DELICATE INQUIRIES
A genuine summer day pays a visit nearly once in the season to
Flamborough; and when it does come, it has a wonderful effect. Often the
sun shines brightly there, and often the air broods hot with thunder;
but the sun owes his brightness to sweep of the wind, which sweeps away
his warmth as well; while, on the other hand, the thunder-clouds, like
heavy smoke capping the headland, may oppress the air with heat, but are
not of sweet summer's beauty.
For once, however, the fine day came, and the natives made haste to
revile it. Before it was three hours old they had found a hundred and
fifty faults with it. Most of the men truly wanted a good sleep, after
being lively all the night upon the waves, and the heat and the yellow
light came in upon their eyes, and set the flies buzzing all about them.
And even the women, who had slept out their time, and talked quietly,
like the clock ticking, were vexed with the sun, which kept their
kettles from good boiling, and wrote upon their faces the years of their
life. But each made allowance for her neighbor's appearance, on the
strength of the troubles she had been through. For the matter of that,
the sun cared not the selvage of a shadow what was thought of him, but
went his bright way with a scattering of clouds and a tossing of vapors
anywhere. Upon the few fishermen who gave up hope of sleep, and came
to stand dazed in their doorways, the glare of white walls and chalky
stones, and dusty roads, produced the same effect as if they had put on
their fathers' goggles. Therefore they yawned their way back to their
room, and poked up the fire, without which, at Flamborough, no hot
weather would be half hot enough.
The children, however, were wide-awake, and so were the washer-women,
whose turn it had been to sleep last night for the labors of the
morning. These were plying hand and tongue in a little field by the
three cross-roads, where gaffers and gammers of by-gone time had set up
troughs of proven wood, and the bilge of a long storm-beaten boat, near
a pool of softish water. Stout brown arms were roped with curd, and
wedding rings looked slippery things, and thumb-nails bordered with
inveterate black, like broad beans ripe for planting, shone through a
hubbub of snowy froth; while sluicing and wringing and rinsing went on
over the bubbled and lathery turf; and every handy bush or stub, and
every tump of wiry grass, was sheeted with white, like a ship in full
sail, and shining in the sun-glare.
From time to time these active women glanced back at their cottages,
to see that the hearth was still alive, or at their little daughters
squatting under the low wall which kept them from the road, where they
had got all the babies to nurse, and their toes and other members to
compare, and dandelion chains to make. But from their washing ground the
women could not see the hill that brings to the bottom of the village
the crooked road from Sewerby. Down that hill came a horseman slowly,
with nobody to notice him, though himself on the watch for everybody;
and there in the bottom below the first cottage he allowed his horse to
turn aside and cool hot feet and leathery lips, in a brown pool spread
by Providence for the comfort of wayworn roadsters.
The horse looked as if he had labored far, while his rider was calmly
resting; for the cross-felled sutures of his flank were crusted with
gray perspiration, and the runnels of his shoulders were dabbled; and
now it behooved him to be careful how he sucked the earthy-flavored
water, so as to keep time with the heaving of his barrel. In a word,
he was drinking as if he would burst--as his hostler at home often told
him--but the clever old roadster knew better than that, and timing it
well between snorts and coughs, was tightening his girths with deep
pleasure.
“Enough, my friend, is as good as a feast,” said his rider to him,
gently, yet strongly pulling up the far-stretched head, “and too much is
worse than a famine.”
The horse, though he did not belong to this gentleman, but was hired by
him only yesterday, had already discovered that, with him on his back,
his own judgment must lie dormant, so that he quietly whisked his tail
and glanced with regret at the waste of his drip, and then, with a
roundabout step, to prolong the pleasure of this little wade, sadly but
steadily out he walked, and, after the necessary shake, began his
first invasion of the village. His rider said nothing, but kept a sharp
look-out.
