To disembark in a strange port, particularly a foreign one, is, to the
thinking man, invariably an interesting experience. The difference in
architecture, in costume, in language, and in custom, attracts the
attention and, if one may employ the expression in such a case,
titillates the senses, like the first taste of a rare wine to which one
has yet to grow accustomed.
Of all the cities of South America, Rio de Janeiro is, perhaps, the most
cosmopolitan, the most representative, and at the same time the most
contradictory. It is up to date, yet in many things it is sadly behind
the times; it is beautiful in some respects, yet indescribably hideous
in others; taken altogether it is a human abode full of bizarre
contrasts, that step out and confront one at every turn. Generous and
hospitable in certain directions, it is cruel and treacherous, almost to
the borders of fanaticism, in others. To the right one sees a desire to
copy Europe, to the left what would appear to be a deliberate attempt to
disregard her altogether. It is these little idiosyncrasies that make
Rio de Janeiro what it is, namely, one of the most instructive and
fascinating cities in the world.
As soon as he had breakfasted on board in the harbour, Max hired a boat
and made his way ashore. His luggage had already preceded him to the
Custom House. Reaching the quay he set off, by way of the Rua Direita,
in search of that building. What a strange collection of humanity he
found crowded together in the streets! Faultlessly attired ladies,
elegant gentlemen in frock coats and high hats, negroes and negresses,
the latter decked out in the gayest colours, deformed, haggard, slouchy
soldiers, Italian newspaper boys, cigarette-smoking policemen, clad in
brown holland and quaint shakos, all helped to constitute a human jumble
of the most varied and interesting description. Following the Rua
Direita he entered the Rua d'Ouvidor, the fashionable street, indeed,
one might almost say the Bond Street, of the city. Thence he continued
his walk by way of the Rua dos Ourives, the Palais Royale of Rio, to the
Custom House, where his baggage was examined and be told that he was at
liberty to take it where he pleased. Chartering a small tilbury, a
species of cab peculiar to Brazil, he drove to the Candido Hotel, in the
Larangeiras, where he engaged a room, installed himself in it, and then
prepared to look about him. He had considerably less than thirty pounds
left in his money-belt; and when he became aware of this fact he could
have cursed himself for his folly in having gambled with Moreas on board
the _Diamintina_. It was done, however, and now he had to face the
consequences. As he told himself, it was no use crying over spilt milk,
and no amount of regret would bring the money back. One thing, however,
was painfully certain--he must find some employment without delay. But
in what direction was he to look for it? Putting on his hat, and stowing
the key of his room away in his pocket, he set off on a tour of
inspection. When he reached the principal business thoroughfares he kept
his eyes open for an English name. It was some time, however, before he
discovered one. Why he should have decided in favour of England, and
have rejected Germany and Pannonia, both of whom were of nearer kin to
him than the Island of the West, I can only hazard a guess. The fact
remains, however, that he did so. When he had selected one that looked
promising he entered, and inquired if he might see the merchant.
Unfortunately, the clerk informed him, he was not in town that day. He
left, and tried another further down the street. This one had already
more clerks than was sufficient for his purpose, and could not dream of
engaging another. The next was courteous, but equally firm in his
refusal. A hundred yards or so further on he discovered a German firm,
and, thinking a change of nationality might influence his luck, went in
and asked his usual question. Yes; it was quite true that they stood in
need of a clerk, but what experience and what references had he to
offer? He informed his interrogator that he had none. He had only to add
that he had spent the last five years of his life in the English army to
have his services declined with thanks, and to find himself in the
street once more. His next attempt was with a Portuguese Jew, who
offered him employment at a wage that would have meant little else than
genteel beggary for him. This post he declined of his own free will.
"Things are beginning to look cheerful, I must say," he remarked to
himself when he was in the street once more. "If I'm not more successful
than this I shall have to fall back on Moreas after all." At last, and
just when he was beginning to think that he would give up trying for
that day, he found himself face to face with an office, on the window of
which, written in gold letters, was "Brockford, Brent, & Kerton, English
Merchants and Importers." He determined to go inside once more and try
his luck. He accordingly entered the office, and, as usual, inquired for
the head of the firm. A clerk, who was entering some figures in a large
ledger, looked up and informed him that Mr. Brockford was engaged for a
moment, and, having done so, inquired his business.
