It was theShannon!
BEFORE theMariasailed again, with the men who formed a part of Wylie's crew, he made them sign a declaration before the English Consul at Buenos Ayres. This document set forth the manner in which theProserpinefoundered; it was artfully made up of facts enough to deceive a careless listener; but, when Wylie read it over to them he slurred over certain parts, which he took care, also, to express in language above the comprehension of such men. Of course they assented eagerly to what they did not understand, and signed the statement conscientiously.
So Wylie and his three men were shipped on board theBoadicea,bound for Liverpool, in Old England, while the others sailed with Captain Slocum for Nantucket, in New England.
TheBoadiceawas a clipper laden with hides and a miscellaneous cargo. For seventeen days she flew before a southerly gale, being on her best sailing point, and, after one of the shortest passages she had ever made, she lay to, outside the bar, off the Mersey. It wanted but one hour to daylight, the tide was flowing; the pilot sprang aboard.
"What do you draw?" he asked of the master.
"Fifteen feet, barely," was the reply.
"That will do," and the vessel's head was laid for the river.
They passed a large bark, with her topsails backed.
"Ay," remarked the pilot, "she has waited since the half-ebb; there ain't more than four hours in the twenty-four that such craft as that can get in."
"What is she? An American liner?" asked Wylie, peering through the gloom.
"No," said the pilot; "she's an Australian ship. She's theShannon,from Sydney."
The mate started, looked at the man, then at the vessel. Twice theShannonhad thus met him, as if to satisfy him that his object had been attained, and each time she seemed to him not an inanimate thing, but a silent accomplice. A chill of fear struck through the man's frame as he looked at her. Yes, there she lay, and in her hold were safely stowed 160,000 pounds in gold, marked lead and copper.
Wylie had no luggage nor effects to detain him on board; he landed, and, having bestowed his three companions in a sailors' boarding-house, he was hastening to the shipping agents of Wardlaw & Son to announce his arrival and the fate of theProserpine.He had reached their offices in Water Street before he recollected that it was barely half past five o'clock, and, though broad daylight on that July morning, merchants' offices are not open at that hour. The sight of theShannonhad so bewildered him that he had not noticed that the shops were all shut, the streets deserted. Then a thought occurred to him—why not be a bearer of his own news? He did not require to turn the idea twice over, but resolved, for many reasons, to adopt it. As he hurried to the railway station, he tried to recollect the hour at which the early train started; but his confused and excited mind refused to perform the function of memory. TheShannondazed him.
At the railway-station he found that a train had started at 4 A.M., and there was nothing until 7:30. This check sobered him a little, and he went back to the docks; he walked out to the farther end of that noble line of berths, and sat down on the verge with his legs dangling over the water. He waited an hour; it was six o'clock by the great dial at St. George's Dock. His eyes were fixed on theShannon,which was moving slowly up the river; she came abreast to where he sat. The few sails requisite to give her steerage fell. Her anchor-chain rattled, and she swung round with the tide. The clock struck the half-hour; a boat left the side of the vessel and made straight for the steps near where he was seated. A tall, noble-looking man sat in the stern-sheets beside the coxswain; he was put ashore, and, after exchanging a few words with the boat's crew, he mounted the steps which led him to Wylie's side, followed by one of the sailors, who carried a portmanteau.
He stood for a single moment on the quay, and stamped his foot on the broad stones; then, heaving a deep sigh of satisfaction, he murmured, "Thank God!"
He turned toward Wylie.
"Can you tell me, my man, at what hour the first train starts for London?"
"There is a slow train at 7:30 and an express at 9."
"The express will serve me, and give me time for breakfast at the Adelphi. Thank you; good morning;" and the gentleman passed on, followed by the sailor.
Wylie looked after him; he noted that erect military carriage and crisp, gray hair and thick white mustache; he had a vague idea that he had seen that face before, and the memory troubled him.
At 7:30 Wylie started for London; the military man followed him in the express at 9, and caught him up at Rugby; together they arrived at the station at Euston Square; it was a quarter to three. Wylie hailed a cab, but, before he could struggle through the crowd to reach it, a railway porter threw a portmanteau on its roof, and his military acquaintance took possession of it.
"All right," said the porter. "What address, sir?"
Wylie did not hear what the gentleman said, but the porter shouted it to the cabman, and then he did hear it.
"No. — Russell Square."
It was the house of Arthur Wardlaw!
Wylie took off his hat, rubbed his frowzy hair, and gaped after the cab.
He entered another cab, and told the driver to go to "No. — Fenchurch Street."
It was the office of Wardlaw & Son.
OUR scene now changes from the wild ocean and its perils to a snug room in Fenchurch Street, the inner office of Wardlaw & Son: a large apartment, paneled with fine old mellow Spanish oak; and all the furniture in keeping; the carpet, a thick Axminster of sober colors; the chairs of oak and morocco, very substantial; a large office-table, with oaken legs like very columns, substantial; two Milner safes; a globe of unusual size with a handsome tent over it, made of roan leather, figured; the walls hung with long oak boxes, about eight inches broad, containing rolled maps of high quality and great dimensions; to consult which, oaken scepters tipped with brass hooks stood ready. With these the great maps could be drawn down and inspected; and, on being released, flew up into their wooden boxes again. Besides these were hung up a few drawings, representing outlines, and inner sections, of vessels; and, on a smaller table, lay models, almanacs, etc. The great office-table was covered with writing materials and papers, all but a square space inclosed with a little silver rail, and inside that space lay a purple morocco case about ten inches square; it was locked, and contained an exquisite portrait of Helen Rolleston.