Now this was Master Geoffrey Mordacks, of the ancient city of York, a
general factor and land agent. What a “general factor” is, or is not,
none but himself can pretend to say, even in these days of definition,
and far less in times when thought was loose; and perhaps Mr. Mordacks
would rather have it so. But any one who paid him well could trust him,
according to the ancient state of things. To look at him, nobody would
even dare to think that money could be a consideration to him, or
the name of it other than an insult. So lofty and steadfast his whole
appearance was, and he put back his shoulders so manfully. Upright,
stiff, and well appointed with a Roman nose, he rode with the seat of a
soldier and the decision of a tax-collector. From his long steel spurs
to his hard coned hat not a soft line was there, nor a feeble curve.
Stern honesty and strict purpose stamped every open piece of him so
strictly that a man in a hedge-row fostering devious principles, and
resolved to try them, could do no more than run away, and be thankful
for the chance of it.
But in those rough and dangerous times, when thousands of people were
starving, the view of a pistol-butt went further than sternest aspect of
strong eyes. Geoffrey Mordacks well knew this, and did not neglect his
knowledge. The brown walnut stock of a heavy pistol shone above either
holster, and a cavalry sword in a leathern scabbard hung within easy
reach of hand. Altogether this gentleman seemed not one to be rashly
attacked by daylight.
No man had ever dreamed as yet of coming to this outlandish place for
pleasure of the prospect. So that when this lonely rider was descried
from the washing field over the low wall of the lane, the women made
up their minds at once that it must be a justice of the peace, or some
great rider of the Revenue, on his way to see Dr. Upandown, or at the
least a high constable concerned with some great sheep-stealing. Not
that any such crime was known in the village itself of Flamborough,
which confined its operations to the sea; but in the outer world of
land that malady was rife just now, and a Flamborough man, too fond of
mutton, had farmed some sheep on the downs, and lost them, which was
considered a judgment on him for willfully quitting ancestral ways.
But instead of turning at the corner where the rector was trying to grow
some trees, the stranger kept on along the rugged highway, and between
the straggling cottages, so that the women rinsed their arms, and turned
round to take a good look at him, over the brambles and furze, and the
wall of chalky flint and rubble.
“This is just what I wanted,” thought Geoffrey Mordacks: “skill makes
luck, and I am always lucky. Now, first of all, to recruit the inner
man.”
At this time Mrs. Theophila Precious, generally called “Tapsy,” the
widow of a man who had been lost at sea, kept the “Cod with a Hook in
his Gills,” the only hostelry in Flamborough village, although there
was another toward the Landing. The cod had been painted from life--or
death--by a clever old fisherman who understood him, and he looked so
firm, and stiff, and hard, that a healthy man, with purse enough to tire
of butcher's-meat, might grow in appetite by gazing. Mr. Mordacks pulled
up, and fixed steadfast eyes upon this noble fish, the while a score
of sharp eyes from the green and white meadow were fixed steadfastly on
him.
“How he shines with salt-water! How firm he looks, and his gills as
bright as a rose in June! I have never yet tasted a cod at first hand.
It is early in the day, but the air is hungry. My expenses are paid, and
I mean to live well, for a strong mind will be required. I will have a
cut out of that fish, to begin with.”
Inditing of this, and of matters even better, the rider turned into the
yard of the inn, where an old boat (as usual) stood for a horse-trough,
and sea-tubs served as buckets. Strong sunshine glared upon the
oversaling tiles, and white buckled walls, and cracky lintels;
but nothing showed life, except an old yellow cat, and a pair of
house-martins, who had scarcely time to breathe, such a number of little
heads flipped out with a white flap under the beak of each, demanding
momentous victualling. At these the yellow cat winked with dreamy
joyfulness, well aware how fat they would be when they came to tumble
out.
“What a place of vile laziness!” grumbled Mr. Mordacks, as he got off
his horse, after vainly shouting “Hostler!” and led him to the byre,
which did duty for a stable. “York is a lazy hole enough, but the
further you go from it, the lazier they get. No energy, no movement, no
ambition, anywhere. What a country! what a people! I shall have to go
back and enlist the washer-women.”
