"IN THE LISBON TRADE"
I was greatly surprised, being on duty aboard in the forenoon, to see
Lord Fylingdale on our quay, which adjoins the Common Stath, in
company with Captain Crowle.
In truth, the nobleman looked out of his element--a fish on dry
land--in a place of trade. His dress was by no means suitable to the
collection of bales and casks and crates with which the quay was
piled, nor did his look resemble that of the merchant, who may be full
of dignity, as he is full of responsibility, but is never cold and
haughty. His secret purpose, as I afterwards understood, was to
ascertain the true nature of Molly's fortune, which he could not
believe to be so great as had been represented to him. His professed
purpose was to see what Captain Crowle was anxious to show him. The
good old man, in fact, played the very game which this virtuous
gentleman desired; he threw the girl--money, and lands, and ships, and
all--at the feet of the very man who wanted the fortune, and for the
sake of it would not scruple to bring misery upon the girl.
"I have heard," his lordship was saying, as he looked around and
marked the crowd of porters, lightermen, and clerks running about, "of
ships and shipping. There is a place near London, I believe, where
they have ships. But I have never seen that part of town. My own
friends own farms, not ships."
"Ships may be better than farms," the old sailor replied, stoutly.
"You have frosts in May; hail in August; drought in spring--where are
your farms then?"
Lord Fylingdale laughed pleasantly.
"Nay, captain, but there is another side to your picture also. Storms
arise; the waves become billows; there are hidden rocks--where are
your ships then?"
"The underwriters pay for all. There may be better money, I say, in
ships than in land."
"Then the merchants should be richer than the landowners."
"Not always, by your leave, my lord. For there are too many merchants;
and of landowners, such as your lordship, there are never more than a
few. But some merchants are richer than some landowners. Of these my
ward is one."
"I should like to know, captain, what you mean by rich. Your ward owns
ships, and brings home their cargoes--turpentine and tar--a fragrant
trade."
"The farmer's muck heap smells no sweeter, and pig-styes, my lord, are
no ladies' bowers."
"Show me one of your ships, captain. If you have one in port, take me
on board. Make me understand what this trade means. I doubt not that
before long we shall all turn our ploughs into rudders, our maypoles
into masts, and our oaks into ships, and so go a trading up and down
the seas, and get rich like the merchants of Lynn Regis."
I do not know how far he spoke truthfully; I am, on the whole,
inclined to believe that he was actually ignorant of trade and
shipping of any kind. He and his class build up a wall between
themselves and those who carry on the trade which pours wealth into
the country and push out their fleets into far distant seas; and he
and his class imagine that they are a superior race to whom Providence
hath delivered the work of administering the kingdom, with all the
offices, prizes, places, and honours belonging to that work. They will
not admit the merchants to any share; they fill the House of
Commons--which should be an assembly containing the merchants, and who
make the country rich--with placemen (their servants), and their own
cousins, sons, and brothers. They command our armies and our navies;
they are our judges and our magistrates; for them the poet writes, the
player acts, the artist paints. They do not condescend to penetrate
into the ports where the ships lie moored and the quays contain the
treasures brought home and the treasures sent out. They grow
continually poorer instead of richer; their gambling, their troops of
servants, their drinking, their pleasant vices impoverish them; they
sell their woods and pawn their revenues. All this time the merchants
are growing richer; they live in places where they never see anything
of the fashionable world--in villages outside London; in towns like
Bristol, Lynn, Southampton, Newcastle, where there are no noble lords;
they do not concern themselves about the government if only the seas
are kept open.
Again, if these noblemen meet the merchants on any occasion their
carriage is cold and proud. Perhaps they show an open scorn of trade;
in any case, they treat them with scanty consideration, as people who
have no rank. Even when they desire to conciliate these inferiors
their manner is haughty, and they speak from a height.
One man is not better than another because he makes his living out of
fields while this other makes his out of ships. And I do not find that
one man makes a better sailor than another because he is the son of a
gentleman while the other is the son of a boat builder or a rope
maker.
