WHITE & CO. stumbled on a treasure in James Seaton. Your colonial clerk
is not so narrow and apathetic as your London clerk, whose two objects
seem to be to learn one department only, and not to do too much in that;
but Seaton, a gentleman and a scholar, eclipsed even colonial clerks in
this, that he omitted no opportunity of learning the whole business of
White & Co., and was also animated by a feverish zeal that now and then
provoked laughter from clerks, but was agreeable as well as surprising to
White & Co. Of that zeal his incurable passion was partly the cause.
Fortunes had been made with great rapidity in Sydney; and Seaton now
conceived a wild hope of acquiring one, by some lucky hit, before Wardlaw
could return to Helen Rolleston. And yet his common sense said, if I was
as rich as Croesus, how could she ever mate with me, a stained man? And
yet his burning heart said, don't listen to reason; listen only to me.
Try.
And so he worked double tides; and, in virtue of his university
education, had no snobbish notions about never putting his hand to manual
labor. He would lay down his pen at any moment and bear a hand to lift a
chest or roll a cask. Old White saw him thus multiply himself, and was so
pleased that he raised his salary one third.
He never saw Helen Rolleston, except on Sunday. On that day he went to
her church, and sat half behind a pillar and feasted his eyes and his
heart upon her. He lived sparingly, saved money, bought a strip of land
by payment of ten pounds deposit, and sold it in forty hours for one
hundred pounds profit, and watched keenly for similar opportunities on a
larger scale; and all for her. Struggling with a mountain; hoping against
reason, and the world.
White & Co. were employed to ship a valuable cargo on board two vessels
chartered by Wardlaw & Son; the _Shannon_ and _Proserpine._
Both these ships lay in Sydney harbor, and had taken in the bulk of their
cargoes; but the supplement was the cream; for Wardlaw in person had
warehoused eighteen cases of gold dust and ingots, and fifty of lead and
smelted copper. They were all examined and branded by Mr. White, who had
duplicate keys of the gold cases. But the contents as a matter of habit
and prudence were not described outside; but were marked _Proserpine_ and
_Shannon,_ respectively; the mate of the _Proserpine,_ who was in
Wardlaw's confidence, had written instructions to look carefully to the
stowage of all these cases, and was in and out of the store one afternoon
just before closing, and measured the cubic contents of the cases, with a
view to stowage in the respective vessels. The last time he came he
seemed rather the worse for liquor; and Seaton, who accompanied him,
having stepped out for a minute for something or other, was rather
surprised on his return to find the door closed, and it struck him Mr.
Wylie (that was the mate's name) might be inside; the more so as the door
closed very easily with a spring bolt, but it could only be opened by a
key of peculiar construction. Seaton took out his key, opened the door,
and called to the mate, but received no reply. However, he took the
precaution to go round the store, and see whether Wylie, rendered
somnolent by liquor, might not be lying oblivious among the cases; Wylie,
however, was not to be seen, and Seaton, finding himself alone, did an
unwise thing; he came and contemplated Wardlaw's cases of metal and
specie. (Men will go too near the thing that causes their pain.) He eyed
them with grief and with desire, and could not restrain a sigh at these
material proofs of his rival's wealth--the wealth that probably had
smoothed his way to General Rolleston's home and to his daughter's heart;
for wealth can pave the way to hearts, ay, even to hearts that cannot be
downright bought. This reverie no doubt, lasted longer than he thought,
for presently he heard the loud rattle of shutters going up below. It was
closing time; he hastily closed and locked the iron shutters, and then
went out and shut the door.
He had been gone about two hours, and that part of the street, so noisy
in business hours, was hushed in silence, all but an occasional footstep
on the flags outside, when something mysterious occurred in the
warehouse, now as dark as pitch.
At an angle of the wall stood two large cases in a vertical position,
with smaller cases lying at their feet. These two cases were about eight
feet high, more or less. Well, behind these cases suddenly flashed a
feeble light, and the next moment two brown and sinewy hands appeared on
the edge of one of the cases--the edge next the wall; the case vibrated
and rocked a little, and the next moment there mounted on the top of it
not a cat, nor a monkey, as might have been expected, but an animal that
in truth resembles both these quadrupeds, viz., a sailor; and need we say
that sailor was the mate of the _Proserpine?_ He descended lightly from
the top of the case behind which he had been jammed for hours, and
lighted a dark lantern; and went softly groping about the store with it.
