_
CHAPTER XVI - IN WHICH I TURN SMUGGLER, AND THE CAPTAIN CASUIST
The last night at Midway, I had little sleep; the next morning,
after the sun was risen, and the clatter of departure had begun
to reign on deck, I lay a long while dozing; and when at last I
stepped from the companion, the schooner was already leaping
through the pass into the open sea. Close on her board, the
huge scroll of a breaker unfurled itself along the reef with a
prodigious clamour; and behind I saw the wreck vomiting into
the morning air a coil of smoke. The wreaths already blew out
far to leeward, flames already glittered in the cabin skylight;
and the sea-fowl were scattered in surprise as wide as the
lagoon. As we drew farther off, the conflagration of the Flying
Scud flamed higher; and long after we had dropped all signs of
Midway Island, the smoke still hung in the horizon like that of
a distant steamer. With the fading out of that last vestige, the
Norah Creina, passed again into the empty world of cloud and
water by which she had approached; and the next features that
appeared, eleven days later, to break the line of sky, were the
arid mountains of Oahu.
It has often since been a comfortable thought to me that we had
thus destroyed the tell-tale remnants of the Flying Scud; and
often a strange one that my last sight and reminiscence of that
fatal ship should be a pillar of smoke on the horizon. To so
many others besides myself the same appearance had played a
part in the various stages of that business: luring some to what
they little imagined, filling some with unimaginable terrors.
But ours was the last smoke raised in the story; and with its
dying away the secret of the Flying Scud became a private
property.
It was by the first light of dawn that we saw, close on board,
the metropolitan island of Hawaii. We held along the coast, as
near as we could venture, with a fresh breeze and under an
unclouded heaven; beholding, as we went, the arid mountain
sides and scrubby cocoa-palms of that somewhat melancholy
archipelago. About four of the afternoon we turned Waimanolo
Point, the westerly headland of the great bight of Honolulu;
showed ourselves for twenty minutes in full view; and then fell
again to leeward, and put in the rest of daylight, plying under
shortened sail under the lee of Waimanolo.
A little after dark we beat once more about the point, and crept
cautiously toward the mouth of the Pearl Lochs, where Jim and
I had arranged I was to meet the smugglers. The night was
happily obscure, the water smooth. We showed, according to
instructions, no light on deck: only a red lantern dropped from
either cathead to within a couple of feet of the water. A lookout
was stationed on the bowsprit end, another in the crosstrees;
and the whole ship's company crowded forward, scouting for
enemies or friends. It was now the crucial moment of our
enterprise; we were now risking liberty and credit; and that for
a sum so small to a man in my bankrupt situation, that I could
have laughed aloud in bitterness. But the piece had been
arranged, and we must play it to the finish.
For some while, we saw nothing but the dark mountain outline
of the island, the torches of native fishermen glittering here and
there along the foreshore, and right in the midst that cluster of
brave lights with which the town of Honolulu advertises itself
to the seaward. Presently a ruddy star appeared inshore of us,
and seemed to draw near unsteadily. This was the anticipated
signal; and we made haste to show the countersign, lowering a
white light from the quarter, extinguishing the two others, and
laying the schooner incontinently to. The star approached
slowly; the sounds of oars and of men's speech came to us
across the water; and then a voice hailed us.
"Is that Mr. Dodd?"
"Yes," I returned. "Is Jim Pinkerton there?"
"No, sir," replied the voice. "But there's one of his crowd here;
name of Speedy."
"I'm here, Mr. Dodd," added Speedy himself. "I have letters
for you."
"All right," I replied. "Come aboard, gentlemen, and let me see
my mail."
A whaleboat accordingly ranged alongside, and three men
boarded us: my old San Francisco friend, the stock-gambler
Speedy, a little wizened person of the name of Sharpe, and a
big, flourishing, dissipated-looking man called Fowler. The
two last (I learned afterward) were frequent partners; Sharpe
supplied the capital, and Fowler, who was quite a character in
the islands and occupied a considerable station, brought
activity, daring, and a private influence, highly necessary in the
case. Both seemed to approach the business with a keen sense
of romance; and I believe this was the chief attraction, at least
with Fowler--for whom I early conceived a sentiment of liking.
But in that first moment I had something else to think of than
to judge my new acquaintances; and before Speedy had fished
out the letters, the full extent of our misfortune was revealed.
"We've rather bad news for you, Mr. Dodd," said Fowler.