However, I am talking likely enough as a fool. It is not for me to
question the order of the world. If the merchants go on getting rich
they may, some time or other, look down upon the House of Lords as
much as the House of Lords, with their ladies, their sons, their
daughters, their nephews, and their cousins, now look down upon
merchants and all who earn their livelihood by honest work, and by
enterprises which demand courage and resolution, knowledge, patience,
and skill.
Presently I saw them both get into a dingey, which the captain rowed
out into the river, making for _The Lady of Lynn_. He made fast the
painter to the companion and climbed up the rope ladder, followed by
his lordship, who, with some difficulty, landed on the deck, looking
at his tarred hands with curiosity rather than disgust. I must say
that he made no complaint, even though his dress, which was not
adapted for rope ladders, showed also signs of the tar.
"My lord," said the captain, "this is one of my ward's ships, and
there is the mate of the ship, Mr. Pentecrosse, at your service."
"At your service, sir," said my lord, from his superior height, and
with that cold condescension which I should try in vain to imitate and
cannot attempt to set down in words. It is not the voice of
authority--every skipper knows what that is and every sailor. It is a
manner which is never found except among people of rank. However, I
pulled off my hat and bowed low. His lordship took no further notice
of me for awhile, but looked about him curiously.
"A strange place," he said. "I have never before been on a ship. Tell
me more about this ship, captain."
"She is called _The Lady of Lynn_. She is three hundred and eighty
tons burden, and she is in the Lisbon trade."
"In the Lisbon trade? Captain, neither the amount of her tons nor the
nature of her occupation enlightens me in the least."
"She sails from here to Lisbon and back again. She takes out for the
Portuguese things that they want--iron, lead, instruments of all
kinds, wool, and a great many other things--and she brings back what
we want--the wine of the country. She comes laden with port wine,
Sack, Malmsey, Canary, Teneriffe, Lisbon, Bacellas, Mountain--in a
word, all the wines of Spain and Portugal. My ward is an export and
import merchant as well as a shipowner; she fills her ships with wine.
The country round Lynn is a thirsty country; the gentlemen of Norfolk,
Lincoln, and the Fen countries, not to speak of the University of
Cambridge, all drink the wines of Spain and Portugal, and a great deal
of it. We send our wine in barges up the river and in waggons across
the country; we send our wine to Newcastle and Hull by ships. The
trade of Lynn Regis in Spanish and Portuguese wine is very
considerable, and most of it is in the hands of my ward."
"This is the Lisbon trade. I begin to understand. And what may such a
ship as this be worth?"
"To build her, to rig her, to fit her for sea, to provision her, would
cost a matter of £1,500 or £2,000."
"And I suppose she earns something by her voyages?"
The captain smiled.
"She makes two voyages every year; sometimes five in two years. She
must first pay her captain and the ship's company; then she must pay
for repairs--a woman and a ship, they say, are always wanting
repairs--then she must pay for provisions for the crew; there are
customs dues and harbour dues at both ends. When all is paid the ship
will bring to her owners a profit of £500 or £600. It is a bad year
when she does not bring in £600."
His lordship's eyebrows lifted. "How many ships did you say are owned
by this fortunate young lady?"
"She has eight. They are not all in the Lisbon trade. Some sail to
Norway; some to the Baltic--that is, to Revel and Dantzig--and bring
home what you saw on the quay, the turpentine, deal, skins, fur, and
so forth."
"Eight ships and a bad year when every single ship does not bring in a
profit of £600. Then, Captain Crowle, we may take it that your ward
has an income of £4,800 a year."
The captain smiled again. "If it were only that I should not be so
anxious about her future. But consider, my lord. For eighteen years
she has lived with me--she and her mother--we live in a plain and
homely way, according to our station. We are respectable, but not
gentle-folk. We live on about £150 a year. The rest is money saved.
Some of it is laid out in land. My ward has a good bit of land, here
and there, chiefly in marshland, which is fat and fertile; some of it
is laid out in houses--a good part of Lynn belongs to her--some of it
is lent on mortgage. Since your lordship hath kindly promised to give
me your advice on the matter, it is proper to tell you the truth. The
girl, therefore, will have an income of over £12,000 a year."
