Mr. McAdam, of the firm of McAdam and Squire, was a highly polished man
who dwelt behind a highly polished table in the neatest and snuggest
of offices. He was white-haired and amiable, with a deep-lined aquiline
face, was addicted to low bows, and indeed, always seemed to carry
himself at half-cock, as though just descending into one, or just
recovering himself. He wore a high-buckled stock, took snuff, and
adorned his conversation with little scraps from the classics.
"My dear Sir," said he, when he had listened to their story, "any friend
of Mrs. Westmacott's is a friend of mine. Try a pinch. I wonder that
you should have gone to this man Metaxa. His advertisement is enough to
condemn him. Habet foenum in cornu. They are all rogues."
"The doctor was a rogue too. I didn't like the look of him at the time."
"Arcades ambo. But now we must see what we can do for you. Of course
what Metaxa said was perfectly right. The pension is in itself no
security at all, unless it were accompanied by a life assurance which
would be an income in itself. It is no good whatever."
His clients' faces fell.
"But there is the second alternative. You might sell the pension right
out. Speculative investors occasionally deal in such things. I have one
client, a sporting man, who would be very likely to take it up if we
could agree upon terms. Of course, I must follow Metaxa's example by
sending for a doctor."
For the second time was the Admiral punched and tapped and listened to.
This time, however, there could be no question of the qualifications
of the doctor, a well-known Fellow of the College of Surgeons, and his
report was as favorable as the other's had been adverse.
"He has the heart and chest of a man of forty," said he. "I can
recommend his life as one of the best of his age that I have ever
examined."
"That's well," said Mr. McAdam, making a note of the doctor's remarks,
while the Admiral disbursed a second guinea. "Your price, I understand,
is five thousand pounds. I can communicate with Mr. Elberry, my client,
and let you know whether he cares to touch the matter. Meanwhile you can
leave your pension papers here, and I will give you a receipt for them."
"Very well. I should like the money soon."
"That is why I am retaining the papers. If I can see Mr. Elberry to-day
we may let you have a cheque to-morrow. Try another pinch. No? Well,
good-bye. I am very happy to have been of service." Mr. McAdam bowed
them out, for he was a very busy man, and they found themselves in the
street once more with lighter hearts than when they had left it.
"Well, Westmacott, I am sure I am very much obliged to you," said the
Admiral. "You have stood by me when I was the better for a little help,
for I'm clean out of my soundings among these city sharks. But I've
something to do now which is more in my own line, and I need not trouble
you any more."
"Oh, it is no trouble. I have nothing to do. I never have anything to
do. I don't suppose I could do it if I had. I should be delighted to
come with you, sir, if I can be of any use."
"No, no, my lad. You go home again. It would be kind of you, though, if
you would look in at number one when you get back and tell my wife that
all's well with me, and that I'll be back in an hour or so."
"All right, sir. I'll tell her." Westmacott raised his hat and strode
away to the westward, while the Admiral, after a hurried lunch, bent his
steps towards the east.
It was a long walk, but the old seaman swung along at a rousing pace,
leaving street after street behind him. The great business places
dwindled down into commonplace shops and dwellings, which decreased and
became more stunted, even as the folk who filled them did, until he was
deep in the evil places of the eastern end. It was a land of huge,
dark houses and of garish gin-shops, a land, too, where life moves
irregularly and where adventures are to be gained--as the Admiral was to
learn to his cost.
He was hurrying down one of the long, narrow, stone-flagged lanes
between the double lines of crouching, disheveled women and of dirty
children who sat on the hollowed steps of the houses, and basked in
the autumn sun. At one side was a barrowman with a load of walnuts, and
beside the barrow a bedraggled woman with a black fringe and a chequered
shawl thrown over her head. She was cracking walnuts and picking them
out of the shells, throwing out a remark occasionally to a rough man in
a rabbit-skin cap, with straps under the knees of his corduroy trousers,
who stood puffing a black clay pipe with his back against the wall. What
the cause of the quarrel was, or what sharp sarcasm from the woman's
lips pricked suddenly through that thick skin may never be known, but
suddenly the man took his pipe in his left hand, leaned forward, and
deliberately struck her across the face with his right. It was a slap
rather than a blow, but the woman gave a sharp cry and cowered up
against the barrow with her hand to her cheek.