"Your firm's gone up."
"Already!" I exclaimed.
"Well, it was thought rather a wonder Pinkerton held on as
long as he did," was the reply. "The wreck deal was too big for
your credit; you were doing a big business, no doubt, but you
were doing it on precious little capital; and when the strain
came, you were bound to go. Pinkerton's through all right:
seven cents dividend; some remarks made, but nothing to hurt;
the press let you down easy--I guess Jim had relations there.
The only trouble is, that all this Flying Scud affair got in the
papers with the rest; everybody's wide awake in Honolulu, and
the sooner we get the stuff in and the dollars out, the better for
all concerned."
"Gentlemen," said I, "you must excuse me. My friend, the
captain here, will drink a glass of champagne with you to give
you patience; but as for myself, I am unfit even for ordinary
conversation till I have read these letters."
They demurred a little: and indeed the danger of delay seemed
obvious; but the sight of my distress, which I was unable
entirely to control, appealed strongly to their good-nature; and I
was suffered at last to get by myself on deck, where, by the
light of a lantern smuggled under shelter of the low rail, I read
the following wretched correspondence.
"My dear Loudon," ran the first, "this will be handed you by
your friend Speedy of the Catamount. His sterling character
and loyal devotion to yourself pointed him out as the best man
for our purposes in Honolulu--the parties on the spot being
difficult to manipulate. A man called Billy Fowler (you must
have heard of Billy) is the boss; he is in politics some, and
squares the officers. I have hard times before me in the city,
but I feel as bright as a dollar and as strong as John L.
Sullivan. What with Mamie here, and my partner speeding
over the seas, and the bonanza in the wreck, I feel like I could
juggle with the Pyramids of Egypt, same as conjurers do with
aluminium balls. My earnest prayers follow you, Loudon, that
you may feel the way I do--just inspired! My feet don't touch
the ground; I kind of swim. Mamie is like Moses and Aaron
that held up the other individual's arms. She carries me along
like a horse and buggy. I am beating the record.
"Your true partner,
"J. PINKERTON."
Number two was in a different style:--
"My dearest Loudon, how am I to prepare you for this dire
intelligence? O dear me, it will strike you to the earth. The
Fiat has gone forth; our firm went bust at a quarter before
twelve. It was a bill of Bradley's (for $200) that brought these
vast operations to a close, and evolved liabilities of upwards of
two hundred and fifty thousand. O, the shame and pity of it!
and you but three weeks gone! Loudon, don't blame your
partner: if human hands and brains could have sufficed, I
would have held the thing together. But it just slowly
crumbled; Bradley was the last kick, but the blamed business
just MELTED. I give the liabilities; it's supposed they're all in;
for the cowards were waiting, and the claims were filed like
taking tickets to hear Patti. I don't quite have the hang of the
assets yet, our interests were so extended; but I am at it day and
night, and I guess will make a creditable dividend. If the
wreck pans out only half the way it ought, we'll turn the laugh
still. I am as full of grit and work as ever, and just tower above
our troubles. Mamie is a host in herself. Somehow I feel like it
was only me that had gone bust, and you and she soared clear
of it. Hurry up. That's all you have to do.
"Yours ever,
"J. PINKERTON."
The third was yet more altered:--
"My poor Loudon," it began, "I labour far into the night getting
our affairs in order; you could not believe their vastness and
complexity. Douglas B. Longhurst said humorously that the
receiver's work would be cut out for him. I cannot deny that
some of them have a speculative look. God forbid a sensitive,
refined spirit like yours should ever come face to face with a
Commissioner in Bankruptcy; these men get all the sweetness
knocked right out of them. But I could bear up better if it
weren't for press comments. Often and often, Loudon, I recall
to mind your most legitimate critiques of the press system.