A strange and sudden flush rose to his lordship's cheek; for a few
moments he did not reply. Then in a harsh and constrained voice he
said: "It is a very large income, captain. Many members of the Upper
House have much less. You must be very careful. At six per cent. it is
actually £200,000 or thereabouts. You must be very careful."
"I have been, and shall be, very careful. With such a fortune, my
lord, may not my girl look high?"
"She may look very high. There are some families which would not
admit, even for so great a fortune, a _mésalliance_, but they are
few. There are the jewels, too, of which she wore so many last night.
What may they be worth?"
"I do not know. They have been lying in a chest for fifty years and
more. They were brought from India by Molly's grandfather, who sailed
there, and made the acquaintance of an Indian prince, to whom he
rendered some service. They were too grand for him and his wife; and
they were too grand for Molly's mother, who is but a homely body.
Therefore they have been locked up all this time. Nobody has ever worn
them until Molly put them on last night."
"I am a poor judge of such things, but, captain, I believe that what
the lady wore last night must be worth a very large sum--a very large
sum indeed."
"It may be so. It may be so," said the captain. "There are as many in
the box as we took out of it. Well, my lord, will her diamonds add to
her attractions?"
"Captain Crowle, no one knows or can understand the extraordinary
beauty of a woman who is worth £200,000 and has, besides, diamonds and
pearls fit for a duchess. You must, indeed, be very careful."
I who stood beside him humbly, hat in hand, wondered within myself as
to what his lordship would say if the captain should suddenly or
inadvertently reveal his secret ambitions. Indeed, he looked so
commanding and so noble that these ambitions appeared to me
ridiculous. I felt happier in thinking that they were ridiculous.
How, indeed, should our girl, who must appear homely to one who knew
courts and the charms and splendour of great ladies, attract this cold
and fastidious nobleman?
He turned suddenly upon me. "This," he said, "is one of your crew?"
I was dressed in my workaday frieze and shag, and looked, I dare say,
to unpractised eyes, more like a fo'k'sle hand than the chief officer.
"It is our mate. I told your lordship before. He is second in
command."
"Oh! sir," he said, bowing, a gesture which politeness demanded and
difference of rank allowed to be a slight inclination only, "I beg
your pardon. The strangeness of this place made me forget. Stay, is
not this the--the gentleman who attempted a minuet last night with the
fair Miss Molly?"
The question threw me into confusion. The captain answered for me.
"Gad! He did it rarely."
"Rarely, indeed. Well, sir, you are lucky. You dance with the lady;
you are in the service of the lady; by faithful service you help to
make her rich. What greater marks of favour can Providence bestow upon
you?"
I made no answer, because, indeed, I knew not what to reply.
"And now, sir, if you will show me your ship, I shall be obliged to
you. Teach me the economy of a merchant man."
I obeyed. We left the captain on deck, and I took him over the whole
of the ship. He wanted to see everything; he inspected the two
carronades on the quarter-deck and the stand of small arms. I showed
him the binnacle and explained how we steered and kept her in her
course. I took him below and showed him the lower deck, and let him
peer into the hole. He saw the galley and the fo'k'sle, and
everything.
I observed that he was extremely curious about all he saw. He wanted
to know the value of things; the wages; the cost of provisioning the
ship; the purchase and the sale of the cargo. It was wonderful to find
a man of his rank so curious as to every point.
"I suppose," he said, "that the old man states the mere facts as to
these ships--and the lands--and--and the rest of it."
"No man knows better than the captain," I replied. "He has worked for
nearly twenty years for his ward."
"And for himself, as well, I doubt not."
"No, my lord, not for himself. All for his ward. He has taken nothing
for himself, though he might have done so. It has been all for his
ward."
"A virtuous guardian, truly. Young man, he should be an example to
you. Would that there were many guardians so prudent and so careful!"