A Yorkshireman might have answered this complaint, if he thought it
deserving of an answer, by requesting Master Mordacks not to be so
overquick, but to bide a wee bit longer before he made so sure of the
vast superiority of his own wit, for the long heads might prove better
than the sharp ones in the end of it. However, the general factor
thought that he could not have come to a better place to get all that he
wanted out of everybody. He put away his saddle, and the saddlebags
and sword, in a rough old sea-chest with a padlock to it, and having a
sprinkle of chaff at the bottom. Then he calmly took the key, as if
the place were his, gave his horse a rackful of long-cut grass, and
presented himself, with a lordly aspect, at the front door of the silent
inn. Here he made noise enough to stir the dead; and at the conclusion
of a reasonable time, during which she had finished a pleasant dream
to the simmering of the kitchen pot, the landlady showed herself in the
distance, feeling for her keys with one hand, and rubbing her eyes
with the other. This was the head-woman of the village, but seldom
tyrannical, unless ill-treated, Widow Precious, tall and square, and of
no mean capacity.
“Young mon,” with a deep voice she said, “what is tha' deein' wi' aw
that clatter?”
“Alas, my dear madam, I am not a young man; and therefore time is more
precious to me. I have lived out half my allotted span, and shall never
complete it unless I get food.”
“T' life o' mon is aw a hoory,” replied Widow Precious, with slow truth.
“Young mon, what 'll ye hev?”
“Dinner, madam; dinner at the earliest moment. I have ridden far, and my
back is sore, and my substance is calling for renewal.”
“Ate, ate, ate, that's t' waa of aw menkins. Bud ye maa coom in, and
crack o' it.”
“Madam, you are most hospitable; and the place altogether seems to be
of that description. What a beautiful room! May I sit down? I perceive
a fine smell of most delicate soup. Ah, you know how to do things at
Flamborough.”
“Young mon, ye can ha' nune of yon potty. Yon's for mesell and t'
childer.”
“My excellent hostess, mistake me not. I do not aspire to such lofty
pot-luck. I simply referred to it as a proof of your admirable culinary
powers.”
“Yon's beeg words. What 'll ye hev te ate?”
“A fish like that upon your sign-post, madam, or at least the upper half
of him; and three dozen oysters just out of the sea, swimming in their
own juice, with lovely melted butter.”
“Young mon, hast tha gotten t' brass? Them 'at ates offens forgets t'
reck'nin'.”
“Yes, madam, I have the needful in abundance. Ecce signum! Which is
Latin, madam, for the stamps of the king upon twenty guineas. One to be
deposited in your fair hand for a taste, for a sniff, madam, such as I
had of your pot.”
“Na, na. No tokkins till a' airned them. What ood your Warship be for
ating when a' boileth?”
The general factor, perceiving his way, was steadfast to the shoulder
cut of a decent cod; and though the full season was scarcely yet come,
Mrs. Precious knew where to find one. Oysters there were none, but she
gave him boiled limpets, and he thought it the manner of the place that
made them tough. After these things he had a duck of the noblest and
best that live anywhere in England. Such ducks were then, and perhaps
are still, the most remarkable residents of Flamborough. Not only
because the air is fine, and the puddles and the dabblings of
extraordinary merit, and the wind fluffs up their pretty feathers while
alive, as the eloquent poulterer by-and-by will do; but because they
have really distinguished birth, and adventurous, chivalrous, and bright
blue Norman blood. To such purpose do the gay young Vikings of the
world of quack pour in (when the weather and the time of year invite),
equipped with red boots and plumes of purple velvet, to enchant the coy
lady ducks in soft water, and eclipse the familiar and too legal drake.
For a while they revel in the change of scene, the luxury of unsalted
mud and scarcely rippled water, and the sweetness and culture of tame
dilly-ducks, to whom their brilliant bravery, as well as an air
of romance and billowy peril, commends them too seductively. The
responsible sire of the pond is grieved, sinks his unappreciated bill
into his back, and vainly reflects upon the vanity of love.
