THE GOLD COMPANY
Two minutes later I had begun to regret my decision, and to wonder
if it was a mistake to stay on the island. I reflected that I was
alone, with two strangers. Yet they were posting advertisements,
and asking everybody in Lanesport to come to the island tomorrow.
They would hardly do that if there was anything shady about them.
From the very first, I had no fault to find with the Professor.
The trouble with the other man was that he seemed to be so very,
very GOOD.
"Now, James," said he, "we'll leave the Professor to finish some
work here, while you and I go up to the house. ... Wonderful man,
the Professor!" he continued, after the latter had vanished down
the trap-door, and we had started up the hill,--"wonderful man!
How future generations will bless his name! That is it,--that is
all that induced me to become connected with this great
enterprise,--the blessedness of it! I would never have anything
to do with any work unless it was for the good of my fellowman. I
asked the Professor if his work was going to be for the benefit of
ALL mankind. He told me that it was. Then I consented to come in
with him. He has a marvellous brain."
"What is he professor of?"
"Transcendental chemistry ... He has studied in all the leading
universities of Europe. ALL of them. The name of Von Bieberstein
will be blessed by generations yet unborn. And how devoutly happy
am I that the name of Snider will come in for some of those
blessings! It will be associated with his in this great work,--
this GOOD work!"
"Is that his name?"
"Professor Von Bieberstein. Yes. And mine is Snider. ... James, I
hope you are a good boy."
I said nothing, but if to be a good boy would turn me into
anything like Mr. Snider when I grew up, I hoped I was the worst
kind of boy.
"You don't use tobacco, I hope, James?"
"No."
"Don't ever do it. It leads to lying. And drinking. I have known
the greatest criminals and blacklegs in the city of New York,
murderers, and thieves, and men like that,--and they all became
what they were through using tobacco. All of them."
We had arrived at the house, and Mr. Snider led the way around to
the side-door.
"Here is the platform, you see, James," said he, pointing to the
band-stand, "all ready for the gathering tomorrow. Yes. It will be
a great occasion. Historic. Nothing that this ancient house has
ever seen could match it. And yet I suppose that many of the
world's great discoveries were made in places humble and obscure
like this. ... Suppose we split a little wood, James, and bring
some water from the well. Then we can have supper ready, when the
Professor comes back from his work. He is very absent-minded.
Very. His mind is engaged on these problems all day. He would not
remember to eat unless I reminded him of it. I have to take care
of him,--his life is very precious to the world, James!"
We went to a shed where there was a little kindling wood in one
corner. Mr. Snider handed me a hatchet, and I split some wood,
while he stood near and talked to me about the importance of being
good and virtuous.
"It's the way to be happy, James, and successful, and RICH. Did
you ever hear of Abraham P. Fillmore, James?"
"Oh, yes. Lots of times." "Worth ninety million dollars, James!
Think of it! Ninety million dollars!" Mr. Snider licked his lips.
"The richest man in the world, today. Some say that John Sanderson
is richer,--but it isn't true. No; it isn't true. The last time I
saw A. P. Fillmore, I said to him: 'Brother Fillmore,' I said,
'how do you account for it? How did you do it? How did you GET
it?' And he said: 'Caleb,' he said, 'I'll tell you. It was by
following the Golden Rule.' That's all there is to it, James,--
just by being GOOD. Isn't that simple, James? Oh! why can't we all
do that!"
I looked at Mr. Snider in astonishment. Here was a man who knew
the famous millionaire, A. P. Fillmore, well enough to call him
"Brother Fillmore," and to be called "Caleb" in return by him. I
had seen pictures of Fillmore in the newspapers ever since I could
remember,--people were always talking about him. "You must think I
am as rich as A. P. Fillmore!"--how many times I had heard people
say that! And Mr. Snider, who was on such friendly terms with him,
was standing here in a woodshed, talking with me! I wondered why I
had never heard of Mr. Snider before.
Presently we went in the house, after we had the wood and a pail
of water. The house was almost empty of furniture, and it was
pretty dismal. The kitchen was the only room they used
downstairs,--it contained a cook-stove, two tables, a couple of
broken-down chairs, and some boxes set on end, for seats. An old-
fashioned kitchen clock, its hands broken off, stood on a shelf,
silent. But a handsome little glass and gold clock was ticking
away in front of it.