"To see Mr. Brockford," Max replied curtly. "If you don't think he will
be long, I'll wait a few moments."
Five minutes or so later a man emerged from the inner office, and Max
was conducted to Mr. Brockford's presence. The latter was a tall, thin
man, with a somewhat hatchet-shaped face, clean-shaven cheeks, grey
hair, and shaggy eyebrows. According to Brazilian custom, he was in his
shirt-sleeves, and equally according to custom, the inevitable cigar was
between his lips. Seeing that he had a gentleman, and one who was also a
stranger to the country, to deal with, he invited Max to be seated, at
the same time pushing a box of cigars towards him.
"What may I have the pleasure of doing for you?" he inquired in English,
and with a courtesy that Max attributed to the anticipation of a large
order, but which was in reality habitual to him.
"Well," said Max, "to tell the truth, I have come to see you in the hope
that you may be able to give me something to do. I arrived from England
this morning in the steamship _Diamintina_, and as I've not much money,
I want to find employment as soon as I possibly can. I've tried a number
of offices, but cannot hear of anything."
The other glanced at his visitor's well-cut clothes, elegant boots, and
general air of refined dandyism. He was not accustomed to receiving
applications for employment from young men who looked like princes in
disguise.
"I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you," he said after a momentary
pause. "Things are very quiet in Rio just now, and we are more inclined
to discharge our clerks than to take fresh ones on. What were you doing
before you came out here?"
This was the question Max had been dreading. It had brought him to grief
so many times that day.
"I was in the English army," he replied. "I held a commission in a
cavalry regiment. I'm afraid I do not know much about business, but I am
fairly quick at picking up things, and if you will give me a chance, I
fancy you will not find me wanting in diligence."
The other drummed with his fingers on the desk before him, and as he did
so he pulled almost savagely at his cigar. It was a trick he had when
thinking.
"I don't ask you any questions as to why you gave up the army and came
out to take a clerkship in Rio," he said at last; "but if I were you I
should keep that part of my history to myself. An officer from a crack
regiment seldom develops into a good clerk."
"You are probably right. I must try to remember it. And now to return to
my request. Is it quite impossible for you to do anything for me?"
"I am afraid I can do nothing personally," the other replied. "That is
to say, I cannot take you into my office, but I rather fancy I can help
you in another direction. Do you speak Spanish?"
"I speak Spanish, German, Pannonian, and English, with equal fluency,"
Max answered, feeling that for once the education of a Crown Prince, in
the matter of languages at least, had its uses.
"That is very much in your favour," said Mr. Brockford, "and now,
perhaps, you will have no objection to telling me your name? I have not
heard it yet."
"My name is Mortimer," Max returned, with a momentary hesitation, that
was not lost on his companion--"Max Mortimer."
"Well then, Mr. Max Mortimer, I am prepared to tell you that although I
never saw you until a few moments ago, although you have held a
commission in a cavalry regiment in England, and have seen fit to give
it up in order to take to clerking in Brazil, and last, but not least,
although you call yourself Mortimer, which I feel quite certain is not
your name, as I say, I am prepared----"
"Pardon me," said Max, interrupting him. "Since you have such a poor
opinion of my character, it would perhaps be better that I should look
elsewhere for employment."
He had risen and was going to leave the office, when the other signed to
him to sit down again.
"Hoighty-toighty," he said, "what is the matter with you now? Why are
you so thin-skinned? Surely you are not foolish enough to be offended
because I speak my mind plainly to you when you want assistance? Leaving
everything else out of the question, it is a poor return you are willing
to make me for trying to help you."
Max saw the mistake he had made, and was quick to apologise for his
apparent rudeness.
"Forgive me," he said. "I'm afraid I've a hasty temper. To be candid
with you, I haven't quite shaken down yet to my lot in life."
Brockford blew a cloud of smoke before he answered.
