr. Robert van Rensselaer carefully tasted the +oysters. The sweetbreads, when they came, proved to be correct, the wine +was better than he had hoped, and so he felt quite pleased with himself. +Now and then during the repast he would pause to breathe and gaze round +him; he was growing rather stout, unfortunately, and at his meals he +felt it. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> he finished at last and smacked his lips, and leaned far +back in his chair and began to light a cigar.</p> + +<p>The cigars of Robert van Rensselaer were, like everything else that he +used, of his own importation; the aroma of them was a thing ambrosial, +and so our friend half closed his eyes and felt very happy indeed. With +the wine stirring in his blood, and his stomach purring contentedly, +what more could a civilized man desire?</p> + +<p>There was but one thing; as Mr. van Rensselaer was gazing about the +room, he suddenly espied it. His eye was arrested at a table across the +way, where sat two women. One of them was a very stout woman, with +yellow hair and many jewels. But the other—he had never seen anything +like her before. She was a young girl—not out of her teens—and of a +wonderful delicate beauty. She was plainly dressed, and pale; but her +skin was like finely tinted marble, and her face—van Rensselaer could +simply not take his eyes away from her face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>And then suddenly the woman saw his gaze, and smiled. He saw her nudge +the girl with her foot, and the girl looked up at him; then she turned +scarlet, and gazed down at her plate. Van Rensselaer's heart beat +faster, and he finished his demi-tasse rather quickly and threw away his +cigar. When he saw that the women were ready to leave, he beckoned to +the waiter, and after glancing at his check, gave him a twenty-dollar +bill and told him to keep the change. Then he took his overcoat and +strolled slowly out.</p> + +<p>The women were just in front of him, and he came up with them at the +corner; they turned and strolled down a side street.</p> + +<p>"Your friend seems a little shy," he said, laughing, as he put himself +by the young girl's side, and gently took her arm.</p> + +<p>"Just a little," replied the woman. "She has only been in New York a few +days. Miss Harrison, Mr.—er—"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Green," said the other.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Green," repeated the woman, with a smile, "and Mrs. Lynch, +myself."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>So they were happily introduced. "And where are you going?" asked Mr. +Green.</p> + +<p>"We were just on our way home," said Mrs. Lynch.</p> + +<p>They strolled on down the street; the man felt the soft arm trembling in +his, but the girl said nothing, and never raised her eyes when he spoke +to her. Mrs. Lynch kept up the conversation until they reached a brown +stone house. The curtains were drawn, but one could see chinks of light, +and as the woman opened the door sounds of merriment broke upon the ear. +The door of the parlor was open, but they passed by, and into a rear +room, lighted by a dim lamp; they shut the door, and then everything was +quiet.</p> + +<p>"Make yourselves at home," said Mrs. Lynch, taking off her hat and +wraps. Mr. Green did likewise, and sat down upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>The girl seated herself. She was still pale and trembling, but Mrs. +Lynch did not notice it, conversing lightly with her new acquaintance. +Suddenly, however,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> she arose, remarking, "I have something to attend +to, if you'll excuse me." So, frowning down the girl's attempt to +remonstrate, she disappeared, shutting the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was a little silence, and then Mr. Green went over and sat down by +the girl. "Tell me," he said, "what is the matter?" She buried her face +in her hands and shuddered. "Tell me," he repeated again, in a tender +voice. "Trust me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>And suddenly she looked up at him, the tears streaming from her eyes. +"Oh," she pleaded, "have mercy on me! I can't do it—I can't! You don't +know how miserable I am."</p> + +<p>Robbie—one is moved intuitively to call him "Robbie" again at such a +time, even though his hair is now an iron-gray—Robbie was gazing at the +perfect face, and thinking that he had never seen anything so wonderful +in his life before. "Listen," he said very gently. "You have no reason +to be afraid of me. Tell me what is the matter, tell me how you come to +be in such a place as this."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>The girl gazed at him with her frightened eyes; she choked back a sob. +"I have only been here a few hours," she said. "And I cannot stay—oh, I +cannot!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," said he.</p> + +<p>She sat kneading her hands together nervously. "I came from the +country," she said. "It is the old story—it will not interest you. My +father was dead, and my mother dead, and then I had no money, and had to +work. And then I loved a young man—"</p> + +<p>She made a sudden gesture of despair, and stopped. "Go on," said the +other, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"It was only last week that I saw him last," she said, "and now I shall +never see him again. He begged me to go and live with him—that was in +the beginning. He was very rich, and so his parents would not let him +marry me. But I loved him, so I did not care; I only wanted to be with +him. That was a year ago; and then he went away and left me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>—he said +his parents had found it out. I heard he had gone to New York, and I +followed him—spent all I owned to come. And of course I could not find +him; and I could find nothing to do—I walked the streets all last +night, and the night before. And then this was all that there was +left—I was nearly dead."</p> + +<p>The girl had flushed with excitement as she talked, and became more +beautiful than ever. The other led her on; she told him all, for his was +the first sympathetic voice she had heard. And Robbie talked to her as +the Robbie of old had talked to women, gently, beautifully, with +infinite tact, and sympathy, and grace. He was a handsome man and a +brilliant man, and the girl forgot first her terror, and then her +despair, and then her sorrow. No one disturbed them; they talked for an +hour, for two hours, and with more and more understanding. Robbie's +heart was beating faster and faster. She was not only a beautiful girl, +she was a beautiful soul—a pearl in the mud, delicate and precious.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +And so he went on and on, pouring out his sympathy, and drawing out her +whole heart. The time sped on yet faster, midnight came, and by that +time Robbie had ventured to take her hand in his, and to sit down beside +her on the sofa. He was trembling like a boy again, was Robbie, his +whole being was on fire; and there had come a new blush to the girl's +cheek, too.</p> + +<p>"And listen to me," he was saying in a low whisper; "you do not know how +you have touched my heart, how much I admire you and wish to help you. +You are so beautiful,—I have never seen any one so beautiful,—and +I—ah, we could go far away from all this horror, and you need never +know of it, or hear of it again. I would take care of you and watch over +you. You should have everything to make you happy, for I love you, oh, I +cannot tell you how I love you! This is a dreadful place to say it; but +what does it matter what these people think? They cannot understand, but +we need not care. Ah, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> wish you to be mine! I do not care how, but I +will never let you suffer any harm. And oh, you must know that I will +never let you leave me!"</p> + +<p>And so he went on, swiftly, breathlessly, eloquently; and first he +ventured to put his arms about her; and then to kiss her; and when he +saw that she was trembling, and that tears of emotion had risen to her +eyes, he clasped her to him passionately.</p> + +<p>And so another hour fled by; and when at last there came a tap upon the +door, the girl sat upon Robbie's lap with her face buried in his +shoulder. "And now," said Robbie, as Mrs. Lynch entered, "come and sit +down, and let us settle."