HOW TOM SUCCEEDED.
Four o’clock came at last, and Tom, having often heard his father
say that punctuality was of the utmost importance in all business
matters, bent his steps toward the fisher-boy’s home. He was obliged
to wait there fully an hour and a half, for Bob, having met with
better luck than usual, did not return until half-past five. When,
at last, he came in sight, the young trader’s patience was well-nigh
exhausted, and he even pondered upon the propriety of giving the
fisher-boy some advice in regard to being more punctual in his
business appointments. But, as Bob drew near, Tom saw that he had
secured a fine load of fish, and, in the excitement of counting his
prospective profits, the young trader forgot the lecture he had
intended to administer.
After Bob had made his boat fast to the wharf, he went into the house
after a pair of scales with which to weigh the fish, and, as he
returned, he exclaimed:
“Now, Tom, there’s more than you can carry. I’ll lend you my wagon!”
As he spoke, he brought from behind the house the conveyance
in question, which he had made himself; consequently, it was a
rude-looking affair, with wooden wheels, that squeaked and grated at
a terrible rate as the fisher-boy drew it toward the bank. Bob then
sprang into his boat, and began to weigh out the fish, Tom standing
by and looking on with his hands in his pockets. Once it occurred to
him that a business man ought to examine the articles he purchased;
so he raised one of the smallest fish in the tips of his fingers,
looked at it a moment, and then finding that he was soiling his hand
by the operation, he threw it into the wagon with the others. One
thing that not a little surprised Tom, was the readiness with which
Bob added up the weights of the different fish. Occasionally the
latter would look up and ask, “Is that right?” and Tom would reply,
“Yes, that’s correct!” but the truth was, Bob calculated so rapidly
that the young trader could not keep pace with him. Once, when the
fisher-boy called out, “Fourteen and five are nineteen,” Tom was on
the point of counting his fingers to see if it was correct; but,
on taking a second thought, he knew that would not look well in a
business man, so he was compelled to rely entirely on Bob’s honesty.
“Now, then,” said the latter, when he had weighed all the fish,
“there are just twenty-five pounds. Is that what you make it?”
“Yes,” answered Tom, promptly, “that’s right. Now, twenty-five pounds
of fish, at three cents a pound, makes--makes--let me see!”
“Seventy-five cents,” replied Bob, readily.
“So it does!” exclaimed Tom; although, if the fisher-boy had told him
that the amount was a dollar and a half, he would have been just as
ready to believe it. Seventy-five cents was all the money he had left
of the two dollars he had drawn that morning. This he counted out to
Bob, who received it gladly, for it was a larger amount than he had
ever before made in one day.
“If I have good luck, I’ll have as many more for you to-morrow,” said
he, as he returned from the house, where he had been to give the
money to his mother. “But what’s the matter? Don’t they suit you?”
This question was addressed to the young trader, who stood looking
at his wagon-load of fish, with rather a doleful countenance. The
question had occurred to him, how he was to get them up to the store?
He knew that the wagon, when in motion, made a great noise with
its wooden wheels, which would be certain to attract the attention
of every one he met, and he did not think it would look well for a
man of business to be seen walking through the streets drawing a
wagon-load of fish after him. His pride was too great for that.
“Bob,” said he, at length, a bright idea striking him, “I’ll give you
twenty-five cents if you will take those fish up to Mr. Henry’s store
for me.”
The fisher-boy, who would gladly have undertaken the task for half
that sum, not deeming any way of earning an honest penny a disgrace,
at once took hold of the wagon-tongue and started off. Tom followed
him for a short distance; but, as he had expected, the loud creaking
of the wheels drew the attention of every person on the streets, who
looked first at the fisher-boy and then at Tom, until the latter,
unable to endure it longer, turned off and went around by the wharf,
leaving Bob to himself. When he arrived at Mr. Henry’s store, he
found the fisher-boy there, and the grocer had just finished weighing
out his fish.
“Ah, here you are!” he exclaimed, as the young trader entered.
“Please come with me, and I will settle with you.” And Tom was
conducted to the office with as much ceremony as if he had just sold
Mr. Henry a bill of goods to the amount of hundreds of dollars.
