A very real pirate was De Soto. None of your Captain Kidds, who make
one voyage or so before they are hanged, and even then find time to
bury kegs of gold in every marshy and uncomfortable spot from Maine to
Florida. No, no. De Soto had better uses for his gold than that.
Commonly he traveled with it; and thus he even brought it to Boston
with him on that unlucky voyage in 1829, when Mr. James Bowdoin was
kind enough to take charge of it for him. One wonders what he meant to
do with a bag of gold in Boston in 1829.
This happened on Thursday, the 24th of June. It was the day after Mr.
James Bowdoin's (or Mr. James's, as Jamie McMurtagh and others in the
bank always called him; it was his father who was properly Mr. James
Bowdoin, and his grandfather who was Mr. Bowdoin)--after Mr. James's
Commencement Day; and it was the day after Mr. James's engagement as
junior clerk in the counting-room; and it was the day after Mr.
James's engagement to be married; and it was the day but one after Mr.
James's class's supper at Mr. Porter's tavern in North Cambridge. Ah,
they did things quickly in those days; _ils savoient vivre_.
They had made him a Bachelor of Arts, and a Master of Arts he had made
himself by paying for that dignity, and all this while the class punch
was fresher in his memory than Latin quantities; for these parchment
honors were a bit overwhelming to one who had gone through his college
course _non clam, sed vi et precario_, as his tutor courteously
phrased it. And then he had gotten out of his college gown into a
beautiful blue frock coat and white duck trousers, and driven into
town and sought for other favors, more of flesh and blood, carried his
other degree with a rush--and Miss Abigail Dowse off to drive with
him. And that evening Mr. James Bowdoin had said to him, "James!"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. James.
"Now you've had your four years at college, and I think it's time you
should be learning something."
"Yes, sir," said Mr. James.
"So I wish you to come down to the counting-room at nine o'clock and
sort the letters."
"Yes, sir," said Mr. James.
Mr. James Bowdoin looked at him suspiciously over his spectacles. "At
eight o'clock; do you hear?"
"I hear, sir," said Mr. James.
Mr. James Bowdoin lost his temper at once. "Oh, you do, do you?" said
he. "You don't want to go to Paris, to Rome,--to make the grand tour
like a gentleman, in short, as I did long before I was your age?"
"No, sir," said Mr. James.
"Then, sir, by gad," said Mr. James Bowdoin, "you may come down at
half past seven--and--and--sweep out the office!"