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> that Mary Harrison—such was her name—was soon installed in a +pretty little flat up in Harlem; and Robbie, a happy and guileless boy +once more, was to be found there not infrequently. We must content +ourselves with this brief mention of the subject, and hurry back with +our hero to the tedious affairs of Wall Street.</p> + +<p>For events moved swiftly in that part of the town; and even before the +Kalamazoo Airship corner had been settled Robert van Rensselaer was +busily planning the great coup of his life,—the smashing of +Transatlantic and Suburban. About that desperate and historical campaign +it is necessary that the reader should be told in detail.</p> + +<p>There are men in Wall Street, gamblers pure and simple, who will bull or +bear any stock out of which they think they can get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> anything; and again +there are also legitimate manipulators. A legitimate manipulator of +stocks, in the view of Robert van Rensselaer, was a man who studied the +financial and economic conditions of the world, and aimed to drive +prices where they ought to go. If a man could see deeply enough, and +bear only unsound stocks and over-produced commodities, he might be +considered as a useful servant of society—and what would be no less +pleasant, the eternal laws of the universe would work with him in all +his trading.</p> + +<p>The story of the great Transatlantic and Suburban Railroad battle—the +most sanguinary of all the conflicts of our hero, and one which Wall +Street men will never forget while they live—the reader may find +narrated in Jabbergrab, p. 1906, as follows:—</p> + +<p>"It was the same marvellous grasp of conditions and of deep movements, +men say. Van Rensselaer had been watching T. & S. for over a year, and +watching the people who were engineering it. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> had studied every phase +of the problem and in the end he pricked a bubble that was shedding a +rainbow effulgence upon mankind, and that had deceived some of the +keenest financiers of the country.</p> + +<p>"In the first place Robert van Rensselaer had distrusted the T. & S. +people, knowing some inside facts about them. Then he had studied the +future of the line, its management, its plans, its huge issues of stock, +which men whispered must be watered even while they bought it up like +mad; and then from certain secret information about conferences, of +which no one was supposed to know, from certain suspicious movements in +the market as well, van Rensselaer became sure that the T. & S. +financiers were prepared for a great boom in the stock. He was perfectly +willing,—he helped them along,—for the more they inflated it, the +better could he manage what he meant to do. Only when he thought they +were about exhausted, he turned to the other side; and so began the +battle of the giants."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXIII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">No</span> one knew that van Rensselaer was the man who was causing the trouble +to T. & S., so our historian goes on to assure us. One of his qualities +was his mastership of concealment: he had brokers all over Wall Street, +and often they were bidding against each other without knowing it. Those +on the outside saw merely that T. & S. had gone up in a way that beat +all telling, and that then it had found a steady price and was +marvellously active; those on the inside knew a little more; they knew +that somebody was selling short, but who it was, there was only one man +in the world that knew.</p> + +<p>These things are complicated, and they are tedious; but they have to be +understood, for they have to do with a crisis in the life of Robert van +Rensselaer. For our friend was not a man who played at stocks; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> never +went in until he was sure he was right, and then he went in for all he +was worth. Though as yet the market had not the least idea of it, he was +stripped for a battle to the death with the supporters of Transatlantic +and Suburban. Let the reader plunge boldly in,—and take our word for it +that there is a path through the wilderness of the narrative.</p> + +<p>It was on Tuesday that van Rensselaer had begun, taking "seller's +options" of three days, which amounted to a gigantic bet that in three +days, by more and more selling, he could lower the price of the stock. +As a matter of fact he meant to give them no three days; he meant that +T. & S. was to go down on Wednesday, the first real day of battle.</p> + +<p>It was a situation like that in the K. A. corner, with the difference +that nobody could think of cornering T. & S. Its stock was all over the +country, it had been issued ten millions at a time, and what van +Rensselaer and his opponents could secure was comparatively little; it +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> the market, the spectators of the battle, who were to award the +prize of victory at the end. And as we have said, our hero had, or +believed he had, the "eternal laws of nature" on his side. "It's coming +down!" said van Rensselaer, grimly; "down! down!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXIV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> powers that stood behind T. & S. held a meeting that Tuesday +afternoon and formed a syndicate. The unknown person who was "bearing" +the stock must be whipped into line without a moment's delay, they +agreed; and on the morrow they arranged to buy up one hundred and fifty +thousand shares of T. & S. and see if he could stand that.</p> + +<p>Van Rensselaer was prepared to stand a good deal. On Tuesday, the market +being strong, he had sold out every share of stock he owned, including +even his K. A. holdings, including even all his interest in the great +steel corporation he had made; and likewise he had borrowed upon his +credit every dollar that he dared. All this cash was at his broker's, +and on Wednesday morning when the market opened he was standing in his +private office by the ticker,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> with his one trusted clerk at hand to +telephone his orders.</p> + +<p>The struggle opened slowly, the two giants sparring and feeling each +other's strength. The syndicate brokers called loudly for T. & S., but +van Rensselaer waited and watched. Some was sold, but it was not his; he +was waiting to see if the price would not go up yet higher, to make his +enemies bolder, and himself safer. And about eleven o'clock it did +start. T. & S. had opened at 155, and trading brisk; five thousand +shares had been sold, and then the price went to 155<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>2</sub> to 156<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>2</sub>. +Then again it went on to 158, and there it stopped. Evidently that was +as high as the enemy cared to send it; and after a while van Rensselaer +sent his orders,—two thousand shares to five different brokers. T. & S. +wavered, went to 157<sup>5</sup>⁄<sub>8</sub>, then rallied; sales fifteen thousand. Robert +sent out again; offers were still being made, and his agents took them. +In the board-room one might have seen a frantic crowd of shrieking, +gesticulating men about the T. & S. post; such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> trading had not been +seen for months—something was surely "up." As yet it was not perceived +that the bull movement was a defensive one, and wild rumors flew about: +the Ghoul and Castoria interests were fighting for the road; Mergem was +going to run it to Alaska. T. & S. had never touched such a point +before—surely it could not stay there. And yet it did stay there, while +offer after offer was made. It was not till noon that it started down; +and by that time the syndicate had bought its one hundred and fifty +thousand shares, of which van Rensselaer had sold them one hundred and +thirty thousand.</p> + +<p>And now his brokers were shouting offers, and the price was settling +steadily. The syndicate was again in hurried consultation; it was +evident by this time that some powerful foe was against them in full +force. Their peril was imminent and deadly; for the moment that the +street perceived a bear attack, alarm would spread; and after that +thousands would watch in wild uncertainty, and a single point might +bring the panic,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> might fling thousands and hundreds of thousands of +shares upon one side of the trembling balance. With only a few minutes' +discussing, the syndicate pledged three hundred thousand more.