IN WHICH SIR ANDREW SUDDENLY TURNS VERY PIOUS—A STORMY MEETING.
The loss of the well-known vessels, “Racehorse” and “Eclipse,” and
their destruction by the Skeleton Crew under Death-wing, was a
serious blow to several gentlemen in the habit of daily attending on
’Change, and their countenances wore the marks of care and anxiety,
for Mr. Redgill, senior, had drawn heavily on his friends in making
his grand China speculation in silks and teas.
Old Moss the usurer was like one demented.
He was seen rushing from place to place, making all manner of
inquiries regarding the “soundness” of the London Insurance Office,
but his fears were dispelled by the universal good opinion which
prevailed in commercial circles concerning it.
“Pooh! pooh, man!” was the general expression. “Sir Andrew is all
right. Bless you, it is as safe as the bank. Why, that office is
worth any amount of money!”
The executors of Mr. Redgill, senior, were not long, of course, in
presenting their “policies” for adjustment at the insurance office.
But Sir Andrew was “out of town, and was not expected to return for
several days; but upon his return all just claims would be settled,”
said the clerk.
Mr. Moss, as one of those principally interested, felt comforted,
and awaited Sir Andrew’s return with recomposed feelings, but hot
impatience.
When the affairs of the “London Insurance Company” were examined
commercial circles were greatly surprised to find it unable to meet
the heavy loss which had unexpectedly fallen upon it by the wreck of
the vessels, and that, far from being able to pay £500,000 to the
estate of Mr. Redgill, deceased, it was not possessed of more than a
fiftieth part of that sum.
In truth, at the time in which these events occurred, the latter
part of the merry monarch’s reign, the London money market was in a
very unsafe, unsettled condition, and commerce was trembling on the
brink of ruin from inflated currency, wild speculation, and general
distrust.
Leading men had predicted the inevitability of “a general smash”
should things thus continue, yet none were, of course, able to divine
in which direction the storm might first break out.
When it was known on ’Change, therefore, that Sir Andrew’s office was
unable to meet its liabilities many raised their hands and eyes in
wonder, and exclaimed—
“Who’d a believed it?”
This was poor consolation to old Moss the Jew, and other persons
interested in the settlement of Mr. Redgill’s affairs.
With a stooping gait, shrivelled face and hands, old Moss journeyed
to and fro in an undeniable state of despair, and was in such a
rage that he ordered his agent to turn every poor devil out of his
numerous tenements who had not paid every farthing of their rents.
Sitting in his lonely, dirty office, without fire, or comfort of any
kind, he gathered himself into a heap in a large, old arm-chair, and
looked like some wild animal in wait for its prey.
Hour after hour he there sat, thinking of the past, and cursing every
one in any way connected with his losses.
He cursed both the living and the dead, with an earnestness and an
enthusiasm which greatly relieved his pent-up feelings.
To such an extent had his loss preyed upon him, that his face had
become like a livid corpse.
He stalked through his dusty, dingy offices like one possessed by the
devil, and when an unfortunate servant poked in her head from the
back room, to ask a question, Moss raised a heavy ledger with great
energy, and threw it at her.
“So Sir Andrew has returned to town again, has he? Ha, ha! Oh, he’s
a nice gentleman—the intended father-in-law of that young vagabond,
Redgill, eh? I see the scheme! No wonder the insurance office
couldn’t pay its lawful debts! I know what their plans are. I’ll go
and see him. I will see him; he can’t fool me, old as I am. I’ll tell
him what I think of him. I’ll have my money, or I’ll see why!” cursed
old Moss, walking about like a maniac.
The furious old Jew put on his tattered overcoat, buttoned it up to
the throat, and with a good thick stick in his hand, trudged off
towards Sir Andrew’s residence.
The servant said his master was engaged, and could not be seen.
Mr. Moss would take no denial.
He would see him, and without further ceremony flourished his stick
at the footman’s head, and made his way upstairs to the library.
