Five years went by before I again met Howard Byng. He was at the
Waldorf in New York. After parting we had exchanged letters frequently
and I advised him as best I could. He employed a college man to
instruct him and for two years kept away from New York and other large
business centers. Meanwhile his letters improved, indicating a great
change for the better. Evidently he wanted to feel sure of himself
before again meeting with men of large affairs. Mrs. Potter, seconded
by her mother, had scored on a plan conceived when they first met
Byng--the firm of Byng and Potter was now a fact and the business had
expanded and prospered as expected. And more, a year before I met him
again, he had married her sister Norma and sent me her photograph.
She had, as I predicted, developed into a beautiful woman without
being plagued by a self-consciousness of the fact. She was real, a
superb woman indeed, and Byng was rightfully proud of her. The details
of the happy consummation, covering about two years, I do not know,
but I have no doubt they were very exciting--to the Potter family.
First of all a huge diamond in the rough had to be polished into a
gentleman, and a moneymaker, who should conserve the family fortune
and add to it.
Norma was carefully educated along broad, democratic lines and
carefully taught the true worth of the self-seeking contingent who
amble about, and simper their way along. Her marriage to Byng was,
necessarily, managed with astuteness, for at no time would anyone have
had the temerity to meddle with the workings of Howard Byng's will any
more than that of a lion. Undoubtedly the seed of his great love was
planted when he carried her in his arms, drenched and convulsive,
from Alligator Island. After his marriage I considered his status in
life fixed and largely dismissed him from my mind. But it wasn't long
before he insisted on seeing me, saying, that, as his godfather, I had
certain duties.
He wanted me to go to his home, but as usual I balked at this. I
compromised by taking dinner at the hotel with him, together with his
wife and the Potters. Potter proved to be a fine fellow. Born to the
purple, he nevertheless admired the now handsome, big-hearted,
transformed Georgia Cracker. Mrs. Potter had laid down her fat upon
the altar of common sense.
Norma surprised me, her photograph doing her an injustice. I could
hardly believe that the stately brunette, divinely molded, was the
little Norma, who, five years before, I had seen limp and unconscious
in the arms of Howard Byng. At that time she appeared to be all legs,
arms and a shock of black hair. We spent a delightful evening, mostly
recalling the incident that had terminated so happily to all
concerned. Norma went home with the Potters and Howard remained to
talk with me.
"Wood," he began with frank directness as soon as we were settled, "we
want you to name your salary and come with us, we need you. In a short
time we will give you an interest."
I started to protest.
"Wait a minute, now, until I tell you. I have talked it over with
Potter and he wants you as bad as I do. Again I want to inform you,
that whether you accept or not, you are responsible for the fact that
I am better than a turpentine Georgia Cracker. Everything I've got I
trace to your advice. There's plenty of room and I want you to come.
This is no charity matter--you'll be of valuable aid to the business."
I found it difficult to reject his alluring offer without offending
him. He pressed me for reasons. I had to tell him that I liked my
work, that I was able to view the world from an eminence, my own
egotism, perhaps, and that mere business would not satisfy me. Also
that prospects for exciting incidents of an international character
were good.
"I was afraid you would tell me that. If you cared for money you would
have used the process, secret to you and me. You could be rich," he
commented, clearly disappointed. "Then you will have to continue your
rôle of advisor without pay, for I must have advice from you," he
added, resuming his cheerful smile.
"Only too glad, Howard, go ahead."
"I have no fault to find with the progress of my affairs since I saw
you last. But again we have arrived where the road forks. Both roads
invite. The Georgia Assimulating and Manufacturing plant has been much
extended. It owns cotton fields as far as you can see and plenty of
stump land, with transportation, and cash surplus instead of debt, but
we need rail outlet badly. Existing roads say our freight is not
sufficient to support a branch line, so the alternative is to build it
ourselves. This will take our surplus and quite a bit of borrowed
money. We're making money, but lack of a deep-water harbor hampers us.