From a loftier point of view, however, this is a fine provision; and Mr.
Mordacks always took a lofty view of everything.
“A beautiful duck, ma'am; a very grand duck!” in his usual loud and
masterful tone, he exclaimed to Widow Precious. “I understand your
question now as to my ability to pay for him. Madam, he is worth a man's
last shilling. A goose is a smaller and a coarser bird. In what manner
do you get them?”
“They gets their own sells, wi' the will of the Lord. What will your
Warship be for ating, come after?”
“None of your puddings and pies, if you please, nor your excellent
jellies and custards. A red Dutch cheese, with a pat of fresh butter,
and another imperial pint of ale.”
“Now yon is what I call a man,” thought Mrs. Precious, having neither
pie nor pudding, as Master Mordacks was well aware; “aisy to please,
and a' knoweth what a' wants. A' mought 'a been born i' Flaambro. A' maa
baide for a week, if a' hath the tokkins.”
Mr. Mordacks felt that he had made his footing; but he was not the man
to abide for a week where a day would suit his purpose. His rule was
never to beat about the bush when he could break through it, and he
thought that he saw his way to do so now. Having finished his meal,
he set down his knife with a bang, sat upright in the oaken chair, and
gazed in a bold yet pleasant manner at the sturdy hostess.
“You are wondering what has brought me here. That I will tell you in
a very few words. Whatever I do is straightforward, madam; and all the
world may know it. That has been my character throughout life; and in
that respect I differ from the great bulk of mankind. You Flamborough
folk, however, are much of the very same nature as I am. We ought to
get on well together. Times are very bad--very bad indeed. I could put
a good trifle of money in your way; but you tell the truth without
it, which is very, very noble. Yet people with a family have duties to
discharge to them, and must sacrifice their feelings to affection. Fifty
guineas is a tidy little figure, ma'am. With the famine growing in the
land, no parent should turn his honest back upon fifty guineas. And
to get the gold, and do good at the same time, is a very rare chance
indeed.”
This speech was too much for Widow Precious to carry to her settled
judgment, and get verdict in a breath. She liked it, on the whole, but
yet there might be many things upon the other side; so she did what
Flamborough generally does, when desirous to consider things, as it
generally is. That is to say, she stood with her feet well apart, and
her arms akimbo, and her head thrown back to give the hinder part a
rest, and no sign of speculation in her eyes, although they certainly
were not dull. When these good people are in this frame of mind and
body, it is hard to say whether they look more wise or foolish. Mr.
Mordacks, impatient as he was, even after so fine a dinner, was not far
from catching the infection of slow thought, which spreads itself as
pleasantly as that of slow discourse.
“You are heeding me, madam; you have quick wits,” he said, without any
sarcasm, for she rescued the time from waste by affording a study of the
deepest wisdom; “you are wondering how the money is to come, and whether
it brings any risk with it. No, Mistress Precious, not a particle of
risk. A little honest speaking is the one thing needed.”
“The money cometh scores of times more freely fra wrong-doing.”
“Your observation, madam, shows a deep acquaintance with the human race.
Too often the money does come so; and thus it becomes mere mammon. On
such occasions we should wash our hands, and not forget the charities.
But the beauty of money, fairly come by, is that we can keep it all. To
do good in getting it, and do good with it, and to feel ourselves better
in every way, and our dear children happier--this is the true way of
considering the question. I saw some pretty little dears peeping in, and
wanted to give them a token or two, for I do love superior children. But
you called them away, madam. You are too stern.”
Widow Precious had plenty of sharp sense to tell her that her children
were by no means “pretty dears” to anybody but herself, and to herself
only when in a very soft state of mind; at other times they were but
three gew-mouthed lasses, and two looby loons with teeth enough for
crunching up the dripping-pan.
“Your Warship spaketh fair,” she said; “a'most too fair, I'm doubting.
Wad ye say what the maning is, and what name goeth pledge for the fafty
poon, Sir?”
“Mistress Precious, my meaning always is plainer than a pikestaff; and
as to pledges, the pledge is the hard cash down upon the nail, ma'am.”
