DOUBTS AND DEBTS.
Leopold was terribly startled when he heard the voice of Stumpy. He was
the possessor of a mighty secret, and he felt that he had been very
imprudent in exposing it to discovery. It would have been better to dig
up the hidden treasure in the daytime, when the light would have enabled
him to observe the approach of an intruder. But he was glad it was
Stumpy, rather than any other person, who had detected him in his
strange and unseasonable labor. If need be, he could reveal the great
secret to his friend, which he would have been very unwilling to do to
any one else. But he did not wish to say a word about the hidden
treasure even to Stumpy.
He was startled when he heard the voice of his friend, and, without
deciding at that moment upon his future course, he dropped the shot-bag
into the hole from which he had taken it, and hastily covered it with
sand to the depth of a foot, in fact, filling up the smaller hole he had
made. This was the work of a moment; and before Stumpy had time to
approach the spot, Leopold, with the lantern in his hand, walked to the
place where his friend had landed.
"What are you doing here in the dark?" demanded Stumpy, as Leopold
approached him.
"Lighting up the darkness," replied the money-digger, lightly.
"What were you doing with that shovel?" added Stumpy, as his friend
stepped into the old boat, the bow of which rested on the beach.
"Digging, of course," answered the possessor of the mighty secret, not
yet decided whether or not to reveal what he knew, and what he had been
doing.
"I don't think there is much fun in digging down here where it is as
dark as a stack of black cats."
"I was not digging for the fun of it. But what brought you down here in
the darkness, Stumpy?" asked Leopold, willing to change the subject.
"I wanted to see you, and went over to the Sea Cliff House. Your father
told me you had gone out in your boat just at dark; and, as a smart
squall had just stirred up the bay, he was somewhat worried about you."
"Was he? I didn't know that he ever worried about me when I was on the
water. I think I know how to take care of myself."
"No doubt you do; but the smartest boatmen get caught sometimes. I think
we had better hurry back, for the longer you are out, the more anxious
your folks will be about you."
"That's so," replied the considerate Leopold. "But we have two boats
here, and we can't both return in the Rosabel."
"Can't we tow the old boat?"
"We can, but I don't like to do it, for the old boat will be sure to
bump against the Rosabel, and scrape the paint off. Now, Stumpy, if you
will take the new boat, and sail back in her, I will follow you in the
old tub. You will get to the house long before I do, and you can tell
the folks I am right side up."
"Why don't you go in the Rosabel, and tell them yourself?" suggested
Stumpy.
Just at this point Leopold was bothered. If Stumpy reached the hotel
first, he would tell Mr. Bennington where he had found his son, on the
beach under High Rock, with a lantern and shovel in his hand. Of course
his father would wish to know what he was doing there; and under present
circumstances this would be a hard question, for Leopold was deeply
indoctrinated with the "little hatchet" principle. In a word, he could
not tell a deliberate lie. He could not place himself in a situation
where a falsehood would be necessary to extricate himself from a
dilemma. Unhappily, like thousands of other scrupulous people, he could
"strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel;" for it was just as much a lie
to deceive his father by his silence as it was by his speech.
But, after all Leopold's motive was good. He was afraid his father would
use the hidden treasure to relieve his embarrassments in money matters,
and he was not willing to subject him to this temptation. The young man
was still firm in his faith that the money belonged to somebody, and
just as firm in the belief that it was his duty to seek out the owner
thereof, which he had not yet done, or had time to do.
He had thought a great deal about the ownership of the treasure; and,
arguing the question as he might to himself, he always reached the same
conclusion--that the money did not belong to him, and that it did belong
to somebody else. He had considered the possibility of finding the
proprietor of the twelve hundred dollars in gold through the owners of
the Waldo, and the consignees or agents of the brig in Havana. This was
before he found the old shot-bag; and, now that he had held it in his
hand, this conclusion was even more forcible than before. Satisfied that
the secret would be safer in the possession of Stumpy than of his
father, he was tempted to tell him the whole story.
