IX
"The morning begins auspiciously, does it not, my son?" he said. "Andstill the day is young. Indeed, it cannot be more than eleven of theclock. The rum decanter, Brutus."
The lines about his mouth softened as his gaze met mine, and his smilegrew broader.
"I pride myself," he went on, "that my example is all I promised. I fearI shall fall down in only one respect. Perhaps you have observed it?"
"If I have," I answered, "I have forgotten."
"My table manners," he said. "I fear they are almost impeccable." Andhe walked over to the window, taking care, I noticed, not to stand infront of it.
"Sad, is it not, that I should fail in such a trivial matter? But ithappened so long ago while I was courting your mother, to be exact. Myfather-in-law, rest his soul, was an atrocity at table. The viands, myson, scattered from his knife over the board, like chaff before theflail. Yet, will you believe it? Any time he chose to speak his mouthwas always full. I watched him, watched him with wonder--or was ithorror?--I cannot remember which. And I resolved to go, to goanywhere, but never to do likewise. The result today is perhapsunfortunate. Yet watch me, my son, even in that you see the practicalvalue of a bad example."
"Yes," I said, "I am watching you."
He seemed about to turn from the window, and then something outside heldhis attention.
"Ha!" he said. "A sloop is coming in--a clumsy looking vessel. Whose isit, Henry?"
I walked to the window to get a better look, but he reached out and drewme near him.
"Let us be careful of the windows this morning. The light is bad, and wehave very much the same figure. There. Now you can see it--out by thebar. It carries too much canvas forward and spills half the wind. Haveyou seen it before, Henry?"
The sun had been trying to break through the clouds, and a few rays hadcrept out, and glanced on the angry gray of the water, so that it shonehere and there like scratches in dull lead. The three ships near ourwharf were tossing fitfully, and on all three, the crews were busy withthe rigging. Out further towards the broad curve of the horizon was thewhite smear of a sail, and as I looked, I could see the lines beneaththe canvas. He was right. It was a sloop, running free with the tidepushing her on.
"Yes," I said, "I know the boat, though I do not see why she isputting in."
"Ah," said my father, "and do you not? And whose boat may she be, Henry?"
"Two days ago she sailed from Boston for France. She belongs to JasonHill," I told him; and, a little puzzled, I looked again at the low dunesand the marshes by the harbor mouth.
"I think," my father murmured half to himself, "that perhaps after all Ishould have killed him. Brutus!"
Brutus, who had watched the scene with the same aloof politeness that hemight have watched guests at the dinner table, moved quickly forward.
"Has no word come yet?"
Brutus grinned and shook his head.
"The devil," said my father. "Aiken was here last evening, and got themessage I left him?"
Brutus nodded, and my father compressed his lips. Apparently deep inthought, he took a few unhurried steps across the room, and glancedabout him critically.
"A busy day, my son," he said, "a very busy day, and a humorous one aswell. They think they can get the paper. They think--but they are allmistaken."
"You are sure?" I inquired.
"Perfectly," said my father. "I shall dispose of it in my own way. I ammerely waiting for the time."
"Huh!"
Brutus cupped his great hand behind his ear, and nodded violently. Myfather stepped toward the hallway, and listened. Above the hissing of thefire I heard a voice and footsteps. He straightened the lace about hiswrists, and his features lost their strained attention. As he turnedtowards Brutus, he seemed younger and more alertly active than I had everknown him.
"Ah, what a day," he said, "what a day, to be sure. They are coming,Brutus. Gad, but the years have been long since I have waited for them!Place the glasses on the table, Brutus. We still must be hospitable."
The knocker on our front door sent a violent summons, but my father didnot seem to hear it. With graceful deliberation he was filling sixglasses from the decanter.
"Keep to the back of the room, my son," he said, "and listen. Who do youthink is coming? But you never can guess. Our neighbors, my son, ourneighbors. First your uncle, and then our neighbors. We are holding adistinguished salon, are we not?"
But before I could answer or even conjecture why he should receive such avisit, my father gave a low exclamation, partly of surprise, and partlyof well concealed annoyance, and stepped forward, bowing low.Mademoiselle, bright-eyed, but very pale, had run into the morning room.
"The paper, captain," she cried, "are they coming for the paper? For, ifthey are, they shall not have it. You--"
My father looked at her sharply, almost suspiciously.
"How are you here?" he demanded quickly, "Did not Brutus lock your door?"
"The lock was very rusty," she answered.
