"This de Veulle put a slight upon me before the Lords of Trade, and
the lad--'tis a good youth and devoted, though fresh come out of
Dorset, as you may see--was most indignant on my behalf."
Jenkins blinked his eyes.
"Humph," said he.
"And now about the passage?" resumed Juggins. "I'll pay well. Sure,
you can always find room for an extra man on shipboard."
"What will you pay?"
"Three guineas."
"Four," countered Jenkins in a monotonous tone.
"Four, then," agreed Juggins, "and may the extra guinea find a hole
in your pocket."
The ship-owner nodded dispassionately, and made an entry in his book.
"Four guineas," he repeated.
Juggins drew the coins from a purse and clinked them on the table.
"You'll never lose a debt, will you, Tom?"
"Not if I can help it," Tom agreed.
"And is it de Veulle sails with Murray?"
"Aye; he goes on some Government mission for Canada."
"But why does he not sail from Havre in a French ship for Quebec?"
"The St. Lawrence is frozen. There will be no French ships for
Canada for two months yet."
Juggins pursed his lips in that quaint gesture of a whistle which was
a characteristic trait.
"They use our goods," he muttered; "they use our rivers, our
trading-posts, our people, the tribes which are friendly to us--and
now they use our ships."
"Often," admitted Jenkins disinterestedly. "Since the Peace of
Utrecht we ha' done a sight o' shipping business with the Frenchies."
"'Tis to our shame," declared Master Juggins roundly.
"Why, 'tis business," answered Jenkins with his first show of
interest. "Would you have a merchant reject the trade that came his
way?"
"Aye, if 'twas not to his interest to accept it," rejoined Juggins.
"Show me a heathen, let alone a Frenchy, will pay a farthing more
than an Englishman, and I'll show you a better customer," said the
ship-owner. "Trade is trade. Leave politics to governments. If I
make not my own living, will the gentry at Westminster carry my
debts? I think not."
Juggins swelled with indignation.
"God help England when men like you come to rule it, Tom Jenkins!" he
declared. "Good afternoon to you."
"One moment," interposed Jenkins. "You ha' not given me the name of
my passenger."
"Must you have it?"
"Aye. How else shall I know whom to admit on board?"
"'Tis this youth here."
"He who hath the interest in the Frenchy?" responded Jenkins. "Well,
lad, keep your hands off him, despite his insults to your master.
And what's your name?"
"Bill," I said in a voice I made as hoarse as I could.
"Bill," he repeated. "'Tis a good plain name. But you must ha' more
to it. So the custom officers will say."
"'Tis Juggins," interposed my master. "The lad is a cousin once
removed. He goes to seek employment in the New World. To tell the
truth, though strong and willing, he is not overburdened with wits.
But he can swing an ax as well as any one, and his muscles should
bring him good hire on some wilderness farm."
"Aye," agreed Master Jenkins tonelessly.
He wrote the name carefully in his record-book, slipped it back in
his coat-tails and returned to his bowl of Mocha. The sucking of his
lips was the last sound I heard as we left the table.
In the street Juggins turned upon me indignantly. "Would you ruin
us, Master Harry!" he demanded. "Zooks, you were like to plunge
yourself into trouble by your forward manner! I'll wager Jenkins is
wondering now whether you are a criminal or only a half-wit."
"Not he," I replied confidently. "He hath his four guineas, and a
reasonable explanation for the receiving of it, and he will not worry
about Government or the character of the man who paid him."
"Mayhap," said Juggins doubtfully. "But for your own sake, lad, mind
the playing of your part till you have the Atlantic behind you. Why
did you flare up over this de Veulle?"
"Because I know him."
This time 'twas Juggins who forgot our parts, for he stopped me in
front of St. Paul's and grasped my arm.
"You know him? But----"
"I know him and I hate him," I answered doggedly.
"Why? What hath he done!"
"Oh, he owes me nothing. Like enough he thinks the obligation is the
other way. He is one of the gallants of the Court in Paris. He came
out of Canada some three years ago, and made a reputation for
gambling, fickleness and daredeviltry of all kinds. I never had the
money to mingle with him and his friends, but once in the Toison d'Or
I heard him slur the poor young man I then served."
"James!"
"I called him King James in those days," I answered. "Yes, de Veulle
was mocking the petty motley of our exiled Court, mocking it as much
as anything else because he sought to humiliate the two Englishmen in
the room.
"'What is this King but a puppet figure for us to dandle in England's
face!' he said. 'And what are his courtiers but other puppets to
dress the show?'"
"His toadies all laughed. They laughed so that they did not see the
other Englishman and me rise in our seats.
"'And the most comical thing of all,' ended de Veulle, 'is to think
of this Puppet King, with a Puppet Court, ruling over a Puppet
England while France pulls the strings--as will surely happen some
day.'"
"It was then I knocked him out of his chair."
Master Juggins gripped me by the hand with a warmth that surprized me.
"Good lad!" he exclaimed. "I would have done it myself!"
"What! You are no Jacobite!"
"I am no Jacobite," he replied in some confusion, "but no more were
you a Jacobite when you struck him. 'Twas for England, Master Harry;
and a man's country means more than any king that ever ruled. But
what came after?"
"We fought in the upper room of the Toison d'Or--de Veulle and I and
a friend of his and my friend. My friend was badly wounded."
"And you?"
"I disarmed my opponent."
"Only that!" remonstrated Juggins whimsically.
"Well, I disarmed him several times. When we began to fence I found
he knew little of the small-sword--remember, he had been brought up
in Canada--and 'twould not have been pretty to slay a man so at my
mercy. Also, to treat him as I did was more humiliating to his pride
than death."
"You did well, Master Harry. But granny will be awaiting us. We
must hasten."
He walked in silence until we had reached the house in Holborn.
"How comes de Veulle in London?" he asked suddenly as we climbed the
stairs.
"He was in some trouble in Paris--what, I know not. The rumor was
that he was ordered into exile. But if he sails for Canada, as
Master Jenkins says----"
"And on the same ship with Murray," interposed Juggins excitedly,
"after appearing in Murray's behalf this afternoon----"
"--then there may be more to his enterprise than the mere punishment
of exile from the Court," I concluded.
"'Tis so!" exclaimed Juggins. "Beyond doubt 'tis so. Aye, Master
Harry, this will be no ordinary struggle I send you upon. And mayhap
de Veulle will recognize you."