They published an interview with me, not the least like what I
said, and with JEERING comments; it would make your blood
boil, it was literally INHUMANE; I wouldn't have written it
about a yellow dog that was in trouble like what I am. Mamie
just winced, the first time she has turned a hair right through
the whole catastrophe. How wonderfully true was what you
said long ago in Paris, about touching on people's personal
appearance! The fellow said--" And then these words had
been scored through; and my distressed friend turned to another
subject. "I cannot bear to dwell upon our assets. They simply
don't show up. Even Thirteen Star, as sound a line as can be
produced upon this coast, goes begging. The wreck has thrown
a blight on all we ever touched. And where's the use? God
never made a wreck big enough to fill our deficit. I am haunted
by the thought that you may blame me; I know how I despised
your remonstrances. O, Loudon, don't be hard on your
miserable partner. The funny-dog business is what kills. I fear
your stern rectitude of mind like the eye of God. I cannot think
but what some of my books seem mixed up; otherwise, I don't
seem to see my way as plain as I could wish to. Or else my
brain is gone soft. Loudon, if there should be any
unpleasantness, you can trust me to do the right thing and keep
you clear. I've been telling them already, how you had no
business grip and never saw the books. O, I trust I have done
right in this! I knew it was a liberty; I know you may justly
complain; but it was some things that were said. And mind
you, all legitimate business! Not even your shrinking
sensitiveness could find fault with the first look of one of them,
if they had panned out right. And you know, the Flying Scud
was the biggest gamble of the crowd, and that was your own
idea. Mamie says she never could bear to look you in the face,
if that idea had been mine, she is SO conscientious!
"Your broken-hearted
"JIM."
The last began without formality:--
"This is the end of me commercially. I give up; my nerve is
gone. I suppose I ought to be glad; for we're through the court.
I don't know as ever I knew how, and I'm sure I don't
remember. If it pans out--the wreck, I mean--we'll go to
Europe, and live on the interest of our money. No more work
for me. I shake when people speak to me. I have gone on,
hoping and hoping, and working and working, and the lead has
pinched right out. I want to lie on my back in a garden and
read Shakespeare and E. P. Roe. Don't suppose it's cowardice,
Loudon. I'm a sick man. Rest is what I must have. I've
worked hard all my life; I never spared myself; every dollar I
ever made, I've coined my brains for it. I've never done a mean
thing; I've lived respectable, and given to the poor. Who has a
better right to a holiday than I have? And I mean to have a year
of it straight out; and if I don't, I shall lie right down here in my
tracks, and die of worry and brain trouble. Don't mistake.
That's so. If there are any pickings at all, TRUST SPEEDY;
don't let the creditors get wind of what there is. I helped you
when you were down; help me now. Don't deceive yourself;
you've got to help me right now, or never. I am clerking, and
NOT FIT TO CYPHER. Mamie's typewriting at the Phoenix
Guano Exchange, down town. The light is right out of my life.
I know you'll not like to do what I propose. Think only of this;
that it's life or death for
"JIM PINKERTON.
"P.S. Our figure was seven per cent. O, what a fall was there!
Well, well, it's past mending; I don't want to whine. But,
Loudon, I do want to live. No more ambition; all I ask is life. I
have so much to make it sweet to me! I am clerking, and
USELESS AT THAT. I know I would have fired such a clerk
inside of forty minutes, in MY time. But my time's over. I can
only cling on to you. Don't fail
"JIM PINKERTON."
There was yet one more postscript, yet one more outburst of
self-pity and pathetic adjuration; and a doctor's opinion,
unpromising enough, was besides enclosed. I pass them both
in silence. I think shame to have shown, at so great length, the
half-baked virtues of my friend dissolving in the crucible of
sickness and distress; and the effect upon my spirits can be
judged already. I got to my feet when I had done, drew a deep
breath, and stared hard at Honolulu. One moment the world
seemed at an end; the next, I was conscious of a rush of
independent energy. On Jim I could rely no longer; I must now
take hold myself. I must decide and act on my own better
thoughts.
The word was easy to say; the thing, at the first blush, was
undiscoverable. I was overwhelmed with miserable, womanish
pity for my broken friend; his outcries grieved my spirit; I saw
him then and now--then, so invincible; now, brought so low--
and knew neither how to refuse, nor how to consent to his
proposal. The remembrance of my father, who had fallen in the
same field unstained, the image of his monument
incongruously rising, a fear of the law, a chill air that seemed to
blow upon my fancy from the doors of prisons, and the
imaginary clank of fetters, recalled me to a different resolve.
And then again, the wails of my sick partner intervened. So I
stood hesitating, and yet with a strong sense of capacity behind:
sure, if I could but choose my path, that I should walk in it with
resolution.
Then I remembered that I had a friend on board, and stepped to
the companion.
"Gentlemen," said I, "only a few moments more: but these, I
regret to say, I must make more tedious still by removing your
companion. It is indispensable that I should have a word or
two with Captain Nares."
Both the smugglers were afoot at once, protesting. The
business, they declared, must be despatched at once; they had
run risk enough, with a conscience; and they must either finish
now, or go.
