“The captain talked and talked.”“The captain talked and talked.”
“So I did look in the directory and got the number on Fifth Avenue where you used to be. I asked a policeman the nighest way to get there, and he said take a bus. Last time I was in New York I rode in one of those Fifth Avenue omnibuses, and I never got such a jouncin’ in my life. The pavement then was round cobble stones, like some of the roads in Nantucket. I remember I tried to ask a feller that set next to me somethin’ or other, and I swan to man I couldn’t get nothin’ out of my mouth but rattles. ‘Metropolitan Museum,’ sounded like puttin’ in a ton of coal. I thought I was comin’ apart, or my works was out of order, or somethin’, but when the feller tried to answer he rattled just as bad, so I realized ’twas the reg’lar disease and felt some better. I never shall forget a fleshy woman—somethin’ like that Mrs. Dunn friend of yours, Caroline—that set opposite me. It give me the crawls to look at her, her chins shook around so. Ho! ho! she had no less’n three of ’em, and they all shook different ways. Ho! ho! ho! If I’d been in the habit of wearin’ false hair or teeth or anything that wa’n’t growed to or buttoned on me I’d never have risked a trip in one of those omnibuses.
“So when the police officer prescribed one for me this v’yage, I was some dubious. I’m older’n I was ten year ago, and I wa’n’t sure that I’d hold together. I cal’lated walkin’ was better for my health. So I found Fifth Avenue and started to walk. And the farther I walked the heavier that blessed satchel of mine got. It weighed maybe ten or twelve pounds at the corner of 42nd Street, but when I got as far as the open square where the gilt woman is hurryin’ to keep from bein’ run over by Gen’ral Sherman on horseback—that statue, you know—I wouldn’t have let that blessed bag go for less’ntwo ton, if I was sellin’ it by weight. So I leaned up against an electric light pole to rest and sort of get my bearin’s. Then I noticed what I’d ought to have seen afore, that the street wa’n’t paved with cobbles, as it used to be, but was smooth as a stretch of state road down home. So I figgered that a bus was a safe risk, after all. I waited ten minutes or more for one to come, and finally I asked a woman who was in tow of an astrakhan-trimmed dog at the end of a chain, if the omnibuses had stopped runnin’. When I fust see the dog leadin’ her I thought she was blind, but I guess she was deef and dumb instead. Anyhow, all she said was ‘Ugh!’ not very enthusiastic, at that, and went along. Ho! ho! So then I asked a man, and he pointed to a bus right in front of me. You see, I was lookin’ for the horses, same as they used to be, and this was an automobile.
“I blushed, I guess, just to show that there was some red underneath the green, and climbed aboard the omnibus. I rode along for a spell, admirin’ as much of the scenery as I could see between the women’s hats, then I told the skipper of the thing that I wanted to make port at 82nd Street. He said ‘Ugh,’ apparently suff’rin’ from the same complaint the dog woman had, and we went on and on. At last I got kind of anxious and asked him again.
“‘Eighty-second!’ says he, ugly. ‘This is Ninety-first.’
“‘Good land!’ says I. ‘I wanted Eighty-second.’
“‘Why didn’t you say so?’ says he, lookin’ as if I’d stole his mother’s spoons.
“‘I did,’ says I.
“‘Youdid?’ he snarls. ‘You did not! If you did, wouldn’t I have heard you?’
“Well, any answer I’d be likely to make to that would have meant more argument, and the bus was sailin’ right along at the time, so I piled out and did some more walkin’, the other way. At last I reached your old number, Stevie, and—Hey? Did you speak?”
“Don’t call me ‘Stevie,’” growled his nephew, rebelliously.
“Beg your pardon. I keep forgettin’ that you’re almost grown up. Well, as I was sayin’, I got to the house where you used to live, and ’twas shut tight. Nobody there. Ho! ho! I felt a good deal like old Beriah Doane must have on his last ‘vacation.’ You see, Beriah is one of our South Denboro notorieties; he’s famous in his way. He works and loafs by spells until cranberry pickin’ time in the fall; then he picks steady and earns thirty or forty dollars all at once. Soon’s he’s paid off, he starts for Boston on a ‘vacation,’ an alcoholic one. Well, last fall his married sister was visitin’ him, and she, bein’ strong for good Templarism, was determined he shouldn’t vacate in his regular way. So she telegraphed her husband’s brother in Brockton to meet Beriah there, go with him to Boston, and see that he behaved himself and stayed sober. Beriah heard of it, and when his train gets as far as Tremont what does he do but get off quiet and change cars for New Bedford. He hadn’t been there for nine years, but he had pleasant memories of his last visit. And when he does get to New Bedford, chucklin’ over the way he’s befooled his sister and her folks, I’m blessed if he didn’t find that the town had gone no-license, and every saloon was shut up! Ho! ho! ho! Well, I felt about the way he did, I guess, when I stood on the steps of your Fifth Avenue house and realized you’d gone away. I wouldn’t have had Abbie see me there for somethin’. Ho! ho!”
He leaned back in his chair and laughed aloud. Caroline smiled faintly. Stephen threw down his napkin and sprang to his feet.
“Sis,” he cried, “I’m going to my room. By gad! I can’t—”
Catching a warning glance from his sister, he did not finish his sentence, but stood sulkily beside his chair. Captain Elisha looked at him, then at the girl, and stopped laughing. He folded his napkin with care, and rose.
“That’s about all of it,” he said, shortly. “I asked around at two or three of the neighbors’ houses, and the last one I asked knew where you’d moved and told me how to get here.”
When the trio were again in the library, the captain spoke once more.
“I’m ’fraid I’ve talked too much,” he said, gravely. “I didn’t realize how I was runnin’ on. Thought I was home, I guess, with the fellers of my own age down at the postoffice, instead of bein’ an old countryman, tirin’ out you two young city folks with my yarns. I beg your pardon. Now you mustn’t mind me. I see you’re expectin’ company or goin’ callin’ somewheres, so I’ll just go to my bedroom and write Abbie a line. She’ll be kind of anxious to know if I got here safe and sound and found you. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be comf’table and busy.”
He turned to go. Caroline looked at him in surprise.
“We are not expecting callers,” she said. “And certainly we are not going out to-night. Why should you think such a thing?”