"I was going to say, when you interrupted me, that although I cannot
help you myself, I think I know of a man who may be able to do so. He is
a Spaniard, but none the worse for that. His name is Senor Jose de
Montezma. I happen to know that he is in want of an English
corresponding clerk. We are on friendly terms, and I shall be very happy
to take you along with me and introduce you to him at once; that is, of
course, providing you think the position is likely to suit you."
It seemed to Max as if his luck were going to change at last, and,
needless to say, he gladly accepted the invitation. Lighting another
cigar, the senior partner led him from the office into the street, where
they made their way along the pavement in the opposite direction to
which Max had come. At length they reached the office of Montezma & Co.
Having requested his companion to wait in the counting house, while he
interviewed the head of the firm, Brockford disappeared into the inner
sanctum. Five minutes later he reappeared, and invited Max to enter. The
latter did so, to find himself in the presence of a fat little man, who
he soon discovered was one of the cheeriest and most popular merchants
in Brazil.
"My friend, Senor Brockford, informs me that you are desirous of
obtaining the position of corresponding clerk in my employment,"
observed the Spaniard.
"What Senor Brockford says is quite true," Max replied. "If you will
give it to me, I will do my best to show you that your confidence is not
misplaced."
The other smiled and rubbed his hands.
"On my friend Senor Brockford's introduction, I shall be happy to engage
your services," he said, with as much dignity as if he had been
conferring upon the other the order of the Golden Fleece.
After the disappointments of the morning Max felt that he had fallen
upon his feet indeed.
"I only hope I shall be able to repay you for your kindness," he said.
"Doubtless Mr. Brockford has informed you that I have had but little
experience in business matters. If you will bear with me for a short
time, however, I have no doubt I shall be able, in the end, to give you
satisfaction."
"I have not the least doubt of it," the Senhor replied.
The office hours having been explained to him, the salary arranged, and
various other minor details settled to their mutual satisfaction, Max
and Mr. Brockford left the office together.
"I cannot tell you how thankful I am to you for what you have done for
me," said the former when they were in the street once more. "It seems
all the kinder for the reason that I am an entire stranger to you."
"One Englishman can never be an entire stranger to another in a foreign
country," said Brockford oracularly. "We always feel called upon to do
the best we can for each other. Besides----"
He stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly changed his mind, and did not
feel inclined to put his thoughts into words. Five minutes later they
had reached his own office.
"You will feel rather lonely on your first night in a new country," he
said. "Won't you dine with me, and spend the night at my house? I am a
bachelor, and live on the Island of Paqueta. I shall have much pleasure
in taking you back with me. No, don't thank me! You can do that later on
if you like. You are staying at Candido's Hotel, I fancy you said? In
that case, if you take the first turning to the left, and then the next
to the right, and afterwards continue straight on, you will reach it. I
shall expect to see you at half-past four."
Without giving Max time to accept or decline his invitation, he retired
into his office, leaving him free to make his way back to his hotel.
This he did with a heart overflowing with gratitude for the kindness he
had received.
"I certainly can't grumble at my luck now," he said to himself, as he
walked along.
Punctual to the moment he returned to Mr. Brockford's office. This time
he entered it with the air of a man who occupied an assured position in
the world. Even the clerks, having had evidence before them that their
employer was well disposed towards the stranger, treated him in a
different fashion to what they had done when he had first made his
appearance.
"You are punctual," said Mr. Brockford, as soon as he was admitted to
his presence. "It is a good omen in a country like this, where
everything is put off to be done at a future date; a business habit of
that description cannot be too highly commended. Though I fear, however
well we start, we all fall into evil ways in the end. Even our friend
Montezma, who is an excellent business man in his way, is no exception
to the rule. Now, if you are ready, let us be off."
Then they set off in the direction of the quay. As they passed through
the city Max had an opportunity of seeing how well his companion was
known. He was occupied almost continually receiving and returning
salutations. Reaching the waterside they descended a flight of steps, at
the foot of which a neat steam launch was awaiting them. They took their
places and were soon steaming down the bay, bound for the Island of
Paqueta, one of the loveliest spots in Rio Bay, and ten miles distant
from the city.