"The choice is yours, gentlemen," said I, "and, I believe, the
eagerness. I am not yet sure that I have anything in your way;
even if I have, there are a hundred things to be considered; and
I assure you it is not at all my habit to do business with a pistol
to my head."
"That is all very proper, Mr. Dodd; there is no wish to coerce
you, believe me," said Fowler; "only, please consider our
position. It is really dangerous; we were not the only people to
see your schooner off Waimanolo."
"Mr. Fowler," I replied, "I was not born yesterday. Will you
allow me to express an opinion, in which I may be quite wrong,
but to which I am entirely wedded? If the custom-house officers
had been coming, they would have been here now. In other
words, somebody is working the oracle, and (for a good guess)
his name is Fowler."
Both men laughed loud and long; and being supplied with
another bottle of Longhurst's champagne, suffered the captain
and myself to leave them without further word.
I gave Nares the correspondence, and he skimmed it through.
"Now, captain," said I, "I want a fresh mind on this. What
does it mean?"
"It's large enough text," replied the captain. "It means you're to
stake your pile on Speedy, hand him over all you can, and hold
your tongue. I almost wish you hadn't shown it me," he added
wearily. "What with the specie from the wreck and the opium
money, it comes to a biggish deal."
"That's supposing that I do it?" said I.
"Exactly," said he, "supposing you do it."
"And there are pros and cons to that," I observed.
"There's San Quentin, to start in with," said the captain; "and
suppose you clear the penitentiary, there's the nasty taste in the
mouth. The figure's big enough to make bad trouble, but it's
not big enough to be picturesque; and I should guess a man
always feels kind of small who has sold himself under six
cyphers. That would be my way, at least; there's an excitement
about a million that might carry me on; but the other way, I
should feel kind of lonely when I woke in bed. Then there's
Speedy. Do you know him well?"
"No, I do not," said I.
"Well, of course he can vamoose with the entire speculation, if
he chooses," pursued the captain, "and if he don't I can't see but
what you've got to support and bed and board with him to the
end of time. I guess it would weary me. Then there's Mr.
Pinkerton, of course. He's been a good friend to you, hasn't he?
Stood by you, and all that? and pulled you through for all he
was worth?"
"That he has," I cried; "I could never begin telling you my debt
to him!"
"Well, and that's a consideration," said the captain. "As a
matter of principle, I wouldn't look at this business at the
money. 'Not good enough,' would be my word. But even
principle goes under when it comes to friends--the right sort, I
mean. This Pinkerton is frightened, and he seems sick; the
medico don't seem to care a cent about his state of health; and
you've got to figure how you would like it if he came to die.
Remember, the risk of this little swindle is all yours; it's no sort
of risk to Mr. Pinkerton. Well, you've got to put it that way
plainly, and see how you like the sound of it: my friend
Pinkerton is in danger of the New Jerusalem, I am in danger of
San Quentin; which risk do I propose to run?"
"That's an ugly way to put it," I objected, "and perhaps hardly
fair. There's right and wrong to be considered."
"Don't know the parties," replied Nares; "and I'm coming to
them, anyway. For it strikes me, when it came to smuggling
opium, you walked right up?"
"So I did," I said; "sick I am to have to say it!"
"All the same," continued Nares, "you went into the opium-
smuggling with your head down; and a good deal of fussing
I've listened to, that you hadn't more of it to smuggle. Now,
maybe your partner's not quite fixed the same as you are;
maybe he sees precious little difference between the one thing
and the other."
"You could not say truer: he sees none, I do believe," cried I;
"and though I see one, I could never tell you how."
"We never can," said the oracular Nares; "taste is all a matter of
opinion. But the point is, how will your friend take it? You
refuse a favour, and you take the high horse at the same time;
you disappoint him, and you rap him over the knuckles. It
won't do, Mr. Dodd; no friendship can stand that. You must be
as good as your friend, or as bad as your friend, or start on a
fresh deal without him."
"I don't see it!" said I. "You don't know Jim!"