This apartment was so situated, and the frames of the plate-glass windows so well made and substantial, that, let a storm blow a thousand ships ashore, it could not be felt, nor heard, in Wardlaw's inner office.
But appearances are deceitful; and who can wall out a sea of troubles, and the tempests of the mind?
The inmate of that office was battling for his commercial existence, under accumulated difficulties and dangers. Like those who sailed theProserpine'slong-boat, upon that dirty night, which so nearly swamped her, his eye had now to be on every wave, and the sheet forever in his hand.
His measures had been ably taken; but, as will happen when clever men are driven into a corner, he had backed events rather too freely against time; had allowed too slight a margin for unforeseen delays. For instance, he had averaged theShannon'sprevious performances, and had calculated on her arrival too nicely. She was a fortnight overdue, and that delay brought peril.
He had also counted upon getting news of theProserpine.But not a word had reached Lloyd's as yet.
At this very crisis came the panic of '66. Overend and Gurney broke; and Wardlaw's experience led him to fear that, sooner or later, there would be a run on every bank in London. Now he had borrowed 80,000 pounds at one bank, and 35,000 pounds at another. And, without his ships, could not possibly pay a quarter of the money. If the banks in question were run upon, and obliged to call in all their resources, his credit must go; and this, in his precarious position, was ruin.
He had concealed his whole condition from his father, by false book-keeping. Indeed, he had only two confidants in the world; poor old Michael Penfold, and Helen Rolleston's portrait; and even to these two he made half confidences. He dared not tell either of them all he had done, and all he was going to do.
His redeeming feature was as bright as ever. He still loved Helen Rolleston with a chaste, constant and ardent affection that did him honor. He loved money too well. But he loved Helen better. In all his troubles and worries it was his one consolation to unlock her portrait and gaze on it, and purify his soul for a few minutes. Sometimes he would apologize to it for an act of doubtful morality. "How can I risk the loss of you?" was his favorite excuse. No. He must have credit. He must have money. She must not suffer by his past imprudences. They must be repaired at any cost—for her sake.
It was ten o'clock in the morning. Mr. Penfold was sorting the letters for his employer, when a buxom young woman rushed into the outer office crying, "Oh, Mr. Penfold!" and sank into a chair breathless.
"Dear heart! what is the matter now?" said the old gentleman.
"I have had a dream, sir. I dreamed I saw Joe Wylie out on the seas, in a boat; and the wind it was a blowing and the sea a roaring to that degree as Joe looked at me, and says he, 'Pray for me, Nancy Rouse.' So I says, 'Oh, dear Joe, what is the matter? and what ever is become of theProserpine?'
"'Gone to Hell!' says he. Which he knows I object to foul language. 'Gone—there—' says he, 'and I am sailing in her wake. Oh, pray for me, Nancy Rouse!' With that, I tries to pray in my dream, and screams instead, and wakes myself. Oh, Mr. Penfold, do tell me, have you got any news of theProserpinethis morning?"
"What is that to you?" inquired Arthur Wardlaw, who had entered just in time to hear this last query.
"What is it to me!" cried Nancy, firing up; "it is more to me, perhaps, than it is to you, for that matter."
Penfold explained, timidly, "Sir, Mrs. Rouse is my landlady."
"Which I have never been to church with any man yet of the name of Rouse, leastways, not in my waking hours," edged in the lady.
"Miss Rouse, I should say," said Penfold, apologizing. "I beg pardon, but I thought Mrs. might sound better in a landlady. Please, sir, Mr. Wylie, the mate of theProserpine,is her—her—sweetheart."
"Not he. Leastways, he is only on trial, after a manner."
"Of course, sir—only after a manner," added Penfold, sadly perplexed. "Miss Rouse is incapable of anything else. But, if you please, m'm, I don't presume to know the exact relation;" and then with great reserve, "but you know you are anxious about him."
Miss Rouse sniffed, and threw her nose in the air—as if to throw a doubt even on that view of the matter.
"Well, madam," says Wardlaw, "I am sorry to say I can give you no information. I share your anxiety, for I have got 160,000 pounds of gold in the ship. You might inquire at Lloyd's. Direct her there, Mr. Penfold, and bring me my letters."
With this he entered his inner office, sat down, took out a golden key, opened the portrait of Helen, gazed at it, kissed it, uttered a deep sigh, and prepared to face the troubles of the day.
Penfold brought in a leathern case, like an enormous bill-book. It had thirty vertical compartments; and the names of various cities and seaports, with which Wardlaw & Son did business, were printed in gold letters on some of these compartments; on others the names of persons; and on two compartments the word "Miscellaneous." Michael brought this machine in, filled with a correspondence enough to break a man's heart to look at.
This was one of the consequences of Wardlaw's position. He durst not let his correspondence be read, and filtered, in the outer office. He opened the whole mass; sent some back into the outer office; then touched a hand-bell, and a man emerged from the small apartment adjoining his own. This was Mr. Atkins, his shorthand writer. He dictated to this man some twenty letters, which were taken down in short-hand; the man retired to copy them, and write them out in duplicate from his own notes, and this reduced the number to seven. These Wardlaw sat down to write himself, and lock up the copies.
