preserved, not a streak of gray being visible in his dark, curly hair.
He was slightly above the middle height, and his frame was
proportionally powerful, his limbs being well knit, and muscular. His
clear, hazel eyes looked frankly out beneath heavy, straight eyebrows,
while his large Roman nose and massive chin, gave his face great
firmness and determination. His teeth were white and regular, and his
smile was unusually sweet and expressive. His face was much tanned from
long exposure to the weather, and his hands were large and hard. He was
dressed in a quiet, neat suit of gray cloth, well fitting but easy, and
there was nothing loud or in bad taste about him. His only articles of
jewelry were a gold watch and chain, and a seal ring with a peculiar,
plain stone, worn on the little finger of his left hand. I gazed
steadily at him for about two minutes, which is about as long a time as
I need to obtain a correct opinion of a man's character. I was very
favorably impressed by his appearance, and I prepared to hear his story
with more interest than I should have had, if he had been a less honest,
reliable looking man.
He opened the conversation, while I was still looking straight into his
face.
"Mr. Pinkerton," he said, "I have heard a great deal about you from
various sources, and I little thought that I should ever require your
services; but, lately, while consulting Mr. Chapman relative to a
possible flaw in the title to my farm, I also laid before him some other
troubles which he acknowledged were so serious as to require the advice
and assistance of some one with a training and experience somewhat
different from his. He urged me so strongly to state my case to you, and
obtain your aid, that I have finally decided to follow his advice, and
here I am."
"When did you arrive?" I inquired.
"About a week ago. I looked around for a time to see if my difficulties
had diminished,----"(and he passed his hand nervously through his hair,
drawing a long breath)--"but I found they had increased, if anything.
Mr. Pinkerton, when I retired from the sea and settled down on my farm,
I thought my cares and vexations were over, and that I could find in the
peace and tranquility of country life, a rich reward for the hardships I
had endured while earning enough to retire on. My father, also, was a
sailor many years, and, after passing the best part of his life at sea,
in like manner, he was able to live his last twenty years in peace and
content upon his farm; there I was reared, until I was old enough to go
to sea. I have followed his example; but, instead of enjoying the peace
he did, I find that my serious troubles are only just beginning. If I
were at sea, I should have no fears, for there I am perfectly at home.
No matter how the wind might blow, or the seas roll, I always brought my
ship through in safety. I could read the signs of the weather, and could
detect the approach of danger from the elements. I _knew_ my enemies
were there, and that was half the battle. Here, on land, I find it so
different; my worst enemies come to me with the smiles and greetings of
friends; they express the tenderest wishes for my welfare, and shower
upon me the tokens of their affection; then, having fairly won my
confidence, they turn upon me when I least expect it, and stab me
cruelly. I am a plain, blunt man--often irritable and unjust, I
know--still, I never flinch from danger when I can see it; but, the very
nature of my bringing up has rendered me unfit to cope with the wiles
and subtleties of my fellow man. You, Mr. Pinkerton, it is said, have
the power to see direct to the hearts of men through the shams and
artifices by which they seek to hide their true characters, and you are
the only man who can assist me. Oh, I wish I were back on the sea, far
away from all my troubles. I should care but little if I never
returned."
He spoke in a low voice, but the tone was clear until the last, when his
words were very pathetic. As he closed, his head dropped forward, and he
sat gazing fixedly at his ring in an attitude of mournful retrospection.
"Perhaps you had better wait awhile before telling me your story," I
suggested.
"Yes," he replied, looking at his watch, "it is now five o'clock, so I
will defer making my statement until to-morrow; though I should prefer
to make it now, if I had time. The story is a long one, and I shall have
to take a considerable portion of your valuable time in telling it. Will
you please to name the hour when I can meet you to-morrow, to give you
all the facts in the case?"
I had already become interested in the Captain, and, after thinking for
a moment how I could best arrange my other business so as to grant him
the necessary time, I told him to come at nine o'clock next morning. He
said he would be punctual in keeping the appointment; then stepping
forward, he took my hand and said, in a very impressive way, "Mr.
Pinkerton, I shall meet you if I am alive. I am not afraid of death; I
have met it scores of times, face to face, and have never flinched from
it; but now I must take care of myself. If I don't come, just look for
me at my boarding house."