As Max was soon to discover, Mr. Brockford's residence was on a par with
his reputation. It was a charming place in every way, exquisitely quiet
and restful after the bustle and excitement of the city. The house
itself, a long one-storied building, surrounded by a deep verandah, was
comfortably, but not ostentatiously, furnished. In the dining-room were
several good pictures, among others a view of Carisbrooke Castle. It was
by a well-known artist, and Max stood for some little time before it.
"Is not this Carisbrooke?" he inquired, turning to his host, who was
mixing a cool drink at the sideboard.
"Yes, Carisbrooke," the other replied, turning round. "When I was a boy
I lived in the Isle of Wight, not a mile from the ruins. Do you know the
place?"
"We drove over there one day when I was last at Osborne," said Max,
without thinking. "It was one of the jolliest excursions I can
remember."
Brockford looked at him sharply. The description of man who talked of
staying at Osborne with all the assurance of an old friend did not often
come within the sphere of his existence. For the second time he wondered
what Max's history could be.
That evening's entertainment was destined to linger in Max's memory for
many a long day to come. In his diary I find a note setting forth the
fact that he looks upon his acquaintance with Mr. Brockford in the light
of one of, if not the best, pieces of good fortune he met with during
his life in Brazil. He might well say that. Next morning he returned
with his host to the city to enter upon his new employment. The day's
work at an end, he was able to call upon his benefactor, in order to
inform him that it had not proved so difficult as he imagined it would,
and that he felt quite capable of carrying out the work expected of him.
By the end of the week he had settled down to his business life, and was
feeling moderately comfortable and happy in his new surroundings. A
surprise, however, was in store for him.
One afternoon, a month or so after he had entered Montezma's office, a
note was brought to him by a diminutive nigger. It emanated from Mr.
Brockford, who was anxious that Max should pay him a call on his
homeward journey that afternoon, if he could do so without inconvenience
to himself. Max sent a reply by the messenger, to the effect that it
would give him great pleasure to do as his friend asked; and in due
course he arrived at Messrs. Brockford, Brent, & Kerton's place of
business. The day's work was over and the clerks were preparing for
departure. The senior partner, however, was still in his sanctum.
"I'm glad you've come, Mortimer," he said, as they shook hands, "for I
want to have a little talk with you? Sit down, will you? You'll find a
cigar in that box."
Max seated himself, lit a cigar, and wondered what was coming next.
"By the way, you're still staying at Candido's, are you not?" the other
inquired, in what was intended to be a matter-of-fact tone.
Max replied that he was still occupying his old room, and went on to add
that he thought of looking for another elsewhere, as the hotel charges
made rather too large an inroad into his slender resources.
"Well, I've a little suggestion to make to you before you do that," said
Brockford. "I'm a bachelor, as you know. Now what I am going to propose
is that you shall come over and take up your abode with me. I like you;
I've already told you that we'd be first-rate company for each other;
and if you don't mind putting up with my faddy ways, I fancy we should
hit it off admirably together. What have you to say to my arrangement?"
For a moment Max was too overwhelmed to say anything.
"Good gracious!" he cried at last, "do you know what you are offering
me? Do you realise what it means to a man like myself, situated as I am
now, to be asked to share a home like yours? Mr. Brockford, your
kindness overpowers me. I don't know what to say to you."
"Say nothing at all, or, at any rate, only say that you will accept my
offer," he answered. "You have no idea what a kindness it will be to
me."
"You hide your own kindness too well," said Max. "I do not know how to
thank you. And I haven't the pluck to refuse."
"I should not allow you to do so," the other replied. "No, we've settled
it very well, I think. Have your things ready to-morrow afternoon, and
we'll take them over in the launch with us."
True to the terms of their agreement, Max next day transported himself
and his belongings to Brockford's island home. His life for the future
seemed all smooth sailing. After the heat and bustle of the city, it was
infinitely soothing at night to be able to cross to the island, and to
stretch oneself out after a good dinner on a lounge chair in the broad
verandah, and do nothing but listen to the sighing of the wind in the
palms overhead, and the musical splash of the wavelets on the beach. He
was not only bettering himself in this way, but the fact that he was
living with a man so highly respected in the city was doing him a large
amount of good from a social point of view. It was generally felt that
if Brockford were prepared to stand sponsor for him, he might very well
be admitted by other well-known men to their houses and to intercourse
with their families.