While he was writing them, he received a visitor or two, whom he dispatched as quickly as his letters.
He was writing his last letter, when he heard in the outer office a voice he thought he knew. He got up and listened. It was so. Of all the voices in the city, this was the one it most dismayed him to hear in his office at the present crisis.
He listened on, and satisfied himself that a fatal blow was coming. He then walked quietly to his table, seated himself, and prepared to receive the stroke with external composure.
Penfold announced, "Mr. Burtenshaw."
"Show him in," said Wardlaw quietly.
Mr. Burtenshaw, one of the managers of Morland's bank, came in, and Wardlaw motioned him courteously to a chair, while he finished his letter, which took only a few moments.
While he was sealing it, he half turned to his visitor, and said, "No bad news? Morland's is safe, of course."
"Well," said Burtenshaw, "there is a run upon our bank—a severe one. We could not hope to escape the effects of the panic."
He then, after an uneasy pause, and with apparent reluctance, added, "I am requested by the other directors to assure you it is their present extremity alone, that— In short, we are really compelled to beg you to repay the amount advanced to you by the bank."
Wardlaw showed no alarm, but great surprise. This was clever; for he felt great alarm, and no surprise.
"The 81,000 pounds," said he. "Why, that advance was upon the freight of theProserpine.Forty-five thousand ounces of gold. She ought to be here by this time. She is in the Channel at this moment, no doubt."
"Excuse me; she is overdue, and the underwriters uneasy. I have made inquiries."
"At any rate, she is fully insured, and you hold the policies. Besides, the name of Wardlaw on your books should stand for bullion."
Burtenshaw shook his head. "Names are at a discount to-day, sir. We can't pay you down on the counter. Why, our depositors look cross at Bank of England notes."
To an inquiry, half ironical, whether the managers really expected him to find 81,000 pounds cash, at a few hours' notice, Burtenshaw replied, sorrowfully, that they felt for his difficulty while deploring their own; but that, after all, it was a debt. And, in short, if he could find no means of paying it, they must suspend payment for a time, and issue a statement—and—
He hesitated to complete his sentence, and Wardlaw did it for him.
"And ascribe your suspension to my inability to refund this advance?" said he, bitterly.
"I am afraid that is the construction it will bear."
Wardlaw rose, to intimate he had no more to say.
Burtenshaw, however, was not disposed to go without some clear understanding. "May I say we shall hear from you, sir?"
"Yes."
And so they wished each other good-morning; and Wardlaw sank into his chair.
In that quiet dialogue, ruin had been inflicted and received without any apparent agitation; ay, and worse than ruin—exposure.
Morland's suspension, on account of money lost by Wardlaw & Son, would at once bring old Wardlaw to London, and the affairs of the firm would be investigated, and the son's false system of bookkeeping be discovered.
He sat stupefied awhile, then put on his hat and rushed to his solicitor; on the way, he fell in with a great talker, who told him there was a rumor theShannonwas lost in the Pacific.
At this he nearly fainted in the street; and his friend took him back to his office in a deplorable condition. All this time he had been feigning anxiety about theProserpine,and concealing his real anxiety about theShannon.To do him justice, he lost sight of everything in the world now but Helen. He sent old Penfold in hot haste to Lloyd's, to inquire for news of the ship; and then he sat down sick at heart; and all he could do now was to open her portrait, and gaze at it through eyes blinded with tears. Even a vague rumor, which he hoped might be false, had driven all his commercial maneuvers out of him, and made all other calamities seem small.
And so they all are small, compared with the death of the creature we love.
While he sat thus, in a stupor of fear and grief, he heard a well-known voice in the outer office; and, next after Burtenshaw's, it was the one that caused him the most apprehension. It was his father's.
Wardlaw senior rarely visited the office now; and this was not his hour. So Arthur knew something extraordinary had brought him up to town. And he could not doubt that it was the panic, and that he had been to Morland's, or would go there in course of the day; but, indeed, it was more probable that he had already heard something, and was come to investigate.
Wardlaw senior entered the room.
"Good-morning, Arthur," said he. "I've got good news for you."
Arthur was quite startled by an announcement that accorded so little with his expectations.
"Good news—forme?"said he, in a faint, incredulous tone.
"Ay, glorious news! Haven't you been anxious about theShannon?I have; more anxious than I would own."
Arthur started up. "TheShannon!God bless you, father."
"She lies at anchor in the Mersey," roared the old man, with all a father's pride at bringing such good news. "Why, the Rollestons will be in London at 2:15. See, here is his telegram."
At this moment in ran Penfold, to tell them that theShannonwas up at Lloyd's, had anchored off Liverpool last night.
There was hearty shaking of hands, and Arthur Wardlaw was the happiest man in London—for a little while.
"Got the telegram at Elmtrees, this morning, and came up by the first express," said Wardlaw senior.
The telegram was from Sir Edward Rolleston."Reached Liverpool last night; will be at Euston, two-fifteen."
"Not a word fromher!"
"Oh, there was no time to write; and ladies do not use the telegram." He added slyly, "Perhaps she thought coming in person would do as well, or better, eh!"
"But why does he telegraph you instead of me?"
"I am sure I don't know. What does it matter? Yes, I do know. It was settled months ago that he and Helen should come to me at Elmtrees, so I was the proper person to telegraph. I'll go and meet them at the station; there is plenty of time. But, I say, Arthur, have you seen the papers? Bartley Brothers obliged to wind up. Maple & Cox, of Liverpool, gone; Atlantic trading. Terry & Brown suspended, International credit gone. Old friends, some of these. Hopley & Timms, railway contractors, failed, sir; liabilities, seven hundred thousand pounds and more."