"Indeed?" said my father, "And how long ago did you find it out?"
"Only a minute back," she said, and again he glanced at her narrowly,and finally shrugged his shoulders. As I look back on it, it was hisfirst mistake.
"Then I fear you have not seen much of the house," he said suavely, butshe disregarded his remark.
"Pray do not be alarmed, my lady," "At almost any time I am glad to seeyou, but just at present--" he raised his voice to drown the din of theknocker--"just at present your appearance, I fear, is a trifleindiscreet. It is not the paper they wish, Mademoiselle. It is merelymyself, your humble servant, they require. But pray calm yourself andrest assured they shall get neither. Let in our callers, Brutus."
He took her hand and bowed over it very low, and looked for an instantinto her eyes, with a faint hint of curiosity.
"And you?" she asked. "You have it still?"
"Temporarily, yes," he answered. "Show Mademoiselle a chair, my son, overthere behind me, where you both can witness the little drama. Perhaps itis as well she came, after all."
Brutus had not forgotten his days as a house servant. Erect anduncompromising he entered the room, facing toward us by the door.
"Mr. Penfield!" he called. "Captain Tracy! Captain Brown! Major Proctor!Mr. Lane! Captain Dexter!"
"So," said Major Proctor, "you still have your damned party manners."
They had entered the room, and stood in a group before my father. Theirfaces were set grimly. Their manner was stern and uncompromising, asbefitted men of unimpeachable position and integrity. As I watched them,I still was wondering at their errand. Why should they, of all peoplehave paid this call? There was not one who did not own his ships andcounting house, not one who was not a leading trader in our seaport. Inall the years I had known them, not one had looked at me, or given me acivil word, and indeed, they had little reason to give one. And yet, herethey were calling on my father.
It was an odd contradiction of the lesson books that of all the men inthe room, he should appear the most prepossessing. Though many of themwere younger, his clothes were more in fashion, and time had touched himwith a lighter hand. If I had come on them all as strangers, I shouldhave expected kindness and understanding from him first of any. Hisforehead was broader, and his glance was keener. Indeed, there was nonewho looked more the gentleman. There was no man who could have displayedmore perfect courtesy in his gravely polite salute.
"This," said my father, smiling, "is indeed a pleasure. I had hoped forthis honor, and yet the years have so often disappointed me that I hadonly hoped."
Captain Tracy, short and squat, his hands held out in the way old sailorshave, as though ready instinctively to grasp some rope or bulwark, thrusta bull neck forward, and peered at my father with little, reddened eyes,opened in wide incredulity.
"You what?" he demanded hoarsely.
"I said, Captain Tracy, that I hoped,"--and my father helped himself tosnuff--"Will you be seated, gentlemen?"
"No," said Major Proctor.
"I have always noted," my father remarked, "that standing is better forthe figure. The climate, Major, has agreed with you."
Major Proctor launched on a savage rejoinder, but Mr. Penfield leanedtowards him with a whispered admonition.
"I take it," he said to my father, "that you did not read our letter. Youmade a mistake, Mr. Shelton, a grave mistake, in not doing so."
"I am fond of reading," said my father, "and I found your letter--pardonmy rudeness--but I must be frank--I found your letter most amusing."
Mr. Lane stretched a claw-like hand toward him.
"You always did laugh," he cried shrilly.
"Never now, Mr. Lane," replied my father. "Yet I must admit, iflaughter were my habit--" he paused and surveyed Mr. Lane's pinched andbony figure.
"You found the letter amusing, eh?" snapped Captain Tracy. "You found itfunny when we ordered you out of this town, did you? I suppose youthought we were joking, eh? Well, by Gad, we weren't, and that's whatwe've come to tell you. Heaven help us if we don't see you out on a rail,you damned--"
"Gently, gently," interjected Mr. Penfield, in a soothing tone. "Let usnot use any harder words than necessary. Mr. Shelton will agree with us,I am sure. Mr. Shelton did not understand. Perhaps Mr. Shelton hasforgotten."
"My memory," said my father, "still remains unimpaired. I recall the lasttime I saw you was some ten years ago in this very house. I recall atthe time you warned me never to return here. In some ways, perhaps, youwere right, and yet at present I find my residence here most expedient.Indeed, I find it quite impossible to leave. Frankly, gentlemen, thehouse is watched, and it is as much as my life is worth to stir outsidethe doors."
"Good God!" cried Mr. Lane, in the shrill voice that fitted him so well."We might have known it!"
