THE "WHARF-RAT."
On his way home Joseph reviewed the quarrel with a little more calmness,
and, while admitting his own rashness and want of tact, felt relieved
that it had occurred. Julia now knew, at least, how sorely he had been
grieved by her selfishness, and she had thus an opportunity, if she
really loved him, of showing whether her nature were capable of change.
He determined to make no further reference to the dissension, and to
avoid what might lead to a new one. He did not guess, as he approached
the house, that his wife had long been watching at the front window, in
an anxious, excited state, and that she only slipped back to the sofa
and covered her head just before he reached the door.
For a day or two she was silent, and perhaps a little sullen; but the
payment of the most pressing bills, the progress of the new
embellishments, and the necessity of retaining her affectionate
playfulness in the presence of the workmen, brought back her customary
manner. Now and then a sharp, indirect allusion showed that she had not
forgotten, and had not Joseph closed his teeth firmly upon his tongue,
the household atmosphere might have been again disturbed.
Not many days elapsed before a very brief note from Mr. Blessing
announced that the fifth instalment would be needed. He wrote in great
haste, he said, and would explain everything by a later mail.
Joseph was hardly surprised now. He showed the note to Julia, merely
saying: "I have not the money, and if I had, he could scarcely expect me
to pay it without knowing the necessity. My best plan will be to go to
the city at once."
"I think so, too," she answered. "You will be far better satisfied when
you have seen pa, and he can also help you to raise the money
temporarily, if it is really inevitable. He knows all the capitalists."
"I shall do another thing, Julia. I shall sell enough of the stock to
pay the instalment; nay, I shall sell it all, if I can do so without
loss."
"Are you—" she began fiercely, but, checking herself, merely added, "see
pa first, that's all I stipulate."
Mr. Blessing had not returned from the Custom-House when Joseph reached
the city. He had no mind to sit in the dark parlor and wait; so he
plunged boldly into the labyrinth of clerks, porters, inspectors, and
tide-waiters. Everybody knew Blessing, but nobody could tell where he
was to be found. Finally some one, more obliging than the rest, said:
"Try the Wharf-Rat!"
The Wharf-Rat proved to be a "saloon" in a narrow alley behind the
Custom-House. On opening the door, a Venetian screen prevented the
persons at the bar from being immediately seen, but Joseph recognized
his father-in-law's voice, saying, "Straight, if you please!" Mr.
Blessing was leaning against one end of the bar, with a glass in his
hand, engaged with an individual of not very prepossessing appearance.
He remarked to the latter, almost in a whisper (though the words reached
Joseph's ears), "You understand, the collector can't be seen every day;
it takes time, and—more or less capital. The doorkeeper and others
expect to be fed."
As Joseph approached, he turned towards him with an angry, auspicious
look, which was not changed into one of welcome so soon that a flash of
uncomfortable surprise did not intervene. But the welcome once there, it
deepened and mellowed, and became so warm and rich that only a cold,
contracted nature could have refused to bathe in its effulgence.
"Why!" he cried, with extended hands, "I should as soon have expected to
see daisies growing in this sawdust, or to find these spittoons smelling
like hyacinths! Mr. Tweed, one of our rising politicians, Mr. Asten, my
son-in-law! Asten, of Asten Hall, I might almost say, for I hear that
your mansion is assuming quite a palatial aspect. Another glass, if you
please: your throat must be full of dust, Joseph,—_pulvis faucibus
hæsit_, if I might be allowed to change the classic phrase."
Joseph tried to decline, but was forced to compromise on a moderate
glass of ale; while Mr. Blessing, whose glass was empty, poured
something into it from a black bottle, nodded to Mr. Tweed, and saying,
"Always straight!" drank it off.
"You would not suppose," he then said to Joseph, "that this little room,
dark as it is, and not agreeably fragrant, has often witnessed the
arrangement of political manœuvres which have decided the City, and
through the City the State. I have seen together at that table, at
midnight, Senator Slocum, and the Honorables Whitstone, Hacks, and
Larruper. Why, the First Auditor of the Treasury was here no later than
last week! I frequently transact some of the confidential business of
the Custom-House within these precincts, as at present."
"Shall I wait for you outside?" Joseph asked.
"I think it will not be necessary. I have stated the facts, Mr. Tweed,
and if you accept them, the figures can be arranged between us at any
time. It is a simple case of algebra: by taking _x_, you work out the
unknown quantity."
With a hearty laugh at his own smartness, he shook the "rising
politician's" hand, and left the Wharf-Rat with Joseph.
"We can talk here as well as in the woods," he said. "Nobody ever hears
anything in this crowd. But perhaps we had better not mention the
Amaranth by name, as the operation has been kept so very close. Shall we
say 'Paraguay' instead, or—still better—'Reading,' which is a very
common stock? Well, then, I guess you have come to see me in relation to
the Reading?"