"Yes, sir," said Arthur, pompously. "1866 will long be remembered for its revelations of commercial morality."
The old gentleman, on this, asked his son, with excusable vanity, whether he had done ill in steering clear of speculation; he then congratulated him on having listened to good advice and stuck to legitimate business. "I must say, Arthur," added be, "your books are models for any trading firm."
Arthur winced in secret under this praise, for it occurred to him that in a few days his father would discover those books were all a sham and the accounts a fabrication.
However, the unpleasant topic was soon interrupted, and effectually, too; for Michael looked in, with an air of satisfaction on his benevolent countenance, and said, "Gentlemen, such an arrival! Here is Miss Rouse's sweetheart, that she dreamed was drowned."
"What is the man to me?" said Arthur peevishly. He did not recognize Wylie under that title.
"La, Mr. Arthur! why, he is the mate of theProserpine," said Penfold.
"What! Wylie! Joseph Wylie?" cried Arthur, in a sudden excitement that contrasted strangely with his previous indifference.
"What is that?" cried Wardlaw senior; "theProserpine;show him in at once."
Now this caused Arthur Wardlaw considerable anxiety; for obvious reasons he did not want his father and this sailor to exchange a word together. However, that was inevitable now. The door opened; and the bronzed face and sturdy figure of Wylie, clad in a rough pea-jacket, came slouching in.
Arthur went hastily to meet him, and gave him an expressive look of warning, even while he welcomed him in cordial accents.
"Glad to see you safe home," said Wardlaw senior.
"Thank ye, guv'nor," said Wylie. "Had a squeak for it, this time."
"Where is your ship?"
Wylie shook his head sorrowfully. "Bottom of the Pacific."
"Good heavens! What! is she lost?"
"That she is, sir. Foundered at sea, twelve hundred miles from the Horn, and more."
"And the freight? the gold?" put in Arthur, with well-feigned anxiety.
"Not an ounce saved," said Wylie, disconsolately. "A hundred and sixty thousand pounds gone to the bottom."
"Good heavens!"
"Ye see, sir," said Wylie, "the ship encountered one gale after another, and labored a good deal, first and last; and we all say her seams must have opened; for we never could find the leak that sunk her," and he cast a meaning glance at Arthur Wardlaw.
"No matter how it happened," said the old merchant. "Are we insured to the full; that is the first question?"
"To the last shilling."
"Well done, Arthur."
"But still it is most unlucky. Some weeks must elapse before the insurances can be realized, and a portion of the gold was paid for in bills at short date."
"The rest in cash?"
"Cash and merchandise."
"Then there is the proper margin. Draw on my private account, at the Bank of England."
These few simple words showed the struggling young merchant a way out of all his difficulties.
His heart leaped so, he dared not reply, lest he should excite the old gentleman's suspicions.
But ere he could well draw his breath for joy, came a freezer.
"Mr. Burtenshaw, sir."
"Bid him wait," said Arthur, aloud, and cast a look of great anxiety on Penfold, which the poor old man, with all his simplicity, comprehended well enough.
"Burtenshaw, from Morland's. What does he want of us?" said Wardlaw senior, knitting his brows.
Arthur turned cold all over. "Perhaps to ask me not to draw out my balance. It is less than usual; but they are run upon; and, as you are good enough to let me draw on you— By the by, perhaps you will sign a check before you go to the station."
"How much do you want?"
"I really don't know, till I have consulted Penfold. The gold was a large and advantageous purchase, sir."
"No doubt; no doubt. I'll give you my signature, and you can fill in the amount."
He drew a check in favor of Arthur Wardlaw, signed it, and left him to fill in the figures.
He then looked at his watch, and remarked they would barely have time to get to the station.
"Good heavens!" cried Arthur; "and I can't go. I must learn the particulars of the loss of theProserpine,and prepare the statement at once for the underwriters."
"Well, never mind.Ican go."
"But what will she think of me? I ought to be the first to welcome her."
"I'll make your excuses."
"No, no; say nothing. After all, it was you who received the telegram, so you naturally meet her; but you will bring her here, father. You won't whisk my darling down to Elmtrees till you have blessed me with the sight of her."
"I will not be so cruel, fond lover," said old Wardlaw, laughing, and took up his hat and gloves to go.
Arthur went to the door with him in great anxiety, lest he should question Burtenshaw. But, peering into the outer office, he observed Burtenshaw was not there. Michael had caught his employer's anxious look and conveyed the banker into the small room where the short-hand writer was at work. But Burtenshaw was one of a struggling firm; to him every minute was an hour. He had sat, fuming with impatience, so long as he heard talking in the inner office; and, the moment it ceased, he took the liberty of coming in; so that he opened the side door just as Wardlaw senior was passing through the center door.
Instantly Wardlaw junior whipped before him, to hide his figure from his retreating father.
Wylie—who all this time had been sitting silent, looking from one to the other, and quietly puzzling out the game as well as he could—observed this movement and grinned.
As for Arthur Wardlaw, he saw his father safe out, then gave a sigh of relief, and walked to his office table and sat down and began to fill in the check.
Burtenshaw drew near and said, "I am instructed to say that fifty thousand pounds on account will be accepted."
