II

Anthony, with tight-set lips and brow gathered in a frown, turned

north along the wharves. But at Girard's warehouse the way was quite

narrow, because of the lengthening of the docks to accommodate the

French merchant's great ships; and just now this was a sort of vortex

of travel filled with sweating horses and bawling men. So, rather than

risk his bones by venturing by, Anthony faced about and walked toward

High Street.

Here the fish-market, familiar to the eyes of his boyhood, was roaring

with trade; the trays gleamed with the catch fresh from the bay;

bare-armed women cried their wares, shrilly; men in aprons and with

bloody hands, scaled, and gutted, and beheaded at slate-topped tables;

the fishing-sloops were still tied up at the wharf, their decks being

deluged with water and lustily scrubbed by their crews.

Anthony paused. In the block below stood the warehouse of Rufus

Stevens' Sons, huge, square, and with many windows. He had had no

thought of going there just yet; but now a sudden impulse took him,

and he walked toward it. There was no rutted road here, with its scum

of foul, black mud; stones were set in, smoothly and solidly. The

row of brick arches opening into the warehouse were high enough to

admit a laden dray; Anthony stood in the mouth of one, and looked in.

The place was like a dim, vast cavern, packed with riches and filled

with aromatic smells; porters, draymen, and clerks moved about in the

half-light, like gnomes; never before had Anthony been so impressed

with the complete meaning of order, routine, spaciousness, wealth.

The wharves of the firm were heaped with cargo; three square-riggers

were tied there; windlasses turned; seamen chanted as they threw their

weight against the bars, and swung the merchandise up from the holds.

Anthony looked from the ships with their abundance and ordered labor to

the warehouse and its repletion, and the words of Magruder came back to

his mind:

"Great as is his house, it will be that weak," Magruder had said. "Rich

as it is, it will be that poor. Splendid as are its adventures on the

sea, they will be that defenseless."

For all he'd kept a set face while the words were being spoken, the

young man had felt the cold drench of them; but now, with Rufus

Stevens' Sons before him, he jeered at the saying. After all, the man's

brain must be touched in some way, for one glance was enough to show

the fatness of this house, the solidity, the reality of everything it

had to do with. It would take much more than a thing which never showed

itself to bring downfall here.

"Misers," said Anthony, "have mental antennæ that warn them of peril to

their hoards; but, like most morbid things, they probably are not to be

depended upon."

This commercial house had a record of achievement that reached back

into the years of the king's governors. Its founder, old Rufus

Stevens,--Anthony could remember him as a white-haired, big-bodied

man, still unbroken, though in his eightieth year, and holding the

lion voice that had roared his men to their posts in many a driving

gale,--had, in that distant time, walked off the quarter-deck of the

East Indiaman he'd commanded, and on board a schooner he had bought.

This craft he stowed with shrewdly bought merchandise and traded it

to large advantage in the French islands. Within the same year he had

taken over a second schooner and a brig; and by the time war threw the

neighboring seas into a turmoil his house had taken its stand upon the

very spot where it now stood; his vessels had grown more and more

numerous; his name had become known everywhere to men who followed the

sea, and to men who dealt in goods that came by way of it.

From things Anthony had heard his grandfather say, old Rufus had not

hated the king very greatly for his unjust laws; for his mind did not

turn to such matters. But because of the harrying of the sea's trade he

had stormed curses at old George that might well have made him rock on

his throne. However, prowling frigates could not keep his vessels in

port; they crept out, armed and crammed with goods, making for whatever

place trade promised. Some fell prey to the cruisers of the enemy, but

others again made through and back, laden with cargo that, in those

narrowed days, was all but worth its weight in Spanish dollars. When

the enemy entered the city he departed, but his trade went on, in one

way or another, in other places; and no sooner was the town free of

them than he was back again, pulling his power together with a strong,

shrewd hand.

The thing that can broaden in the face of adversity is a strong thing;

and the house of Rufus Stevens proved its strength by laying its widest

and deepest foundations in stormy and uncertain times. And when the sea

roads grew quiet once more the structure began to tower upon this base

like magic; out of the sight of men its huge roots grew under the sea

and far away, tapping populous ports, and rivers that flowed through

gifted places.

The two sons of old Rufus had been bred to the trade; they had sailed

in his ships and seen to his branch houses in foreign places; and their

genius and industry turned an ever-increasing tide of business in the

firm's direction. The horizon of the house widened; but it did not

change until--and this was before the war began--the younger son sent

word from New Orleans, where he had gone to encourage the trade in

furs, that he had taken to himself a wife. When old Rufus learned she

was of Creole stock his lips set, and there was distrust in his flinty

old eyes.