"You infernal villain!" cried the Admiral, raising his stick. "You brute
and blackguard!"
"Garn!" growled the rough, with the deep rasping intonation of a savage.
"Garn out o' this or I'll----" He took a step forward with uplifted
hand, but in an instant down came cut number three upon his wrist, and
cut number five across his thigh, and cut number one full in the center
of his rabbit-skin cap. It was not a heavy stick, but it was strong
enough to leave a good red weal wherever it fell. The rough yelled
with pain, and rushed in, hitting with both hands, and kicking with his
ironshod boots, but the Admiral had still a quick foot and a true eye,
so that he bounded backwards and sideways, still raining a shower of
blows upon his savage antagonist. Suddenly, however, a pair of arms
closed round his neck, and glancing backwards he caught a glimpse of the
black coarse fringe of the woman whom he had befriended. "I've got him!"
she shrieked. "I'll 'old 'im. Now, Bill, knock the tripe out of him!"
Her grip was as strong as a man's, and her wrist pressed like an iron
bar upon the Admiral's throat. He made a desperate effort to disengage
himself, but the most that he could do was to swing her round, so as to
place her between his adversary and himself. As it proved, it was the
very best thing that he could have done. The rough, half-blinded and
maddened by the blows which he had received, struck out with all his
ungainly strength, just as his partner's head swung round in front
of him. There was a noise like that of a stone hitting a wall, a
deep groan, her grasp relaxed, and she dropped a dead weight upon the
pavement, while the Admiral sprang back and raised his stick once more,
ready either for attack or defense. Neither were needed, however, for
at that moment there was a scattering of the crowd, and two police
constables, burly and helmeted, pushed their way through the rabble.
At the sight of them the rough took to his heels, and was instantly
screened from view by a veil of his friends and neighbors.
"I have been assaulted," panted the Admiral. "This woman was attacked
and I had to defend her."
"This is Bermondsey Sal," said one police officer, bending over the
bedraggled heap of tattered shawl and dirty skirt. "She's got it hot
this time."
"He was a shortish man, thick, with a beard."
"Ah, that's Black Davie. He's been up four times for beating her. He's
about done the job now. If I were you I would let that sort settle their
own little affairs, sir."
"Do you think that a man who holds the Queen's commission will stand by
and see a woman struck?" cried the Admiral indignantly.
"Well, just as you like, sir. But you've lost your watch, I see."
"My watch!" He clapped his hand to his waistcoat. The chain was hanging
down in front, and the watch gone.
He passed his hand over his forehead. "I would not have lost that watch
for anything," said he. "No money could replace it. It was given me by
the ship's company after our African cruise. It has an inscription."
The policeman shrugged his shoulders. "It comes from meddling," said he.
"What'll you give me if I tell yer where it is?" said a sharp-faced boy
among the crowd. "Will you gimme a quid?"
"Certainly."
"Well, where's the quid?"
The Admiral took a sovereign from his pocket. "Here it is."
"Then 'ere's the ticker!" The boy pointed to the clenched hand of the
senseless woman. A glimmer of gold shone out from between the fingers,
and on opening them up, there was the Admiral's chronometer. This
interesting victim had throttled her protector with one hand, while she
had robbed him with the other.
The Admiral left his address with the policeman, satisfied that the
woman was only stunned, not dead, and then set off upon his way once
more, the poorer perhaps in his faith in human nature, but in very good
spirits none the less. He walked with dilated nostrils and clenched
hands, all glowing and tingling with the excitement of the combat, and
warmed with the thought that he could still, when there was need, take
his own part in a street brawl in spite of his three-score and odd
years.