Perhaps if this proposal had been made a few seconds sooner, the ingenious Arthur would have availed himself of it; but as it was, he preferred to take the high and mighty tone. "I decline any concession," said he. "Mr. Penfold, take this check to the Bank of England. 81,647 pounds 10s., that is the amount, capital and interest, up to noon this day. Hand the sum to Mr. Burtenshaw, taking his receipt, or, if he prefers it, pay it across his counter, to my credit. That will perhaps arrest the run."
Burtenshaw stammered out his thanks.
Wardlaw cut him short. "Good-morning, sir," said he. "I have business ofimportance.Good-day," and bowed him out.
"This is a high-flier," thought Burtenshaw.
Wardlaw then opened the side door and called his short-hand writer.
"Mr. Atkins, please step into the outer office, and don't let a soul come in to me. Mind, I am out for the day. Except to Miss Rolleston and her father."
He then closed all the doors, and sunk exhausted into a chair, muttering, "Thank Heaven! I have got rid of them all for an hour or two.Now,Wylie."
Wylie seemed in no hurry to enter upon the required subject.
Said he, evasively, "Why, guv'nor, it seems to me you are among the breakers here yourself."
"Nothing of the sort, if you have managed your work cleverly. Come, tell me all, before we are interrupted again."
"Tell ye all about it! Why, there's part on't I am afraid to think on; let alone talk about it."
"Spare me your scruples, and give me your facts," said Wardlaw coldly. "First of all, did you succeed in shifting the bullion as agreed?"
The sailor appeared relieved by this question.
"Oh, that is all right," said he. "I got the bullion safe aboard theShannon,marked for lead."
"And the lead on board theProserpine?"
"Ay, shipped as bullion."
"Without suspicion?"
"Not quite."
"Great Heaven! Who?"
"One clerk at the shipping agent's scented something queer, I think. James Seaton. That was the name he went by."
"Could he prove anything?"
"Nothing. He knew nothing for certain; and what he guessed won't never be known in England now." And Wylie fidgeted in his chair.
Notwithstanding this assurance Wardlaw looked grave, and took a note of that clerk's name. Then he begged Wylie to go on. "Give me all the details," said he. "Leavemeto judge their relative value. You scuttled the ship?"
"Don't say that! don't say that!" cried Wylie, in a low but eager voice. "Stone walls have ears." Then rather more loudly than was necessary, "Ship sprung a leak that neither the captain, nor I, nor anybody could find, to stop. Me and my men, we all think her seams opened, with stress of weather." Then, lowering his voice again, "Try and see it as we do; and don't you ever use such a word as that what come out of your lips just now. We pumped her hard; but 'twarn't no use. She filled, and we had to take to the boats."
"Stop a moment. Was there any suspicion excited?"
"Not among the crew. And suppose there was, I could talk 'em all over, or buy 'em all over, what few of 'em is left. I've got 'em all with me in one house, and they are all square, don't you fear."
"Well, but you said 'among thecrew!'Whom else can we have to fear?"
"Why, nobody. To be sure, one of the passengers was down on me; but what does that matter now?"
"It matters greatly—it matters terribly. Who was this passenger?"
"He called himself the Reverend John Hazel. He suspected something or other; and what with listening here, and watching there, he judged the ship was never to see England, and I always fancied he told the lady."
"What, was there a lady there?"
"Ay, worse luck, sir; and a pretty girl she was. Coming home to England to die of consumption; so our surgeon told me."
"Well, never mind her. The clergyman! This fills me with anxiety. A clerk suspecting us at Sydney, and a passenger suspecting us in the vessel. There are two witnesses against us already."
"No; only one."
"How do you make that out?"
"Why, White's clerk and the parson, they was one man."
Wardlaw stared in utter amazement.
"Don't ye believe me?" said Wylie. "I tell ye that there clerk boarded us under an alias. He had shaved off his beard; but, bless your heart, I knew him directly."
"He came to verify his suspicions," suggested Wardlaw, in a faint voice.
"Not he. He came for love of the sick girl, and nothing else; and you'll never see either him or her, if that is any comfort to you."
"Be good enough to conceal nothing. Facts must be faced."
"That is too true, sir. Well, we abandoned her, and took to the boats. I commanded one."
"And Hudson the other?"
"Hudson! No."
"Why, how was that? and what has become of him?"
"What has become of Hudson?" said Wylie, with a start. "There's a question! And not a drop to wet my lips and warm my heart. Is this a tale to tell dry? Can't ye spare a drop of brandy to a poor devil that has earned ye 150,000 pounds, and risked his life, and wrecked his soul to do it?"
Wardlaw cast a glance of contempt on him, but got up and speedily put a bottle of old brandy, a tumbler and a caraffe of water on the table before him.
Wylie drank a wineglassful neat, and gave a sort of sigh of satisfaction. And then ensued a dialogue, in which, curiously enough, the brave man was agitated, and the timid man was cool and collected. But one reason was, the latter had not imagination enough to realize things unseen, though he had caused them.
Wylie told him how Hudson got to the bottle, and would not leave the ship. "I think I see him now, with his cutlass in one hand, and his rum bottle in the other, and the waves running over his poor, silly face, as she went down. Poor Hiram! he and I had made many a trip together, before we took to this."
And Wylie shuddered, and took another gulp at the brandy.