As he stood at the door, he heard the sounds of several voices, high
in oath and angry altercation.
He entered quietly, took a seat near the door, and, finding the
gentlemen to be creditors like himself, soon took part in their
grievances, and opened an extra broadside of abuse upon the
unfortunate Sir Andrew McTurk.
Sir Andrew, in his easy chair, one leg over the other, played with
his watch-chain and seals in the coolest manner imaginable.
This was one of those occasions in life which “try men’s souls,”
and call forth their Christian virtues in bold relief against the
revilings of an angry audience.
Sir Andrew’s resignation and Christian forbearance was extraordinary.
He even smiled, as one after another of Mr. Redgill’s creditors grew
red in the face, struck the table, and told what they thought of him.
Old Moss, the Jew, was “sitting on thorns,” for he was very uneasy in
his chair.
He at last arose, and, approaching the Christian and martyr-like Sir
Andrew, he flourished his clenched fist in the face of that meek and
smiling gentleman, and said,
“I’ll tell you what _I_ think about you, Sir Andrew McTurk—you are a
d—d rogue, sir! and the whole lot of you are a gang of thieves, and
ought to be hung, if there was any justice in the world.”
With wonderful forbearance, Sir Andrew listened to all these personal
compliments, but at last said, with much mildness,
“Really, gentlemen, I cannot understand all this! I owe you nothing;
neither does the late company, of which I, unfortunately, was
president. You had better present your claims to the executors of
Mr. Redgill’s estate. They are the proper persons to whom you should
apply. I have nothing to do with all this.
“The London Insurance Company certainly closed their doors very
suddenly, but I was out of town at the time, and only heard of it
by letter. We have had very extensive losses of late, but, had I
any capital, it would have given me infinite pleasure to meet all
claims—it would, I assure you!
“In truth, I make the humiliating confession to you, gentlemen,
despite your angry and unjust accusations, that I, personally, have
not one penny in the world!
“Were it not for some funds, which I cannot legally touch, owned by
my wife’s sister—”
Mr. Moss groaned very audibly at the words “my wife’s sister.”
“On deposit at the South Sea Bank, we should not be worth a fraction,
and would be all turned out into the streets!
“But, my dear friends, why do you come to me about these affairs? I
have nothing to do with them.”
All this was said with a faint smile, which was like wormwood to all
present.
Mr. Moss, who flounced about the apartment like a mad morris dancer,
flourished his walking-stick, and said,
“The reason I come to see you, you sanctimonious old scoundrel, is to
tell you what I think of you!
“Had you paid the insurance on those vessels, like honest men would
have done, I and every other creditor would have been satisfied in
full; but now we don’t get one penny!
“No, not a solitary farthing!
“And do you think I don’t know all about your scheme—eh, you smiling
old villain?
“Don’t I know that young Redgill is going to be your son-in-law, eh?
and that if you had paid the insurance, he wouldn’t lawfully come in
for one penny?
“Do you think I don’t know all about it, you scheming scoundrel?”
Mr. Moss was bursting with rage.
This disclosure only tended to raise the ire of the other creditors,
who became so furious and noisy that they crowded round poor Sir
Andrew, gesticulating and cursing so that they reminded one of a pack
of hungry and furious wolves.
Sir Andrew was placid as a lamb, and said not a word.
He played with his watch keys, and gazed at the fire, until, when his
noisy visitors had departed, he smiled, and said,
“Well, let them howl as much as they like. I am all right—so that’s
all that concerns me! It wasn’t a bad idea! They can’t touch the
money of mine now which my wife placed to the account of her sister,
for it is all in the name of a third party, and is taken for her own
personalty. Who cares if others do lose? Why, if we had paid the
policies, I shouldn’t be worth one penny! In fact, we couldn’t pay
it. By closing doors we have ‘done’ them all, and saved ourselves!
They may say what they please; ‘business is business,’ but let every
one take care of themselves.”