His way now led towards the river-side regions, and a cleansing whiff
of tar was to be detected in the stagnant autumn air. Men with the blue
jersey and peaked cap of the boatman, or the white ducks of the dockers,
began to replace the corduroys and fustian of the laborers. Shops with
nautical instruments in the windows, rope and paint sellers, and slop
shops with long rows of oilskins dangling from hooks, all proclaimed
the neighborhood of the docks. The Admiral quickened his pace and
straightened his figure as his surroundings became more nautical, until
at last, peeping between two high, dingy wharfs, he caught a glimpse of
the mud-colored waters of the Thames, and of the bristle of masts
and funnels which rose from its broad bosom. To the right lay a quiet
street, with many brass plates upon either side, and wire blinds in
all of the windows. The Admiral walked slowly down it until "The Saint
Lawrence Shipping Company" caught his eye. He crossed the road, pushed
open the door, and found himself in a low-ceilinged office, with a long
counter at one end and a great number of wooden sections of ships stuck
upon boards and plastered all over the walls.
"Is Mr. Henry in?" asked the Admiral.
"No, sir," answered an elderly man from a high seat in the corner. "He
has not come into town to-day. I can manage any business you may wish
seen to."
"You don't happen to have a first or second officer's place vacant, do
you?"
The manager looked with a dubious eye at his singular applicant.
"Do you hold certificates?" he asked.
"I hold every nautical certificate there is."
"Then you won't do for us."
"Why not?"
"Your age, sir."
"I give you my word that I can see as well as ever, and am as good a man
in every way."
"I don't doubt it."
"Why should my age be a bar, then?"
"Well, I must put it plainly. If a man of your age, holding
certificates, has not got past a second officer's berth, there must be
a black mark against him somewhere. I don't know what it is, drink or
temper, or want of judgment, but something there must be."
"I assure you there is nothing, but I find myself stranded, and so have
to turn to the old business again."
"Oh, that's it," said the manager, with suspicion in his eye. "How long
were you in your last billet?"
"Fifty-one years."
"What!"
"Yes, sir, one-and-fifty years."
"In the same employ?"
"Yes."
"Why, you must have begun as a child."
"I was twelve when I joined."
"It must be a strangely managed business," said the manager, "which
allows men to leave it who have served for fifty years, and who are
still as good as ever. Who did you serve?"
"The Queen. Heaven bless her!"
"Oh, you were in the Royal Navy. What rating did you hold?"
"I am Admiral of the Fleet."
The manager started, and sprang down from his high stool.
"My name is Admiral Hay Denver. There is my card. And here are the
records of my service. I don't, you understand, want to push another man
from his billet; but if you should chance to have a berth open, I should
be very glad of it. I know the navigation from the Cod Banks right up to
Montreal a great deal better than I know the streets of London."
The astonished manager glanced over the blue papers which his visitor
had handed him. "Won't you take a chair, Admiral?" said he.
"Thank you! But I should be obliged if you would drop my title now. I
told you because you asked me, but I've left the quarter-deck, and I am
plain Mr. Hay Denver now."
"May I ask," said the manager, "are you the same Denver who commanded at
one time on the North American station?"
"I did."
"Then it was you who got one of our boats, the Comus, off the rocks
in the Bay of Fundy? The directors voted you three hundred guineas as
salvage, and you refused them."
"It was an offer which should not have been made," said the Admiral
sternly.
"Well, it reflects credit upon you that you should think so. If Mr.
Henry were here I am sure that he would arrange this matter for you at
once. As it is, I shall lay it before the directors to-day, and I am
sure that they will be proud to have you in our employment, and, I hope,
in some more suitable position than that which you suggest."
"I am very much obliged to you, sir," said the Admiral, and started off
again, well pleased, upon his homeward journey.