I glanced quickly at him, but could see nothing wrong about his mind.
His eyes were clear and natural; his whole appearance showed him to be a
plain, blunt seaman, little disposed to invent imaginary dangers. Still,
there was in his manner, a deep melancholy which showed me that it was
not any natural disease that he dreaded, and which caused me to exclaim:
"Why, Captain, you fear death by violence, do you not?"
"Yes," he replied; "but I cannot enter into details at present. I shall
try to save myself and meet you to-morrow morning, but if I do not come,
please send my body to Connecticut, to be interred near the rest of my
family."
He then said good-day and went out, leaving me to speculate upon his
peculiar behavior, and to wonder what were the dangers which surrounded
him. I was so much pleased with his frank, manly simplicity that I was
determined to give him all the assistance in my power.
_CHAPTER II._
At nine o'clock the next morning, Captain Sumner walked into my private
office, and I immediately locked the door to avoid interruption. I
noticed that he was apparently much more contented than he had been the
evening previous; but I said nothing, preferring to have him tell his
story in his own way. He began immediately, without wasting time in
preliminaries:
"Mr. Pinkerton, I know that you are always busy, and that time is money
to you; hence, I shall be as brief as possible. In order to begin right,
I must go slightly into my family history. My father owned a farm near
Springfield, Massachusetts, where my mother brought up the family while
he was away at sea. He was as fine a seaman as ever trod a deck, and
became Captain in one of the regular lines of East India packet
companies while I was a mere child. I had one brother who died very
young, leaving me the only boy of the family. I had two sisters,
however, Lucy and Annie. My father took me to sea with him when I was
quite a boy, and he put me through such a thorough course of seamanship
and navigation that, by the time he was ready to resign his captaincy
and retire to his farm, I was promoted to the position of first mate in
the same line. This was in 1836.
"About this time my mother died, and my sisters took charge of the
domestic affairs of the farm. My older sister, Lucy, now Mrs. W. R.
Lucas, was twenty-two years old. She was a girl of great firmness of
character, and she has since proved herself the best of wives, being
very domestic and fond of home pleasures. Annie, my younger sister, was
eighteen years of age, and she was then my special pride and delight;
as, indeed, she has been all her life. She was tall and slender, but
well proportioned and graceful. Her features were regular and
expressive, and her complexion was very delicate; yet it has retained
its freshness until now, instead of fading, as is the case with most
clear, soft complexions. She was then, and is still, a beautiful woman.
She was very vivacious and witty, was fond of society, and cared less
for domestic pursuits than to have a gay time in a large company. She
was petted and indulged a great deal, being the youngest and a beauty,
so that she was not often called upon to practice self-denial. It is
probably partly due to this lack of restraint during her early years
that she never has had the strength of character and devotion to good
principles as Lucy."
Here the Captain sighed heavily, and stopped speaking for a minute or
two. I handed him a glass of ice-water, which he drank mechanically. He
then continued:
"As I before stated, I became first mate when my father retired. The
company was a wealthy one, owning a number of ships, so that the chances
for promotion were very good. My most intimate friend was a young man
named Henry Thayer. We had long been ship-mates together, and had passed
through a school of navigation at the same time. He was a thorough
seaman, a careful, considerate officer, and a true friend. He was a
general favorite on account of his cheerful disposition, and we soon
became like brothers. Whenever we returned from a voyage, I would bring
Henry out to the farm to spend a few days, and, about the time of my
promotion, I found that he had become warmly attached to Annie. At every
opportunity, he would run down to see her, and in every foreign port we
entered, he would be sure to buy some rare and curious present for her.
His affection was reciprocated by Annie, and one day, after I had made
two or three short voyages as first mate, I returned to the farm and
found Annie wearing an engagement ring. I laughingly asked her when it
was to come off, and she replied, with many blushes, that they were to
be married on Henry's return from his next voyage. I knew that Annie was
very fond of gentlemen's society, so I advised her to try to overcome
her taste for dress and company; since, when she was married, her
husband would be away from home a great deal, and then it would not look
well for her to receive much attention in his absence. She seemed to
acknowledge the force of my remarks, and said that she should do all in
her power to make Henry happy.