"Well, you WILL see," said Nares. "And now, here's another
point. This bit of money looks mighty big to Mr. Pinkerton; it
may spell life or health to him; but among all your creditors, I
don't see that it amounts to a hill of beans--I don't believe it'll
pay their car-fares all round. And don't you think you'll ever
get thanked. You were known to pay a long price for the
chance of rummaging that wreck; you do the rummaging, you
come home, and you hand over ten thousand--or twenty, if you
like--a part of which you'll have to own up you made by
smuggling; and, mind! you'll never get Billy Fowler to stick his
name to a receipt. Now just glance at the transaction from the
outside, and see what a clear case it makes. Your ten thousand
is a sop; and people will only wonder you were so damned
impudent as to offer such a small one! Whichever way you
take it, Mr. Dodd, the bottom's out of your character; so there's
one thing less to be considered."
"I daresay you'll scarce believe me," said I, "but I feel that a
positive relief."
"You must be made some way different from me, then,"
returned Nares. "And, talking about me, I might just mention
how I stand. You'll have no trouble from me--you've trouble
enough of your own; and I'm friend enough, when a friend's in
need, to shut my eyes and go right where he tells me. All the
same, I'm rather queerly fixed. My owners'll have to rank with
the rest on their charter-party. Here am I, their representative!
and I have to look over the ship's side while the bankrupt walks
his assets ashore in Mr. Speedy's hat-box. It's a thing I
wouldn't do for James G. Blaine; but I'll do it for you, Mr.
Dodd, and only sorry I can't do more."
"Thank you, captain; my mind is made up," said I. "I'll go
straight, RUAT COELUM! I never understood that old tag
before to-night."
"I hope it isn't my business that decides you?" asked the
captain.
"I'll never deny it was an element," said I. "I hope, I hope I'm
not cowardly; I hope I could steal for Jim myself; but when it
comes to dragging in you and Speedy, and this one and the
other, why, Jim has got to die, and there's an end. I'll try and
work for him when I get to 'Frisco, I suppose; and I suppose I'll
fail, and look on at his death, and kick myself: it can't be
helped--I'll fight it on this line."
"I don't say as you're wrong," replied Nares, "and I'll be hanged
if I know if you're right. It suits me anyway. And look here--
hadn't you better just show our friends over the side?" he
added; "no good of being at the risk and worry of smuggling for
the benefit of creditors."
"I don't think of the creditors," said I. "But I've kept this pair so
long, I haven't got the brass to fire them now."
Indeed, I believe that was my only reason for entering upon a
transaction which was now outside my interest, but which (as it
chanced) repaid me fifty-fold in entertainment. Fowler and
Sharpe were both preternaturally sharp; they did me the honour
in the beginning to attribute to myself their proper vices; and
before we were done had grown to regard me with an esteem
akin to worship. This proud position I attained by no more
recondite arts, than telling the mere truth and unaffectedly
displaying my indifference to the result. I have doubtless stated
the essentials of all good diplomacy, which may be rather
regarded, therefore, as a grace of state, than the effect of
management. For to tell the truth is not in itself diplomatic,
and to have no care for the result a thing involuntary. When I
mentioned, for instance, that I had but two hundred and forty
pounds of drug, my smugglers exchanged meaning glances, as
who should say, "Here is a foeman worthy of our steel!" But
when I carelessly proposed thirty-five dollars a pound, as an
amendment to their offered twenty, and wound up with the
remark: "The whole thing is a matter of moonshine to me,
gentlemen. Take it or want it, and fill your glasses"--I had the
indescribable gratification to see Sharpe nudge Fowler
warningly, and Fowler choke down the jovial acceptance that
stood ready on his lips, and lamely substitute a "No--no more
wine, please, Mr. Dodd!" Nor was this all: for when the affair
was settled at fifty dollars a pound--a shrewd stroke of business
for my creditors--and our friends had got on board their
whaleboat and shoved off, it appeared they were imperfectly
acquainted with the conveyance of sound upon still water, and I
had the joy to overhear the following testimonial.
"Deep man, that Dodd," said Sharpe.
And the bass-toned Fowler echoed, "Damned if I understand
his game."
Thus we were left once more alone upon the Norah Creina; and
the news of the night, and the lamentations of Pinkerton, and
the thought of my own harsh decision, returned and besieged
me in the dark. According to all the rubbish I had read, I
should have been sustained by the warm consciousness of
virtue. Alas, I had but the one feeling: that I had sacrificed my
sick friend to the fear of prison-cells and stupid starers. And no
moralist has yet advanced so far as to number cowardice
amongst the things that are their own reward.
Content of CHAPTER XVI - IN WHICH I TURN SMUGGLER, AND THE CAPTAIN CASUIST [Robert Louis Stevenson's novel: The Wrecker]
_