“Now then, Tom,” said the grocer, producing his pocket-book,
“twenty-five pounds of fish, at five cents a pound, makes just a
dollar, even change--eh, Tom?”
Bob Jennings would promptly have answered, “No, sir;” but Tom could
not tell how much he ought to receive without stopping to count
his fingers, and, of course, that would not look well in a man of
business. So he replied:
“Yes, sir; that’s right. A dollar is all I want.”
During the conversation with Mr. Newcombe that morning, the grocer
had learned exactly how matters stood in regard to Tom; and in
withholding a quarter of a dollar that rightfully belonged to the
young trader, he was but carrying out Mr. Newcombe’s suggestion. The
latter wished Tom to learn, by experience, since he would not take
advice, that he could not be too particular. Besides, Mr. Henry was
losing money on all the fish he bought of Tom; for, while he paid him
five cents a pound, he could sell them for only three. But this was
another suggestion of Mr. Newcombe’s, who, of course, made good all
his losses.
Although the merchant was considerably surprised at Tom’s answer, he
counted out the money, and the young trader walked to the door and
paid Bob his quarter of a dollar.
The fisher-boy, highly elated with his good fortune--for he had made
just a dollar that day, besides what he had received for ferrying
the workmen across the harbor--started homeward with a light heart,
leaving his employer in deep thought. Tom appeared to be very much
absorbed in his reflections, for he stood in the doorway several
minutes, scarcely heeding the persons that jostled him as they passed
in and out of the store. Presently he walked back toward the office,
and, discovering a vacant space behind some barrels, where he would
be unobserved, he seated himself on the floor, drew his money out of
his pocket, and counted it.
He had just three-quarters of a dollar. He counted it over and
over several times, in order to satisfy himself that he had made
no mistake, and finally searched all his pockets in the hope of
discovering more. But seventy-five cents was all he could find; and
gradually the unwelcome conviction forced itself upon Tom’s mind
that, in some utterly inexplicable manner, he had been a loser by the
day’s operation. He had started out that morning with two dollars,
and now, after his speculation had been accomplished, he had only
three-quarters of a dollar remaining.
“Somebody has cheated me!” said Tom to himself, as he arose from
his concealment and walked thoughtfully out of the store. “It’s Bob
Jennings, that’s who it is; and the contract says there’s to be
no swindling. O, I can’t be a trader. I knew I couldn’t before I
commenced. This fish business doesn’t pay, anyhow. I thought I should
make at least three or four dollars to-day.”
The young trader walked homeward with rather a crest-fallen air, and
his acquaintances, who met him on the streets, and to whom he had
that morning explained his scheme in such glowing language, had no
difficulty in discovering that Tom’s first attempt at speculating had
proved a failure. When he reached home and entered the room where
his father sat reading his paper, the latter also saw, at a glance,
that Tom had not been successful. We ought also to say that he knew
exactly where his son had made his mistake. He had seen him spending
his money foolishly in the morning; had met Bob Jennings as he was
taking the fish to the store; and the grocer had also told him that
he had withheld a quarter of a dollar of Tom’s money. He also knew
that if the young trader had managed his business properly, he would
have made just fifty cents by his day’s work. Thus, he was well
acquainted with all the facts of the case; but he wished to hear
Tom’s opinion of the matter. Appearing to take no notice of his son’s
gloomy looks, he asked, in a cheerful voice:
“Well, how much have you made to-day?”
“O, I haven’t made a red cent,” drawled Tom. “I’ve lost money. I knew
I couldn’t be a trader.”
“Perhaps somebody cheated you,” said Mr. Newcombe.
“O, I know they did,” replied Tom, in a gloomy voice. “There are a
good many swindlers about, and I believe Bob Jennings is one of ’em.”
By adroit questioning--for Tom was so disgusted with the result
of his first attempt at speculating, that he did not seem at all
inclined to talk about it--Mr. Newcombe finally drew all the
particulars from his son; and when the latter told how much he had
received for his fish, the merchant exclaimed:
“There’s where you lost some of your money. You ought to have
received more than that. Twenty-five pounds of fish, at five cents a
pound, makes a dollar and twenty-five cents.”