While he was drinking to drown the picture, Wardlaw was calmly reflecting on the bare fact. "Hum," said he, "we must use that circumstance. I'll get it into the journals. Heroic captain. Went down with the ship. Who can suspect Hudson in the teeth of such a fact? Now pray go on, my good Wylie. The boats!"
"Well, sir, I had the surgeon, and ten men, and the lady's maid, on board the long-boat; and there was the parson, the sick lady, and five sailors aboard the cutter. We sailed together, till night, steering for Juan Fernandez; then a fog came on and we lost sight of the cutter, and I altered my mind and judged it best to beat to win'ard, and get into the track of ships. Which we did, and were nearly swamped in a sou' wester; but, by good luck, a Yankee whaler picked us up, and took us to Buenos Ayres, where we shipped for England, what was left of us, only four, besides myself; but I got the signatures of the others to my tale of the wreck. It is all as square as a die, I tell you."
"Well done. Well done. But, stop! the other boat, with that sham parson on board, who knows all. She will be picked up, too, perhaps."
"There is no chance for that. She was out of the tracks of trade; and, I'll tell ye the truth, sir." He poured out half a tumbler of brandy, and drank a part of it; and, now, for the first time, his hand trembled as he lifted the glass. "Some fool had put the main of her provisions aboard the longboat; that is what sticks to me, and won't let me sleep. We took a chance, but we didn't give one. I think I told you there was a woman aboard the cutter, that sick girl, sir. Oh, but it was hard lines for her, poor thing! I see her pale and calm; oh, Lord, so pale and calm; every night of my life; she kneeled aboard the cutter with her white hands a-clasped together, praying."
"Certainly, it is all very shocking," said Wardlaw; "but then, you know, if they had escaped, they would have exposed us. Believe me, it is all for the best."
Wylie looked at him with wonder. "Ay," said he, after staring at him a long time; "you can sit here at your ease, and doom a ship and risk her people's lives. But if you had to do it, and see it, and then lie awake thinking of it, you'd wish all the gold on earth had been in hell before you put your hand to such a piece of work."
Wardlaw smiled a ghastly smile. "In short," said he, "you don't mean to take the three thousand pounds I pay you for this little job."
"Oh, yes, I do; but for all the gold in Victoria I wouldn't do such a job again. And you mark my words, sir, we shall get the money, and nobody will ever be the wiser." Wardlaw rubbed his hands complacently. His egotism, coupled with his want of imagination, nearly blinded him to everything but the pecuniary feature of the business. "But," continued Wylie, "we shall never thrive on it. We have sunk a good ship, and we have as good as murdered a poor dying girl."
"Hold your tongue, ye fool!" cried Wardlaw, losing his sang-froid in a moment, for he heard somebody at the door.
It opened, and there stood a military figure in a traveling-cap—General Rolleston.
As some eggs have actually two yolks, so Arthur Wardlaw had two hearts; and, at sight of Helen's father, the baser one ceased to beat for a while.
He ran to General Rolleston, shook him warmly by the hand, and welcomed him to England with sparkling eyes.
It is pleasant to be so welcomed, and the stately soldier returned his grasp in kind.
"Is Helen with you, sir?" said Wardlaw, making a movement to go to the door; for he thought she must be outside in the cab.
"No, she is not," said General Rolleston.
"There, now," said Arthur, "that cruel father of mine has broken his promise and carried her off to Elmtrees!"
At this moment Wardlaw senior returned, to tell Arthur he had been just too late to meet the Rollestons. "Oh, here he is!" said he; and there were fresh greetings.
"Well, but," said Arthur, "where is Helen!"
"I think it is I who ought to ask that question," said Rolleston, gravely. "I telegraphed you at Elmtrees, thinking of course she would come with you to meet me at the station. It does not much matter, a few hours; but her not coming makes me uneasy, for her health was declining when she left me. How is my child, Mr. Wardlaw? Pray tell me the truth."
Both the Wardlaws looked at one another, and at General Rolleston, and the elder Wardlaw said there was certainly some misunderstanding here. "We fully believed that your daughter was coming home with you in theShannon."
"Come home with me? Why, of course not. She sailed three weeks before me. Good Heavens! Has she not arrived?"
"No," replied old Wardlaw, "we have neither seen nor heard of her."
"Why, what ship did she sail in?" said Arthur.
"In theProserpine."
ARTHUR WARDLAW fixed on the speaker a gaze full of horror; his jaw fell; a livid pallor spread over his features; he echoed in a hoarse whisper, "TheProserpine!"and turned his scared eyes upon Wylie, who was himself leaning against the wall, his stalwart frame beginning to tremble.
"The sick girl," murmured Wylie, and a cold sweat gathered on his brow.
General Rolleston looked from one to another with strange misgivings, which soon deepened into a sense of some terrible calamity; for now a strong convulsion swelled Arthur Wardlaw's heart; his face worked fearfully; and, with a sharp and sudden cry, he fell forward on the table, and his father's arm alone prevented him from sinking like a dead man on the floor. Yet, though crushed and helpless, he was not insensible; that blessing was denied him.
General Rolleston implored an explanation.
Wylie, with downcast and averted face, began to stammer a few disconnected and unintelligible words; but old Wardlaw silenced him and said, with much feeling, "Let none but a father tell him. My poor, poor friend—theProserpine!How can I say it?"
"Lost at sea," groaned Wylie.
At these fatal words the old warrior's countenance grew rigid; his large, bony hands gripped the back of the chair on which he leaned, and were white with their own convulsive force; and he bowed his head under the blow, without one word.