</p> + +<p>The market was in a frenzy; T. & S. went to 157<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>2</sub>, and there held. The +brokers of the syndicate were making the board-room ring with their +shouts; and van Rensselaer, calm and ready, sold them all they wanted, +and every single time that they let up, began to bear the stock. The +result was that its value swayed back and forth, now gaining and now +losing a point, the trading in the meantime being furious. The meaning +of it all was fast becoming plain,—that some conspirators were trying +to break the stock, and that those conspirators were of the giants. +Robert van Rensselaer was calculated to be worth some twenty million +dollars at that day; and that meant that at the present price of the +stock he was in a position to buy about a million and a quarter shares. +Whether his enemies could go that far he did not know; but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> sat +grimly and watched the ticker, while the fierce battle raged and sounds +of frenzied excitement came up from the street below.</p> + +<p>So the hours crawled by, the three long weary hours more; and one by one +he hurled his blows, and one by one they came to nothing. He was not a +nervous man, and he did not drum the table; but his brow darkened and he +swore softly. He was staking all that he owned against the unknown power +of his opponents; and if he did not break them with his last offer, he +would be without a dollar in the world.</p> + +<p>And so came the last few dreadful minutes of that ever memorable day of +frenzy. There were a dozen brokers shouting his gigantic offers; there +was one case where twenty thousand shares changed hands in one block. He +emptied his quiver, he made the market reel and men turn white with +terror; but his every order was snapped up on the instant, and T. & S. +never gave an inch! And so the moment of closing came; and the dreadful +day was at an end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Robert van Rensselaer</span> paced his office, his hands behind his back. He +had no more money, but he was not frightened; his trust was in the +eternal laws of nature,—and besides, he had one or two more cards to +play. He was walking up and down meditatively, talking to himself half +aloud. "I think," he was saying, "that I've gotten all the best of the +pickings; and so it really won't do so much harm if I let them in."</p> + +<p>He rang for his secretary and sent five telephone messages. Four of them +were to friends of his, Wall Street plungers who had generally worked +and fought with him; and the fifth was to Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer.</p> + +<p>It was only a few minutes before the first four were in his office, +breathless and wild. "Well," said van Rensselaer, "what do you think of +it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>"Never saw anything like it," cried one of them; it was Shrike, the +famous wheat plunger. "Never in my life! Who do you think it is? And +what'll come of it?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I sent for you for," was van Rensselaer's reply. "Sit +down."</p> + +<p>And then he talked to them. "I know who's in this, but I'm not at +liberty to tell. But I know that they're going to win out, and I'm going +to jump on to-morrow morning with every cent I have and help make it a +smash-up. I know who's back of the T. & S. people,—it's Smith and +Shark, in particular,—and I know just what they're good for. I know T. +& S. pretty well, too, and it's hanging on the very verge. It's damned +inflated stuff—you know that, as well as I do; and the street's just +ready to jump on the losing side. The ring that's been making this fight +is going to get most of it; but I'm going to get some, and I'm asking +you in so as to make it a sure thing. We've only got to pile on to it, +you know, and then suddenly let the street find out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> that it's us. The +tumble will come in three seconds after that."</p> + +<p>It was several hours before those four gentlemen went out of van +Rensselaer's office. They talked the situation over in all its phases: +the weak points about the T. & S. road, and the rumors that might be +used; the impossibility of their being caught in a corner; the fact that +thousands of stockholders were hoping for a rise, and trembling in +uncertainty and terror at the thought of a fall; the resources of Smith +and Shark and the T. & S. financiers; their own resources, and the +weight of their names. In the end the agreement was to buy all the T. & +S. offered in the morning, and at the hour of eleven jump in and pound +it into the dust.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXVI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> they left, and in a few minutes more our hero was in his automobile +and speeding rapidly up town. He entered his club-house, and went to a +private room, into which shortly after there came hobbling an aged, +red-nosed, and gouty old aristocrat, swearing furiously and demanding, +"What in the devil did you want me here for, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the son, after dutifully helping him to a chair, "what do +you think of it?"</p> + +<p>"That's not answering my question," growled the other. "But Lord, +Robbie, I've had a day of it! Do you know I hold five thousand of T. & +S.? And I've just been crazy all day, waiting—waiting—"</p> + +<p>Humph!" said Robert, with a smile. "Waiting for what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, haven't you got any?" cried the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> other. "Don't you know who's in +that syndicate?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robbie; "it's the T. & S. gang, and Smith and Shark, I +supposed."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other, "just so; and they mean business, too, I can tell +you. You'll see this stock up in the 200's to-morrow. Who do you suppose +are those fools that are fighting them?"</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose," said Robbie, "I know."</p> + +<p>"And who are they?"</p> + +<p>"There aren't any 'they.'"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean there's only one man."</p> + +<p>"What! And who is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's Robert van Rensselaer."</p> + +<p>And the old gentleman leapt from his chair, in spite of his gout. "Good +God, Robbie!" he cried. "You're mad!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Robbie; "it's a fact."</p> + +<p>"But you're ruined!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not quite, Governor. (Robbie always had called him Governor.) +I've spent every cent I own, but not quite ruined; for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> I'm going to be +the richest man in New York City to-morrow at about two minutes past +eleven o'clock in the morning. I'm going to have every cent that the T. +& S. people and Smith and Shark can beg or borrow, and the bank accounts +of several hundred lambs besides, including my aged and beloved daddy!"</p> + +<p>The aged and beloved daddy was gasping for breath. "You're lost, +Robbie!" he cried. "It can't be! How can you do it without money?"</p> + +<p>"I've just arranged a syndicate," laughed Robbie.</p> + +<p>"But without money?"</p> + +<p>"They don't know I've no money," said he, cheerfully. "But I'm going to +get some more, just for safety, from you."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer, laconically.</p> + +<p>"In the first place," said the other man, "you're going to sell those +shares to-morrow morning at ten o'clock; and in the second you're going +to sell short on T. & S. all you find takers for; and about eleven +o'clock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> you're going to see the sky fall down and hit the earth."</p> + +<p>"What's going to cause it?"</p> + +<p>"For one thing, your being there selling short. You old Wall Street +rounders are like vultures about a carcass—people will only have to see +you hobbling down town, and they'll know there's a smash-up coming; and +if you whisper you're selling T. & S. it'll come right then."</p> + +<p>"There's something in that," admitted the old gentleman, after some +hesitation.</p> + +<p>"But that's not the thing I want to see you about," laughed Robbie. "The +main thing is still to come. It is that you're going to make me a +present right away of a couple of million dollars."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer bounced slightly in his chair, and his eyes +were very wide open.