A CLEW OF BUTTONS
When Jack o' the Smithies met his old commander, as related by himself,
at the house of Mr. Mordacks, everything seemed to be going on well for
Sir Duncan, and badly for his sisters. The general factor, as he hinted
long ago, possessed certain knowledge which the Middleton lawyer fondly
supposed to be confined to himself and his fair clients. Sir Duncan
refused to believe that the ladies could ever have heard of such a
document as that which, if valid, would simply expel them; for, said he,
“If they know of it, they are nothing less than thieves to conceal it
and continue in possession. Of a lawyer I could fancy it, but never of a
lady.”
“My good sir,” answered the sarcastic Mordacks, “a lady's conscience is
not the same as a gentleman's, but bears more resemblance to a lawyer's.
A lady's honor is of the very highest standard; but the standard depends
upon her state of mind; and that, again, depends upon the condition of
her feelings. You must not suppose me to admit the faintest shadow of
disrespect toward your good sisters; but ladies are ladies, and facts
are facts; and the former can always surmount the latter; while a man is
comparatively helpless. I know that Mr. Jellicorse, their man of law, is
thoroughly acquainted with this interesting deed; his first duty was to
apprise them of it; and that, you may be quite sure, he has done.”
“I hope not. I am sure not. A lawyer does not always employ hot haste in
an unwelcome duty.”
“True enough, Sir Duncan. But the duty here was welcome. Their knowledge
of that deed, and of his possession of it, would make him their master,
if he chose to be so. Not that old Jellicorse would think of such a
thing. He is a man of high principle like myself, of a lofty conscience,
and even sentimental. But lawyers are just like the rest of mankind.
Their first consideration is their bread and cheese; though some of them
certainly seem ready to accept it even in the toasted form.”
“You may say what you like, Mordacks, my sister Philippa is far too
upright, and Eliza too good, for any such thing to be possible. However,
that question may abide. I shall not move until I have some one to do it
for. I have no great affection for a home which cast me forth, whether
it had a right to do so or not. But if we succeed in the more important
matter, it will be my duty to recover the estates, for the benefit of
another. You are sure of your proofs that it is the boy?”
“As certain as need be. And we will make it surer when you meet me there
the week after next. For the reasons I have mentioned, we must wait
till then. Your yacht is at Yarmouth. You have followed my advice in
approaching by sea, and not by land, and in hiring at Yarmouth for the
purpose. But you never should have come to York, Sir Duncan; this is
a very great mistake of yours. They are almost sure to hear of it.
And even your name given in our best inn! But luckily they never see a
newspaper at Scargate.”
“I follow the tactics with which you succeed--all above-board, and no
stratagems. Your own letter brought me; but perhaps I am too old to be
so impatient. Where shall I meet you, and on what day?”
“This day fortnight, at the Thornwick Inn, I shall hope to be with you
at three o'clock, and perhaps bring somebody with me. If I fixed an
earlier day, I should only disappoint you. For many things have to be
delicately managed; and among them, the running of a certain cargo,
without serious consequence. For that we may trust a certain very
skillful youth. For the rest you must trust to a clumsier person, your
humble land-agent and surveyor--titles inquired into and verified, at a
tenth of solicitors' charges.”
“Well,” said Sir Duncan, “you shall verify mine, as soon as you have
verified my son, and my title to him. Good-by, Mordacks. I am sure you
mean me well, but you seem to be very long about it.”
“Hot climates breed impatience, sir. A true son of Yorkshire is never in
a hurry. The general complaint of me is concerning my wild rapidity.”
“You are like the grocer, whose goods, if they have any fault at all,
have the opposite one to what the customer finds in them. Well, good-by,
Mordacks. You are a trusty friend, and I thank you.”
These words from Sir Duncan Yordas were not merely of commonplace.
For he was a man of great self-reliance, quick conclusion, and strong
resolve. These had served him well in India, and insured his fortune;
while early adversity and bitter losses had tempered the arrogance of
his race. After the loss of his wife and child, and the breach with all
his relatives, he had led a life of peril and hard labor, varied with
few pleasures. When first he learned from Edinburgh that the ship
conveying his only child to the care of the mother's relatives was lost,
with all on board, he did all in his power to make inquiries. But
the illness and death of his wife, to whom he was deeply attached,
overwhelmed him. For while with some people “one blow drives out
another,” with some the second serves only to drive home, deepen, and
aggravate the first. For years he was satisfied to believe both losses
irretrievable. And so he might still have gone on believing, except for
a queer little accident.
Being called to Calcutta upon government business, he happened to see a
pair of English sailors, lazily playing, in a shady place by the side of
the road, at hole-penny. One of them seemed to have his pocket cleared
out, for just as Sir Duncan was passing, he cried, “Here, Jack, you give
me change of one of them, and I'll have at you again, my boy. As good as
a guinea with these blessed niggers. Come back to their home, I b'lieve
they are, same as I wish I was; rale gold--ask this gen'leman.”