It was her uncle’s turn to show surprise.
“Why,” he said, with a glance at Stephen, “I see that you’re all dressed up, and so I thought, naturally—”
He paused.
Young Warren grunted contemptuously.
“We dressed for dinner, that is all,” said Caroline.
“You—you mean you put these clothes on every night?”
“Certainly.”
Captain Elisha was plainly very much astonished.
“Well,” he observed, slowly. “I—guess I’ve made another mistake. Hum! Good night.”
“Good night,” said Stephen, quickly. Caroline, however, seemed embarrassed.
“Captain Warren,” she said, “I thought possibly you might wish to talk business with my brother and me. We—we understand that you have come on business connected with father’s will. It seems to me that the sooner we—we—”
“Get it over the better, hey? Well, maybe you’re right. It’s an odd business for an old salt like me to be mixed up in, that’s a fact. If it hadn’t been so odd, if I hadn’t thought there must be some reason, some partic’lar reason, I—well, I guess I’d have stayed to home where I belong. You mustn’t think,” he added, seriously, “that I don’t realize I’m as out of place amongst you and your rich friends as a live fish in a barrel of sawdust. That’s all right; you needn’t trouble to say no. But you must understand that, realizin’ it, I’m not exactly imposin’ myself on you for pleasure or—well, from choice. I’m so built that I can’t shirk when my conscience tells me I shouldn’t, that’s all. I’m kind of tired to-night, and I guess you are. To-morrow mornin’, if it’s agreeable to all hands, we will have a little business talk. I’ll have to see Lawyer Graves pretty soon, and have a gen’ral look at your pa’s affairs. Then, if everything is all right and I feel my duty’s done, I’llprobably go back to the Cape and leave you to him, or somebody else able to look out for you. Until then I’m afraid,” with a smile which had a trace of bitterness in it; “I’m afraid you’ll have to do the best you can with me. I’ll try to be no more of a nuisance than I can help. Good night.”
When the two young people were left alone, Caroline turned to her brother.
“Steve,” she said, “I’m afraid you were a little rude. I’m afraid you hurt his feelings.”
The boy stared at her in wonder. “Hurt his feelings!” he exclaimed. “Hisfeelings! Well, by Jove! Caro, you’re a wonder! Did you expect me to throw my arms around his neck? If he had had any feelings at all, if he was the slightest part of a gentleman, do you suppose he would come here and disgrace us as he is doing? Who invited him? Did we? I guess not!”
“But he is father’s brother, and father asked him to come.”
“No, he didn’t. He asked him—heaven knows why—to look out for our money affairs. That’s bad enough; but he didn’t ask him tolivewith us. He sha’n’t! by gad, he sha’n’t!Youmay be as sweet to him as you like, but I’ll make it my business to give him the cold shoulder every chance I get. I’ll freeze him out, that’s what I’ll do—freeze him out. Why, Caro! be sensible. Think what his staying here means. Can we take him about with us? Can our friends meethimas—as our uncle? He’s got to be made to go. Hasn’t he now? Hasn’t he?”
The girl was silent for a moment. Then she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, yes!” she sobbed. “Oh, yes, he must! hemust!Whydid father do it?”
The Warren breakfast hour was nine o’clock. At a quarter to nine Caroline, entering the library, found Stephen seated by the fire reading the morning paper.
“Good morning,” she said. Then, looking about the room, asked, “Has—hashebeen here?”
Her brother shook his head. “You mean Uncle ’Lish?” he asked, cheerfully. “No, he hasn’t. At least, I haven’t seen him and I haven’t made any inquiries. I shall manage to survive if he never appears. Let sleeping relatives lie, that’s my motto.”
He laughed at his own joke and turned the page of the paper. The butler entered.
“Breakfast is served, Miss Caroline,” he announced.
“Has Captain Warren come from his room?” asked the young lady.
“No, Miss Caroline. That is, I haven’t seen him.”
Stephen tossed the paper on the floor and rose.
“I wonder—” he began. Then, with a broad grin, “A sudden thought strikes me, Sis. He has undoubtedly blown out the gas.”
“Steve! How can you!”
“Perfectly simple. Absolutely reasonable. Just what might have been expected. ‘He has gone, but we shall miss him.’ Come on, Caro; I’m hungry. Let the old hayseed sleep. You and I can have a meal in peace. Heavens! you don’t care for another experience like last night’s, do you?”
“Edwards,” said Caroline, “you may knock at Captain Warren’s door and tell him breakfast is served.”
“Yes,” commanded Stephen, “and tell him not to hurry on our account. Come, Caro, come! You’re not pining for his society. Well, wait then!Iwon’t!”
He marched angrily out of the room. His sister hesitated, her wish to follow complicated by a feeling of duty to a guest, no matter how unwelcome. The butler reappeared, looking puzzled.
“He’s not there, miss?” he said.
“Not there? Not in his room?”
“No, Miss Caroline. I knocked, and he didn’t answer, so I looked in and he wasn’t there. His bed’s been slept in, but he’s gone.”
“Gone? And you haven’t seen him?”
“No, miss. I’ve been up and about since half past seven, and I can’t understand where he could have got to.”
The door of the hall opened and shut. Edwards darted from the library. A moment afterwards Captain Elisha strolled in. He was wearing his overcoat, and his hat was in his hand.
“Good mornin’, Caroline,” he hailed, in his big voice. “Surprised to see me, are you? Ho! ho! So was the Commodore. He couldn’t understand how I got in without ringin’. Well, you see, I’m used to turnin’ out pretty early, and when it got to be most seven o’clock, I couldn’t lay to bed any longer, so I got up, dressed, and went for a walk. I fixed the door latch so’s I could come in quiet. You haven’t waited breakfast for me, I hope.”
“No; it is ready now, however.”
“Ready now,” the captain looked at his watch.“Yes, I should think so. It’s way into the forenoon. Youhavewaited for me, haven’t you? I’m awfully sorry.”
“No, we have not waited. Our breakfast hour is nine. Pardon me for neglecting to tell you that last evening.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Now you trot right out and eat. I’ve had mine.”
“Had your breakfast?”