</p> + +<p>"Two millions, at least," reiterated Robbie, seeing that he was +speechless. "And <i>give</i> it, not lend it. If I asked you to lend it, then +I'd have to go into all kinds of explanations, and I couldn't ever make +you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> see the thing as plainly as I do. All I say is that I've been a +good boy and supported myself for thirteen years without ever striking +my old daddy for a cent; and that now I want it and want it bad. You're +going to die some day, and then you'll leave it all to me. And by that +time it'll be of no use in the world to me; for if this stroke fails, +it'll be too little, and if it succeeds, it won't be anything at all. +And so I want you to give it to me now."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer took a long, long breath; then he sat +forward and drew up to the table. "Robbie," he said, "tell me about this +business. Tell me all."</p> + +<p>"First I want the two millions."</p> + +<p>"Confound you," observed the other. "Don't you know if you want 'em, +you'll get 'em? But go on now, and tell me about the thing, and don't be +a fool."</p> + +<p>And so Robbie told him; and before the end of it the elder gentleman was +rubbing his hands. Afterwards he hobbled out of the room and mailed a +note to his brokers, ordering them to sell his T. & S. holdings at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> the +opening price; also he wrote instructing his bankers that Mr. Robert van +Rensselaer was to draw on his credit for three million dollars.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> + +<p>And in the meantime Mr. Robert van Rensselaer was still pacing up and +down the room, his hands behind his back, and a very pleasant look upon +his mellow countenance. He was at that moment, beyond question, the +happiest and the contentedest man in New York: when all of a sudden +there was a knock on the door, and an attendant entered.</p> + +<p>"A note for you, sir," he said. "It's marked 'Urgent.'"</p> + +<p>And our friend took it; he waited until the man had gone, and then he +opened it, and read this:—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Mr. Robert van Rensselaer</span>:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Dear Sir,—Will you kindly request our friend Mr. Green to call +this evening upon a matter of the utmost possible urgency to him at +the house of his old friend Mrs. Lynch?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXVII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> would not profit to produce the remarks of Robert van Rensselaer upon +reading the note. Possibly the reader had imagined that he was through +with Mrs. Lynch; certainly, at any rate, Mr. Van Rensselaer had imagined +it. But one of the disadvantages about some of the pleasant things of +life is this fact that, when we wish to forget them, they are not always +willing to forget us.</p> + +<p>Who had written the letter and what was the purpose of it was a problem +which our hero pondered for many hours,—hours which he spent either in +pacing up and down the room, or in sitting motionless in a chair, with +hands clenched and eyes fixed upon vacancy.</p> + +<p>When finally he came to a decision, it was evidently a desperate one, +for his brow was black and his eyes shone. He strode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> out of the room, +and a moment or so later was whirling up town in a cab. Before long he +got out and walked, and when the cab had disappeared, he called another, +and entering that drove to the residence of Mary Harrison.</p> + +<p>She was clad in a pink silk gown, and her cheeks were bright with +happiness; she was so altogether wonderful that Robert van Rensselaer's +frown half melted, in spite of himself, as he walked into the room. The +frown did not go so fast, however, that she failed to note it.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" she cried.</p> + +<p>And his frown came back again. "Mary," he said abruptly, "we've got to +part."</p> + +<p>The girl gave a start. "What do you mean?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"I mean just what I say," he answered. "We've got to part." And then +seeing the ghastly pallor that came over her, he drew her to him and +went and sat down on the sofa. "Listen to me, Mary," he said more +gently; "you're a good girl, and I have no fear to tell you the whole +truth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> I know that you have nothing to do with it; but I've gotten into +serious trouble, and there is only one way in the world to save myself."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Jim?" she panted. (Jim was the name she had been +taught to call him.)</p> + +<p>"Mary," said he, "you know that I'm a married man, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "but what—"</p> + +<p>"And that I'm a very rich man? Well, Mrs. Lynch has set to work to +blackmail me."</p> + +<p>The girl shrunk back. "You—what!" she panted.</p> + +<p>"It's true," said he; "I've had to pay her several thousand dollars +already."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" cried the girl. "It can't be so!"</p> + +<p>"It is," replied he. "And it means only one thing,—that we've got to +part forever."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXVIII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary Harrison</span> was reeling like a drunken person; she clutched at a +chair. "Jim," she gasped, "what's to become of me?"</p> + +<p>"You know that I'll always see that you are taken care of," he began.</p> + +<p>"I don't—I don't mean that," she cried. "But, oh—I love you—I can't +do without you! Where in Heaven's name am I to go?" and she flung +herself upon him with a passionate cry. "What am I to do?" she cried, +again and again. "How can I bear it?"</p> + +<p>He strove to calm her. "Listen," he whispered, "don't take it so hard. +Perhaps you may forget me—please don't act like that."</p> + +<p>She was shuddering convulsively. "No, no!" she cried. "It would kill +me—it would!" And then suddenly she leapt to her feet, her eyes +blazing. "I'll kill that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> woman!" she panted. "That's what I'll do!"</p> + +<p>The man drew her to him again, striving to calm her. "No, no, Mary," he +said. "That will only make it worse for me. If you love me, you must +give me up. That is the only way."</p> + +<p>She sat there, white and trembling, moaning to herself. She smoothed the +beautiful hair back from her forehead, and sat staring in front of her +with a dazed expression.</p> + +<p>"Give you up!" she whispered hoarsely. "Give you up!"</p> + +<p>Her companion felt extremely uncomfortable; naturally, a good-hearted +man does not like to make a woman suffer, especially a woman whom he +still loves. He had made up his mind, however, and he meant to carry it +through. He let her lean on his bosom and sob away her grief.</p> + +<p>"And can't I ever see you—even just a little bit?" she moaned.</p> + +<p>"No," he said firmly. "Can you not see, Mary, that there is no place in +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> world where I could keep you that that woman could not track me to? +She has found me out and tracked me here already and she could ruin me, +Mary, drive me to kill myself."</p> + +<p>The other shuddered. "No," she said, "you must not do that. You are +right, and I must make the sacrifice. I will go—I can bear it, I guess. +But oh, Jim, I never really loved any one but you, and I never shall."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget you," said he. "And I will give you all you need, +Mary,—you won't have to worry about money." But the girl scarcely heard +him; she was not thinking about money.</p> + +<p>"And where will you go?" he asked finally.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said she. "I have no home. Where should I go? I suppose +I'll go back where I came from—back to Albany."</p> + +<p>Robert van Rensselaer looked at her; the name Albany brought back a +sudden memory to him. "Well, I declare," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> said, "you did not tell me +you came from Albany." He hesitated a moment and then went on, "Perhaps, +maybe, you know a girl there—But I don't know her name," he added, with +a slight laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then I'm afraid I couldn't tell you," said the other, answering his +smile. "But I knew very few people there. I never knew any one at all +until after my mother went away some years ago."</p> + +<p>"Went away?" asked the other. "I thought you said she died."</p> + +<p>"She must have died, for she was very ill," said the girl. "But I don't +know what became of her—she never came back."