Then I invited him into the cabin, and showed him how the log is kept,
and the ship's course set down day by day. There was nothing which he
did not wish to understand.
"I never knew before," he said, "that ships could mean money. Pray,
Captain Crowle, could a ship, such as this, be sold and converted into
ready money like a forest of oak or a plantation of cedars, or an
estate of land?"
"Assuredly, my lord. If I put up _The Lady of Lynn_ for sale to-morrow
there would be a score of bids for her here in this town. If I sold
her in London she would command a higher price."
"Your ward could, therefore, sell her whole fleet if she chose."
"Her fleet and her business as a merchant, and her lands and her
houses and her jewels--she could sell them all."
It seems trifling to set down this conversation, but you will
understand in due course the meaning of these questions, and what was
in the mind--the corrupt and evil mind--of this deceiver.
"But," he went on, "the ship may be cast away."
"Ay! She may be cast away. Then this lad and the whole of the ship's
crew would be drowned. That happens to many tall ships. We sailors
take our chance."
"The crew might be drowned. I was thinking, however, of the cargo and
the ship."
"Oh! as to them, the underwriters would pay. Underwriters, my lord,
are a class of people who, between them, take the risk of ships for a
percentage."
"Then under no circumstances, not even that of ship-wreck, or of fire,
or of pirates, can the owner lose."
"The underwriters would pay. But look you, my lord, there are risks in
every kind of business. There is the cargo. The owner of this ship is
also a merchant. She loads a cargo of wine on her own ship; unloads it
on her own quay, and sends it about the country to the inn-keepers and
the merchants of the towns. They may not want her wine--but they
always do. They may not be willing to pay so much as usual, but they
generally do. These are our risks. But it is a safe business on the
whole--eh, Jack?"
"We have never lost much yet, to my knowledge, captain."
Lord Fylingdale sat down carelessly on the cabin table dangling his
leg.
"I have had a most instructive visit, captain. I do not mind the tar
on my hands or that on my small clothes, which are ruined. I have
learned a great deal. Captain," he added solemnly, "Miss Molly has,
beside the charms of her person and her conversation--out of so fine a
mouth pearls only--pearls as fine as those around her neck would
drop--twelve thousand charms a year. I do not know her equal in London
at this moment. The daughter of a retired tallow chandler was spoken
of, some time ago--said to have fifty thousand pounds--with a squint.
No, sir, Miss Molly in London would take the town by storm."
He paused and fell into a short meditation.
"Jack," said the captain, "there is, I am sure, a bottle in the
locker. His lordship must not leave the ship without tasting some of
the cargo."
I produced a bottle and glasses.
"Your very best, Jack?"
"The king himself has no better," I replied stoutly, "because no
better wine is made."
"I give you a toast, captain," said his lordship. "The fair Miss
Molly!"
We drank it with enthusiasm.
"I have this morning learned a great deal. For one who, like myself,
proposes to serve his country, all kinds of knowledge are useful--even
the smallest details may be important. I have a good memory, and I
shall not readily forget the things which you have taught me. We of
the Upper House, perhaps, keep too much aloof from the trading
interests of the country."
"Your lordship," said the captain, "should present an example of the
better way."
"I shall endeavour to do so." He put on his hat and stood up. "Before
leaving the ship, Mr. Pentecrosse--you seem to have an honest face--I
would exhort you to persevere in faithful service and to deserve the
confidence of your employer. I wish you, sir, a successful voyage and
many of them." He took a step towards the cabin door, but stopped and
turned again to me. "Mr. Pentecrosse, let me add another word of
advice. Do not again attempt to enact the part of a fine gentleman.
Believe me, sir, the part requires practice and study, unless one is
born and brought up a gentleman. Stick to your quarter-deck, friend,
and to your ship's log, and leave, for the future, minuets, heiresses,
and polite assemblies to your betters."
So saying he walked out of the cabin and climbed down the ladder,
followed by the captain. As for me, I stood gaping at the open door,
looking, as they say, like a stuck pig, being both ashamed and angry.