The Professor joined us while we were kindling a fire in the
stove. He did not seem at all neglectful of his food, he inquired
how soon supper would be ready, and suggested that we have some
sausages in addition to what Mr. Snider was preparing to cook.
They sent me out to the shed for some more wood, and again to the
well for another pail of water, so that we could wash our hands
and faces at the sink.
We ate our supper in the kitchen, and as soon as the Professor
finished eating he lighted a long cigar. Mr. Snider did not seem
to notice this, though it made me wonder why he did not tell his
friend how many scoundrels he had known who had come to their
downfall through using tobacco. When the cigar was nearly gone,
the Professor said he would wash the dishes, if I would help him
wipe them. I agreed, and we began the work. Mr. Snider presently
started to talk to me once more about being good. He did not get
very far, however, before the Professor turned to him and said:
"Oh, shut up!"
Mr. Snider raised his eyebrows, smiled his hideous smile, and
relapsed into silence. After a minute or two he went outside, and
walked slowly up and down the driveway, with his hands behind his
back. When the dishes were finished, the Professor lighted another
cigar, sat down at a table, and began to write and figure on a
piece of paper.
This wasn't very amusing to me, so I looked about to see if I
could find something to do. In a passage leading from the kitchen
to another room, I found a shelf which held some empty medicine
bottles, and four or five dusty books. I took the books down, one
after the other. There was "The Life of Rev. Thomas Miltimore,"--I
put that back on the shelf. There was "Leading Men of Rockingham
County,"--I put that back. Then there was a book of hymns, and
Foxe's "Book of Martyrs." I was about to take the latter to the
kitchen with me, and curdle my blood again with its ghastly
pictures, when I found another book under an old, yellow
newspaper. It was "The Rifle Rangers; or Adventures in Southern
Mexico by Captain Mayne Reid." The frontispiece, which was
protected by a torn and stained leaf of tissue paper, showed a
soldier in a tropical forest, being startled by a skeleton which
had apparently risen out of the ground. On the title-page someone
had written in pencil "A mity Good Book." Underneath, in another
handwriting, were the words, "you Bett!" This seemed well
recommended,--even if the name of the author hadn't been a strong
recommendation in itself. A faded legend on a fly-leaf showed that
the book had been "Presented to Edward Rogers, on his Fourteenth
Birthday, Jan'y 21st, 1852, By his Uncle Daniel."
I took that book back to the kitchen. The Professor had a lamp
burning on the table beside him, and I sat down in its light. In a
few seconds I was following the adventures of the hero,--a hero
whose foot, it seemed "had pressed the summits of the Andes, and
climbed the Cordilleras of the Sierra Madre." He had "steamed it
down the Mississippi, and sculled it up the Orinoco."
The Orinoco! That magic river with the musical name! I knew it
too, and could see it in my mind's eye as I read. The branches of
the trees met across the stream,--parrots screamed, monkeys
chattered, and scampered from one tree to another. The kitchen,
the Professor, vanished from my sight. I was unconscious of the
hard, uncomfortable chair in which I sat, and of the dim,
sputtering light of the badly trimmed lamp.
What else had he done? He told you about his past adventures,
before he began upon the new one. "I had hunted buffaloes with the
Pawnees of the Platte, and ostriches upon the Pampas of the Plata;
I had eaten raw meat with the trappers of the Rocky Mountains, and
roast monkey among the Mosquito Indians." Now, it seemed, he was
off for the war in Mexico,--and I could come along with him, if I
liked.
I did like, and it was two hours later when I suddenly heard an
oily voice saying: "Why, it's half past nine,--James, you're not
going to read all night, are you?" Then I came back to Rogers's
Island with a bump, and saw the obnoxious face of Mr. Snider
looking down at me. The Professor had left the room, though I had
not noticed when he went.
"What is that book, James? Something improving, I trust?"
"It's a fine book," said I.
He took it and looked it over, making a clicking sound of
disapproval with his tongue.
"How much better it would be," he observed, "to read some book of
useful information, or something with a MORAL! Such a book as this
TEACHES you nothing. Couldn't you find anything better?"