Anthony called up a picture of his beautiful young mother, with her

shining hair and Spanish eyes. She had not fitted very well into the

life of the sober, mercantile town when she came there; her heart was

lonely; she longed for a warmer sky and a less contained people. But,

and she told Anthony this more than once when he was a growing boy,

she had read what was in the old man's mind. She would, so he thought,

take his son away; she would take a prop from under the bulky business

before it got the strength of full maturity; and by so doing she would

destroy much that he had labored to build.

"I was proud," she told her son, and Anthony recalled how her eyes

shone as she said it. "He despised my people. He thought them weak; he

believed they could not bear up under suffering."

If this were so, she proved him wrong, for she stayed on

uncomplainingly until the old man's death; then her resolution would

carry her no further; her health began to break, and Anthony's father,

who was devoted to her, took her back to the low, soft country she

loved.

A dray, rattling over the stones and under one of the arches, roused

Anthony from his thoughts. He looked about. The counting-house would,

of course, face upon Water Street, and so he made his way around and

presented himself therein. It was a fine, airy place with wide spaces

and an air of opulent leisure. A man with an affable manner, and his

graying hair done in an old-fashioned queue, glanced at him inquiringly.

"I should like," said Anthony, "to speak with Mr. Charles Stevens."

"I'm sorry," said the affable man, "but he is not in the city at

present. Could you step in at another time; or would you care to

entrust me with a message?"

"I will return," said Anthony, and went out.

Here were the Newcastle sloops, with their passengers going aboard for

the trip down the river. A trim schooner with a fleet-looking hull,

flying the flag of the New York Packet Line, was warping into a dock

near the Crooked Billet Tavern; and Anthony paused, among a group of

idlers, to watch the operation. A score or more of passengers with

their baggage stood upon the deck ready to come ashore.

"More of them," grumbled a stocky man at Anthony's elbow. He carried

a basket of ship carpenter's tools on his shoulder, and his face wore

a look of indignation. "You see them everywhere you go. The people

they plundered for so many centuries won't let them stay in their own

country, and they come down on us like locusts."

A man in a butcher's apron nodded.

"Not like locusts--more like hawks," said he. "Look at that old one

there; if he's not like a grandfather kite with his eyes going around

for something to fasten his talons in, I never saw one."

Anthony's eyes had already picked out the person referred to: an infirm

old man who leaned his weight upon a stick, but whose head with its

high-featured face was held up with the boldness of youth. There was a

girl at his side; she was turned from Anthony and he could not see her

face, but her figure and carriage were superb; the hand that held the

old man's arm was slim and white and wonderful. There was something in

her poise, in her movements, that said "Youth," "Beauty," as plainly as

tongue could have said it; so, with his fancy instantly taken, Anthony

worked his way down upon the wharf, and there, hands behind his back

and with a carefully careless air, he waited.

The skilful hands of the sailors made the schooner fast, the planks

were run aboard, and the passengers and travelers were set ashore.

There was a small din of carters as they fought for the chests,

parcels, and bags--scuffle, flurry and dust for a moment; then all

settled again, and they were gone. Craftily, Anthony bided his time;

then, right to a hair's-breadth, he put out a hand and helped the old

Frenchman ashore, for which he received a "Je vous remercie, monsieur,"

from the old man, and a glance, though a brief one, from what he

thought the most splendid eyes he had ever seen. He stood near by while

they talked with the only remaining carter. They were strangers in the

city; they were going to the Half Moon; they had expected some one to

meet them and were somewhat dismayed to find that no one had. During

this, Anthony diligently scanned the river at the bend in the very

closest manner, as though expecting a vessel in whose appearance he was

gravely concerned to round it at any moment.

A young man here flung himself up through the companionway of the

schooner with the agility and sureness of an acrobat. He was a big

young man and seemed very much excited; a glance showed him that all

the porters and carters were gone, and he ripped out a string of

curses, threw a heavy pair of saddle-bags ashore, and leaped after

them. Paying no attention whatever to the old man and the girl, he said

sharply to the man who was engaged with their effects:

"Get those bags and drive me to the nearest tavern where there is fit

food and drink."

The carter was a settled, family sort of man, with a subdued look.

"I'm sorry, sir," said he, "but I've already engaged to carry this lady

and gentleman to the Half Moon."