There was a momentary silence, and Major Proctor whispered in Mr.Penfield's ear.
"Captain Shelton," said Mr. Penfield, "I see your son and a woman are inthe room. It might be better if you sent them away. Your son, I haveheard, has learned to behave himself. There is no need for him to hearwhat we have to say to you."
There was a note of raillery in his voice that must have offendedmy father.
"Mr. Penfield is mistaken. I fear closed shutters make the room a trifledark to see clearly. It is a lady, Mr. Penfield, who is with us."
Captain Tracy laughed. My father's hand dropped to his side. For a momentno one spoke. Captain Tracy moved his head half an inch further forward.
"Well?" he asked.
"Let us leave the matter for a moment," said my father. "It can wait.Pray continue, Mr. Penfield. My son will be glad to listen."
Mr. Penfield cleared his throat, and looked at the others uncertainly.
"Go on, Penfield," said the Major.
"Mr. Shelton," began Mr. Penfield stiffly, "ten years ago you were agentleman."
"Could it have been possible?" said my father with a bow.
"Ten years ago you were a man that every one of us here trusted andrespected, a friend of several. In the War of the Revolution youconducted yourself like a man of honor. You equipped your own brig with aletter of marque, and sailed it yourself off Jamaica. You fought in threeengagements. You displayed a daring and bravery which we once admired."
"Could it have been possible?" my father bowed again. "I do recall Ifailed to stay at home," he added, bowing again to Mr. Penfield.
Mr. Penfield frowned, and continued a little more quickly:
"And when you did return, you engaged in the China trade. You were asuccessful man, Mr. Shelton. We looked upon you as one of the morebrilliant younger men of our seaport. We trusted you, Captain Shelton."
"Could it have been possible!" exclaimed my father.
"Yes," said Mr. Penfield in a louder tone, "we trusted you. You have onlyto look at your books, if you have kept them, to remember that."
"My books," said my father, "still contrive to balance."
"In the year 1788," Mr. Penfield went on, "you remember that year, do younot? In that year the six of us here engaged in a venture. From the northwe had carried here five hundred bales of fur, valued at fifty dollars tothe bale. You contracted with us, Captain Shelton, to convey those balesto England. It would have been a nice piece of business, if yoursupercargo had not been an honest man. He knew you, Shelton, if we didnot. He knew the game you had planned to play, and though he was yourbrother-in-law, he was man enough to stop it."
Mr. Penfield's voice had risen, so that it rang through the room, andhis words followed each other in cold indictment. The others stoodwatching my father with strained attention.
"Indeed," he said.
"Yes," said Mr. Penfield, "as you so aptly put it--indeed. Your shipcarrying that consignment, had Jason Hill as supercargo, and Ned Aiken,that damned parasite of yours, as master. A day out from this port, aplank sprung aft, which obliged him to put back to Boston for repairs.The cargo was trans-shipped. When it was aboard again, Jason Hillhappened to examine that cargo. The furs had gone. In their place fivehundred bales of chips had been loaded in the hold. He went to the masterfor an explanation. Mr. Aiken, who had been drinking heavily, was asleepin the cabin, and on the table beside him was a letter, Shelton. Youremember that letter? It bore instructions from you to scuttle that shipten miles out of Liverpool harbor."
"And," said my father, with another bow, "I was to collect the insurance.It was nicely planned."
"If you remember that, you recall what happened next. We called on you,Shelton, and accused you of what you had done. You neither confirmednor denied it. We told you then to leave the town. We warned you neverto return. We warned you that we were through with your trickery. Wewere through with your cheating and your thieving. We warned you,Shelton, and now you're back, back, by your own confession, on anotherrogue's errand."
"Not on another's," my father objected mildly. "One of my own, Mr.Penfield. The experience you have outlined so lucidly convinced me thatit was better to stick closely to my own affairs."
"Mr. Shelton," Mr. Penfield went on, regardless of the interruption, "wewarned you yesterday to leave the town before nightfall, and you havefailed to take our advice."
"I see no reason why I should leave," replied my father easily. "I amcomfortable here for the moment. I would not be outside. Even thearguments you have given are specious. You got your furs back, and if Irecall, they proved to be so badly moth eaten that they were not fit forany trade."
"Even though you see no reason," said Major Proctor smoothly, "you aregoing to leave, Shelton. You are going to leave in one hour. If youdelay a minute later, we will come with friends who will know how tohandle you. We will come in an hour with a tar pot and a feathermattress."