I was sorry that the Professor wasn't there, to tell him to shut
up. I had no patience to stay and hear a book of brave adventure
decried by this sanctimonious looking hum-bug,--whose mouth
watered when he talked about old Fillmore and his ninety million
dollars. Fillmore, so everybody said, was so stingy that he cut
his own hair, and went around looking like a fright, rather than
pay a barber. Worse than that, he was hated like fury by all the
people who worked for him because he screwed their wages down to
the lowest possible figure. But Mr. Snider thought him a great
man, and boasted to me of knowing him within ten minutes of the
time we met.
I told Mr. Snider that I was ready to go to bed, if he would show
me where I was to sleep. He led me upstairs, past two or three
rooms, to one in the rear. The floors were all bare, but the rooms
had some furniture,--four-post beds, wash-stands, and one or two
hair-cloth chairs. The bed in my room had a mattress and blankets,
but no other bed-clothes. Mr. Snider bade me good-night, tried to
shake hands with me--an attempt in which I foiled him--and softly
departed down stairs.
After I was in bed I could hear the murmur of his voice below, as
he talked with the Professor. Just as I was dropping off to sleep
the voices grew suddenly louder for a moment or two, as if a door
had opened somewhere.
"Maybe," I heard the Professor say, "but they'd never send a kid
like that."
Mr. Snider answered something,--I could not distinguish the words.
"Oh, rats!" said the Professor, "what could he have seen?"
Again Mr. Snider murmured.
"Oh, sure, sure," the Professor's voice came again, "I was for
keeping him, from the first. But just to be perfectly safe. We
want to keep him till the first crowd has gone, anyway,--and till
the second one has gone, if you say so. I don't care."
Another mutter from Snider; the Professor laughed and spoke again:
"It won't make a bit of difference. Bowditch has got all those
hayseeds hypnotised. That's where you come in,--with your pink
whiskers. ... Say, that door's open!"
There was a sound of footsteps, and the soft closing of a door.
Presently another door closed, outside, and I heard the two men
come upstairs. I jumped out of bed, and locked the door of my
room. It was fairly plain to me that I was in the house with a
couple of swindlers, of some kind or other, and though I didn't
believe they would harm me, there was no need to take unnecessary
chances.
They went into one of the front rooms. I heard four thumps, one
after the other, as they took off their shoes, and threw them on
the floor, so I judged they were going to bed. As I lay there,
listening for them to begin to snore, I fell asleep myself.
I waked, a little at a time, in a room which was in broad
daylight, with the sun shining through one window. For a moment I
could not remember where I was,--at home, on the "Hoppergrass," in
the jail at Bailey's Harbor, or on the other yacht. Then I
recalled Rogers's Island, Mr. Snider and the Professor. I got up
and listened for them, and looked out of the window, but I neither
heard nor saw anybody. I dressed, unlocked the door, and tried to
open it. But I could not do so,--a bolt had been shot, or a button
turned, and the door was locked outside. While I was rattling and
shaking at it I heard Mr. Snider in the passage.
"Dear me!" he said, "what's the matter? Is that you, James? Just
wait a moment."
I heard a fumbling, and my door came open.
"Dear me!" said he again, "this bolt had slipped over, and locked
the door. It does that sometimes. An old house, you know, all out
of repair. You must have thought we were trying to keep you
inside. It DID look that way."
What a clumsy liar he was! I said nothing at all to him, but
hurried down stairs as fast as I could without running. I felt
much safer with the Professor,--perhaps he was as big a rascal as
the other,--but he wasn't as slimy in his manner.
It was half past seven, and they had eaten their breakfast. They
had saved some for me, and I ate it, keeping an eye out for
Snider. He did not reappear, however, and after I had finished
eating, I got "The Rifle Rangers" and went outside with it to
read, and wait for the people who were coming on the steamboat. I
felt more comfortable outdoors than in. With Mr. Snider creeping
from one room to another I never knew what might happen, nor how
he might try to cage me up. Outside, he wouldn't be able to touch
me, if I had any kind of a start.