“Bank-tokkins, mayhap, and I prummeese to paa, with the sign of the
Dragon, and a woman among sheeps.”
“Madam, a bag of solid gold that can be weighed and counted. Fifty new
guineas from the mint of King George, in a water-proof bag just fit to
be buried at the foot of a tree, or well under the thatch, or sewn up
in the sacking of your bedstead, ma'am. Ah, pretty dreams, what pretty
dreams, with a virtuous knowledge of having done the right! Shall we say
it is a bargain, ma'am, and wet it with a glass, at my expense, of the
crystal spring that comes under the sea?”
“Naw, Sir, naw!--not till I knaw what. I niver trafficks with the divil,
Sir. There wur a chap of Flaambro deed--”
“My good madam, I can not stop all day. I have far to ride before
night-fall. All that I want is simply this, and having gone so far, I
must tell you all, or make an enemy of you. I want to match this; and I
have reason to believe that it can be matched in Flamborough. Produce me
the fellow, and I pay you fifty guineas.”
With these words Mr. Mordacks took from an inner pocket a little
pill-box, and thence produced a globe, or rather an oblate spheroid, of
bright gold, rather larger than a musket-ball, but fluted or crenelled
like a poppy-head, and stamped or embossed with marks like letters.
Widow Precious looked down at it, as if to think what an extraordinary
thing it was, but truly to hide from the stranger her surprise at the
sudden recognition. For Robin Lyth was a foremost favorite of hers, and
most useful to her vocation; and neither fifty guineas nor five hundred
should lead her to do him an injury. At a glance she had known that
this bead must belong to the set from which Robin's ear-rings came; and
perhaps it was her conscience which helped her to suspect that a trap
was being laid for the free-trade hero. To recover herself, and have
time to think, as well as for closer discretion, she invited Master
Mordacks to the choice guest-chamber.
“Set ye doon, Sir, hereaboot,” she said, opening a solid door into
the inner room; “neaver gain no fear at aw o' crackin' o' the setties;
fairm, fairm anoo' they be, thoo sketterish o' their lukes, Sir. Set ye
doon, your Warship; fafty poons desarveth a good room, wi'oot ony lugs
o' anemees.”
“What a beautiful room!” exclaimed Mr. Mordacks; “and how it savors of
the place! I never should have thought of finding art and taste of such
degree in a little place like Flamborough. Why, madam, you must have
inherited it direct from the Danes themselves.”
“Naw, Sir, naw. I fetched it aw oop fra the breck of the say and the
cobbles. Book-folk tooneth naw heed o' what we do.”
“Well, it is worth a great deal of heed. Lovely patterns of sea-weed
on the floor--no carpet can compare with them; shelves of--I am sure
I don't know what--fished up from the deep, no doubt; and shells
innumerable, and stones that glitter, and fish like glass, and tufts
like lace, and birds with most wonderful things in their mouths:
Mistress Precious, you are too bad. The whole of it ought to go to
London, where they make collections!”
“Lor, Sir, how ye da be laffin' at me. But purty maa be said of 'em
wi'out ony lees.”
The landlady smiled as she set for him a chair, toward which he trod
gingerly, and picking every step, for his own sake as well as of the
garniture. For the black oak floor was so oiled and polished, to set
off the pattern of the sea-flowers on it (which really were laid with no
mean taste and no small sense of color), that for slippery boots there
was some peril.
“This is a sacred as well as beautiful place,” said Mr. Mordacks. “I may
finish my words with safety here. Madam, I commend your prudence as well
as your excellent skill and industry. I should like to bring my daughter
Arabella here: what a lesson she would gain for tapestry! But now,
again, for business. What do you say? Unless I am mistaken, you have
some knowledge of the matter depending on this bauble. You must not
suppose that I came to you at random. No, madam, no; I have heard far
away of your great intelligence, caution, and skill, and influence in
this important town. 'Mistress Precious is the Mayor of Flamborough,'
was said to me only last Saturday; 'if you would study the wise people
there, hang up your hat in her noble hostelry.' Madam, I have taken that
advice, and heartily rejoice at doing so. I am a man of few words,
very few words--as you must have seen already--but of the strictest
straightforwardness in deeds. And now again, what do you say, ma'am?”
