CHAPTER XXXII.
IN WHICH SIR ANDREW SUDDENLY TURNS VERY PIOUS—A STORMY MEETING.
The loss of the well-known vessels, “Racehorse” and “Eclipse,” and their destruction by the Skeleton Crew under Death-wing, was a serious blow to several gentlemen in the habit of daily attending on ’Change, and their countenances wore the marks of care and anxiety, for Mr. Redgill, senior, had drawn heavily on his friends in making his grand China speculation in silks and teas.
Old Moss the usurer was like one demented.
He was seen rushing from place to place, making all manner of inquiries regarding the “soundness” of the London Insurance Office, but his fears were dispelled by the universal good opinion which prevailed in commercial circles concerning it.
“Pooh! pooh, man!” was the general expression. “Sir Andrew is all right. Bless you, it is as safe as the bank. Why, that office is worth any amount of money!”
The executors of Mr. Redgill, senior, were not long, of course, in presenting their “policies” for adjustment at the insurance office.
But Sir Andrew was “out of town, and was not expected to return for several days; but upon his return all just claims would be settled,” said the clerk.
Mr. Moss, as one of those principally interested, felt comforted, and awaited Sir Andrew’s return with recomposed feelings, but hot impatience.
When the affairs of the “London Insurance Company” were examined commercial circles were greatly surprised to find it unable to meet the heavy loss which had unexpectedly fallen upon it by the wreck of the vessels, and that, far from being able to pay £500,000 to the estate of Mr. Redgill, deceased, it was not possessed of more than a fiftieth part of that sum.
In truth, at the time in which these events occurred, the latter part of the merry monarch’s reign, the London money market was in a very unsafe, unsettled condition, and commerce was trembling on the brink of ruin from inflated currency, wild speculation, and general distrust.
Leading men had predicted the inevitability of “a general smash” should things thus continue, yet none were, of course, able to divine in which direction the storm might first break out.
When it was known on ’Change, therefore, that Sir Andrew’s office was unable to meet its liabilities many raised their hands and eyes in wonder, and exclaimed—
“Who’d a believed it?”
This was poor consolation to old Moss the Jew, and other persons interested in the settlement of Mr. Redgill’s affairs.
With a stooping gait, shrivelled face and hands, old Moss journeyed to and fro in an undeniable state of despair, and was in such a rage that he ordered his agent to turn every poor devil out of his numerous tenements who had not paid every farthing of their rents.
Sitting in his lonely, dirty office, without fire, or comfort of any kind, he gathered himself into a heap in a large, old arm-chair, and looked like some wild animal in wait for its prey.
Hour after hour he there sat, thinking of the past, and cursing every one in any way connected with his losses.
He cursed both the living and the dead, with an earnestness and an enthusiasm which greatly relieved his pent-up feelings.
To such an extent had his loss preyed upon him, that his face had become like a livid corpse.
He stalked through his dusty, dingy offices like one possessed by the devil, and when an unfortunate servant poked in her head from the back room, to ask a question, Moss raised a heavy ledger with great energy, and threw it at her.
“So Sir Andrew has returned to town again, has he? Ha, ha! Oh, he’s a nice gentleman—the intended father-in-law of that young vagabond, Redgill, eh? I see the scheme! No wonder the insurance office couldn’t pay its lawful debts! I know what their plans are. I’ll go and see him. I will see him; he can’t fool me, old as I am. I’ll tell him what I think of him. I’ll have my money, or I’ll see why!” cursed old Moss, walking about like a maniac.
The furious old Jew put on his tattered overcoat, buttoned it up to the throat, and with a good thick stick in his hand, trudged off towards Sir Andrew’s residence.
The servant said his master was engaged, and could not be seen.
Mr. Moss would take no denial.
He would see him, and without further ceremony flourished his stick at the footman’s head, and made his way upstairs to the library.
As he stood at the door, he heard the sounds of several voices, high in oath and angry altercation.
He entered quietly, took a seat near the door, and, finding the gentlemen to be creditors like himself, soon took part in their grievances, and opened an extra broadside of abuse upon the unfortunate Sir Andrew McTurk.
Sir Andrew, in his easy chair, one leg over the other, played with his watch-chain and seals in the coolest manner imaginable.
This was one of those occasions in life which “try men’s souls,” and call forth their Christian virtues in bold relief against the revilings of an angry audience.
Sir Andrew’s resignation and Christian forbearance was extraordinary.
He even smiled, as one after another of Mr. Redgill’s creditors grew red in the face, struck the table, and told what they thought of him.
Old Moss, the Jew, was “sitting on thorns,” for he was very uneasy in his chair.
He at last arose, and, approaching the Christian and martyr-like Sir Andrew, he flourished his clenched fist in the face of that meek and smiling gentleman, and said,
“I’ll tell you whatIthink about you, Sir Andrew McTurk—you are a d—d rogue, sir! and the whole lot of you are a gang of thieves, and ought to be hung, if there was any justice in the world.”
With wonderful forbearance, Sir Andrew listened to all these personal compliments, but at last said, with much mildness,
“Really, gentlemen, I cannot understand all this! I owe you nothing; neither does the late company, of which I, unfortunately, was president. You had better present your claims to the executors of Mr. Redgill’s estate. They are the proper persons to whom you should apply. I have nothing to do with all this.
“The London Insurance Company certainly closed their doors very suddenly, but I was out of town at the time, and only heard of it by letter. We have had very extensive losses of late, but, had I any capital, it would have given me infinite pleasure to meet all claims—it would, I assure you!
“In truth, I make the humiliating confession to you, gentlemen, despite your angry and unjust accusations, that I, personally, have not one penny in the world!
“Were it not for some funds, which I cannot legally touch, owned by my wife’s sister—”
Mr. Moss groaned very audibly at the words “my wife’s sister.”
“On deposit at the South Sea Bank, we should not be worth a fraction, and would be all turned out into the streets!
“But, my dear friends, why do you come to me about these affairs? I have nothing to do with them.”
All this was said with a faint smile, which was like wormwood to all present.
Mr. Moss, who flounced about the apartment likea mad morris dancer, flourished his walking-stick, and said,
“The reason I come to see you, you sanctimonious old scoundrel, is to tell you what I think of you!
“Had you paid the insurance on those vessels, like honest men would have done, I and every other creditor would have been satisfied in full; but now we don’t get one penny!
“No, not a solitary farthing!
“And do you think I don’t know all about your scheme—eh, you smiling old villain?
“Don’t I know that young Redgill is going to be your son-in-law, eh? and that if you had paid the insurance, he wouldn’t lawfully come in for one penny?
“Do you think I don’t know all about it, you scheming scoundrel?”
Mr. Moss was bursting with rage.
This disclosure only tended to raise the ire of the other creditors, who became so furious and noisy that they crowded round poor Sir Andrew, gesticulating and cursing so that they reminded one of a pack of hungry and furious wolves.
Sir Andrew was placid as a lamb, and said not a word.
He played with his watch keys, and gazed at the fire, until, when his noisy visitors had departed, he smiled, and said,
“Well, let them howl as much as they like. I am all right—so that’s all that concerns me! It wasn’t a bad idea! They can’t touch the money of mine now which my wife placed to the account of her sister, for it is all in the name of a third party, and is taken for her own personalty. Who cares if others do lose? Why, if we had paid the policies, I shouldn’t be worth one penny! In fact, we couldn’t pay it. By closing doors we have ‘done’ them all, and saved ourselves! They may say what they please; ‘business is business,’ but let every one take care of themselves.”