I had thought it over while I was eating breakfast. There was some
sort of hocus-pocus going on, connected with this excursion and
the gold company. Anybody could see that. Whether they really
expected Captain Bannister to come on the steamboat, or whether
that was all a lie to make me stay, I could not tell. Captain
Bannister had said, according to the men at the Eagle House, that
he was coming to Rogers's Island, so it might be that the
Professor's story was true. On the other hand, it might have been
made up out of whole cloth in order to keep me there over night.
But why should they want to do that? They thought I had seen
something,--the Professor had asked: "What could he have seen?" I
hadn't seen anything,--except that they were working over some
boxes on the platform beneath the wharf. They had both acted like
boys caught in the jam closet.
I sat on the front porch, and thought it over, and read, and then
thought it over again, until the smoke of the steamboat was in
sight. This must have been about half past nine. The Professor and
Mr. Snider had been out in the barn most of the time, or bringing
chairs and putting them up on the platform in the side yard. When
the smoke of the steamboat appeared they both came around to the
front of the house. The Professor shook hands with me, and said
goodbye. He had to go to Lanesport, he said, on important
business, and he must start now. He was going by the road.
"Of course," said he, "I wish I could stay for the excursion, but
Mr. Snider will have to receive them, and explain the works."
"And James," added Snider, "will come around to the side and help
me with the chairs,--won't you, James? It will only take a
moment."
The Professor vanished around the corner of the house, as we
turned into the drive.
"I hope you understand, James," said Mr. Snider, "that any--er--
precautions we have taken since you came amongst us, were only
such as were perfectly necessary under the circumstances. We are
guarding here, of course, a valuable scientific discovery,--a VERY
valuable discovery. There are people who would give thousands of
dollars, and go to ANY lengths to get our secret away from us. Any
lengths. We are determined that these men--these wicked men, I
regret to say--shall not steal from the Professor the fruit of
his brain. The workings of this--er--this precious secret will be
displayed today, when the good folk arrive from Lanesport. We have
the recommendation, as you must have seen, of two of the most
respectable men in the town,--their names alone are proof of the
high moral plane on which our Company is conducted. I say this to
you because you do not know me, nor the Professor, and you are
young, and thoughtless, and might jump to wrong conclusions. That
would pain me very much, James. Very much. You will see, after the
good folk arrive, and after you have heard Mr. Bowditch and Deacon
Chick, that everything is as open as the day."
In spite of Mr. Snider's manner, in spite of his oily voice, I was
nearer believing in him then, than at any time while I was on the
island. After all, I had heard of inventions which must be kept
secret. Moreover, there may have seemed something suspicious about
the way in which I had come. I had bungled in giving that false
name, and made them think that I was simply prying into their
affairs. All that I wished now was to see if Captain Bannister
were on the steamboat, or if I could get news of him or the
"Hoppergrass," and I told this to Mr. Snider.
"Very well, then," said he, "it will be all right, now we have a
clear understanding. And I would like you to keep near me while
the people are here. You may be able to help, and thereby you can
work off some of your debt to us for the two meals you have had at
our expense. Though we would not charge you much for them,--about
fifty cents for the supper, and thirty-five--or forty--for the
breakfast, I think. Now, we will go down to the wharf."
The steamboat was less than quarter of a mile distant. It gave
three long, shrill toots of its whistle, and came straight for us.
It was a small boat, covered with flags and streamers. A brass
band, in red coats, sat in the bow playing "Sweet Marie." As the
boat came nearer I was surprised to see how few people, aside from
the band, were on it. I had expected to see a big crowd,--a picnic
gathering. Instead, there were only about two dozen people. Most
of them were men, but a few had brought their wives--nice looking
old ladies--with them.
Mr. Snider stood up on a high place, took off his black felt hat,
with a great flourish, and put on his ghastly smile. "Welcome!" he
shouted, "welcome to Rogers's Island!"
There was a big man with a frock coat and top hat standing near
the band. He must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, and
all his movements were slow and majestic. He took off his hat,
faced toward the people who were sitting about the deck on camp-
stools, and shouted in a deep but tremendous voice:
"Three cheers for Brother Snider!"
Then, counting "One, two, three!" and waving his tall hat in slow
circles, he gave the three cheers all by himself. No one else
opened his mouth.