"You are not only unwelcome to us on account of your past," said Mr.Penfield, "but more recent developments make it impossible, quiteimpossible for you to stay. We have heard your story already from Mr.Jason Hill. You are right that it is no concern of ours, except that weremember the good of this town. We have a business with France, and wecannot afford to lose it. Major Proctor was blunt just now, and yet he isright. Give us credit for warning you, at least. You will go, of course?"
My father smiled again, and smoothed the wrinkles of his coat. Forsome reason the scene seemed vastly pleasant. He shrugged hisshoulders in a deprecatory gesture, walked over to the table, andlifted up a glass of ram.
"I remarked before that I was quite comfortable here," he replied after amoment's pause. "I may add that I am amused. Since I have returned to theancestral roof, and looked again at the portraits of my family, I havehad many callers to entertain me. Two have tried to rob me. One hasthreatened me with death. And now six come, and threaten me with tar andfeathers. Positively, it is too diverting to leave. Pray don't interruptme, Captain Tracy. In a moment you shall have the floor."
He took a sip from his rum glass, watching them over the brim. And thenhe continued, slowly and coldly, yet turning every period with aperfect courtesy:
"T
here is one thing, only one, that you and all my other callers appearto have overlooked. You fail for some reason to realize that I do thingsonly of my own volition. It is eccentric, I know, but we all have ourfailings."
He paused to place his glass daintily on the table, and straightened thelace at his wrist with careful solicitude.
"Once before this morning I have stated that I am not particularly afraidof anything. Strange as it may seem, this statement still applies. Or putit this way,--I have grown blase. People have threatened me too often.No, gentlemen, you are going to lose your trading privileges, I think.And I am going to remain in my house quite as long as I choose."
"Which will be one hour," said Major Proctor.
"Be careful, Major," said my father. "You have grown too stout to riskyour words. Do you care to know why I am going to remain?"
No one answered.
"Then I will tell you," he went on. "Three of my ships are in the harbor,and times are troublesome at sea. They are armed with heavy metal, andmanned by quite as reckless and unpleasant a lot of men as I have everbeheld on a deck. Between them they have seventeen guns of varyingcalibre, and there is powder in their magazines. Do I need to go anyfurther, or do we understand each other?"
"No," snapped Captain Tracy hoarsely. "I'm damned if we do."
"It sounds crude, as I say it," he continued apologetically, "and yettrue, nevertheless. As soon as I see anyone of you, or any of my otherneighbors enter my grounds again, I shall order my ships to tack down theriver, and open fire on the town. They have sail ready now, gentlemen. Myservant has gone already to carry them my order."
"And you'll hang for piracy tomorrow morning," laughed the Majorharshly. "Shelton, you have grown mad."
"Exactly," said my father gently. "Mad, Major. Mad enough to put mythreat into effect in five minutes, if you do not leave this house; madenough to scuttle every ship in this harbor; mad enough to set yourwarehouses in flames; mad enough even to find the company of you and yourfriends most damnably dull and wearisome; mad enough to wonder why I eversuffered you to remain so long beneath my roof; mad enough to believe youa pack of curs and cowards, and mad enough to treat you as such. Keepoff, Tracy, you bloated fool!"
"By God!" Captain Tracy shouted, "We'll burn this house over your head.In an hour we'll have you shot against the town hall."
"Perhaps," said my father, "and yet I doubt it. Pray remember that I keepmy word. Your hats are in the hall, gentlemen. In three minutes now myships weigh anchor. If you do not go, I cannot stop them."
Mr. Penfield had grown a trifle pale. "Captain Shelton," he demandedslowly, "are you entirely serious? I almost believe you are. Of courseyou understand the consequences?"
"Perfectly," said my father.
"Let us go, gentlemen," said Mr. Penfield. "You will hear from us later."And he turned quickly towards the hall.
As he did so, my father drew back his right arm, and drove his fist intoCaptain Tracy's upturned face. His blow was well directed, for thecaptain staggered and fell. In almost the same motion he wheeled on MajorProctor, who had started back, and was tugging at his sword.
"Later, perhaps, Major," he said, without even lifting his voice. "Buttoday I am busy. Pray take him away. He was always indiscreet. And you,"he added to Mr. Lane, "surely you know well enough not to try conclusionswith me. Take him away. Your hats are in the hall. I shall show you thedoor myself. After you, gentlemen."
And he followed them, closing the door gently behind him.
The Unspeakable Gentleman Page 9