“Yes, indeed. When I’m home, Abbie and I usually eat about seven, so I get sort of sharp-set if I wait after that. I cal’lated you city folks was late sleepers, and I wouldn’t want to make any trouble, so I found a little eatin’ house down below here a ways and had a cup of coffee and some bread and butter and mush. Then I went cruisin’ round in Central Park a spell. ThisisCentral Park over across here, ain’t it?”
“Yes.” The girl was too astonished to say more.
“I thought ’twas. I’d been through part of it afore, but ’twas years ago, and it’s such a big place and the paths run so criss-cross I got sort of mixed up, and it took me longer to get out than it did to get in. I had the gen’ral points of the compass, and I guess I could have made a pretty average straight run for home, but every time I wanted to cut across lots there was a policeman lookin’ at me, so I had to stick to the channel. That’s what made me so late. Now do go and eat your breakfast. I won’t feel easy till I see you start.”
Caroline departed, and the captain, after a visit to his own room, where he left his coat and hat, returned to the library, picked up the paper which his nephew had dropped, and began reading.
After breakfast came the “business talk.” It was a brief one. Captain Elisha soon discovered that hisbrother’s children knew very little concerning their father’s affairs. They had always plenty of money, had been indulged in practically every wish, and had never had to think or plan for themselves. As to the size of the estate, they knew nothing more than Mr. Graves had told them, which was that, instead of the several millions which rumor had credited A. Rodgers Warren with possessing, five hundred thousand dollars would probably be the extent of their inheritance, and that, therefore, they must live economically. As a first step in that direction, they had given up their former home and moved to the apartment.
“Yes, yes,” mused the captain, “I see. Mr. Graves didn’t know about your movin’, then? You did it on your own hook, so to speak?”
Stephen answered promptly.
“Of course we did,” he declared. “Why not?”
“No reason in the world. A good sensible thing to do, I should say. Didn’t anybody advise you where to go?”
“Why should we need advice?” Again it was Stephen who replied. “We aren’t kids. We’re old enough to decide some things for ourselves, I should think.”
“Yes. Sartin. That’s right. But I didn’t know but p’raps some of your friends might have helped along. This Mrs. Dunn now, she kind of hinted to me that she’d—well, done what she could to make you comf’table.”
“She has,” avowed Caroline, warmly. “Mrs. Dunn and Malcolm have proved their friendship in a thousand ways. We never can repay them, Stephen and I, never!”
“No. There’s some things you can’t ever pay, Iknow that. Mrs. Dunn found this nice place for you, did she?”
“Why, yes. She and I found it together.”
“So? That was lucky, wa’n’t it? Advertised in the newspaper, was it; or was there a ‘To Let’ placard up in the window?”
“No, certainly not. Mrs. Dunn knew that we had decided to move, and she has a cousin who is interested in New York property. She asked him, and he mentioned this apartment.”
“One of his own, was it?”
“I believe so. Why are you so particular? Don’t you like it?”
Her tone was sharp. Stephen, who resented his uncle’s questions as impertinent intrusions upon the family affairs, added one of his own.
“Isn’t it as good as those in—what do you call it—South Denboro?” he asked, maliciously.
Captain Elisha laughed heartily.
“Pretty nigh as good,” he said. “I didn’t notice any better on the way to the depot as I drove up. And I doubt if there’s many new ones built since I left. It’s a mighty fine lot of rooms, I think. What’s the rent? You’ll excuse my askin’, things bein’ as they are.”
“Twenty-two hundred a year,” answered his niece, coldly.
The captain looked at her, whistled, broke off the whistle in the middle, and did a little mental arithmetic.
“Twenty-two hundred a year!” he repeated. “That’s one hundred and eighty odd a month. Say, that cousin of Mrs. Dunn’s must want to get his investment back. You mean for just these ten rooms?”
Stephen laughed scornfully.
“Our guardian has been counting, Caro,” he remarked.
“Yes. Yes, I counted this mornin’ when I got up. I was interested, naturally.”
“Sure! Naturally, of course,” sneered the boy. “Did you think the twenty-two hundred was the rent of the entire building?”
“Well, I didn’t know. I—”
“The rent,” interrupted Caroline, with dignity, “was twenty-four hundred, but, thanks to Mrs. Dunn, who explained to her cousin that we were friends of hers, it was reduced.”
“We being in reduced circumstances,” observed her brother in supreme disgust. “Pity the poor orphans! By gad!”
“That was real nice of Mrs. Dunn,” declared Captain Elisha, heartily. “She’s pretty well-off herself, I s’pose—hey, Caroline?”
“I presume so.”
“Yes, yes. About how much is she wuth, think?”
“I don’t know. I never inquired.”
“No. Well, down our way,” with a chuckle, “we don’t have to inquire. Ask anybody you meet what his next door neighbor’s wuth, and he’ll tell you within a hundred, and how he got it, and how much he owes, and how he gets along with his wife. Ho! ho! Speakin’ of wives, is this Mr. Dunn married?”
He looked at his niece as he asked the question. There was no reason why Caroline should blush; she knew it, and hated herself for doing it.
“No,” she answered, resentfully, “he is not.”
“Um-hm. What’s his business?”
“He is connected with a produce exchange house, I believe.”
“One of the firm?”
“I don’t know. In New York we are not as wellposted, or as curious, concerning our friends’ private affairs as your townspeople seem to be.”
“I guess that’s so. I imagine New Yorkers are too busy gettin’ it themselves to bother whether their neighbors have got it or not. Well,” he went on, rising, “I guess I’ve kept you young folks from your work or—or play, or whatever you was going to do, long enough for this once. I think I’ll go out for a spell. I’ve got an errand or two I want to do. What time do you have dinner?”
“We lunch at half past one,” answered Caroline.
“We dine at seven.”
“Oh, yes, yes! I keep forgettin’ that supper’s dinner. Well, I presume likely I’ll be back for luncheon. If I ain’t, don’t wait for me. I’ll be home afore supper—there I go again!—afore dinner, anyhow. Good-by.”
Five minutes later he was at the street corner, inquiring of a policeman “the handiest way to get to Pine Street.” Following the directions given, he boarded a train at the nearest subway station, emerged at Wall Street, inquired once more, located the street he was looking for, and, consulting a card which he took from a big stained leather pocket-book, walked on, peering at the numbers of the buildings he passed.