The steamboat came alongside the wharf, was made fast, and a gang-
plank run out. The big man came ashore, together with another who
had a gray beard,--Deacon Chick, as I found out later. They shook
hands with Mr. Snider very warmly, and introduced him to some of
the other people as they stepped off the gang-plank.
"The Professor not here!" I heard the big man say; "that's a great
disappointment!"
Then they all started up the wharf toward the house. The men of
the band had scrambled ashore, and they headed the procession,--
still playing "Sweet Marie" with loud blasts. Then came Mr.
Snider, accompanied by the big man (he was the Hon. J. Harvey
Bowditch) and by Deacon Chick. Behind him were the people from
Lanesport, two by two, some of them carrying baskets, and most of
them in their Sunday clothes. At the end were some men from the
steamboat with armfuls of camp-stools.
Captain Bannister was not there. I had watched all the men as they
came ashore, and I asked one of the crew of the "May Queen" about
him. He had never heard of such a man, he said. So I decided to go
up to the house, hear what was going to happen, and then go back
to Lanesport on the steamboat. It would leave, so the man told me,
at twelve o'clock sharp, and get to Lanesport about one. I would
be in time to meet Ed and Jimmy, Mr. Daddles and the rest, and
find out if they had had better luck at Big Duck Island.
Mr. Snider had a great amount of trouble in getting the people
placed as he wished them. The band was in one corner of the garden
playing "Razzle Dazzle" in very lively fashion. This helped make
the occasion gay, but it also made it hard for anyone to hear what
was being said. Mr. Snider's smooth remarks, as he teetered about,
the Hon. J. Harvey Bowditch's stentorian bellowings, and Deacon
Chick's confidential whispers were all drowned out by the music.
Some of the men wanted to inspect the barn, and the premises
generally, and one or two of the women had shown a desire to look
into the kitchen. They had to be headed off by Mr. Snider, who
gave them all a smile, a clammy hand-shake, and a patting on the
shoulder, as he rounded them up on the camp-stools near the
platform. Then he and Mr. Bowditch and the Deacon mounted the
stand. There was a table with a pitcher of water and a glass, and
Mr. Snider took his place behind it.
But when he smiled, and opened his mouth to speak, the band seized
upon that moment to burst into music again. Their choice this tune
was "Daisy Bell,"--
"Daisy! Daisy!
Give me my answer true!"
they blared forth, with their full strength. Mr. Snider turned
toward them and tried to maintain his smile, while the Hon. Mr.
Bowditch, and Deacon Chick waved their hands furiously at the
leader.
The leader, however, was quite unconscious of their efforts, as
his back was turned toward them. He was a short, very stout man,
stuffed into a scarlet coat. He stood up to lead, and instead of
waving a wand, played a cornet. This he moved about in the air,
swaying his head and the upper part of his body in time with the
music. His face was deep red, and it seemed as if he might burst
if it were not for blowing into the cornet. The tune went on,
defiantly, in spite of all the hand-wavings from Bowditch and
Chick.
Finally, a trombone player caught sight of their gestures, and he
attracted the leader's attention to the fact that something was
wrong by giving him a prod in the stomach with the slide of his
trombone. The leader hesitated, stopped, and then faced about to
the speakers' stand. Some of the band paused, while others kept
right on with "Daisy Bell."
Mr. Snider smiled, bowed, and I suppose, with a desire to make
himself agreeable, thrust out his hands and applauded. At any
rate, the band-master mistook the meaning of it, for he silenced
those who were still playing, leaned forward to say something to
them all, waved his cornet, and started them once more on "Razzle
Dazzle." He had thought that Mr. Snider preferred that to "Daisy
Bell," and wanted it repeated. Then they had to begin the hand-
wavings and gesticulations all over again. Nothing could stop them
this time until Deacon Chick descended from the stand, went over
to the band-master, tapped him on the shoulder, and whispered
excitedly in his ear. At last they got them all quieted down,
except one tremendous man who sat on two stools, playing an
enormous bass-horn. For quite two minutes after the others had
ceased he went on with his: "Um-pah! Um-pah! Um-pah!"
"The boys don't get a chance like this more'n once a year," said a
man who was standing beside me, "and you bet they are going to
give J. Harvey his money's worth!"
He was a sharp-faced man, a farmer evidently, not more than
thirty-five years old. He had bright black eyes, which he kept
fixed constantly on Mr. Bowditch and Mr. Snider.