"On returning to New York, I found that Henry had been just appointed
first mate, and that I had pleased the company so well that they wished
me to take command of a new ship which they were building. I gladly
accepted the command, and as the ship was not ready for sea, I returned
to the farm, where I spent two months. I was somewhat annoyed at Annie's
conduct occasionally, as she received, and apparently enjoyed, the
attention of several stylish young men, more than was befitting a girl
who was engaged to be married. I frequently ran down to New York to
oversee the rigging of the new ship, so that I did not know much about
her acquaintances; but once, on my return, I saw a beautiful amethyst
ring on Annie's finger.
"'Where did you get that ring, Annie?' I asked.
"She laughed gaily and said:
"'Oh! it isn't mine; a gentleman loaned it to me to wear a few days.'
"My impression was, however, that it had been given to her, and I feared
she was forgetting Henry; so I said:
"'That is a strange way of acting, Annie. You are engaged to Henry, and
you ought to know that it is a wrong and an insult to him for you to
receive a present from another young man. If Henry knew of this, it
would make trouble.'
"She recognized the truth of what I had said, but she was determined not
to acknowledge that she had done wrong; so she flew into a passion and
said, as sneeringly as possible;
"'Oh! so you are left here to watch me, are you? Well, then, just report
to him that I can get a better husband than he is, any day. I am not
going to shut myself up, like a nun in a convent, for any man.'
"I told her that I had no desire to act the part of a tale-bearer, but
that I spoke only for her good; her conscience must tell her that she
was doing wrong. I concluded by asking her to stay more at home, and
thus prepare for a more domestic life. I did not see the ring after
this, but Annie was very distant in her manner toward me; her actions
showed as plainly as if she had spoken, that she considered me in the
light of an unreasonable guardian, who wished to deprive her of all
enjoyment. Her giddiness and perverseness caused me much trouble, and I
greatly feared she would become reckless after my departure. She was my
favorite sister, however, and no matter how she might treat me, I could
never lose my love for her.
"The first voyage in my new ship, was a very long one, and, on my
return, I found that there had been many changes in my absence. Henry
and Annie had been married for sometime, and Henry was then away at sea.
As my father had died shortly after the marriage, Annie was living alone
in New York, where I called upon her. She was pleasantly situated, and
seemed to have everything that could be wished. Lucy was also married,
and was living in Morristown, New Jersey. The old homestead had been
sold at my father's death, the proceeds being divided between my
sisters. A few thousand dollars were left to me, which I deposited in
bank with my savings.
"On my return from another long voyage, I was delighted to find Henry at
home with Annie, and they seemed more devoted to each other than ever.
After this, I saw Henry but twice--once in Singapore, and once in
Calcutta. He was then as much in love with Annie, as when he first
married her, and he said that she made him perfectly happy. The last
time I met him, he had just been notified that he should be given the
command of a fine ship on his return to New York; consequently he was in
high spirits.
"When I next arrived in New York harbor, I made it my first duty to call
on Annie. Much to my surprise, I found that she was teaching music in
Brooklyn, at a very high salary. Her musical education had been very
thorough, so that she was perfectly competent; but I could not see the
necessity for her to teach. She had had one child, but it had died in
infancy, and she was living in a fashionable boarding house. I called in
the evening, intending to ask her to accompany me for a walk, but she
was surrounded by a brilliant company, among whom were several
gentlemen, and all were paying her great attention. She was very
stylishly dressed, and, to my great disgust, she seemed to be coquetting
with several of her admirers. When I was announced, she led me into the
library, as if anxious that the company in the parlor should not know
that a hard-fisted, weather-beaten sailor like me, was her brother.
Still, she spoke very kindly, and seemed glad to see me. She excused
herself from going to walk with me on the ground that she had an
engagement to accompany the rest of the party to the theatre; but she
said that if I would call some other evening, she would gladly go. I was
somewhat puzzled by her surroundings and manners, and I determined to
have a quiet talk with her as soon as possible.
"The next day, I went to Boston on very important business, and, on my
return, I found Annie plunged into all the gayety and dissipation of New
York fashionable life. She certainly presented a very elegant and
stylish appearance; yet, my heart ached as I looked at her. How much joy
it would have given me to have found her in a quiet little home waiting
anxiously for Henry's return.
