A TEMPTING OFFER.
“Wolf, there is a story in circulation that Colonel Wimpleton was very
much intoxicated yesterday,” said my father, as he seated himself in
the state-room. “I heard two passengers speaking of it on the main
deck, just now. Is this one of the occurrences of yesterday?”
“Probably Colonel Wimpleton does not so regard it,” I replied.
“They say he fell off the train, and came very near being killed.”
“That is not true. He got out of the car when the train stopped to
avoid killing a cow. It started before he could get on. When I missed
him, I induced the conductor to go back, for I was afraid he had been
hurt. He was on the track, and came very near being run over; but he
did not fall off. We put on the brakes hard, or he might have been
killed,” I added, stating the case as mildly as possible.
“If he don’t brake up there will an end of him,” said my father,
shaking his head. “They say he drinks very hard.”
“I think there is no doubt about that.”
“You picked him up, I suppose,” continued my father.
“I assisted in doing it. Of course all this was known to the people on
the train.”
“It’s no secret, for the passengers on board are spreading it as fast
as they can. But what else happened yesterday?”
“Colonel Wimpleton regards these matters as confidential, and I do
not consider myself at liberty to speak of them. I can only say I did
nothing to compromise myself, and, except getting intoxicated, I don’t
know that the colonel did. There is really no secret to be revealed;
and I don’t think the colonel wishes to conceal anything, except the
fact that he was intoxicated.”
“But everybody knows that.”
“Everybody but the tippler himself,” I added. “He thinks no one has
any idea that he drinks more than he can carry.”
“You took care of him while he was in this state.”
“I did what I could for him.”
“And he discharges you for this!” exclaimed my father, compressing his
lips, as if to suppress his indignation.
“Colonel Wimpleton occupies a high position. He is a very proud man. As
I understand the matter, he does not want any one in his employ who has
witnessed his degradation and humiliation. That is all I can make of
it. As I said before, I have no idea of the reason why I am discharged.”
“It’s very singular,” added my father, with a puzzled expression.
We continued to discuss the subject, with no better results, till I was
called to pilot the boat through the Horse Shoe Channel. I gave all
the bearings to Captain Van Wolter, but he declared it was the most
difficult piece of navigation he knew of, and he did not believe his
nerves would ever let him do it. I regarded it as a very easy matter,
because I had learned every foot of the bottom in my small boat. After
the Ucayga passed into the open lake again, Van Wolter came into the
state-room, where my father still remained. We again debated the knotty
problem, and the new captain was fair and square in his position. If my
father had any suspicion that he had used underhand means to obtain the
place, I had none.
When the Ucayga returned to Centreport, all of us had become tolerably
reconciled to the new order of things. I advised my father to attend
to his duty as usual, and say nothing about me. Hard as it was for
him, he consented, and I went on shore, taking with me all my effects,
and bidding good by to my associates. My occupation was gone; but it
was not generally known yet that I had been superseded. I was not
disposed to make any sensation; so I took my skiff and pulled over to
Middleport. I went home, and had a three hours’ talk with my mother
upon “the occurrences of yesterday,” so far as I felt justified in
alluding to them. Then I went out into the garden, which my father and
I were planting in our leisure hours.
I had plenty of time for reflection. I was out of employment now;
but I had saved my wages, and did not feel much concerned about the
future, though I had no idea of remaining long without work. Captain
Portman, who had come after me the year before to serve as skipper of
his yacht, might still wish to employ me in that capacity. Very likely
Major Toppleton would give me a position as soon as he learned that his
great rival had dismissed me. The Belle was still my property; but I
could not think of depriving my good friend Tom Walton of the excellent
business he was doing in her. He paid me a very handsome income on my
investment in the boat. While I was thus meditating upon the past and
the future, I saw Waddie Wimpleton coming up the walk towards me. He
had heard the news.
“Wolf, I shall not stand this. By the great horn spoon, I shall not,”
said he, in excited tones, as he grasped my dirty hand, with which I
had been dropping potatoes.
“What’s the matter, Waddie?” I asked, pleasantly and coolly.
“I am the president of the Steamboat Company, and until I discharge
you, you are not discharged.”
“I am willing to waive the forms.”
“I don’t care for the forms. You are still captain of the steamer.”
“Have you seen your father?”
“I have; he is not very well to-day.”
I did not see how he could be very well after the debauch of the day
before.
“What does he say?” I asked.
“He will not say anything that satisfies me. He don’t want you any
longer, and he says you are entirely satisfied with what he has done.
Is that so?”
“I can’t say that it is. I do not understand why I am discharged. Here
is your father’s note to me,” I added, handing him the letter.
He read it, and looked even more puzzled than before.