This was a mysterious act, and would perhaps have puzzled the proprietors
of the store even more than it would a stranger. For a stranger would
have said at once this is burglary, or else arson; but those acquainted
with the place would have known that neither of those crimes was very
practicable. This enterprising sailor could not burn down this particular
store without roasting himself the first thing; and indeed he could not
burn it down at all; for the roof was flat, and was in fact one gigantic
iron tank, like the roof of Mr. Goding's brewery in London. And by a neat
contrivance of American origin the whole tank could be turned in one
moment to a shower-bath, and drown a conflagration in thirty seconds or
thereabouts. Nor could he rifle the place; the goods were greatly
protected by their weight, and it was impossible to get out of the store
without raising an alarm, and being searched.
But, not to fall into the error of writers who underrate their readers'
curiosity and intelligence, and so deluge them with comments and
explanations, we will now simply relate what Wylie did, leaving you to
glean his motives as this tale advances.
His jacket had large pockets, and he took out of them a bunch of eighteen
bright steel keys, numbered, a set of new screwdrivers, a flask of rum,
and two ship biscuits.
He unlocked the eighteen cases marked _Proserpine,_ etc., and, peering in
with his lantern, saw the gold dust and small ingots packed in parcels,
and surrounded by Australian wool of the highest possible quality. It was
a luscious sight.
He then proceeded to a heavier task; he unscrewed, one after another,
eighteen of the cases marked _Shannon,_ and the eighteen so selected,
perhaps by private marks, proved to be packed close, and on a different
system from the gold, viz., in pigs, or square blocks, three, or in some
cases four, to each chest. Now, these two ways of packing the specie and
the baser metal, respectively, had the effect of producing a certain
uniformity of weight in the thirty-six cases Wylie was inspecting.
Otherwise the gold cases would have been twice the weight of those that
contained the baser metal; for lead is proverbially heavy, but under
scientific tests is to gold as five to twelve, or thereabouts.
In his secret and mysterious labor Wylie was often interrupted. Whenever
he heard a step on the pavement outside he drew the slide of his lantern
and hid the light. If he had examined the iron shutters he would have
seen that his light could never pierce through them into the street. But
he was not aware of this. Notwithstanding these occasional interruptions,
he worked so hard and continuously that the perspiration poured down him
ere he had unscrewed those eighteen chests containing the pigs of lead.
However, it was done at last, and then he refreshed himself with a
draught from his flask. The next thing was, he took the three pigs of
lead out of one of the cases marked _Shannon,_ etc., and numbered
fifteen, and laid them very gently on the floor. Then he transferred to
that empty case the mixed contents of a case branded _Proserpine_ 1,
etc., and this he did with the utmost care and nicety, lest gold dust
spilled should tell tales. And so he went on and amused himself by
shifting the contents of the whole eighteen cases marked _Proserpine,_
etc., into eighteen cases marked _Shannon,_ etc., and refilling them with
the _Shannon's_ lead. Frolicsome Mr. Wylie! Then he sat down on one of
the cases _Proserpine'd,_ and ate a biscuit and drank a little rum; not
much; for at this part of his career he was a very sober man, though he
could feign drunkenness, or indeed anything else.
The gold was all at his mercy, yet he did not pocket an ounce of it; not
even a penny-weight to make a wedding-ring for Nancy Rouse. Mr. Wylie had
a conscience. And a very original one it was; and, above all, he was very
true to those he worked with. He carefully locked the gold cases up again
and resumed the screwdriver, for there was another heavy stroke of work
to be done; and he went at it like a man. He carefully screwed down
again, one after another, all those eighteen cases marked. _Shannon,_
which he had filled with gold dust, and then, heating a sailor's needle
red-hot over his burning wick, he put his own secret marks on those
eighteen cases--marks that no eye but his own could detect. By this time,
though a very powerful man, he felt much exhausted and would gladly have
snatched an hour's repose. But, consulting his watch by the light of his
lantern, he found the sun had just risen. He retired to his place of
concealment in the same cat-like way he had come out of it--that is to
say, he mounted on the high cases, and then slipped down behind them,
into the angle of the wall.
As soon as the office opened, two sailors, whom he had carefully
instructed overnight, came with a boat for the cases; the warehouse was
opened in consequence, but they were informed that Wylie must be present
at the delivery.