You see, we have only eight feet of water at flood tide. With a
deep-water harbor we could get into the world's markets without
breaking bulk, and bring the roads to our own terms on interior
shipments. Our bank will underwrite the bonds. They have a man who
will take all of them."
"What bank are you with?"
"The Transatlantic. It is big, and has treated us fine," he replied
confidently.
"But, you know, it is foreign owned."
"I don't know. It may be, but that is of no interest to us. If they
furnish the money we need to finance the railroad connection at a
decent rate, and the necessary amount to handle the business while we
are paying it off, which they will, then where is our worry to come
from? I don't care where the money comes from. The point is, should we
take the venture, or go on the way we are now?"
"How much money will it require?" Howard fascinated me with the
familiarity of his subject. He looked big enough to accomplish
anything humanly possible.
"Well--to build the road and docks, and two deep-water vessels, will
call for about a million and a half. We want to own every stick and
nail. We now have a half million surplus."
"You will have to borrow a million then?"
"Yes--perhaps a little more."
"You have not met the man the bank will send to take your bonds?"
"No--but the bank is reliable and will make good--at least they must
produce him before we start--that's what their underwriting means," he
added.
"Howard, you have put up a hard problem. I might introduce the
interrogation point and mislead you. I don't pretend to know much of
business, especially of big business like yours--mine is looking for
deluded men--sometimes women--who try to make violations of the
Federal statutes profitable. All I can do is to give you my
impression, and what facts I have that may bear on your case. Then
you must decide for yourself." He nodded.
"I would like it better if you were hooked up with a straight American
bank," I continued. "I mean one of the old-line National banks--but,
after all, that may not be important. Perhaps you ought to let 'good
enough' alone. You are making more money now than you can possibly
spend. However, I can understand the lure of achievement--it's about
all the real fun there is in living, without which a man is old at any
stage, and would be better off dead and buried."
"That's it! You understand perfectly--make the so-called impossibility
yield," he interrupted, his aggressive nose twitching, his eyes
dilating with eagerness.
"Howard, there are three crises in the average life. The first one we
all know as 'getting started.' This usually happens in the early
twenties. You passed yours just after leaving me on the wharf at
Savannah. You say you cried and wished you were dead. Another one
comes about ten years later. Its form and length varies with the
individual. But for a time it's usually a pretty bad experience. Men
not only wish they were dead, but would try suicide were they
out-and-out cowards. They believe they will be consumed by the heat
and enormity of things over which they have no control. This period is
not unlike the refining process of iron ore into good steel, and its
formation into a perfect-cutting, useful instrument. It is a process
that is melting hot, two thousand degrees and a blast behind it. Then
come the blows to make the shape; then the grindstone, and the
whet-stone to put on the final polish. There is another period in the
late forties that you need not be concerned about now. However,
Cleveland is going to be elected--the first Democratic President since
the war--and that event may disturb things for a time."
Byng glanced up searchingly. "Go on," said he, abruptly.
"I know you didn't expect a sermon but you may profit by it now; at
least you will recall it afterward, and with some relief, if you
follow the trend of affairs logically. When I go after a man I want to
know his age the very first thing. You are about thirty now?"
"Yes, just about," there was in his eye a suspicion that I was raving,
but that didn't keep me from finishing.
"And your wife is some over twenty--your partner a little older than
you."
"Yes."
"You might do well to put up the sign, 'safety first,' though it's a
lying thing where generally used. I advise that you trim sail and keep
in deep water for a while. No use getting excited at your age. Let the
situation be entirely clear when undertaking big financial stunts.
Wait until the new President is well seated in his chair. I look for
squalls."
"It may be you are right--I will give your advice serious
consideration," said he, soberly, but I felt that he was not
convinced.
"I don't like to send you home with a wet blanket around you, but you
are too big, and have too much courage to shrink from the truth. Be
governed by foresight as well as hindsight. Wait and see how the times
are going to be before you touch anything requiring big borrowing. So
long, boy, I must be going."
"I knew you'd tell me what you thought," he exclaimed, wringing my
hand good-bye.
I didn't see Howard Byng for many years after that.