"After all, I guess we will go back in the Rosabel, Stumpy," added
Leopold, when he had considered the matter. "You can keep your eye on
the old boat, and see that she don't do any harm."
"I can keep her from doing any mischief," said Stumpy.
Leopold asked his companion to haul the Rosabel up to the beach, and,
shoving off the old boat, he returned to the spot under Coffin Rock
where he had been digging. Using his shovel vigorously for a few
moments, he filled up the excavation he had made, and levelled off the
sand and gravel, so that no chance visitor at the place should discover
the traces of his labor.
By the time he had finished the work, the Rosabel had been hauled up to
the beach, and the painter of the old boat attached to her stern. In a
few moments the money-digger and his friend were under way, standing
towards the mouth of the river.
"I don't see why my father should be worried about me," said Leopold, as
he seated himself at the tiller.
"You don't very often go out in the night, and in a thunder-storm, too.
I was worried about you myself, Le, for any fellow might be caught in a
squall. Without saying anything to your father, or any other person, I
took the old boat, and stood out of the river. I shouted to you with all
my might. When I got out beyond the point, I saw the light on the beach,
under High Rock, and went for it."
"Well, I'm much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken," added
Leopold.
"But what in the world were you doing on the beach with the lantern and
the shovel?" asked Stumpy. "You couldn't catch any clams under the rocks
where you were."
"I didn't catch any. When you sung out, I was sitting on the beach. I
had anchored the Rosabel, with a long cable, and when the squall came,
it blew her off so far from the shore that I could not get on board of
her without swimming."
"O, that's it--was it?" exclaimed Stumpy, entirely satisfied with this
explanation.
Certainly every word which Leopold had uttered was strictly and
literally true; but Stumpy's deception was as complete as though it had
been brought about by a lie. The money-digger was not quite satisfied
with himself, though he had an undoubted right to "keep his own
counsel," if he chose to do so. But while he was thus bothered about the
situation, his friend changed the topic.
"I wanted to see you," said Stumpy, after he had accepted his
companion's explanation.
"What for?"
"That old hunks had gone and done it!" added Stumpy, whose chief
emotion seemed to be a violent indignation.
"What old hunks?"
"Why, grandad."
"What has he done?"
"Taken possession of our house; or, what amounts to the same thing, has
notified my mother that she must move out on the first of August, if the
mortgage note is not paid."
"That's rough," added Leopold.
"Rough! That isn't the word for it," protested Stumpy, warmly. "It is
mean, rascally, contemptible, infamous, infernal! I should bust the
dictionary if I expressed myself in full. If Squire Wormbury was a poor
man, or really needed the money, it would be another thing; or if he
would wait till houses and land are worth something in Rockhaven. But he
takes the time when the war has knocked everything into a cocked hat;
and nobody knows whether we are going to have any country much longer,
and nobody dares to buy a house. Confound him! he takes this time, when
the place won't fetch anything! He knows it will bring two thousand
dollars just as soon as the clouds blow over. He intends to make money
by the operation."
"Well, I don't see that you can help yourself, hard as the case is."
"I don't know that I can; but I have been trying to do something."
"What?"
"I have asked two or three to take the mortgage; but I haven't found
anybody yet. Nobody down here has any money except my grandad, and it
might as well be buried in the sea as to be in his trousers' pocket."
"Did you want to see me about this business?" asked Leopold.
"Yes."
"Do you think I could help you out?"
"That was my idea."
"That's good!" laughed Leopold. "My father can hardly keep his head
above water now. He don't know where he shall get the money to pay the
interest on his mortgage, due on the first of July. I should not be much
surprised if your grandfather had to foreclose on the Sea Cliff House."
"Of course I don't expect you to find the money for us, only to help me
in another way. But what you said about your father reminds me of
something I was going to tell you, when I saw you."