The offices of Sylvester, Kuhn, and Graves, were on the sixteenth floor of a new and gorgeously appointed sky-scraper. When Captain Elisha entered the firm’s reception room, he was accosted by a wide-awake and extremely self-possessed office boy.
“Who’d you want to see?” asked the boy, briskly.
The captain removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Hold on a jiffy, Sonny,” he panted. “Just give mea minute to sort of get myself together, as you might say. I rode up in one of those express elevators of yours, and I kind of feel as if my boots had got tangled up with my necktie. When that elevator feller cast off from the cellar, I begun to shut up like a spyglass. Whew! Say, Son, is Mr. Graves in?”
“No,” replied the boy, grinning.
“Hum! Still in the sick bay, is he—hey?”
“He’s to home. Got a cold.”
“Yup. It’s too bad. Mr.—er—Sylvester, is he in?”
“Naw, he ain’t. And Mr. Kuhn’s busy. Won’t one of the clerks do? What do you want to see the firm about?”
“Well, Son, I had reasons of my own. However, I guess I won’t disturb Mr. Kuhn, if he’s busy’s you say. Here! you tell him, or Mr. Sylvester when he comes, that Cap’n Warren, Cap’n Elisha Warren of South Denboro—better write it down—called and will be back about half past twelve or thereabouts. Got it, have you? Hum! is that Elisha? You don’t tell me! I’ve been spellin’ it for sixty years, more or less, and never realized it had such possibilities. Lend me your pencil. There! you give Mr. Sylvester that and tell him I’ll see him later. So long, Son.”
He departed, smiling. The indignant office boy threw the card on the table.
Captain Elisha strolled down Pine Street, looking about him with interest. It had been years since he visited this locality, and the changes were many. Soon, however, he began to recognize familiar landmarks. He was approaching the water front, and there were fewer new buildings. When he reached South Street he was thoroughly at home.
The docks were crowded. The river was alive with small craft of all kinds. Steamers and schooners were plenty, but the captain missed the old square-riggers, the clipper ships and barks, such as he had sailed in as cabin boy, as foremast hand, and, later, commanded on many seas.
At length, however, he saw four masts towering above the roof of a freight house. They were not schooner rigged, those masts. The yards were set square across, and along them were furled royals and upper topsails. Here, at last, was a craft worth looking at. Captain Elisha crossed the street, hurried past the covered freight house, and saw a magnificent great ship lying beside a broad open wharf. Down the wharf he walked, joyfully, as one who greets an old friend.
The wharf was practically deserted. An ancient watchman was dozing in a sort of sentry box, but he did not wake. There was a pile of foreign-looking crates and boxes at the further end of the pier, evidently the last bit of cargo waiting to be carted away. The captain inspected the pile, recognized the goods as Chinese and Japanese, then read the name on the big ship’s stern. She was theEmpress of the Ocean, and her home port was Liverpool.
Captain Elisha, as a free-born Yankee skipper, had an inherited and cherished contempt for British “lime-juicers,” but he could not help admiring this one. To begin with, her size and tonnage were enormous. Also, she was four-masted, instead of the usual three, and her hull and lower spars were of steel instead of wood. A steel sailing vessel was something of a novelty to the captain, and he was seized with a desire to go aboard and inspect.
The ladder from ship to wharf was down, of course,and getting on board was an easy matter. When he reached the deck and looked about him, the great size of the ship was still more apparent. The bulwarks were as high as a short man’s head. She was decked over aft, and, as the captain said afterwards, “her cabins had nigh as many stories as a house.” From the roof of the “first story,” level with the bulwarks, extended a series of bridges, which could be hoisted or lowered, and by means of which her officers could walk from stern to bow without descending to the deck. There was a good-sized engine house forward, beyond the galley and forecastle. Evidently the work of hoisting anchors and canvas was done by steam.
The captain strolled about, looking her over. The number of improvements since his seagoing days was astonishing. He was standing by the wheel, near the companion way, wishing that he might inspect the officers’ quarters, but not liking to do so without an invitation, when two men emerged from the cabin.
One of the pair was evidently the Japanese steward of the ship. The other was a tall, clean-cut young fellow, whose general appearance and lack of sunburn showed quite plainly that he was not a seafaring man by profession. The steward caught sight of Captain Elisha, and, walking over, accosted him.
“Want to see skipper, sir?” he asked, in broken English. “He ashore.”
“No, Doctor,” replied the captain, cheerfully. “I don’t want to see him. I’ve got no business aboard. It’s been some time since I trod the quarter-deck of a square-rigger, and I couldn’t resist the temptation of tryin’ how the planks felt under my feet. This is consider’ble of a clipper you’ve got here,” he added.
“Yes, sir,” replied the steward grinning.
“Where you from?” asked Captain Elisha.
“Singapore, sir.”
“Cargo all out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Waitin’ for another one?”
“Yes, sir. We load for Manila bimeby.”
“Manila, hey? Have a good passage across?”
“Yes, sir. She good ship.”
“Shouldn’t wonder. How d’ye do, sir,” to the young man, who was standing near. “Hope you won’t think I’m crowdin’ in where I don’t belong. I was just tellin’ the doctor here that it had been some time since I trod a quarter-deck, and I thought I’d see if I’d forgot the feel.”
“Have you?” asked the young man, smiling.
“Guess not. Seems kind of nat’ral. I never handled such a whale of a craft as this, though. Didn’t have many of ’em in my day. Come over in her, did you?”
“No,” with a shake of the head. “No such luck. I’m a land lubber, just scouting round, that’s all. She’s a bully vessel, isn’t she?”
“Looks so. Tell you better after I’ve seen what she could do in a full-sail breeze. All hands ashore, Doctor?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the steward.
“Crew paid off and spendin’ their money, I s’pose. Well, if it ain’t against orders, I’d kind of like to look around a little mite. May I?”
The steward merely grinned. His companion answered for him.
“Certainly you may,” he said. “I’m a friend of one of the consignees, and I’d be glad to show you the ship, if you like. Shall we begin with the cabins?”
Captain Elisha, delighted with the opportunity, expressed his thanks, and the tour of inspection began.The steward remained on deck, but the captain and his new acquaintance strolled through the officers’ quarters together.