The other swore that they were “naught but brass, and not worth a copper
farden”; until the tars, being too tipsy for much fighting, referred the
question to Sir Duncan.
Three hollow beads of gold were what they showed him, and he knew them
at once for his little boy's buttons, the workmanship being peculiar to
one village of his district, and one family thereof. The sailor would
thankfully have taken one rupee apiece for them; but Sir Duncan gave him
thirty for the three--their full metallic value--upon his pledging honor
to tell all he knew about them, and make affidavit, if required. Then
he told all he knew, to the best of his knowledge, and swore to it when
sober, accepted a refresher, and made oath to it again, with some lively
particulars added. And the facts that he deposed to, and deposited, were
these:
Being down upon his luck, about a twelvemonth back, he thought of
keeping company with a nice young woman, and settling down until a
better time turned up; and happening to get a month's wages from a
schooner of ninety-five tons at Scarborough, he strolled about the
street a bit, and kept looking down the railings for a servant-girl who
might have got her wages in her work-box. Clean he was, and taut, and
clever, beating up street in Sunday rig, keeping sharp look-out for
a consort, and in three or four tacks he hailed one. As nice a young
partner as a lad could want, and his meaning was to buckle to for the
winter. But the night before the splicing-day, what happened to him he
never could tell after. He was bousing up his jib, as a lad is bound
to do, before he takes the breakers. And when he came to, he was twenty
leagues from Scarborough, on board of his Majesty's recruiting brig the
Harpy. He felt in his pocket for the wedding-ring, and instead of that,
there were these three beads.
Sir Duncan was sorry for his sad disaster, and gave him ten more rupees
to get over it. And then he discovered that the poor forsaken maiden's
name was Sally Watkins. Sally was the daughter of a rich pawnbroker,
whose frame of mind was sometimes out of keeping with its true
contents. He had very fine feelings, and real warmth of sympathy; but
circumstances seemed sometimes to lead them into the wrong channel,
and induced him to kick his children out of doors. In the middle of the
family he kicked out Sally, almost before her turn was come; and
she took a place at 4 pounds a year, to disgrace his memory--as she
said--carrying off these buttons, and the jacket, which he had bestowed
upon her, in a larger interval.
There was no more to be learned than this from the intercepted
bridegroom. He said that he might have no objection to go on with his
love again, as soon as the war was over, leastways, if it was made worth
his while; but he had come across another girl, at the Cape of Good
Hope, and he believed that this time the Lord was in it, for she had
been born in a caul, and he had got it. With such a dispensation Sir
Duncan Yordas saw no right to interfere, but left the course of true
love to itself, after taking down the sailor's name--“Ned Faithful.”
However, he resolved to follow out the clew of beads, though without
much hope of any good result. Of the three in his possession he kept
one, and one he sent to Edinburgh, and the third to York, having heard
of the great sagacity, vigor, and strict integrity of Mr. Mordacks, all
of which he sharpened by the promise of a large reward upon discovery.
Then he went back to his work, until his time of leave was due, after
twenty years of arduous and distinguished service. In troublous times,
no private affairs, however urgent, should drive him from his post.
Now, eager as he was when in England once again, he was true to his
character and the discipline of life. He had proof that the matter was
in very good hands, and long command had taught him the necessity of
obedience. Any previous Yordas would have kicked against the pricks,
rushed forward, and scattered everything. But Sir Duncan was now of a
different fibre. He left York at once, as Mordacks advised, and posted
to Yarmouth, before the roads were blocked with snow, and while Jack o'
the Smithies was returning to his farm. And from Yarmouth he set sail
for Scarborough, in a sturdy little coaster, which he hired by the week.
From Scarborough he would run down to Bridlington--not too soon,
for fear of setting gossip going, but in time to meet Mordacks at
Flamborough, as agreed upon.
That gentleman had other business in hand, which must not be neglected;
but he gave to this matter a very large share of his time, and paid
five-and-twenty pounds for the trusty roadster, who liked the taste of
Flamborough pond, and the salt air on the oats of Widow Tapsy's stable,
and now regularly neighed and whisked his tail as soon as he found
himself outside Monk Bar. By favor of this horse and of his own sword
and pistols, Mordacks spent nearly as much time now at Flamborough as
he did in York; but unluckily he had been obliged to leave on the
very afternoon before the run was accomplished, and Carroway slain so
wickedly; for he hurried home to meet Sir Duncan, and had not heard the
bad news when he met him.