</p> + +<p>The man was gazing at her in surprise. "Never came back?" he echoed; and +then he added, "What was your mother's name?"</p> + +<p>"Helen," said she; and he sunk back.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it was an awful thing," went on the girl, her voice trembling. +"Poor, dear mother, how hard she worked to take care of me—and how good +she was! She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> worked herself to death, Jim, that's the truth."</p> + +<p>"What was the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"She had consumption," said the girl, and she saw him start. "What's the +matter?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said he, "that is—it's just a queer coincidence; but what +was your father's name?"</p> + +<p>"I never knew anything about my father," said the girl. "Mother never +told me; but I always suspected that he had not married her—that is—"</p> + +<p>She stopped again, for his manner was strange; then, however, she went +on. "I think he was rich," she said, "and very handsome and good. She +gave me a locket with his picture that she said only he would have the +key to open; she had lost the one he gave her."</p> + +<p>And again she stopped; a ghastly, ashen pallor had come over the face of +Robert van Rensselaer; he leaned close to her, his eyes, his whole face, +looming large with horror. His hand shook like an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> autumn leaf as he +stretched it out to her. "A locket! a locket!" he gasped. "My God! Have +you got it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," cried the girl, in astonishment, and she went to the bureau. She +held it to him as he ran toward her, and he took one glance at it and +staggered back like a man struck to the heart with a knife. He gave one +wild, horrible cry, and clutched his hands to his head, and reeled, and +would have fallen.</p> + +<p>But Mary had sprung to him in terror. "Jim! Jim!" she cried, "what is +it?" She would have caught him, but he shrunk from her touch as from a +wild beast. "No! no!" he screamed, and crouched in the corner with eyes +of dreadful fear. "No! go back!"</p> + +<p>"But, Jim," cried the girl, "what is it? What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>The man had sunk down on his knees, shaking convulsively. "O my God!" he +was gasping, "O my God!"</p> + +<p>Mary sprang to him again, and flung her arms about him. "Jim! Jim!" she +cried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> hysterically, "you must tell me what it is—you must—you must! +Do you know who my father was?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he gasped, writhing, "I know—I know!"</p> + +<p>"And who was he? Who? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>He choked and caught his breath again; but he could not say the words. +As he felt the warmth of her breath and the pressure of her arms about +him, it sent a sudden shudder through his frame, and he flung her away +with a force that sent her reeling across the floor. Then he staggered +to his feet, and with a moan he rushed to the door. He caught one +glimpse of the girl's face, and then fled madly down the steps.</p> + +<p>Outside his cab was waiting. He did not see it, and started away; but +the driver shouted to him, and that brought him to his senses for an +instant. He leaped in.</p> + +<p>"Drive! drive!" he panted.</p> + +<p>"Where to?" asked the man.</p> + +<p>"Anywhere," he screamed. "Drive!"</p> + +<p>And so they whirled away down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> street, van Rensselaer crouching in a +corner, writhing and twisting his hands together.</p> + +<p>There was a thought that came over him every few seconds like a spasm +and made him cry out. He could not bear it very long; he shouted to the +driver to stop, and sprang out, and flung him some money. They were in a +deserted portion of the park, and he turned and fled away into the +darkness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXIX</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> meanwhile Mary was left alone in the ghastly silence of the room, +crouching in the corner like a hunted animal. Her face was ashen, and +her eyes distended; in her quivering hands she clutched the locket.</p> + +<p>She was staring at it and staring at it, in terror, powerless to move. +She wished to open it; but ten minutes must have gone before she rose +and groped her way across the room. She found a chisel and knelt down +upon the floor, and worked in frenzied fear to force it. Her hands were +like a drunkard's, and she cut herself again and again; but then +suddenly the cover flew off, and she pounced upon it.</p> + +<p>One glance she took; and then it fell to the ground from her helpless +grasp, and she staggered backward, with a shuddering moan, against the +wall. She swayed there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> an instant, and then like a flash she turned and +fled across the room. She fumbled for an instant in a drawer of the +desk; then a pistol shot rang out, and she sunk down in a quivering heap +upon the floor, her brains spattered out upon the carpet.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXX</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Wall Street</span> was crowded long before nine o'clock that Thursday morning +with a jostling, shouting mob of men; the gallery of the exchange was +packed; the curb outside was thronged. The London quotations were on +every tongue, and suspense and terror on every face, in the very air. +All knew that the crisis of the combat had come, that one way or other +all would now soon be known.</p> + +<p>Through this crowd Robert van Rensselaer pushed his way. Nobody heeded +him, nobody knew him; his clothing was soiled and muddy, his hat broken +and jammed down upon his head. His face was inflamed, his eyes +blood-shot, and he reeled and groped about him as he walked. He was +drunk.</p> + +<p>He made his way up to his office, staggered in, and sunk into a chair. +"Get me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> some whiskey," he panted to his secretary. "Hurry up!"</p> + +<p>The latter was staring at him in amazement. "Some whiskey!" he shouted +again. "Don't you hear? And shut the door, and don't let any one come in +here. Quick!"</p> + +<p>The man turned and vanished, and van Rensselaer sat in the chair, +staring in front of him with his wild eyes. He had made his way down +town like a man in a dream; one idea had possessed him and driven +him—he muttered it to himself as he walked: "Wall Street! Wall Street! +Ten o'clock!"</p> + +<p>Now he turned suddenly and looked at the ticker, then rose and staggered +to it and leaned there, swaying. He read the early reports, and then +glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to ten.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he panted. "Safe!"</p> + +<p>The secretary returned, and the other seized the bottle he brought and +drank from it. Then he said: "I wrote Jones and Co. yesterday to turn +three millions over to my brokers. See that it's done. And tell the +brokers to sell T. & S., and sell it just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> fast as they can, until +it's every cent gone. And then you come back here, and don't let any one +into this room—not a soul, mind you, not a soul. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I understand," said the man, and went away, lost in wonder. The first +thing he did was to order his own broker to cover some T. & S. of his +own; the secretary had never seen van Rensselaer lose his nerve before.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile van Rensselaer was kneading his hands and muttering, his +eyes fixed upon the creeping clock, and the bottle of liquor on the +table by his side. So the minutes passed by, and the hands passed the +stroke of ten.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was worth going down into that seething crowd to see the floor of the +exchange at that moment. A thousand men were swaying about one spot of +it, and at the instant of ten they broke into a deafening chorus of +yells.