His was an agony too great and mute to be spoken to; and there was silence in the room, broken only by the hysterical moans of the miserable plotter, who had drawn down this calamity on his own head. He was in no state to be left alone; and even the bereaved father found pity in his desolate heart for one who loved his lost child so well; and the two old men took him home between them, in a helpless and pitiable condition.
BUT this utter prostration of his confederate began to alarm Wylie, and rouse him to exertion. Certainly, he was very sorry for what he had done, and would have undone it and forfeited his three thousand pounds in a moment, if he could. But, as he could not undo the crime, he was all the more determined to reap the reward. Why, that three thousand pounds, for aught he knew, was the price of his soul; and he was not the man to let his soul go gratis.
He finished the rest of the brandy, and went after his men, to keep them true to him by promises; but the next day he came to the office in Fenchurch Street, and asked anxiously for Wardlaw. Wardlaw had not arrived. He waited, but the merchant never came; and Michael told him with considerable anxiety that this was the first time his young master had missed coming this five years.
In course of the day, several underwriters came in, with long faces, to verify the report, which had now reached Lloyd's, that theProserpinehad foundered at sea.
"It is too true," said Michael; "and poor Mr. Wylie here has barely escaped with his life. He was mate of the ship, gentlemen."
Upon this, each visitor questioned Wylie, and Wylie returned the same smooth answer to all inquiries. One heavy gale after another had so tried the ship that her seams had opened, and let in more water than all the exertions of the crew and passengers could discharge; at last, they had taken to the boats; the long-boat had been picked up; the cutter had never been heard of since.
They nearly all asked after the ship's log.
"I have got it safe at home," said he.
It was in his pocket all the time.
Some asked him where the other survivors were. He told them five had shipped on board theMaria,and three were with him at Poplar, one disabled by the hardships they had all endured.
One or two complained angrily of Mr. Wardlaw's absence at such a time.
"Well, good gentlemen," said Wylie, "I'll tell ye. Mr. Wardlaw's sweetheart was aboard the ship. He is a'most broken-hearted. He vallied her more than all the gold, that you may take your oath on."
This stroke, coming from a rough fellow in a pea-jacket, who looked as simple as he was cunning, silenced remonstrance, and went far to disarm suspicion; and so pleased Michael Penfold that he said, "Mr. Wylie, you are interested in this business, would you mind going to Mr. Wardlaw's house and asking what we are to do next? I'll give you his address and a line begging him to make an effort and see you. Business is the heart's best ointment. Eh, dear Mr. Wylie, I have known grief, too; and I think I should have gone mad when they sent my poor son away, but for business, especially the summing up of long columns, etc."
Wylie called at the house in Russell Square, and asked to see Mr. Wardlaw.
The servant shook his head. "You can't see him; he is very ill."
"Very ill?" said Wylie. "I'm sorry for that. Well, but I shan't make him any worse; and Mr. Penfold says I must see him. It is very particular, I tell you. He won't thank you for refusing me, when he comes to hear of it."
He said this very seriously; and the servant, after a short hesitation, begged him to sit down in the passage a moment. He then went into the dining-room, and shortly reappeared, holding the door open. Out came, not Wardlaw junior, but Wardlaw senior.
"My son is in no condition to receive you," said he, gravely; "but I am at your service. What is your business?"
Wylie was taken off his guard, and stammered out something about theShannon.
"TheShannon!What have you to do with her? You belong to theProserpine."
"Ay, sir; but I had his orders to ship forty chests of lead and smelted copper on board theShannon."
"Well?"
"Ye see, sir," said Wylie, "Mr. Wardlaw was particular about them, and I feel responsible like, having shipped them aboard another vessel."
"Have you not the captain's receipt?"
"That I have, sir, at home. But you could hardly read it for salt water."
"Well," said Wardlaw senior, "I will direct our agent at Liverpool to look after them, and send them up at once to my cellars in Fenchurch Street. Forty chests of lead and copper, I think you said." And he took a note of this directly. Wylie was not a little discomfited at this unexpected turn things had taken; but he held his tongue now, for fear of making bad worse. Wardlaw senior went on to say that he should have to conduct the business of the firm for a time, in spite of his old age and failing health.
This announcement made Wylie perspire with anxiety, and his three thousand pounds seemed to melt away from him.
"But never mind," said old Wardlaw; "I am very glad you came. In fact, you are the very man I wanted to see. My poor afflicted friend has asked after you several times. Be good enough to follow me."
He led the way into the dining-room, and there sat the sad father in all the quiet dignity of calm, unfathomable sorrow.
Another gentleman stood upon the rug with his back to the fire, waiting for Mr. Wardlaw; this was the family physician, who had just come down from Arthur's bedroom, and had entered by another door through the drawing-room.
"Well, doctor," said Wardlaw, anxiously, "what is your report?"
"Not so good as I could wish; but nothing to excite immediate alarm. Overtaxed brain, sir, weakened and unable to support this calamity. However, we have reduced the fever; the symptoms of delirium have been checked, and I think we shall escape brain fever if he is kept quiet. I could not have said as much this morning."
The doctor then took his leave, with a promise to call next morning; and, as soon as he was gone, Wardlaw turned to General Rolleston, and said, "HereisWylie, sir. Come forward, my man, and speak to the general. He wants to know if you can point out to him on the chart the very spot where theProserpinewas lost?"