"I talked with her for sometime about her affairs, and urged her to lead
a more quiet life; but she insisted that Henry approved of her present
way of living; of course, I could say nothing further.
"'Henry is not as unreasonable as you are,' she would say. 'He knew how
lonely I would be while he was gone, and, therefore, he told me not to
mope and pine, but to get into good society, and try to be cheerful and
happy.'
"Still, I had an undefined feeling that Annie was in danger, and I wrote
to Lucy about her, asking Lucy to induce her to break away from the gay
life she was leading. Soon afterward, I went to sea again, and, during
my absence, Henry was given command of one of the finest ships in the
line. Two years passed quickly away, but, as I was engaged during that
time in making short voyages to the West Indies and back, I frequently
saw Annie in New York. She seemed to grow more and more estranged from
me, however, and her conduct caused me great anxiety. I had seen some
things in her deportment, which, though not absolutely wrong, were, to
my mind, far from proper; besides, she showed a carelessness of
appearances not at all becoming a married woman.
"My next series of voyages were very long, and I was able to see Annie
only once or twice in several years. She was now thirty-two years old,
and was unusually and strikingly handsome. About this time, I returned
from a long cruise, and found Annie still teaching music in Brooklyn.
She dressed as elegantly as ever, and seemed very complacent and
contented. I invited her to take a walk with me, and we went out toward
one of the small city parks. As she swept along beside me, her features
all animation, and her eyes sparkling with health and pleasure, I
thought I had never before seen any one so beautiful. I did not wonder
that Henry was so proud of her, or that he should indulge her so much.
We strolled about in the park for a time, and then seated ourselves in a
quiet spot.
"'How long is it since you have heard from Henry?' I asked.
"'Why, don't you know that we had a quarrel several months ago?' she
answered, with an effort, her face turning very red.
"'Annie, do you mean that you and Henry have separated?' I asked, very
much shocked at such news.
"'Yes; that is what I mean. Henry became so strict and unjust with me
that I complained to him of his treatment. One word brought on another,
until at last he flew into a violent passion and left me.'
"On hearing Annie relate, in such a cool, off-hand manner, how she had
driven away one of the best husbands that ever lived, I was perfectly
thunderstruck. I had feared that something of the kind might happen, but
now that it had really come to pass, I hardly knew what to do or say.
"'Is it possible, Annie!' I said. 'Where did he go?'
"'I don't know,' she replied; 'he left his ship and went off.'
"'But they know at the office where he went, don't they?' I asked.
"'No; he left his ship at short notice. The company tried to keep him,
but he would not stay; and, finally, he went off without telling any one
where he was going,' answered Annie, beginning to cry.
"It seemed to me that she was crying more to avert my displeasure than
because she missed Henry; but she was my favorite sister, and I still
loved her. Hence, though I deeply regretted and condemned her actions, I
could not find it in my heart to characterize her conduct as it
deserved.
"'Annie, are you not entirely to blame for this? Remember how many times
I have cautioned you against the course you were pursuing. Tell me what
led to your separation,' I asked, finally.
"At first she refused to say anything; but, at length, I drew out that
reports had reached Henry's ears that she was in the habit of accepting
a great deal of attention from a certain gentleman, and that he
accompanied her to the theatre very frequently.
"'But,' she said, 'there was nothing wrong in that.'
"Then, on several occasions, Henry asked her to attend the theatre with
him; but it so happened that she had a severe headache each time. This
made Henry jealous, and he asked her, tauntingly, why she never had a
headache when a certain gentleman called. This sneer led to mutual
recriminations and bitter language on both sides, until Henry went away
in a towering rage.
"I could see the whole trouble. Henry loved her passionately, and her
conduct had driven him away in despair. I determined to search for him
everywhere, in the hope of bringing them again together, and effecting a
reconciliation.
"The day before I sailed on my next voyage, I saw a beautiful diamond
ring on Annie's finger.
"'Annie,' I asked, sorrowfully, 'whose ring is that?'
"'Why, mine, of course,' she replied; 'have you never seen it before?'