“Jerushy!” exclaimed the former, as he viewed the main cabin. “Say, you could pretty nigh have a dance here, couldn’t you? A small one. This reminds me of the cabin aboard theSea Gull, first vessel I went mate of—it’s so diff’rent. Aboard her we had to walk sittin’ down. There wa’n’t room in the cabin for more’n one to stand up at a time. But she could sail, just the same—and carry it, too. I’ve seen her off the Horn with studdin’ sails set, when craft twice her length and tonnage had everything furled above the tops’l yard. Hi hum! you mustn’t mind an old salt runnin’ on this way. I’ve been out of the pickle tub a good while, but I cal’late the brine ain’t all out of my system.”
His guide’s eyes snapped.
“I understand,” he said, laughing. “I’ve never been at sea, on a long voyage, in my life, but I can understand just how you feel. It’s in my blood, I guess. I come of a salt water line. My people were from Belfast, Maine, and every man of them went to sea.”
“Belfast, hey? They turned out some A No.1 sailors in Belfast. I sailed under a Cap’n Pearson from there once—James Pearson, his name was.”
“He was my great uncle. I was named for him. My name is James Pearson, also.”
“What?” Captain Elisha was hugely delighted. “Mr. Pearson, shake hands. I want to tell you that your Uncle Jim was a seaman of the kind you dream about, but seldom meet. I was his second mate three v’yages. My name’s Elisha Warren.”
Mr. Pearson shook hands and laughed, good-humoredly.
“Glad to meet you, Captain Warren,” he said. “And I’m glad you knew Uncle Jim. As a youngster, he was my idol. He could spin yarns that were worth listening to.”
“I bet you! He’d seen things wuth yarnin’ about. So you ain’t a sailor, hey? Livin’ in New York?”
The young man nodded. “Yes,” he said. Then, with a dry smile, “If you call occupying a hall bedroom and eating at a third-rate boarding-house table living. However, it’s my own fault. I’ve been a newspaper man since I left college. But I threw up my job six months ago. Since then I’ve been free-lancing.”
“Have, hey?” The captain was too polite to ask further questions, but he had not the slightest idea what “free-lancing” might be. Pearson divined his perplexity and explained.
“I’ve had a feeling,” he said, “that I might write magazine articles and stories—yes, possibly a novel or two. It’s a serious disease, but the only way to find out whether it’s chronic or not is to experiment. That’s what I’m doing now. The thing I’m at work on may turn out to be a sea story. So I spend some time around the wharves and aboard the few sailing ships in port, picking up material.”
Captain Elisha patted him on the back.
“Now don’t you get discouraged,” he said. “I used to have an idea that novel writin’ and picture paintin’ was poverty jobs for men with healthy appetites, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know’s you’ll believe it, but I’ve just found out, for a fact, that some painters get twenty-two thousand dollars for one picture. Forone, mind you. And a little mite of a thing, too, that couldn’t have cost scarcely anything to paint. Maybe novels sell for just as much.Idon’t know.”
His companion laughed heartily. “I’m afraid not, Captain,” he said. “Few, at any rate. I should be satisfied with considerably less, to begin with. Are you living here in town?”
“Well—we-ll, I don’t know. I ain’t exactly livin’, and I ain’t exactly boardin’, but—Say! ain’t that the doctor callin’ you?”
It was the steward, and there was an anxious ring in his voice. Pearson excused himself and hurried out of the cabin. Captain Elisha lingered for a final look about. Then he followed leisurely, becoming aware, as he reached the open air, of loud voices in angry dialogue.
Entrances to theEmpress of the Ocean’scabins were on the main deck, and also on the raised half-deck at the stern, near the wheel, the binnacle and the officers’ corned-beef tubs, swinging in their frames. From this upper deck two flights of steps led down to the main deck below. At the top of one of these flights stood young Pearson, cool and alert. Behind him half crouched the Japanese steward, evidently very much frightened. At the foot of the steps were grouped three rough looking men, foreigners and sailors without doubt, and partially intoxicated. The three men were an ugly lot, and they were all yelling and jabbering together in a foreign lingo. As the captain emerged from the passage to the open deck, he heard Pearson reply in the same language.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Pearson answered without turning his head.
“Drunken sailors,” he explained. “Part of the crew here. They’ve been uptown, got full, and come back to square a grudge they seem to have against the steward. I’m telling them they’d better give up and go ashore, if they know when they’re well off.”
The three fellows by the ladder’s foot were consultingtogether. On the wharf were half a dozen loungers, collected by the prospect of a row.
“If I can hold them off for a few minutes,” went on Pearson, “we’ll be all right. The wharf watchman has gone for the police. Here! drop it! What are you up to?”
One of the sailors had drawn a knife. The other two reached for their belts behind, evidently intending to follow suit. From the loafers on the wharf came shouts of encouragement.
“Do the dude up, Pedro! Give him what’s comin’ to him.”
The trio formed for a rush. The steward, with a shrill scream, fled to the cabin. Pearson did not move; he even smiled. The next moment he was pushed to one side, and Captain Elisha stood at the top of the steps.
“Here!” he said, sternly. “What’s all this?”
The three sailors, astonished at this unexpected addition to their enemies forces, hesitated. Pearson laid his hand on the captain’s arm.
“Be careful,” he said. “They’re dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Them? I’ve seen their kind afore. Here, you!” turning to the three below. “What do you mean by this? Put down that knife, you lubber! Do you want to be put in irons? Over the side with you, you swabs! Git!”
He began descending the ladder. Whether the sailors were merely too surprised to resist, or because they recognized the authority of the deep sea in Captain Elisha’s voice and face is a question. At any rate, as he descended they backed away.
“Mutiny on board a ship of mine?” roared the captain. “What do you mean by it? Why, I’ll have you tied up and put on bread and water. Over the side withyou! Mutiny on board ofme! Lively! Tumble up there!”
With every order came a stride forward and a correspondingly backward movement on the part of the three. The performance would have been ridiculous if Pearson had not feared that it might become tragic. He was descending the steps to his new acquaintance’s aid, when there rose a chorus of shouts from the wharf.
“The cops! the cops! Look out!”
That was the finishing touch. The next moment the three “mutineers” were over the side and running as fast as their alcoholic condition would permit down the wharf.
“Well, by George!” exclaimed Pearson.