The young man was very big of chest and square of face; he had a curt

manner, and an eye that was good-humored rather than otherwise; but it

was plain that he was not the sort of person to permit himself to be

inconvenienced by any foolish notion of precedence. He looked at the

old man and then at the girl; and his laugh showed his fine teeth.

"Pick up those bags and let us have no more words about it," said he to

the carter. "This gentleman is much too old to be in the haste I am,

and the lady," with a nod of his handsome head, and a smile, "much too

beautiful to worry about a moment more or less."

"It may be," said the pacific carrier, "that I can carry you all. The

cart is large, as you see, and--"

The hectoring young man smiled good-humoredly, and threw his

saddle-bags into the conveyance.

"Now," commanded he, "in with you, before I take you by the neck."

Overpowered by the assurance of the other, the man was about to do as

bidden; but the girl came forward, spiritedly.

"Monsieur," she said, "the conveyance is ours. I am very sorry, but

you'll have to look elsewhere--or await the man's return."

"Await!" The big man smiled at her good-humoredly. "Dear lady, you

don't know what you are saying. I never wait for anything. And just

now I'm so sick of that accursed packet's food that I'm in all haste

to get something fit for the human palate. So bear with me, I beg of

you." With a push of the hand he threw the carter against the wheel of

his cart. "Up with you!" laughed he. "Are you going to keep me here all

day?"

The carter climbed to his seat and took the reins; the big young man

was about to follow him when the girl spoke once more, her fine eyes

full of indignation.

"It seems to be your way to carry a high-handed act off with a pleasant

manner. This does not make your purpose any easier to bear, though you

seem to think it should; but, being a woman, there is no way but words

in which I can show my resentment."

The young man, with one foot on the hub of the wheel, nodded pleasantly.

"At any rate," said he, "you have the spirit. I admire that, and wish

you good luck. Also, I hope you'll not be delayed longer than is

necessary." He climbed up to the seat, and said to the driver, "Get on!"

The girl clenched her hands; and then her eyes met those of Anthony.

Again it was only for an instant; he didn't stop to consider all he

saw there, but thrust one long arm into the conveyance and flung the

saddle-bags to the ground. Then to the old Frenchman he said quietly:

"Are these your things, sir? Allow me to see them placed."

With that he tossed the pieces of baggage into the cart; and while

he was so doing the big young man stepped down and watched him. When

Anthony had done and was dusting off his hands with a blue silk

pocket-handkerchief, the other said:

"That was neatly done, and promptly, too. Mademoiselle," and he smiled

at the girl, "I can see you've found favor with this young man. He

wears the manner always worn by gallants performing under the eyes of

beauty."

He looked amusedly at Anthony, and placed himself so in the way that

that young gentleman was prevented from handing the girl into the cart.

Frowning blackly, Anthony lurched against and drove him to one side;

then the girl was in the cart, and the old man with her ready help was

following, when Anthony felt a heavy hand upon his shoulder. Though

he expected a blow, he did not turn; with jaw set he saw the aged

Frenchman safe, and called to the driver, "Be off!" The man shook the

reins, and the cart started; Anthony swept off his tall hat; he saw

the anxious look in the girl's eyes, and the gesture of protest from

the old man at so deserting him; then he whirled about with a scowl,

and found himself looking into the square, good-humored face of the man

with the saddle-bags.

"Well," said this person, and he looked Anthony from head to foot, "you

have a way of your own, haven't you?"

Anthony threw the hand from his shoulder.

"I can return the saying," replied he. "And let me tell you further,

sir, I consider it a damned, detestable way!"

"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed the other. He roared with laughter, and

followed it up with a string of delighted oaths. "You are vexed! You

are displeased; and right on the heels of such prompt and engaging

conduct." He looked at Anthony and roared again. Then, gasping, he

stooped, took up his saddle-bags, and threw them over his shoulders.

"By God!" said he, "I haven't laughed so much in a twelve-month. It's

a pity I can't have more of your society. But that," regretfully, "has

always been my fate; exigency has always forced me to turn my back upon

good entertainment. Upon my soul," he said, "I never saw the like of it

outside a comedy! 'A damsel in distress!' says you; 'to the rescue!'

Then out goes my luggage, aside go I, and into my place go they, as

nice as you please." He filled his big chest with air, and made the

place ring; then wagging his head, and stamping for very joy he made

his way up the wharf, leaving Anthony scowling after him and biting his

lip.