"Oh, he won't be long," said they; "told us he would meet us here."
There was a considerable delay, and a good deal of talking, and presently
Wylie was at their back, and put in his word.
Seaton was greatly surprised at finding him there, and asked him where he
had sprung from.
"Me!" said Wylie, jocosely, "why, I hailed from Davy Jones's locker
last."
"I never heard you come in," said Seaton, thoughtfully.
"Well, sir," replied Wylie, civilly, "a man does learn to go like a cat
on board ship, that is the truth. I came in at the door like my betters;
but I thought I heard you mention my name, so I made no noise. Well, here
I am, anyway, and--Jack, how many trips can we take these thundering
chests in? Let us see, eighteen for the _Proserpine,_ and forty for the
_Shannon._ Is that correct, sir?"
"Perfectly."
"Then, if you will deliver them, I'll check the delivery aboard the
lighter there; and then we'll tow her alongside the ships."
Seaton called up two more clerks, and sent one to the boat and one on
board the barge. The barge was within hail; so the cases were checked as
they passed out of the store, and checked again at the small boat, and
also on board the lighter. When they were all cleared out, Wylie gave
Seaton his receipt for them, and, having a steam-tug in attendance, towed
the lighter alongside the _Shannon_ first.
Seaton carried the receipt to his employer. "But, sir," said he, "is this
regular for an officer of the _Proserpine_ to take the _Shannon's_ cargo
from us?"
"No, it is not regular," said the old gentleman; and he looked through a
window and summoned Mr. Hardcastle.
Hardcastle explained that the _Proserpine_ shipped the gold, which was
the more valuable consignment; and that he saw no harm in the officer who
was so highly trusted by the merchant (on this and on former occasions)
taking out a few tons of lead and copper to the _Shannon._
"Well, sir," said Seaton, "suppose I was to go out and see the chests
stowed in those vessels?"
"I think you are making a fuss about nothing," said Hardcastle.
Mr. White was of the same opinion, but, being too wise to check zeal and
caution, told Seaton he might go for his own satisfaction.
Seaton, with some difficulty, got a little boat and pulled across the
harbor. He found the _Shannon_ had shipped all the chests marked with her
name; and the captain and mate of the _Proserpine_ were beginning to ship
theirs. He paddled under the _Proserpine's_ stern.
Captain Hudson, a rough salt, sang out, and asked him roughly what he
wanted there.
"Oh, it is all right," said the mate; "he is come for your receipt and
Hewitt's. Be smart now, men; two on board, sixteen to come."
Seaton saw the chests marked _Proserpine_ stowed in the _Proserpine,_ and
went ashore with Captain Hewitt's receipt for forty cases on board the
_Shannon,_ and Captain Hudson's of eighteen on board the _Proserpine._
As he landed he met Lloyds' agent, and told him what a valuable freight
he had just shipped. That gentleman merely remarked that both ships were
underwritten in Sydney by the owners; but the freight was insured in
London, no doubt.
There was still something about this business Seaton did not quite like;
perhaps it was in the haste of the shipments, or in the manner of the
mate. At all events, it was too slight and subtle to be communicated to
others with any hope of convincing them; and, moreover, Seaton could not
but own to himself that he hated Wardlaw, and was, perhaps, no fair judge
of his acts, and even of the acts of his servants.
And soon a blow fell that drove the matter out of his head and his heart.
Miss Helen Rolleston called at the office, and, standing within a few
feet of him, handed Hardcastle a letter from Arthur Wardlaw, directing
that the ladies' cabin on board the _Shannon_ should be placed at her
disposal.
Hardcastle bowed low to Beauty and Station, and promised her the best
possible accommodation on board the _Shannon,_ bound for England next
week.
As she retired, she cast one quiet glance round the office in search of
Seaton's beard. But he had reduced its admired luxuriance, and trimmed it
to a narrow mercantile point. She did not know his other features from
Adam, and little thought that young man, bent double over his paper, was
her preserver and _protege;_ still less that he was at this moment cold
as ice, and quivering with misery from head to foot, because her own lips
had just told him she was going to England in the _Shannon._
Heartbroken, but still loving nobly, Seaton dragged himself down to the
harbor, and went slowly on board the _Shannon_ to secure Miss Rolleston
every comfort.