Captain Elisha seemed to be coming out of a dream. He stood still, drew his hand across his forehead, and then began to laugh.
“Well!” he stammered. “Well, I snum! I—I—Mr. Pearson, I wonder what on earth you must think of me. I declare the sight of that gang set me back about twenty years. They—they must have thought I was the new skipper! Did you hear me tell ’em they couldn’t mutiny aboard of me? Ho! ho! Well, I am an old idiot!”
Pearson stuck his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I’ve got it!” he cried. “I knew your name was familiar. Why, you’re the mate that handled the mutinous crew aboard Uncle Jim’s bark, thePacer, off Mauritius, in the typhoon, when he was hurt and in the cabin. I’ve heard him tell it a dozen times. Well, thisisa lucky day for me!”
Captain Elisha was evidently pleased. “So he told you that, did he?” he began. “Thatwasa time and a half, I—”
He was interrupted. Over the rail appeared a bluehelmet, and an instant later a big and very pompous police officer leaped to the deck. He was followed by the wharf watchman, who looked frightened.
“Where’s the other one of them?” demanded the policeman. “Oh, it’s you, is it? Well, you’re too old to be gettin’ drunk and fightin’. Come along now, peaceable, and let’s have no words about it.”
He advanced and laid a hand on the captain’s arm.
“You’re under arrest,” he announced. “Will you come along quiet?”
“I’m under arrest?” repeated Captain Elisha. “Under—My soul and body! Why, I ain’t done anything.”
“Yes, I know. Nobody’s done nothin’. Come on, or shall I—Hello, Mr. Pearson, sir! How d’you do?”
Pearson had stepped forward.
“Slattery,” he said, “you’ve made a mistake. Let me tell you about it.” He drew the officer aside and whispered in his ear. After a rather lengthy conversation, the guardian of the peace turned to the watchman.
“What d’you mean by tellin’ all them lies?” he demanded.
“Lies?” repeated the astonished watchman. “I never told no lies.”
“You did. You said this gentleman,” indicating the nervous and apprehensive Captain Elisha, “was fightin’ and murderin’. I ask your pardon, sir. ’Twas this bloke’s foolishness. G’wan ashore! You make me sick. Good day, Mr. Pearson.”
He departed, driving his new victim before him and tongue-lashing him all the way. The captain drew a long breath.
“Say, Mr. Pearson,” he declared, “a minute or so ago you said this was a lucky day for you. I cal’late it’s a luckier one for me. If it hadn’t been for you I’d beentook up. Yes, sir, took up and carted off to the lockup. Whew! that would have looked well in the papers, wouldn’t it? And my niece and nephew.... Jerushy! I’m mightily obliged to you. How did you handle that policeman so easily?”
Pearson laughed. “Oh,” he replied, “a newspaper training and acquaintance has its advantages. Slattery knows me, and I know him.”
“Well, I thank you, I do so.”
“You needn’t. I wouldn’t have missed meeting you and seeing you handle those fellows for a good deal. And besides, you’re not going to escape so easy. You must lunch with me.”
The captain started, hastily pulled out his watch, and looked at it.
“Quarter to one!” he cried. “And I said I’d be back at that lawyer’s office at half-past twelve. No, no, Mr. Pearson, I can’t go to lunch with you, but I do wish you’d come and see me some time. My address for—for a spell, anyhow—is Central Park West,” giving the number, “and the name is Warren, same as mine. Will you come some evenin’? I’d be tickled to death to see you.”
The young man was evidently delighted.
“Will I?” he exclaimed. “Indeed I will. I warn you, Captain Warren, that I shall probably keep you busy spinning sea yarns.”
“Nothin’ I like better, though I’m afraid my yarns’ll be pretty dull alongside of your Uncle Jim’s.”
“I’ll risk it. Good-by and good luck. I shall see you very soon.”
“That’s right; do. So long.”
The boy, Captain Elisha’s acquaintance of the morning, was out, regaling himself with crullers and milk at a pushcart on Broad Street, when the captain returned to the officers of Sylvester, Kuhn and Graves. The clerk who had taken his place was very respectful.
“Captain Warren,” he said, “Mr. Sylvester was sorry to miss you. He waited until half past twelve and left word for us to telephone if you came. Our Mr. Graves is still ill, and the matter of your brother’s estate must be discussed without further delay. Please sit down and I will telephone.”
The captain seated himself on the leather-covered bench, and the clerk entered the inner office. He returned, a few moments later, to say:
“Mr. Sylvester is at the Central Club. He wished me to ask if you could conveniently join him there.”
Captain Elisha pondered. “Why, yes,” he replied, slowly, “I s’pose I could. I don’t know why I couldn’t. Where is this—er—club of his?”
“On Fifth Avenue, near Fifty-second Street. I’ll send one of our boys with you if you like.”
“No, no! I can pilot myself, I guess. I ain’t so old I can’t ask my way. Though—” with a reminiscent chuckle—“if the folks I ask are all sufferin’ from that ‘Ugh’ disease, I sha’n’t make much headway.”
“What disease?” asked the puzzled clerk.
“Oh, nothin’. I was just thinkin’ out loud, that’s all. Mr. Sylvester wants to see me right off, does he?”
“Yes, he said he would wait if I ’phoned him you were coming.”
“Um-hm. Well, you can tell him I’ve left the dock, bound in his direction. Say, that young chap that was here when I called the fust time—studyin’ to be a lawyer, is he?”
“Who? Tim? No, indeed. He’s only the office boy. Why did you ask?”
“Oh, I was just wonderin’. I had a notion he might be in trainin’ for a judgeship, he was so high and mighty. Ho! ho! He’s got talent, that boy has. Nobody but a born genius could have made as many mistakes in one name as he did when he undertook to spell Elisha. Well, sir, I’m much obliged to you. Good day.”
The Central Club is a ponderous institution occupying a becomingly gorgeous building on the Avenue. The captain found his way to its door without much trouble. A brass-buttoned attendant answered his ring and superciliously inquired his business. Captain Elisha, not being greatly in awe of either buttons or brief authority, calmly hailed the attendant as “Gen’ral” and informed him that he was there to see Mr. Sylvester, if the latter was “on deck anywheres.”
“Tell him it’s Cap’n Warren, Major,” he added cheerfully; “he’s expectin’ me.”