"What's that?"
"If my grandad was a decent man, I wouldn't say anything about it,"
replied Stumpy, apparently troubled with a doubt in regard to the
propriety of the revelation he was about to make.
"If there is anything private about it, don't say anything," added
Leopold, whose high sense of honor would not permit him to encourage his
friend to make an improper use of any information in his possession.
"The conversation I heard was certainly not intended for my ear,"
continued Stumpy, thoughtfully.
"Then don't mention it."
"I think I ought to tell you, Le, for the business concerns your
father."
"No matter whom it concerns, if the information don't belong to you,"
said Leopold. "If I hear my father and Jones talking about Smith in a
private way, I don't think I have any right to go and tell Smith what
they say. It makes trouble, and it's none of my business."
"I think you are right in the main, Le; but let me put the question in
another form. Suppose you heard two scallawags in your hotel talking
about setting my mother's house on fire; suppose you knew the plan they
had formed to burn the cottage; would you say it was none of your
business, because you happened to hear them, and the conversation was
not intended for your ears?"
"I don't believe I should say or think any such thing. These men would
be plotting to commit a crime and it would be my duty to tell you,"
replied Leopold.
"My sentiments exactly. A crime! That's just my opinion of what my
grandad is doing."
"If you think so, it is perfectly proper for you to let on."
"I do think so and I shall let on," added Stumpy. "As you said just now,
the interest on the mortgage note which your father owes Squire Moses
will be due on the first day of July; and that's only ten days ahead.
The squire thinks your father won't be able to raise the money, because
he has been to him to ask the old skin flint to let him up a little."
"Yes; I know all that," replied Leopold, sadly, for he dreaded the first
of July almost as a condemned convict dreads the day of execution.
"I went up to grandad's the other day, to carry his spectacles, which he
left on the table when he came to tell mother that she must move out on
the first of August. I wanted to give the spectacles into his own hands,
and to say a word to him about the place, if I got a chance. I went into
the kitchen, where the old man stays when he's in the house. He wasn't
there; but I heard his voice in the next room where he keeps his papers,
and I sat down to wait till he came out. There was no one in the kitchen
but myself, for the women folks had gone up stairs to make the beds."
"But whom was Squire Moses talking to?" asked Leopold, much interested.
"I was going to tell you all about it, Le; but I wanted to say, in the
first place, that I didn't go into the kitchen to listen, and I didn't
want to break in on the old man when he was busy. Squire Moses did most
of the talking, and it was some time before I found out who was with
him. But after a while the other man spoke, and I knew it was Ethan."
"Ethan Wormbury you mean?" asked Leopold.
"Yes my uncle Ethan, that keeps the Island Hotel. Your father's new
house, Le, has scared him half out of his wits. I can't remember half I
heard them say; but the substance of it was, that if your father don't
pay his interest money on the very first day of July, the old man means
to foreclose the mortgage just as quick as the law will let him. That's
the upshot of all that was said."
"That's too bad!" exclaimed Leopold, indignantly.
"Just what I thought, and that's the reason why I wanted to tell you.
Squire Moses said your father's furniture was mortgaged, and that would
have to be sold too. The plan of the old hunks is to get the hotel, and
put Ethan into it as landlord. If he can't do it this summer, he means
to do it as soon as he can. He thought if he got the house, he could buy
the furniture, and set Ethan up by the middle of July, or the first of
August."
"It's a mean trick," muttered Leopold.
"That's what I say; but it isn't any meaner than a thousand other things
the old man does. Only think of his turning his son's wife, with three
children, out of house and home! But you can tell your father all about
it, Le, and perhaps he may be able to get an anchor out to windward,"
continued Stumpy, whose sympathy for his friend was hardly less than his
fear for his mother's future.
"I'm much obliged to you for telling me, Stumpy; but I don't know that
my father will be able to do anything to help himself, desperate as the
case is," added Leopold.