</p> + +<p>Transatlantic and Suburban! Transatlantic and Suburban! There was no +other stock thought of that day—there were many of the smaller firms +that had closed their doors, not daring to do business on such a market. +And those who hung over the ticker read nothing but T. & +S.,—157<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>4</sub>—157<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>2</sub>—157<sup>3</sup>⁄<sub>8</sub>,—and so on and on. The fluctuating of T. +& S. was the swaying of two monsters that wrestled in a death embrace; +and van Rensselaer, as he fed his eyes upon it, was himself a free man +once more. Horror haunted him no longer; the excitement drove the fumes +of the liquor from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> his brain, and he was drunk, but with the battle +ecstasy. To him every figure meant a blow, as with a war-axe, at foes of +his; he could fancy that this stroke was his father's, and that his own, +and that Shrike's, and so on. He clenched his hands and muttered +swiftly, as one watching a fight: "Give it to them! Down with them! Down +with them!" And meanwhile the ticker raced on: T. & S. 100—157<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>2</sub>; T. +& S. 500—157<sup>5</sup>⁄<sub>8</sub>; T. & S. 3000—157<sup>3</sup>⁄<sub>8</sub>; T. & S. 10,000—157<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>4</sub>; and +so almost without a pause. Down below in the street shrieked a frantic +mob; it was like looking into a huge well packed full of writhing +bodies.</p> + +<p>So half an hour crept by, and T. & S. still stood the onslaught; van +Rensselaer had gotten help, but evidently so had the syndicate. It was +as if Wall Street had divided into two armies, and vowed no quarter. And +they fought on; the time crept along to 10.45; T. & S. was moving at +last—it was 157<sup>3</sup>⁄<sub>4</sub>, the highest mark of the day! Van Rensselaer took +another great gulp of the liquor and pounded his bell.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>"Listen to me," he said swiftly to the breathless clerk. "The crisis has +come—go outside as fast as you can and tell somebody that the Arkansas +legislature has doubled the freight rates on the T. & S. There'll be a +dozen people doing the same. And then wait five minutes—not a second +more, do you hear? and let it out that I am breaking T. & S., and that +the Governor's with me, and Shrike, and the rest of them."</p> + +<p>The man nodded and disappeared, and van Rensselaer turned once more to +the ticker. There was a moment's pause, and he went to the window and +stared out. Then it began again—T. & S. still holding. Van Rensselaer +knew that the ticker was some minutes behind the market, and he cursed +with impatience. Then he took a pencil and began figuring, as well as he +could, with his trembling hands.</p> + +<p>He had put twenty-seven million dollars into this thing; he had bought +the margins of something like a million and three-quarters shares. That +was more shares than were in existence, actually; but under Wall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +Street's systems of speculating that is a common enough state of +affairs. The fact that impressed him was that every point that T. & S. +went down he stood to win a million and three-quarters of dollars from +the men he had been fighting. And if instead it went up, and stayed up +the time limit, he owed the same sum instead. And then suddenly the +ticker clicked again; it was five minutes of eleven, and T. & S. still +holding,—157<sup>5</sup>⁄<sub>8</sub>—157<sup>3</sup>⁄<sub>8</sub>—157<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>2</sub>. He could bear the thing no more; he +drained the bottle and sprang out of the door. In a few moments more he +was on the street.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> were thousands of men flying this way and that, wild-eyed and +shrieking. Van Rensselaer caught a phrase here and there,—"freight +rates—ruin them—the van Rensselaers—Shrike." And meanwhile he was +hurrying on his way to the board-room. He was a member and was admitted +to the bedlam, to the edge of that writhing, hysterical mass of men who +were crushing each other, breathless in their efforts to reach the +trading-post. Van Rensselaer gazed at the figure of the stock—it was +157! He heard the same exclamations here that he had heard +outside,—"freight rates—the van Rensselaers,"—and all the rest; and +then suddenly he saw near him a huge ox of a man, waving a paper in one +hand and bellowing in a voice that rang above the whole uproar. It was +one of van Rensselaer's own brokers, the best of them; and as van<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +Rensselaer heard him his heart stood still. The moment had come!</p> + +<p>"I offer twenty thousand three-day sellers! T. & S. twenty +thousand!—one fifty-seven! one fifty-seven! Twenty thousand three-day +sellers—one fifty-six and seven-eighths! one fifty-six and +three-quarters!"</p> + +<p>And then again the roar swelled up and drowned him. Men were screaming +from a hundred places: "One thousand at one fifty-six and a half! +Thirty-five hundred at one fifty-six! one fifty-six! one fifty-five and +a half!"</p> + +<p>And van Rensselaer, mad, drunk, and blind with passion, shook his hands +in the air and screamed in frenzy, "Down! down with them! Down! Jump on +them! Pound them! <i>Go on! go on!</i>" He knew now that it was victory; he +could feel it in the air—the panic, the wild, raging, mad tornado that +uproots all things on its way. It had begun—it had begun! There were no +more takers—the enemy was retreating—the rout was on! And so he yelled +and laughed in delirium; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> crowd, crushed tightly about the post, +went mad likewise, with terror or joy, as the case might be. There were +men there who were losing a million with every point—the millions that +van Rensselaer was winning. And they saw defeat and ruin glaring at them +with fiery eyes. So they raged and screamed for some one to buy T. & +S.—to buy it at one fifty-six! to buy it at one fifty-five! to buy it +at one fifty-three! And there was no longer any one to buy it at any +price.</p> + +<p>So it was that the hurricane burst, in all its fury; it was not a panic, +it was chaos and destruction let loose. The stock was "turned" at last; +its supporters beaten; and the public, the great terror-stricken public, +plunged in to overwhelm it. The price went no longer by fractions, no +longer even by points; it went by three points, by five points, by ten +points. Its speed was regulated by nothing but the time it took +electricity to spread the panic through the whole country, for messages +to come in bidding brokers to sell at any price. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> in the meantime, +of course, there stood van Rensselaer's bull-voiced agent hammering it +down by five and by ten points at a bound with his twenty thousand +shares to sell.</p> + +<p>The mad frenzy had gone on until van Rensselaer could no longer bear the +strain, and backed out of the crowd and sat down and laughed and sobbed +like an overwrought child. It was half an hour before he could command +himself again; and then T. & S. was at seventy-six, and finding takers +at last! That meant that the "shorts" were "covering," buying the stock +they needed, and reaping their rewards; and so the awful panic at last +was coming to an end. Van Rensselaer had estimated the true value of T. +& S. at ninety, and so he sought out his brokers and bade them buy all +there was to be had.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXIII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> hero made his way out of the crush, jostling past men who were +crying and men who were cursing, men who were tearing their hair and men +who were shaking their fists at the sky—all of them men who had lost +all they owned in the world and saw ruin and starvation ahead of them. +It was a fearful, a hellish scene; but van Rensselaer did not heed it, +he had emotions enough of his own. They were emotions not easy to +describe—emotions of a man who has made seventy or eighty dollars a +share upon a million or two of shares, and who has been made the +wealthiest man in New York in half an hour. Van Rensselaer the elder +came hobbling into the office a few moments later and flung his arms +about his son. "Robbie!" he gasped, "Robbie!" and could say no more, for +he was choking. Shrike and the other three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> were close behind him, and +the five gentlemen went beside themselves with rejoicing—now singing, +now laughing, now dancing about, now falling on each other's necks.