Joseph, as briefly as possible, stated the embarrassment he suffered, on
account of the continued calls for payment, the difficulty of raising
money for the fifth instalment, and bluntly expressed his doubts of the
success of the speculation. Mr. Blessing heard him patiently to the end,
and then, having collected himself, answered:—
"I understand, most perfectly, your feeling in the matter. Further, I do
not deny that in respect to the time of realizing from the Am—Reading, I
should say—I have also been disappointed. It has cost me no little
trouble to keep my own shares intact, and my stake is so much greater
than yours, for it is my _all_! I am ready to unite with the Chowder, at
once: indeed, as one of the directors, I mentioned it at our last
meeting, but the proposition, I regret to say, was not favorably
entertained. We are dependent, in a great measure, on Kanuck, who is on
the spot superintending the Reading; he has been telegraphed to come on,
and promises to do so as soon as the funds now called for are
forthcoming. My faith, I hardly need intimate, is firm."
"My only resource, then," said Joseph, "will be to sell a portion of my
stock, I suppose?"
"There is one drawback to that course, and I am afraid you may not quite
understand my explanation. The—Reading has not been introduced in the
market, and its _real_ value could not be demonstrated without betraying
the secret lever by which we intend hoisting it to a fancy height. We
could only dispose of a portion of it to capitalists whom we choose to
take into our confidence. The same reason would be valid against
hypothecation."
"Have _you_ paid this last instalment?" Joseph suddenly asked.
"N—no; not wholly; but I anticipate a temporary accommodation. If Mr.
Spelter deprives me of Clementina, as I hear (through third parties) is
daily becoming more probable, my family expenses will be so diminished
that I shall have an ample margin; indeed, I shall feel like a large
paper copy, with my leaves uncut!"
He rubbed his hands gleefully; but Joseph was too much disheartened to
reply.
"_This_ might be done," Mr. Blessing continued. "It is not certain that
all the stockholders have yet paid. I will look over the books, and if
such be the case, your delay would not be a sporadic delinquency. If
otherwise, I will endeavor to gain the consent of my fellow-directors to
the introduction of a new capitalist, to whom a small portion of your
interest may be transferred. I trust you perceive the relevancy of this
caution. We do not mean that our flower shall always blush unseen, and
waste its sweetness on the oleaginous air; we only wish to guard against
its being 'untimely ripped' (as Shakespeare says) from its parent stalk.
I can well imagine how incomprehensible all this may appear to you. In
all probability much of _your_ conversation at home, relative to crops
and the like, would be to me an unknown dialect. But I should not,
therefore, doubt your intelligence and judgment in such matters."
Joseph began to grow impatient. "Do I understand you to say, Mr.
Blessing," he asked, "that the call for the fifth instalment _can_ be
met by the sale of a part of my stock?"
"In an ordinary case it might not—under the peculiar circumstances of
our operation—be possible. But I trust I do not exaggerate my own
influence when I say that it is within _my_ power to arrange it. If you
will confide it to my hands, you understand, of course, that a slight
formality is necessary,—a power of attorney?"
Joseph, in his haste and excitement, had not considered this, or any
other legal point: Mr. Blessing was right.
"Then, supposing the shares to be worth only their par value," he said,
"the power need not apply to more than one-tenth of my stock?"
Mr. Blessing came into collision with a gentleman passing him. Mutual
wrath was aroused, followed by mutual apologies. "Let us turn into the
other street," he said to Joseph; "really, our lives are hardly safe in
this crowd; it is nearly three o'clock, and the banks will soon be
closed."
"It would be prudent to allow a margin," he resumed, after their course
had been changed: "the money market is very tight, and if a _necessity_
were suspected, most capitalists are unprincipled enough to exact
according to the urgency of the need. I do not say—nor do I at all
anticipate—that it would be so in your case; still, the future is a sort
of dissolving view, and my suggestion is that of the merest prudence. I
have no doubt that double the amount—say one-fifth of your stock—would
guard us against all contingencies. If you prefer not to intrust the
matter to my hands, I will introduce you to Honeyspoon Brothers, the
bankers,—the elder Honeyspoon being a director,—who will be very ready
to execute your commission."
What could Joseph do? It was impossible to say to Mr. Blessing's face
that he mistrusted him: yet he certainly did not trust! He was weary of
plausible phrases, the import of which he was powerless to dispute, yet
which were so at variance with what seemed to be the facts of the case.
He felt that he was lifted aloft into a dazzling, secure atmosphere, but
as often as he turned to look at the wings which upheld him, their
plumage shrivelled into dust, and he fell an immense distance before his
feet touched a bit of reality.
The power of attorney was given. Joseph declined Mr. Blessing's
invitation to dine with him at the Universal Hotel, the Blessing table
being "possibly a little lean to one accustomed to the bountiful
profusion of the country," on the plea that he must return by the
evening train; but such a weariness and disgust came over him that he
halted at the Farmers' Tavern, and took a room for the night. He slept
until long into the morning, and then, cheered in spirit through the
fresh vigor of all his physical functions, started homewards.
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