"'You must have plenty of money to be able to buy such valuable jewelry
as that,' I said. 'I think you show very bad taste to display it at this
time, when you know that your folly has driven your husband from you,' I
added, angrily.
"She hung her head in silence, as if really ashamed, and I went away
feeling almost guilty for having spoken so harshly to her.
"My next voyage was to the East Indies, and I made inquiries about Henry
at every port, besides 'speaking' every vessel I met at sea, but no one
could tell me anything about him. It became evident that he had not only
left the service of the company, but that he had disappeared from all
the localities where he was known.
"On my return to New York, I hurried over to see Annie early in the
evening. She was dressed for the opera, and was evidently expecting some
one. She was quite surprised to see me, but she threw herself into my
arms and kissed me very affectionately, as she inquired whether I had
heard any news of her dear Henry. When I told her of my poor success,
she pretended to feel very sorry, though she did not apparently allow
her sorrow to interfere with her enjoyment.
"'Well, Annie,' I said, 'you are dressed to go out somewhere, aren't
you? Tell me all about it.'
"'Yes,' she replied, 'I intended going to the opera with Mr. Pattmore,
but if you do not wish me to go, I will remain at home. You must stay to
meet him; he is one of the most perfect gentlemen I have ever met. He
belongs in Massachusetts, but he now owns a large hotel in Greenville,
Ohio. Mrs. Pattmore and I are _such_ good friends, and all the children
think the world of me. I have been out to visit them in Greenville
twice, and they made my stay so pleasant that I always speak of their
house as my home. Mr. Pattmore is in town on business, and I received a
note from him this morning asking me to go to the opera.'
"Mr. Pattmore came in just then, and we were introduced to each other.
He was a well-built man of about forty-five years of age, with very
agreeable, easy manners. His hair and mustache were jet black, and his
features were rather pleasing. His eyes were large and black, but
restless and snaky; I noticed that he never looked straight into my face
when speaking to me. He was dressed in the height of the prevailing
fashion, and he showed a good deal of jewelry. They both pressed me to
accompany them to the opera, but as I was not appropriately dressed, I
declined politely, and they went without me.
"I had previously learned at the office of the company, that they had
not heard anything of Henry, so I sorrowfully returned aboard my ship,
almost decided to give up a sea-faring life. I was then fifty years of
age, and I thought of buying a farm, where I could settle down at my
ease. I knew that Annie was in a dangerous position for a handsome
woman--left alone with no one to advise or restrain her--and I wished to
take her with me, so as to remove her from temptation. I therefore,
wrote to Lucy, asking her opinion, and requesting her to advise Annie to
give up her present mode of life.
"Lucy wrote a long letter in reply: she said that she very much feared
there was something wrong between Annie and Pattmore; when Annie was
staying at Greenville, Lucy had written twice, asking her to come to
Morristown, where Lucy lived; Annie had promised to do so, but she had
never come. Pattmore, Lucy said, was a prominent politician in
Greenville, and he was looking forward to the nomination for
congressman. Mrs. Pattmore was a very good woman, of fine appearance and
agreeable manners; she was very domestic in her tastes and she delighted
in taking care of her home and children. There were three children
living, the eldest son being about twenty-one years old, and the other
two being quite young. Mr. Pattmore's hotel was very well kept and
popular, and he was supposed to be wealthy.
"Lucy's letter added greatly to the anxiety which I felt about Annie,
and I was very desirous of resigning my command immediately, in order to
settle down on a farm with her, and thus remove her from the temptations
of a gay city. I felt sure that nothing more would be necessary than a
retired, quiet life for a few months, to prepare her to give Henry a
joyful and affectionate welcome on his return. Circumstances, however,
made it impossible for me to give up my ship at that time, and, at the
earnest request of the directors of the company (in which I had invested
a considerable portion of my savings) I consented to make one or two
more cruises. Accordingly, I sailed for the East Indies for the last
time, and made a very speedy and prosperous voyage. I continued my
inquiries for Henry Thayer, but was unable to obtain any tidings of him.
On my return, I called to see Annie, and found her occupying her old
position as music teacher in Brooklyn. She said that Mrs. Pattmore had
urged her so strongly to visit them that she had accepted the invitation
twice during my absence.