The attendant brusquely ushered the visitor into a leather-upholstered reception room and left him. The captain amused himself by looking at the prints and framed letters and autographs on the walls. Then a round, red, pleasant-faced man entered.
“Pardon me,” he said, “is this Captain Warren?”
“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “That’s my name. This is Mr. Sylvester, ain’t it? Glad to know you, sir.”
“Thanks. Sorry to have made you travel way up here, Captain. I waited until twelve-thirty, but as you didn’t come then, I gave you up. Hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”
“No, no. Not a mite. Might just as well be here as anywhere. Don’t think another thing about it.”
“Have you lunched, Captain Warren?”
“No, come to think of it, I ain’t. I’ve been kind of busy this forenoon, and a little thing like dinner—luncheon, I mean—slipped my mind. Though ’tain’t often I have those slips, I’m free to say. Ho! ho! Abbie—she’s my second cousin, my housekeeper—says I’m an unsartin critter, but there’s two things about me she can always count on, one’s that my clothes have always got a button loose somewheres, and t’other’s my appetite.”
He laughed, and Sylvester laughed with him.
“Well,” observed the lawyer, “I’m not sure that I couldn’t qualify on both of those counts. At any rate I’m sure of my appetite. I had a lunch engagement with an acquaintance of mine, but he hasn’t appeared, so you must take his place. We’ll lunch together.”
“Well, now, I’d like to fust-rate, and it’s real kind of you, Mr. Sylvester; but I don’t know’s I’d better. Your friend may heave in sight, after all, and I’d be in the way.”
“Not a bit of it. And I said ‘acquaintance,’ not ‘friend.’ Of course you will! You must. We can talk business while we’re eating, if you like.”
“All right. And I’m ever so much obliged to you. Is there an eatin’ house near here?”
“Oh, we’ll eat right here at the club. Come.”
He led the way, and Captain Elisha followed. The Central Club has a large, exclusive, and wealthy membership, and its quarters correspond. The captain gazed about him at the marble floors and pillars, the paintings and busts, with interest. After checking his hat and coat, as they entered the elevator he asked a question.
“Which floor is your club on, Mr. Sylvester?” he asked.
“Floor? Why, the dining room is on the fourth, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, I meant how many rooms do you rent?”
“We occupy the entire building. It is our own, and a comparatively new one. We built it three years ago.”
“You mean this whole shebang is just oneclub?”
“Certainly.”
“Hum! I see. Well, I—”
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothin’. I was wonderin’ what fool thing I’d ask next. I’m more used to lodge rooms than I am to clubs, I guess. I’d like to take home a picture of this place to Theophilus Kenney. Theoph’s been raisin’ hob because the Odd Fellows built on to their buildin’. He said one room was enough for any society. ’Twould be, if we was all his kind of society. Theoph’s so small he could keep house in a closet. He’s always hollerin’ in meetin’ about his soul. I asked the minister if it didn’t seem ridic’lous for Kenney to make such a big noise over such a little thing. This where we get off?”
The dining room was a large and ornate apartment. Captain Elisha, when he first entered it, seemed about to ask another question, but choked it off and remained silent. Sylvester chose a table in a retired corner, and they sat down.
“Now, Captain Warren,” said the host, “what will you eat?”
Captain Elisha shook his head.
“You do the orderin’,” he replied dryly; “I’ll just set and be thankful, like the hen that found the china doorknob. Anything that suits you will do me, I guess.”
The lawyer, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his companion, gave his orders, and the waiter brought first a bit of caviar on toast. If Sylvester expected this delicacy to produce astonished comments, he was disappointed.
“Well, well!” exclaimed Captain Elisha. “I declare, you take me back a long ways, Mr. Sylvester. Caviar! Well, well! Why, I haven’t ate this since I used to go to Cronstadt. At the American consul’s house there we had it often enough. Has a kind of homey taste even yet. That consul was a good feller. He and I were great friends.
“I met him a long spell after that, when I was down in Mexico,” he went on. “He’d made money and was down on a vacation. My ship was at Acapulco, and he and I used to go gunnin’ together, after wild geese and such. Ho! ho! I remember there was a big, pompous critter of an Englishman there. Mind you, I’m not talkin’ against the English. Some of the best men I ever met were English, and I’ve stood back to back with a British mate on a Genoa wharf when half of Italy was hoppin’ around makin’ proclamations that they was goin’ to swallow us alive. And, somehow or ’nother, they didn’t. Took with prophetic indigestion, maybe.
“However, this Englishman at Acapulco was diff’rent. He was so swelled with importance that his back hollered in like Cape Cod Bay on the map. His front bent out to correspond, though, so I cal’late he averaged up allright. Well, he heard about what a good—that I was pretty lucky when it come to shootin’ wild geese, and I’m blessed if he didn’t send me orders to get him one for a dinner he was goin’ to give. Didn’t ask—orderedme to do it, you understand. And him nothin’ but a consignee, with no more control over me than the average female Sunday-school teacher has over a class of boys. Not so much, because she’s supposed to have official authority, and he wa’n’t.Andhe didn’t invite me to the dinner.
“Well, the next time my friend, the ex-consul, and I went out gunnin’, I told him of the Englishman’s ‘orders.’ He was mad. ‘What are you goin’ to do about it?’ he asks. ‘Don’t know yet,’ says I, ‘we’ll see.’ By and by we come in sight of one of them long-legged cranes, big birds you know, standin’ fishin’ at the edge of some reeds. I up with my gun and shot it. The consul chap looked at me as if I was crazy. ‘What in the world did you kill that fish-basket on stilts for?’ he says. ‘Son,’ says I, ‘your eyesight is bad. That’s a British-American goose. Chop off about three feet of neck and a couple of fathom of hind legs and pick and clean what’s left, and I shouldn’t wonder if ’twould make a good dinner for a mutual friend of ours—goodenough, anyhow.’ Well, sir! that ex-consul set plump down in the mud and laughed and laughed. Ho, ho! Oh, dear me!”
“Did you send it to the Englishman?” asked Sylvester.