</p> + +<p>I have said five; for van Rensselaer the younger, strange to say, joined +them but halfway. Now he would sit back in the chair and laugh +nervously, while his father told over the unthinkable sums he had +gained, and his heart throbbed with exultation; but then a few seconds +later he would be sitting staring in front of him, his quivering hands +wandering aimlessly about. "Poor Robbie!" said the fond father; "it's +easy to see he's done up. Here, have a drop." He was surprised to see +Robbie gulp down the contents of a flask at one draught.</p> + +<p>For now the strain was over, the dreadful pressure gone; and Robert van +Rensselaer's nervousness was suddenly coming back. While the others were +still at the stage where it was possible for them to embrace each other, +he arose and excused himself and went out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>He went down to the street, where men were still crying aloud in their +grief, and staggered away. He went on aimlessly, bending his brows and +clenching his hands, and wrestling in his soul to keep before him the +fact that he was the richest man in New York. But he could not do it; +and then suddenly, with a wild, desperate resolve, he sprang into a cab +and shouted an address.</p> + +<p>He was at the river-side in a few minutes, and there lay the <i>Comet</i>. It +was a wild day on the river; a gale had been raging, and the waves were +high even in the bay; but Robert van Rensselaer thought nothing of that +as he rushed on board and called for the captain. "Steam up!" he +shouted. "Put off the instant you are able."</p> + +<p>The captain stared at him in consternation. "To go where?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"To put to sea," answered the other.</p> + +<p>"But the storm! Surely—"</p> + +<p>"Curse the storm!" the man yelled. "Put to sea, I tell you, and get me +out of this town. Do you understand? Why don't you start?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>"But half the crew is away, Mr. van Rensselaer; and provisions—"</p> + +<p>"I told you to get ready!" yelled Robbie. "Get ready! Do as I tell you, +and don't argue with me. Get on board what you can, only leave this +place the first instant you have steam up. Now go on!"</p> + +<p>And he turned and staggered into the cabin. While men rushed about on +the deck, and the fires burned bright below, he sat with another bottle +of liquor before him; and when at last the <i>Comet</i> slipped away from her +dock, he was sunk against the table in a drunken stupor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXIV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> he lay there, knowing nothing, while the engines throbbed and the +vessel ploughed its way down the stormy bay. It was only when she +plunged out into the open sea, and the giant waves smote upon her, that +at least he gazed up again, brought to himself by a lurch of the vessel +that flung him to the floor.</p> + +<p>He staggered to his feet, clinging to the table. Everything was reeling +about him; the yacht stood nearly upon her beam-ends as she climbed on +the waves. The din of the sea was deafening, indescribable; for a moment +the man knew not where he was.</p> + +<p>Then the captain entered. "We are off, sir," he said grimly; "where do +you wish to go?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," answered the other. "Go where you please—only let me +alone."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>"All right, sir," said the captain. "We shall keep on to the northeast, +it is safest to face the storm. We shall be off the banks by to-morrow +morning."</p> + +<p>With those words he turned and left, shaking his head. He had heard that +the owner of the <i>Comet</i> had made millions in Wall Street that day; but +this looked as if he must have lost them.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile van Rensselaer crouched by the table, alone with his horror.</p> + +<p>The afternoon sped on, the sun sank, and darkness came, and with it a +new fury to the storm. All the while he was either crouching in a chair +and shuddering, or rolling about the cabin floor in his stupor. All +through the night he knew nothing of what was going on; nothing of the +seething billows that swept past them, tossing the yacht high up on +their mountain crests, or crashing down upon her bow with deadly shock; +nothing of the captain's vigil and fear, of the toil of the four men at +the wheel who fought to hold the yacht's prow against the storm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>He heeded nothing at all until there came all at once a shock, and a +grinding noise of something that tore through the vessel's heart. Then +he gazed up stupidly, feeling that her motion had changed, that she was +rolling from side to side, that the blows of the waves were fiercer.</p> + +<p>Then the cabin door burst suddenly open, and the captain rushed in. +"We've broke our shaft!" he panted. "The engines are wrecked!"</p> + +<p>Van Rensselaer gazed at him out of his dull eyes. "Hey?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"We've broke our shaft!" roared the other, above the noise of the storm.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of that?" demanded van Rensselaer. "What do I care?"</p> + +<p>"We are helpless!" yelled the captain, "Helpless! Don't you +understand?—we are adrift—we will go on the rocks!"</p> + +<p>Van Rensselaer stood clinging to the table, staring; he was repeating +the words, half to himself, as if the meaning of them were not yet clear +in his clouded brain. "Helpless! adrift! go on the rocks!" And then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +suddenly seeing the wild look in the captain's eyes, he sprang at him, +screaming: "We don't want to go on the rocks! No; you are mad! Do +something! Stop her!"</p> + +<p>The other saw that he was drunk; but fear was sobering van Rensselaer +fast, as excitement had done once before. "Where are we?" he cried. +"Where are we?"</p> + +<p>An awful blow shook the vessel; she reeled and staggered, and the two +waited in fright; then, as she righted herself, the captain answered: +"We are off the coast of Maine—about fifty miles off. But we are +drifting; and we can do nothing at all. If help does not come, we are +lost."</p> + +<p>"Help must come!" screamed van Rensselaer. He understood clearly at +last. "You are crazy! It cannot be!"</p> + +<p>And he started toward the companionway, the captain at his side. As he +tried to open the door, however, he stooped, appalled at the wildness of +the night. It was black outside; but the wind was a fierce living thing +that smote him in the face, and the hissing spray stung like hail. Van +Rensselaer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> stared out only long enough to see a rocket start out from +the deck and cleave its way into the sky, and then he reeled back into +the cabin.</p> + +<p>The man was now aware of his situation, and every emotion was gone but +terror. He staggered about, flung this way and that with the tossing of +the yacht, raising his clenched hands in the air, and screaming in +frantic fear: "My God, my God! It can't be! It's a lie! Save us! What +shall we do?"—and so on, until the captain turned in sheer disgust and +went back to the deck and his duty.</p> + +<p>But that van Rensselaer did not even know—he raced on back and forth, +crazed and raving. All was dead in him now but the wild beast—if, +indeed, there had ever been anything else alive in him. He wanted to +live—he wanted to get on the land—he was worth a hundred million +dollars—he—<i>he!</i> and was he to be drowned like a prisoned rat in a +cage? His cries rang above all the storm; he called on God—he wept—he +prayed—he cursed; and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> the while the mad storm roared on, howling +outside like some savage beast that was fighting to get at him, and +driving the little vessel on before it to its doom. There was no one to +hear him, the prisoned rat in the cage, though he foamed at the mouth in +his frenzy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXV</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> an hour or two went by; up above the dawn broke and the daylight +came. Van Rensselaer was still howling, though so weak that he could +scarcely stagger, when the cabin door was flung wide again, and the +captain, white, and with set lips, came in. "It is all over, sir," he +said. "We are lost."</p> + +<p>The owner's eyes were glaring like a maniac's. "What do you mean?" he +shrieked.