That horrible murder was a sad blow to him, not only as a man of
considerable kindness and desire to think well of every one--so far as
experience allows it--but also because of the sudden apparition of the
law rising sternly in front of him. Justice in those days was not as
now: her truer name was Nemesis. After such an outrage to the dignity of
the realm, an example must be made, without much consideration whether
it were the right one. If Robin Lyth were caught, there would be the
form of trial, but the principal point would be to hang him. Like the
rest of the world, Mr. Mordacks at first believed entirely in his guilt;
but unlike the world, he did not desire to have him caught, and brought
straightway to the gallows. Instead of seeking him, therefore, he was
now compelled to avoid him, when he wanted him most; for it never must
be said that a citizen of note had discoursed with such a criminal,
and allowed him to escape. On the other hand, here he had to meet Sir
Duncan, and tell him that all those grand promises were shattered, that
in finding his only son all he had found was a cowardly murderer flying
for his life, and far better left at the bottom of the sea. For once
in a way, as he dwelt upon all this, the general factor became
down-hearted, his vigorous face lost the strong lines of decision, and
he even allowed his mouth to open without anything to put into it.
But it was impossible for this to last. Nature had provided Mordacks
with an admirably high opinion of himself, enlivened by a sprightly
good-will toward the world, whenever it wagged well with him. He had
plenty of business of his own, and yet could take an amateur delight in
the concerns of everybody; he was always at liberty to give good advice,
and never under duty to take it; he had vigor of mind, of memory,
of character, and of digestion; and whenever he stole a holiday from
self-denial, and launched out after some favorite thing, there was the
cash to do it with, and the health to do it pleasantly.
Such a man is not long depressed by a sudden misadventure. Dr. Upround's
opinion in favor of Robin did not go very far with him; for he looked
upon the rector as a man who knew more of divine than of human nature.
But that fault could scarcely be found with a woman; or at any rate with
a widow encumbered with a large family hanging upon the dry breast of
the government. And though Mr. Mordacks did not invade the cottage quite
so soon as he should have done, if guided by strict business, he thought
himself bound to get over that reluctance, and press her upon a most
distressing subject, before he kept appointment with his principal.
The snow, which by this time had blockaded Scargate, impounded
Jordas, and compelled Mr. Jellicorse to rest and be thankful for a hot
mince-pie, although it had visited this eastern coast as well, was
not deep enough there to stop the roads. Keeping head-quarters at the
“Hooked Cod” now, and encouraging a butcher to set up again (who had
dropped all his money, in his hurry to get on), Geoffrey Mordacks began
to make way into the outer crust of Flamborough society. In a council of
the boats, upon a Sunday afternoon, every boat being garnished for
its rest upon the flat, and every master fisherman buttoned with a
flower--the last flowers of the year, and bearing ice-marks in their
eyes--a resolution had been passed that the inland man meant well, had
naught to do with Revenue, or Frenchmen either, or what was even worse,
any outside fishers, such as often-time came sneaking after fishing
grounds of Flamborough. Mother Tapsy stood credit for this strange man,
and he might be allowed to go where he was minded, and to take all the
help he liked to pay for.
Few men could have achieved such a triumph, without having married a
Flamborough lass, which must have been the crown of all human ambition,
if difficulty crowns it. Even to so great a man it was an added laurel,
and strengthened him much in his opinion of himself. In spite of all
disasters, he recovered faith in fortune, so many leading Flamborough
men began to touch their hats to him! And thus he set forth before a
bitter eastern gale, with the head of his seasoned charger bent toward
the melancholy cot at Bridlington.
Having granted a new life of slaughter to that continually insolvent
butcher, who exhibited the body of a sheep once more, with an eye to the
approach of Christmas, this universal factor made it a point of duty
to encourage him. In either saddle-bag he bore a seven-pound leg of
mutton--a credit to a sheep of that district then--and to show himself
no traitor to the staple of the place, he strapped upon his crupper, in
some oar-weed and old netting, a twenty-pound cod, who found it hard to
breathe his last when beginning to enjoy horse-exercise.
“There is a lot of mouths to fill,” said Mr. Mordacks, with a sigh,
while his landlady squeezed a brown loaf of her baking into the nick
of his big sword-strap; “and you and I are capable of entering into the
condition of the widow and the fatherless.”
“Hoonger is the waa of them, and victuals is the cure for it. Now mind
you coom home afore dark,” cried the widow, to whom he had happened to
say, very sadly, that he was now a widower. “To my moind, a sight o'
more snaw is a-coomin'; and what mah sard or goon foight again it?
Captain Moordocks, coom ye home arly. T' hare sha' be doon to a toorn be
fi' o'clock. Coom ye home be that o'clock, if ye care for deener.”
“I must have made a tender impression on her heart,” Mr. Mordacks said
to himself, as he kissed his hand to the capacious hostess. “Such is
my fortune, to be loved by everybody, while aiming at the sternest
rectitude. It is sweet, it is dangerously sweet; but what a comfort! How
that large-hearted female will baste my hare!”