Then, sick at heart as he was, he made inquiries into the condition of
the vessel which was to be trusted with so precious a freight; and the
old boatman who was rowing him, hearing him make these inquiries, told
him he himself was always about, and had noticed the _Shannon's_ pumps
were going every blessed night.
Seaton carried this intelligence directly to Lloyds' agent; he overhauled
the ship, and ordered her into the graving dock for repairs.
Then Seaton, for White & Co., wrote to Miss Rolleston that the _Shannon_
was not seaworthy and could not sail for a month at the least.
The lady simply acknowledged Messrs. White's communication, and Seaton
breathed again.
Wardlaw had made Miss Rolleston promise him faithfully to sail that month
in his ship, the _Shannon._ Now she was a slave to her word and constant
of purpose; so when she found she could not sail in the _Shannon,_ she
called again on Messrs. White, and took her passage in the _Proserpine._
The essential thing to her mind was to sail when she had promised, and to
go in a ship that belonged to her lover.
The _Proserpine_ was to sail in ten days.
Seaton inquired into the state of the _Proserpine._ She was a good, sound
vessel, and there was no excuse for detaining her.
Then he wrestled long and hard with the selfish part of his great love.
Instead of turning sullen, he set himself to carry out Helen Rolleston's
will. He went on board the _Proserpine_ and chose her the best stern
cabin.
General Rolleston had ordered Helen's cabin to be furnished, and the
agent had put in the usual things, such as a standing bedstead with
drawers beneath, chest of drawers, small table, two chairs, washstand,
looking-glass, and swinging lamp.
But Seaton made several visits to the ship, and effected the following
arrangements at his own cost. He provided a neat cocoa-mat for her cabin
deck, for comfort and foot-hold. He unshipped the regular six-paned stern
windows, and put in single-pane plate glass; he fitted venetian blinds,
and hung two little rose-colored curtains to each of the windows; all so
arranged as to be easily removed in case it should be necessary to ship
dead-lights in heavy weather. He glazed the door leading to her bath-room
and quarter gallery with plate glass; he provided a light easy-chair,
slung and fitted with grommets, to be hung on hooks screwed into the
beams in the midship of the cabin. On this Helen could sit and read, and
so become insensible to the motion of the ship. He fitted a small
bookcase, with a button, which could be raised when a book might be
wanted; he fixed a strike-bell in her maid's cabin communicating with two
strikers in Helen's cabin; he selected books, taking care that the
voyages and travels were prosperous ones. No "Seaman's Recorder,"
"Life-boat Journal," or "Shipwrecks and Disasters in the British Navy."
Her cabin was the after-cabin on the starboard side, was entered through
the cuddy, had a door communicating with the quarter gallery, two stern
windows and a dead-eye on deck. The maid's cabin was the port
after-cabin; doors opened into cuddy and quarter-gallery. And a fine
trouble Miss Rolleston had to get a maid to accompany her; but at last a
young woman offered to go with her for high wages, demurely suppressing
the fact that she had just married one of the sailors, and would have
gladly gone for nothing. Her name was Jane Holt, and her husband's
Michael Donovan.
In one of Seaton's visits to the _Proserpine_ he detected the mate and
the captain talking together and looking at him with unfriendly
eyes--scowling at him would hardly be too strong a word.
However, he was in no state of mind to care much how two animals in blue
jackets received his acts of self-martyrdom. He was there to do the last
kind offices of despairing love for the angel that had crossed his dark
path and illumined it for a moment, to leave it now forever.
At last the fatal evening came; her last in Sydney.
Then Seaton's fortitude, sustained no longer by the feverish stimulus of
doing kindly acts for her, began to give way, and he desponded deeply.
At nine in the evening he crept upon General Rolleston's lawn, where he
had first seen her. He sat down in sullen despair upon the very spot.
Then he came nearer the house. There was a lamp in the dining-room; he
looked in and saw her.
She was seated at her father's knee, looking up at him fondly; her hand
was in his; the tears were in their eyes; she had no mother; he no son;
they loved one another devotedly. This, their tender gesture, and their
sad silence, spoke volumes to any one that had known sorrow. Poor Seaton
sat down on the dewy grass outside and wept because she was weeping.
Her father sent her to bed early. Seaton watched, as he had often done
before, till her light went out; and then he flung himself on the wet
grass and stared at the sky in utter misery.