</p> + +<p>"Come up and see," was the reply, and van Rensselaer rushed blindly to +the deck. Clinging to the companionway door, he stared about him, dazed +at first, and realizing nothing but his own horror. A mad chaos was +about him; the yacht was like a bubble tossed about by the gigantic +seas; the waves were like mountains around her. Down into a great valley +she sank, down—down—plunging,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> and van Rensselaer gasped in fear; and +then a great rolling mountain came sweeping down over her, and up she +rose—higher and higher—to the very crest, and sped along with the +speed of an express train, the mad waters seething and hissing and +roaring and thundering around her.</p> + +<p>From the mountain top van Rensselaer gazed about him—and his cries died +in his throat. Not half a mile away, right upon them, as it looked, was +the shore—the wild, lonely, horrible shore—the shore with the jagged +rocks and the merciless iron cliffs—and destruction, imminent and +inevitable!</p> + +<p>The sight took the last atom of the soul out of van Rensselaer. He +whimpered, he wailed, he would have fallen down upon the deck and +grovelled but that instinct made him cling to his support. To stand +there alive and safe, and be swept thus to death, foot by foot! To be +helpless in the grip of these grim, relentless forces; it was too much, +it was too much! It made him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> hysterical, it turned him into a beast, +into a fool. He screamed, he laughed, he sobbed; but the words he spoke +no longer had meaning.</p> + +<p>His eyes were fixed upon the black rocks before them; as they came +nearer he heard the sounds made by the mountains of water hurled against +them,—a sound far-reaching, all-pervading, elemental, cosmic. Only once +he turned elsewhere, to see the crew flinging out their anchors in a +last vain hope; to see the yacht whirl round as they caught, to see the +waves lift her up, and sweep her on, and snap the cables like so many +threads.</p> + +<p>Then again he perceived that the crew was trying to get out one of the +boats; and he bounded to the spot, and waited. He did not help, he clung +to the davits. But the instant the boat touched the water, he struck one +of the men out of the way and leaped in. Several followed, and there was +a cry, "Enough!" and they pushed off, and were whirled away from the +yacht. An instant later a breaking wave struck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> them a glancing blow, +and over they went.</p> + +<p>Van Rensselaer came to the surface, strangling and gasping, still in his +frenzy of fear. The boat was near, and he struck out and caught it. +There was another man close to him, a sailor, stretching out his hands +to him; as the waves tossed them about he touched van Rensselaer's foot +and gripped it. The other kicked at him madly, in frantic rage—kicked +him off, and kicked him down. So he clung alone to the storm-tossed +life-boat.</p> + +<p>It was a fearful struggle: the waves choked him, stunned him, half +drowned him; but he hung like mad, and fought to keep his head above the +water, while the sea was sweeping him nearer and nearer to the iron +shore. He was staring at it wildly, a monstrous enemy with open mouth, +and huge jagged teeth that gaped at him. They were looming high above +him now; the roaring of the breakers swelled in his ears, in his soul, +dazing him, appalling him, poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> shivering mite of life that he was. And +then suddenly he felt himself sinking—downward, deep down in a valley; +he felt himself tossed and rocked, swaying as if in a tree-top; and then +upwards he started—higher—higher—right to the boiling crest, the +hovering, poising crest. He screamed, he writhed, it was like some +hideous nightmare, terrifying to the soul. But the wave seized him—he +felt it seize him; and it started—slowly—then faster, then faster +yet—with the speed of a cannon ball—and hurled him, smote him, upon +the jagged rocks. It battered his face, it broke his limbs, it crushed +his skull like an egg-shell; and so the last spark of his hungry life +went out of him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXVI</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I share</span> in Ruskin's distrust of the "pathetic fallacy"; and I have no +intention of implying that the waves had any sentiments whatever in +connection with Robert van Rensselaer. It was purely an accident that +they kept him in their grasp, and beat him against the cliff all day; +that one by one they rushed up to seize him, and spent all their force +in hurling him, in pounding him, until he had lost all semblance of a +man; it was not until night, and when the wind died out, that they +washed him on down the shore, and sought out a little cove and bore him +to the sandy edge.</p> + +<p>It was a still spot; there was no voice but the waves' voice, and all +night long they called to each other on the beach, and tossed the body +back and forth in the silver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> moonlight. When the morning broke it was +swollen and purple, and it lay half hidden in the sand.</p> + +<p>The sun came up and still it was there, unheeded save by innumerable +small creatures that walked awkwardly, bearing long weapons in the air. +One of them soon climbed upon the face and fastened its claws in the +lips; and others came quickly, for it was choice prey. Was it not true +that for twoscore years and more the earth had been searched for things +rare and precious enough to help make up the body of Robert van +Rensselaer? Think of the hogs-heads of rare wines that had been poured +into it! Of the boxes of priceless cigars that had flavored it! Of the +terrapin, and the venison, and the ducks—the strangely spiced +sauces—the infinity of sweetmeats—the pink satin menus, full of +elegant French names! Had not thousands of men labored daily to fetch +and prepare these things, to serve them upon crystal and silver before +that precious body—and to clothe it and to house it, and to smooth all +its paths<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> through the world? And now it lay at last upon the sand, to +be devoured by a swarm of hungry crabs!</p> + +<p>So another day came, and in the afternoon two fishing boats rowed by, +and one of the fishermen espied the body. He landed with his companion, +shouting to the other boat that there must have been a wreck, and to go +on up the shore and look for it.</p> + +<p>Then he went toward the body, or what there was of it. The clothing was +still intact, and so he searched in the pockets, pulling out first of +all a marvellous gold watch that had cost eighteen hundred dollars in +Geneva. That interested him, of course, and he went on in haste, and +found a wallet, with plenty of money, and with some cards in it. They +were blurred, but one could still make out the name on them, and the +fisherman gave a cry, "Good God! this says Robert van Rensselaer!"</p> + +<p>"Who's Robert van Rensselaer?" demanded the other, wonderingly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>"You never heard of him? Why, he's the richest man in the country."</p> + +<p>The speaker was gazing down, awe-stricken, at the body; but his +companion merely moved away a little. "He smells like the devil, +anyhow," said he.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">XXXVII</span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was not long before the other boat came back to tell of the wreck of +the <i>Comet</i>, and of the finding of several more bodies. And so in a few +hours the news reached New York, causing another panic in Wall Street, +and dreadful grief in the bereaved family of the unfortunate +millionnaire. Before night the newspapers reported that the remains +(their own phrase!) of Robert van Rensselaer were on their way to the +city by special train.</p> + +<p>They were received in state, of course; and two days later there was a +most solemn and impressive funeral, many columns of description of which +I might quote, were it not that this story is too long already. Suffice +it to say that the ceremony was held in the great Fifth Avenue Church, +and that it was attended by all the wealth and fashion of our +metropolis; and that the Reverend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> Doctor Lettuce Spray preached the +most eloquent of all his sermons upon the text, "Blessed are the +millionnaires, for they have inherited the earth, and you can't get it +away from them."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Captain of Industry, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY *** + +***** This file should be named 39516-h.htm or 39516-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/1/39516/ + +Produced by David E. 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