“Your Warship hath left ma nowt to saa. Your Warship hath had the mooth
aw to yosell.”
“Now Mistress, Mistress Precious, truly that is a little too bad of you.
It is out of my power to help admiring things which are utterly beyond
me to describe, and a dinner of such cooking may enlarge the tongue,
after all the fine things it has been rolling in. But business is my
motto, in the fewest words that may be. You know what I want; you will
keep it to yourself, otherwise other people might demand the money.
Through very simple channels you will find out whether the fellow thing
to this can be found here or elsewhere; and if so, who has got it, and
how it was come by, and everything else that can be learned about it;
and when you know all, you just make a mark on this piece of paper,
ready folded and addressed; and then you will seal it, and give it to
the man who calls for the letters nearly twice a week. And when I get
that, I come and eat another duck, and have oysters with my cod-fish,
which to-day we could not have, except in the form of mussels, ma'am.”
“Naw, not a moosel--they was aw gude flithers.”
“Well, ma'am, they may have been unknown animals; but good they were,
and as fresh as the day. Now, you will remember that my desire is to do
good. I have nothing to do with the revenue, nor the magistrates,
nor his Majesty. I shall not even go to your parson, who is the chief
authority, I am told; for I wish this matter to be kept quiet, and
beside the law altogether. The whole credit of it shall belong to you,
and a truly good action you will have performed, and done a little good
for your own good self. As for this trinket, I do not leave it with you,
but I leave you this model in wax, ma'am, made by my daughter, who is
very clever. From this you can judge quite as well as from the other.
If there are any more of these things in Flamborough, as I have strong
reason to believe, you will know best where to find them, and I need
not tell you that they are almost certain to be in the possession of a
woman. You know all the women, and you skillfully inquire, without even
letting them suspect it. Now I shall just stretch my legs a little,
and look at your noble prospect, and in three hours' time a little
more refreshment, and then, Mistress Precious, you see the last of your
obedient servant, until you demand from him fifty gold guineas.”
After seeing to his horse again, he set forth for a stroll, in the
course of which he met with Dr. Upround and his daughter. The rector
looked hard at this distinguished stranger, as if he desired to know
his name, and expected to be accosted by him, while quick Miss Janetta
glanced with undisguised suspicion, and asked her father, so that Mr.
Mordacks overheard it, what business such a man could have, and what
could he come spying after, in their quiet parish? The general factor
raised his hat, and passed on with a tranquil smile, taking the crooked
path which leads along and around the cliffs, by way of the light-house,
from the north to the southern landing. The present light-house was not
yet built, but an old round tower, which still exists, had long been
used as a signal station, for semaphore by day, and at night for
beacon, in the times of war and tumult; and most people called it the
“Monument.” This station was now of very small importance, and sometimes
did nothing for a year together; but still it was very good and useful,
because it enabled an ancient tar, whose feet had been carried away by
a cannon-ball, to draw a little money once a month, and to think himself
still a fine British bulwark.
In the summer-time this hero always slung his hammock here, with plenty
of wind to rock him off to sleep, but in winter King Æolus himself
could not have borne it. “Monument Joe,” as almost everybody called him,
was a queer old character of days gone by. Sturdy and silent, but as
honest as the sun, he made his rounds as regularly as that great orb,
and with equally beneficent object. For twice a day he stumped to fetch
his beer from Widow Precious, and the third time to get his little
pannikin of grog. And now the time was growing for that last important
duty, when a stranger stood before him with a crown piece in his hand.
“Now don't get up, captain, don't disturb yourself,” said Mr. Mordacks,
graciously; “your country has claimed your activity, I see, and I hope
it makes amends to you. At the same time I know that it very seldom
does. Accept this little tribute from the admiration of a friend.”