“Well, what does all this mean? ‘Occurrences of yesterday,’
‘confidential,’ ‘consideration,’” he added, glancing over the note a
second time.
“So far as there was anything confidential between your father and me,
it must remain so.”
“Of course,” said Waddie. “I don’t mean to pry into anything that does
not concern me.”
“Now, Waddie, I am going to submit to the action of your father, and I
wish you to do the same.”
“I can’t do it,” protested he. “It is mean to discharge you in this
manner.”
“Not as your father understands it,” I replied, thinking of the ten
thousand dollars he had given me, perhaps intended, at the time it was
given, to compensate me for being discharged.
“If I am not to be allowed to know the facts, of course I can’t judge
whether it is mean or not.”
“I advise you not to mention the matter to any one. There is something
unpleasant about the occurrences of yesterday, and the more you stir
the subject, the more unpleasant it will become.”
Waddie looked at me, and a certain sadness which overspread his face
assured me that he was not ignorant of his father’s infirmity. He was
not disposed to talk with me about it, or to acknowledge the terrible
truth.
“Wolf, we all have a theory to explain everything; and I have mine,”
said he, after a long pause. “I am afraid you have got into this scrape
by what you did for our party yesterday. My father believes that
Tommy Toppleton is in love with Minnie, or I with Grace. He hates the
Toppletons as badly as ever, and I am afraid he would rather see us
dead than have a marriage between the two families.”
“Does he say anything?”
“Not a word; it isn’t his style. If he caught us together he would. He
spoke of going to Europe this morning for his health, and of taking
Minnie and me with him. He is thinking how he can separate us from
the Toppletons. From his taking you with him yesterday, he must have
supposed you knew what was going on.”
“Why should he suppose so?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Then you sent Nick Van Wolter to warn us to keep out of
the way.”
“He could not have known that.”
“Perhaps he did.”
“How?”
“I have about come to the conclusion that Nick is a snake.”
“Do you think so?” I added, rather startled by the suggestion.
“John says Nick did not leave my father till after one o’clock last
night; and I know he was in the library to-day.”
“What makes you think Nick is a snake?”
“I don’t like his actions. He is a regular swell, to begin with. I
am not sure of anything, but I can’t help thinking that Nick told my
father you sent him to warn us to keep out of his way. If he knew that
he would not look at you again as long as he lives.”
“It may be so.”
“I shall keep an eye on Nick, and find out, if possible, what is going
on between him and my father.”
“I hope Nick is not playing foul,” I added, musing.
“I shall follow your advice, Wolf, and keep still for a while; but I am
not going to let this thing rest as it is a great while. My father told
me to pay you your last week’s salary. Here is a check for the amount.”
I took the check, for I had fairly earned the money. Waddie was
determined to know more, and only his fear of opening a tender subject
prevented him from taking a stand at once in my favor. He left me,
and I continued to plant potatoes till night. I had a feeling that
justice would be done me in the end, and that I could afford to wait.
I determined to keep quiet for a few days, and the result of this
decision was, that a great deal of work was done in our garden. But it
was soon known that I had been discharged, or had voluntarily retired,
from the command of the steamer. Many of my friends came to see me. Tom
Walton was ready to give up the Belle; but I told him I was satisfied
with the present arrangement, and would sell him the boat for whatever
she would bring at auction. Tommy Toppleton, at the suggestion of his
father, offered me the position of agent of the Lake Shore Railroad and
Steamboat Line, at the same salary I had been receiving in the Ucayga.
This was a tempting offer; but I felt that I could do nothing for the
line, and I reserved my answer for a future time. I could not suggest
any plan which would enable the line to compete with the steamer, and
I did not wish to increase the ill feeling between the two great men.
I told Waddie of the offer made me, and he was reasonable enough to
think I ought to accept it. After his father had discharged me, he
had no further claims upon me. I asked him to mention the subject to
his father as a “feeler,” and he promised to do so. Colonel Wimpleton
believed he had given me ten thousand dollars, and probably regarded
this sum as a retainer against the enemy, if nothing more.
A few days after my dismissal, I went over to Centreport to draw the
check given me for my last week’s pay. As I walked up from the wharf, I
met Colonel Wimpleton in his buggy. He glanced at me, and then looked
the other way, true to his promise to treat me as a stranger. I obeyed
his injunction, and did not presume to bow or otherwise recognize him.
I met Nick Van Wolter, who only nodded to me, and hurried on as though
he did not wish to speak with me. I could not help thinking of what
Waddie had said of him, and his impression of Nick’s double dealing
seemed to be confirmed by his present conduct.
I walked up the hill towards the Institute, for I wished very much to
see Waddie, and learn what his father had said about my taking the
agency of the Lake Shore Line.