The mind is often clearest in the middle of the night; and all of a
sudden he saw, as if written on the sky, that she was going to England
expressly to marry Arthur Wardlaw.
At this revelation he started up, stung with hate as well as love, and
his tortured mind rebelled furiously. He repeated his vow that this
should never be; and soon a scheme came into his head to prevent it; but
it was a project so wild and dangerous that, even as his heated brain
hatched it, his cooler judgment said, "Fly, madman, fly! or this love
will _destroy_ you!"
He listened to the voice of reason, and in another minute he was out of
the premises. He fluttered to his lodgings.
When he got there he could not go in; he turned and fluttered about the
streets, not knowing or caring whither; his mind was in a whirl; and,
what with his bodily fever and his boiling heart, passion began to
overpower reason, that had held out so gallantly till now. He found
himself at the harbor, staring with wild and bloodshot eyes at the
_Proserpine,_ he who, an hour ago, had seen that he had but one thing to
do--to try and forget young Wardlaw's bride. He groaned aloud, and ran
wildly back into the town. He hurried up and down one narrow street,
raging inwardly, like some wild beast in its den.
By-and-by his mood changed, and he hung round a lamp-post and fell to
moaning and lamenting his hard fate and hers.
A policeman came up, took him for a maudlin drunkard, and half-advised,
half-admonished, him to go home.
At that he gave a sort of fierce, despairing snarl and ran into the next
street to be alone.
In this street he found a shop open and lighted, though it was but five
o'clock in the morning. It was a barber's whose customers were working
people. HAIRCUTTING, SIXPENCE. EASY SHAVING, THREEPENCE. HOT COFFEE,
FOURPENCE THE CUP. Seaton's eye fell upon this shop. He looked at it
fixedly a moment from the opposite side of the way and then hurried on.
He turned suddenly and came back. He crossed the road and entered the
shop. The barber was leaning over the stove, removing a can of boiling
water from the fire to the hob. He turned at the sound of Seaton's step
and revealed an ugly countenance, rendered sinister by a squint.
Seaton dropped into a chair and said, "I want my beard taken off."
The man looked at him, if it could be called looking at him, and said
dryly, "Oh, do ye? How much am I to have for that job?"
"You know your own charge."
"Of course I do. Threepence a chin."
"Very well. Be quick then."
"Stop a bit. That is my charge to working folk. I must have something
more off you."
"Very well, man, I'll pay you double."
"My price to you is ten shillings."
"Why, what is that for?" asked Seaton in some alarm; he thought, in his
confusion, the man must have read his heart.
"I'll tell ye why," said the squinting barber. "No, I won't. I'll show
ye." He brought a small mirror and suddenly clapped it before Seaton's
eyes. Seaton started at his own image; wild, ghastly, and the eyes so
bloodshot. The barber chuckled. This start was an extorted compliment to
his own sagacity. "Now wasn't I right?" said he; "did I ought to take the
beard off such a mug as that--for less than ten shillings?"
"I see," groaned Seaton; "you think I have committed some crime. One man
sees me weeping with misery; he calls me a drunkard; another sees me pale
with the anguish of my breaking heart; he calls me a felon. May God's
curse light on him and you, and all mankind!"
"All right," said the squinting barber, apathetically; "my price is ten
bob, whether or no."
Seaton felt in his pockets. "I have not got the money about me," said he.
"Oh, I'm not particular; leave your watch."
Seaton handed the squinting vampire his watch without another word and
let his head fall upon his breast.
The barber cut his beard close with the scissors, and made trivial
remarks from time to time, but received no reply.
At last, extortion having put him in a good humor, he said, "Don't be so
down-hearted, my lad. You are not the first that has got into trouble and
had to change faces."
Seaton vouchsafed no reply.
The barber shaved him clean, and was astonished at the change, and
congratulated him. "Nobody will ever know you," said he; "and I'll tell
you why; your mouth, it is inclined to turn up a little; now a mustache
it bends down, and that alters such a mouth as yours entirely. But, I'll
tell you what, taking off this beard shows me something. _You are a
gentleman!!_ Make it a sovereign, sir."
Seaton staggered out of the place without a word.
"Sulky, eh?" muttered the barber. He gathered up some of the long hair he
had cut off Seaton's chin with his scissors, admired it, and put it away
in paper.
While thus employed, a regular customer looked in for his cup of coffee.
It was the policeman who had taken Seaton for a convivial soul.