Old Joe took the silver piece and rung it on his tin tobacco-box, then
stowed it inside, and said, “Gammon! What d'ye want of me?”
“Your manners, my good Sir, are scarcely on a par with your merits.
I bribe no man; it is the last thing I would ever dream of doing. But
whenever a question of memory arises, I have often observed a great
failure of that power without--without, if you will excuse the
expression, the administration of a little grease.”
“Smooggling? Aught about smooggling?” Old Joe shut his mouth sternly;
for he hated and scorned the coast-guards, whose wages were shamefully
above his own, and who had the impudence to order him for signals;
while, on the other hand, he found free trade a policy liberal,
enlightening, and inspiriting.
“No, captain, no; not a syllable of that. You have been in this place
about sixteen years. If you had only been here four years more, your
evidence would have settled all I want to know. No wreck can take place
here, of course, without your knowledge?”
“Dunno that. B'lieve one have. There's a twist of the tide here--but
what good to tell landlubbers?”
“You are right. I should never understand such things. But I find them
wonderfully interesting. You are not a native of this place, and knew
nothing of Flamborough before you came here?”
Monument Joe gave a grunt at this, and a long squirt of tobacco juice.
“And don't want,” he said.
“Of course, you are superior, in every way superior. You find these
people rough, and far inferior in manners. But either, my good friend,
you will re-open your tobacco-box, or else you will answer me a few
short questions, which trespass in no way upon your duty to the king, or
to his loyal smugglers.”
Old Joe looked up, with weather-beaten eyes, and saw that he had no
fool to deal with, in spite of all soft palaver. The intensity of Mr.
Mordacks's eyes made him blink, and mutter a bad word or two, but remain
pretty much at his service. And the last intention he could entertain
was that of restoring this fine crown piece. “Spake on, Sir,” he said;
“and I will spake accordin'.”
“Very good. I shall give you very little trouble. I wish to know whether
there was any wreck here, kept quiet perhaps, but still some ship lost,
about three or four years before you came to this station. It does not
matter what ship, any ship at all, which may have gone down without any
fuss at all. You know of none such? Very well. You were not here; and
the people of this place are wonderfully close. But a veteran of the
Royal Navy should know how to deal with them. Make your inquiries
without seeming to inquire. The question is altogether private, and
can not in any way bring you into trouble. Whereas, if you find out
anything, you will be a made man, and live like a gentleman. You hate
the lawyers? All the honest seamen do. I am not a lawyer, and my object
is to fire a broadside into them. Accept this guinea; and if it would
suit you to have one every week for the rest of your life, I will pledge
you my word for it, paid in advance, if you only find out for me one
little fact, of which I have no doubt whatever, that a merchant ship was
cast away near this Head just about nineteen years agone.”
That ancient sailor was accustomed to surprises; but this, as he said,
when he came to think of it, made a clean sweep of him, fore and aft.
Nevertheless, he had the presence of mind required for pocketing the
guinea, which was too good for his tobacco-box; and as one thing at a
time was quite enough upon his mind, he probed away slowly, to be sure
there was no hole. Then he got up from his squatting form, with the
usual activity of those who are supposed to have none left, and touched
his brown hat, standing cleverly. “What be I to do for all this?” he
asked.
“Nothing more than what I have told you. To find out slowly, and without
saying why, in the way you sailors know how to do, whether such a thing
came to pass, as I suppose. You must not be stopped by the lies of
anybody. Of course they will deny it, if they got some of the wrecking;
or it is just possible that no one even heard of it; and yet there may
be some traces. Put two and two together, my good friend, as you have
the very best chance of doing; and soon you may put two to that in your
pocket, and twenty, and a hundred, and as much as you can hold.”
“When shall I see your good honor again, to score log-run, and come to a
reckoning?”
“Master Joseph, work a wary course. Your rating for life will depend
upon that. You may come to this address, if you have anything important.
Otherwise you shall soon hear of me again. Good-by.”