“Oh, yes, I sent it. And, after a good while and in a roundabout way, I heard that the whole dinner party vowed ’twas the best wild goose they ever ate. So I ain’t sure just who the joke was on. However, I’m satisfied with my end. Well, there! I guess you must think I’m pretty talky on short acquaintance, Mr. Sylvester.You’ll have to excuse me; that caviar set me to thinkin’ about old times.”
His host was shaking all over. “Go ahead, Captain,” he cried. “Got any more as good as that?”
But Captain Elisha merely smiled and shook his head.
“Don’t get me started on Mexico,” he observed. “I’m liable to yarn all the rest of the afternoon. Let’s see, we was goin’ to talk over my brother’s business a little mite, wa’n’t we?”
“Why, yes, we should. Now, Captain Warren, just how much do you know about your late brother’s affairs?”
“Except what Mr. Graves told me, nothin’ of importance. And, afore we go any further, let me ask a question. Doyouknow why ’Bije made me his executor and guardian and all the rest of it?”
“I do not. Graves drew his will, and so, of course, we knew of your existence and your appointment. Your brother forbade our mentioning it, but we did not know, until after his death, that his own children were unaware they had an uncle. It seems strange, doesn’t it?”
“It does to me;sostrange that I can’t see two lengths ahead. I cal’late Mr. Graves told you how I felt about it?”
“Yes. That is, he said you were very much surprised.”
“That’s puttin’ it mild enough. And did he tell you that ’Bije and I hadn’t seen each other, or even written, in eighteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Um-hm. Well, when you considerthat, can you wonder I was set all aback? And the more I think of it, the foggier it gets. Why, Mr. Sylvester, it’s one of them situations that are impossible, that you can provefifty wayscan’thappen. And yet, it has—it sartinly has. Now tell me: Are you, or your firm, well acquainted with my brother’s affairs?”
“Not well, no. The late Mr. Warren was a close-mouthed man, rather secretive, in fact.”
“Humph! that bein’ one of the p’ints where he was different from his nighest relation, hey?”
“I’m not so sure. Have you questioned the children?”
“Caroline and Steve? Yes, I’ve questioned ’em more than they think I have, maybe. And they know—well, leavin’ out about the price of oil paintin’s and the way to dress and that it’s more or less of a disgrace to economize on twenty thousand a year, their worldly knowledge ain’t too extensive.”
“Do you like them?”
“I guess so. Just now ain’t the fairest time to judge ’em. You see they’re sufferin’ from the joyful shock of their country relation droppin’ in, and—”
He paused and rubbed his chin. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were not. Sylvester noted their expression, and guessed many things.
“They haven’t been disagreeable, I hope?” he asked.
“No-o. No, I wouldn’t want to say that. They’re young and—and, well, I ain’t the kind they’ve been used to. Caroline’s a nice girl. She is, sure. All she needs is to grow a little older and have the right kind of advice and—and friends.”
“How about the boy?” Mr. Sylvester had met young Warren, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke.
“Steve? Well,” there was an answering twinkle in Captain Elisha’s eye; “well, Steve needs to grow, too; though I wouldn’t presume to tell him so. When a feller’s undertakin’ to give advice to one of the seven wise men, he has to be diplomatic, as you might say.”
The lawyer put back his head and laughed uproariously.
“Ha! ha!” he crowed. “That’s good! Then, from your questioning of the children, you’ve learned—?”
“Not such an awful lot. I think I’ve learned that—hum! that a good guardian might be a handy thing to have in the house. A reg’lar legal guardian, I mean. Otherwise—”
“Otherwise?”
“Otherwise there might be too many disinterested volunteer substitutes for the job. Maybe I’m wrong, but I doubt it.”
“Have you made up your mind to be that guardian?”
“Not yet. I haven’t made up my mind to anything yet. Now, Mr. Sylvester, while we’re waitin’ for what comes next—you’ve ordered enough grub to victual a ship—s’pose you just run over what your firm knows about ’Bije. That is, if I ain’t askin’ too much.”
“Not at all. That’s what I’m here for. You have a right to know. But I warn you my information isn’t worth much.”
He went on, briefly and with the conciseness of the legal mind, to tell of A. Rodgers Warren, his business and his estate. He had been a broker with a seat on the Stock Exchange.
“That seat is worth consider’ble, ain’t it?” interrupted the captain.
“Between eighty and one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Yup. Well, it reminds me of a picture I saw once in one of the comic papers. An old feller from the backwoods somewheres—good deal like me, he was, and just about as green—was pictured standin’ along with his city nephew in the gallery of the Exchange. And the nephew says, ‘Uncle,’ says he, ‘do you realize that a seatdown there’s wuth seventy-five thousand dollars?’ ‘Gosh!’ says the old man, ‘no wonder most of ’em are standin’ up.’ Ho! ho! Is that seat of ’Bije’s part of the five hundred thousand you figger he’s left?”
“Yes, in a way it is. To be truthful, Captain Warren, we’re not sure as to the amount of your brother’s tangible assets. Graves made a hurried examination of the stocks, bonds, and memoranda, and estimated the total, that’s all.”
“I see. Well, heave ahead.”
The lawyer went on. The dead broker’s office had been on Broad Street. A small office, with but two clerks. One of the clerks was retained, and the office, having been leased for a year by its former tenant, was still open pending the settlement of the estate. A. Rodgers Warren personally was a man who looked older than he really was, a good liver, and popular among his companions.
“What sort of fellers were his companions?” asked Captain Elisha.
“You mean his friends in society, or his companions downtown in Wall Street?”
“The Wall Street ones. I guess I can find out something about the society ones. Anyhow, I can try. These Wall Streeters that ’Bije chummed with—a quiet lot, was they?”
Sylvester hesitated. “Why—why—not particularly so,” he admitted. “Nothing crooked about them, of course. You see, a stock-broker’s life is a nerve-racking, rather exciting one, and—”
“And ’Bije and his chums were excited, too, hey? All right, you needn’t go any further. He was a good husband while his wife lived, wa’n’t he?”
“Yes. Frankly, Captain Warren, so far as I know,your brother’s personal habits were good. There was nothing against his character.”
“I’m mighty glad to hear it. Mighty glad. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“No. Our next move, provided you decide to accept the trust, the executorship, and the rest, is to get together—you and Graves, if he is well enough; you and I if he is not—and begin a careful examination of the stocks, bonds, assets, and debts of the estate. This must be done first of all.”