"Well, sir," said Wylie, "I think I could."
The great chart of the Pacific was then spread out upon the table, and rarely has a chart been examined as this was, with the bleeding heart as well as the straining eye.
The rough sailor became an oracle; the others hung upon his words, and followed his brown finger on the chart with fearful interest.
"Ye see, sir," said he, addressing the old merchant—for there was something on his mind that made him avoid speaking directly to General Rolleston—"when we came out of Sydney, the wind being south and by west, Hudson took the northerly course instead of running through Cook's Straits. The weather freshened from the same quarter, so that, with one thing and another, by when we were a month out, she was five hundred miles or so nor'ard of her true course. But that wasn't all; when the leak gained on us, Hudson ran the ship three hundred miles by my reckoning to the nor'east; and, I remember, the day before she foundered, he told me she was in latitude forty, and Easter Island bearing due north."
"Here is the spot, then," said General Rolleston, and placed his finger on the spot.
"Ay, sir," said Wylie, addressing the merchant; "but she ran about eighty-five miles after that, on a northerly course—no—wind on her starboard quarter—and, being deep in the water, she'd make lee way—say eighty-two miles, nor'east by east." The general took eighty-two miles off the scale, with a pair of dividers, and set out that distance on the chart. He held the instrument fixed on the point thus obtained.
Wylie eyed the point, and, after a moment's consideration, nodded his head.
"There, or thereabouts," he said, in a low voice, and looking at the merchant.
A pause ensued, and the two old men examined the speck pricked on the map, as if it were the waters covering theProserpine.
"Now, sir," said Rolleston, "trace the course of the boats;" and he handed Wylie a pencil.
The sailor slowly averted his head, but stretched out his hand and took it, and traced two lines, the one short and straight, running nearly northeast. "That's the way the cutter headed when we lost her in the night."
The other line ran parallel to the first for half an inch, then, turning, bent backward and ran due south.
"This was our course," said Wylie.
General Rolleston looked up, and said, "Why did you desert the cutter?"
The mate looked at old Wardlaw, and, after some hesitation, replied: "After we lost sight of her the men with me declared that we could not reach either Juan Fernandez or Valparaiso with our stock of provisions, and insisted on standing for the sea-track of Australian liners between the Horn and Sydney."
This explanation was received in dead silence. Wylie fidgeted, and his eye wandered round the room.
General Rolleston applied his compasses to the chart. "I find that theProserpinewas not one thousand miles from Easter Island. Why did you not make for that land?"
"We had no charts, sir," said Wylie to the merchant, "and I'm no navigator."
"I see no land laid down hereaway, northeast of the spot where the ship went down."
"No," replied Wylie, "that's what the men said when they made me 'bout ship."
"Then why did you lead the way northeast at all?"
"I'm no navigator," answered the man sullenly.
He then suddenly stammered out: "Ask my men what we went through. Why, sir" (to Wardlaw), "I can hardly believe that I am alive, and sit here talking to you about this cursed business. And nobody offers me a drop of anything."
Wardlaw poured him out a tumbler of wine. His brown hand trembled a little, and he gulped the wine down like water.
General Rolleston gave Mr. Wardlaw a look, and Wylie was dismissed. He slouched down the street all in a cold perspiration; but still clinging to his three thousand pounds, though small was now his hope of ever seeing it.
When he was gone General Rolleston paced that large and gloomy room in silence. Wardlaw eyed him with the greatest interest, but avoided speaking to him. At last he stopped short, and stood erect, as veterans halt, and pointed down at the chart.
"I'll start at once for that spot," said he. "I'll go in the next ship bound to Valparaiso: there I'll charter a small vessel, and ransack those waters for some trace of my poor lost girl."
"Can you think of no better way than that?" said old Wardlaw, gently, and with a slight tone of reproach.
"No—not at this moment. Oh, yes, by the by, theGreyhoundandDreadnaughtare going out to survey the islands of the Pacific. I have interest enough to get a berth in theGreyhound."
"What! go in a government ship! under the orders of a man, under the orders of another man, under the orders of a board. Why, if you heard our poor girl was alive upon a rock, theDreadnaughtwould be sure to run up a bunch of red-tape to the fore that moment to recall theGreyhound,and theGreyhoundwould go back. No," said he, rising suddenly, and confronting the general, and with the color mounting for once in his sallow face, "you sail in no bottom but one freighted by Wardlaw & Son, and the captain shall be under no orders but yours. We have bought the steam-sloopSpringbok, seven hundred tons. I'll victual her for a year, man her well, and you shall go out in her in less than a week. I give you my hand on that."
They grasped hands.
But this sudden warmth and tenderness, coming from a man habitually cold, overpowered the stout general. "What, sir," he faltered; "your own son lies in danger, yet your heart goes so with me—such goodness—it is too much for me."
"No, no," faltered the merchant, affected in his turn; "it is nothing. Your poor girl was coming home in that cursed ship to marry my son. Yes, he lies ill for love of her; God help him and me too; but you most of all. Don't, general; don't! We have got work to do; we must be brave, sir; brave, I say, and compose ourselves. Ah, my friend, you and I are of one age; and this is a heavy blow for us. And we are friends no more; it has made us brothers. She was to be my child as well as yours; well, now sheismy child, and our hearts they bleed together." At this, the truth must be told, the two stout old men embraced one another like two women, and cried together a little.