Finally, Mr. Snider got his chance to speak. He said he would call
them all "Friends" as that suited them better than "Ladies and
Gentlemen." He told how sorry he was because the Professor had
been called away by the illness of a relative. Then he told what a
great inventor the Professor was, and how he was even more
remarkable for doing good. For this invention was one which would
do good to so many people.
This led Mr. Snider up to his favorite subject, and he began to
speak on doing good and being good. The black-eyed man beside me
began to utter little groans.
"I knew I was in for J. Harvey Bowditch," he said under his
breath, "and I thought that was enough punishment for one day."
At last Mr. Snider got back to the gold company. "From the
earliest times, my friends, scientists have known of the existence
of gold in sea-water. Together with other metals,--silver,
platinum, and so on, there is a great amount of gold in sea-water.
It is in tiny particles, not so big as the point of a needle.
There it is,--but how shall it be got together? How shall it be
extracted from the water? Aristotle tried to discover a method. He
failed. Diogenes Laertius tried. He failed. Sir Isaac Newton,
Benjamin Franklin,--they tried. And THEY failed. Professor Von
Bieberstein has succeeded. And YOU are to see this method
demonstrated today, and YOU, my friends, are to benefit by this
discovery."
Then he talked at some length about the big "plant" which they
expected to build, and how they would "treat" seventy millions (or
billions, I forget which) of gallons of water daily. In one year
from that date, he predicted, IF the plan received support, the
gold taken every month from Broad Bay would be worth three hundred
thousand dollars. Mr. Snider licked his lips. "Think of that,
friends,--three hundred thousand dollars a month!" Shares in this
Company were on sale for five dollars each. They would be placed
on sale after the demonstration. He now had the pleasure and the
honor to introduce to them one who needed no introduction to an
audience from Lanesport,--the Hon. J. Harvey Bowditch.
Mr. Bowditch came forward with majestic tread. He thrust his right
hand into the lapel of his coat, and commenced, in the deep
booming tones of a bass-drum.
"My friends," he said, "I shall detain you here for just one
moment."
"The poet Byron," he continued, "has written in words which must
be forever immortal, of the deep and dark blue ocean. He said,--"
Mr. Bowditch talked for three quarters of an hour. That was his
idea of "just one moment." Several people went sound asleep, one
man pitched forward out of his chair while asleep, and some of
those in the back began to get up and tip-toe away. At last Mr.
Snider got him to stop--by pulling at his coat-tails--and they
began to hand around the gold specimens.
That woke them up! Deacon Chick came down from the stand with a
neat little box, and walked around among the people, showing off
the gold. There were six nice, fat little nuggets--smooth, and
yellow,--and delightful to handle. Each was about as big as a
postage-stamp, and about half an inch thick. This was the gold
which the Professor and Mr. Snider had extracted from the water,
right there at Rogers's Island, by their secret, chemical process.
It had been in tiny particles then, like dust, but they had sent
it somewhere, and had it made into these nuggets,--plump and
pleasing! They had a letter from someone in the Treasury to prove
that it was solid and pure, and of the very best quality. No one
needed the letter. The nuggets spoke for themselves,--they were so
heavy! I held two of them, one in each hand, and weighed them. We
all held one or two of them, and felt of them, and got a great
deal of pleasure out of them.
The people from Lanesport gathered around Deacon Chick, the men
looked at the gold nuggets, weighed them, and smiled at each
other.
"Looks like the real stuff,--hey?"
"Looks like it to ME, all right!"
Everybody was interested, brightened up, happy and good-natured.
They smiled and joked over the gold. Only one man seemed at all
troubled in his mind.
"There's jus' one thing," I heard him say to two other men,
"there's jus' one thing that kinder worries me. If we go ahead and
perdoose gold at this rate, we're goin' to flood the market!
Yessir! Gold will get so common that the price of everything will
go sky-high, an' that'll raise old Ned!"
The other two looked pretty serious at this, and they started to
discuss it. One of them thought they had better hold back most of
the gold, "and only spring it on people a little at a tune."
Suddenly Mr. Snider shouted: "Now, friends, if you please, we will
go down to the wharf for the demonstration!"