“So it does!” said Tom, after thinking a moment; though the fact was,
he did not know whether his father was right or wrong. “I’ll go right
back to Mr. Henry and tell him that I want another quarter. Now,
father, where’s my cap?”
“Never mind your cap now,” said the merchant. “It’s too late! The
mistake ought to have been rectified before you left the store. But
how does it come that you did not know how much was due you? Didn’t
you make any calculations?”
“O, no, I didn’t,” drawled Tom. “I didn’t stop to make out any bill.
I supposed I was dealing with an honest man! I didn’t think Mr. Henry
would be mean enough to cheat me.”
“That’s no excuse. If every man in the world was perfectly honest,
that would be no reason why business should be conducted in a
careless manner. Hereafter, when you sell any thing, be sure and make
out your bill beforehand, so that you will know just how much is
coming to you. Now, sit down here.”
Tom obeyed, and Mr. Newcombe again commenced a lengthy lecture,
containing advice which he hardly expected his son would follow.
He endeavored to impress upon his mind the necessity of being very
particular in all his business transactions, and showed him how
impossible it was for him to succeed so long as he allowed his
pride to stand in his way. Any honorable labor, he said, was no
disgrace; an honest working man was always respected; and he that
could work, and would not, ought to starve. He easily cleared Bob
Jennings of the charge of swindling, and placed all the blame on
Tom’s shoulders--right where it belonged. No suggestion or item of
information that Mr. Newcombe thought would be of service to the
young trader was omitted, and, for once, Tom was almost convinced
that he, and he alone, was to blame for his failure. He brightened up
when he found where he had made his mistake, and resolved that, in
all his future operations, he would be careful to avoid the rock on
which his day’s hopes had been wrecked. He would not spend any of his
money foolishly, neither would he pay Bob Jennings another quarter
of a dollar for pulling a wagon-load of fish through the streets; he
would do it himself, no matter what his friends said about it.
But trading in fish he still thought would not pay. If he made only
fifty cents a day, that would be but three dollars a week; and, at
that rate, it would take him at least a year to save enough to buy a
vessel like the trading sloop. Although he said nothing to his father
on the subject, he resolved that the next day he would commence
operations on a grander scale. So, on the following morning, as soon
as he had eaten his breakfast, he started to pay a visit to Mr.
Henry, the grocer.
“Ah, Tom!” exclaimed the latter, as the young trader entered. “Any
more fish to-day?”
“No, sir!” was the reply. “I intend to take a short sail up the
coast; so I thought I would stop and inquire if you want any eggs,
butter, or chickens!”
“Yes, we want all we can get,” answered the grocer. “We pay the
highest market prices.”
Tom, without thinking to inquire what the “highest market prices”
for each particular article were, left the store, and in a few
moments stood in the presence of his father, whom he asked for ten
dollars, to enable him to carry out his new project. The money was
duly paid, and the young trader, remembering his previous experience,
carefully counted it twice before he gave a receipt, which was worded
like the one he had given his father on a former occasion. Tom then
set out for the home of the fisher-boy, and, as before, found him
getting ready to begin his day’s work. He, however, at once abandoned
the idea, when Tom offered to give him a dollar, if he would assist
him in taking the Mystery on a short voyage up the bay.
“I’m not going to speculate in fish any more,” said he. “It doesn’t
pay. I’m going to show you, now, how to make money.”
In half an hour the Mystery lay at the wharf in front of the mansion,
with her sails hoisted, all ready for the start. In the forward part
of the boat were several boxes, baskets, and pails, in which the
young trader intended to bring home the articles he purchased; and
Captain Newcombe, as he now called himself, stood on the wharf with
his hands in his pockets, waiting for his first mate Bob, who had
gone to the house after some provisions that were necessary for the
trip. In a few moments the fisher-boy made his appearance, and when
the provisions had been carefully stowed away, the painter was cast
off, the captain took his stand in the stern-sheets, which he called
his quarter-deck, Bob seated himself at the helm, and the Mystery
began her first trading voyage.