"I hope he will."
"So do I but I have my doubts. Father said to-day that he had six calls
for every dollar he got. He has mortgaged everything, so that he can't
raise anything more. He said there was money enough in the large cities;
that they had picked up after the first blow of the war, and some men
were getting rich faster than ever; but down here everything was at a
stand-still; no business, and no money. The rich folks will come down
to the hotel by and by; and father says a good week, with the Sea Cliff
House full, would set him all right; but he can't expect to do anything
more than pay expenses, and hardly that, till the middle of July."
"It's a hard case, and Squire Moses knows it. He said if he couldn't get
the house on the first of July payment, he was afraid he should not be
able to get it at all for Ethan. I hope your father will be able to do
something."
"I hope so. If I could find any one who would give me a hundred and
fifty dollars for this boat, I would sell her quick, and hand the money
over to father. It would pay his interest, into thirty dollars, and
perhaps he could raise the rest, though he says he has not had twenty
dollars in his hand at one time for a month. I can't exactly see why it
is that when men are making money hand over fist in some parts of the
country, everything is so dead in Rockhaven. The quarries have all
stopped working, and the fishermen have gone to the war," said Leopold,
as the Rosabel reached her landing place near the hotel, where she was
carefully moored; and the boys went on shore.
"By the way, Stumpy," continued the skipper, as they walked up the steep
path towards the road, "you said I might be able to do something to help
your mother out of her trouble. If I can, I'm sure I should be glad to
do so."
"I don't know that I will say anything about it now. Your case is rather
worse than mine, if anything, and you have enough to think of without
bothering your head with my mother's troubles," replied Stumpy.
"Of course I can't raise any money to help her out; but if I can do
anything else, nothing would please me more."
"If you have any friends, you ought to use them for your father."
"What do you mean by friends? I haven't any friends."
"Yes, you have; but I don't know that you have the cheek to call upon
them. I suppose it will do no harm to tell you what I was thinking
about, Le," added Stumpy, when they reached the road, and halted there.
"Your boat is called the Rosabel. You gave her that name."
"Of course I did. What has that to do with this matter?" demanded
Leopold, puzzled by the roundabout manner in which his friend approached
his subject.
"You named the boat after somebody," continued Stumpy, with something
like a chuckle in his tones.
"I named her after Miss Rosabel Hamilton, whose father has been one of
the best customers of the hotel. Perhaps I had my weather eye open when
I christened the sloop."
"Certainly you had," ejaculated Stumpy.
"But it was only to please the family, and induce them to stay longer at
the hotel."
"Perhaps it was," added Stumpy, placing a wicked emphasis on the first
word.
"O, I know it was!" protested Leopold.
"But I used to think you were rather sweet on Miss Rosabel, when I was
in the boat with you."
"Nonsense, Stumpy!" replied Leopold; and if there had been light enough,
perhaps his companion might have distinguished a slight blush upon his
brown face. "I never thought of such a thing. Why, her father has been
a member of Congress, and they say he is worth millions."
"I don't care anything about Congress or the millions; you would have
jumped overboard and drowned yourself for the girl at any minute."
"Perhaps I would; I don't know. She's a nice girl," mused Leopold.
"That's not all, either."
"Well, what else?"
"If Rosabel didn't like you better than she did the town pump, I don't
guess any more," chuckled Stumpy.
"I think she did like me, just as she would any fellow that did his best
to make her comfortable and happy."
"More than that."
"I don't believe it. But what has all this to do with your mother's
case, or my father's?"
"I won't mix things any longer. Her father is as rich as mud. I was
going to ask you if you wouldn't write to Mr. Hamilton, and ask him to
take the mortgage on my mother's house."
Leopold did not like the idea, but he promised to consider it.
"If I were you, Le, I should mention my father's case to him," added
Stumpy.
But Leopold did not like this idea any better than the other; and they
separated.