Cup of Gold

by John Steinbeck

  Henry drained his glass. His face was becoming flushed.

  “There is a tale about her,” he said. “She was pretty, but also she was an heiress. I confess, I favored her. She would inherit silver mines. Her husband offered one hundred thousand pieces of eight for her. He wanted to get his hands on the mines. Here was the question, Sire, and I wonder how many men have been confronted with one like it? Should I get the woman or the hundred thousand?”

  The King leaned forward in his chair. “Which did you take? Tell me quickly.”

  “I remained in Panama for a while,” said Henry. “What would Your Majesty have done in my place? I got both. Perhaps I got even more than that. Who knows but my son will inherit the silver mines eventually.”

  “I would have done that,” cried the King. “You are right. I would have done just that. It was clever, sir. A toast, Captain— to foresight. Your generalship, sir, runs to other matters than warfare, I see. You have never been defeated in battle, they say; but tell me, Captain, were you ever defeated in love? It is a good scene—an unusual scene—when a man admits himself bested in love. The admission is so utterly contrary to every masculine instinct. Another glass, Sir, and tell us about your defeat.”

  “Not by a woman, Sire— But once I was defeated by Death. There are things which so sear the soul that the pain of it follows through life. You asked for the story. Your health, Sire.

  “I was born in Wales, among the mountains. My father was a gentleman. One summer, while I was a lad, a little princess of France came to our mountains for the air. She had a small retinue, and being lively and restless and clever, she achieved some freedom. One morning I came upon her where she bathed alone in the river. She was naked and unashamed. In an hour— such is the passionate blood of her race—she was lying in my arms. Sire, in all my wanderings, in the lovely women I have seen and the towns I have taken, there has been no pleasure like the days of that joyous summer. When she could escape, we played together in the hills like little gods. But this was not enough. We wanted to be married. She would give up her rank and we would go to live somewhere in America.

  “Then the Autumn came. One day she said, ‘They are ready to take me away, but I will not go.’ The next day she did not come to me. In the night I went to her window and she threw a little note to me, ‘I am imprisoned. They have whipped me.’

  “I went home. What else could I do? I could not fight them, the stout soldiers who guarded her. Very late that night there was a pounding on the door and cries, ‘Where is a doctor to be had? Quick! The little princess has poisoned herself.’ ”

  Henry lifted his eyes. The King was smiling ironically. John Evelyn drummed the table with his fingers.

  “Yes?” said the King. “Yes?” He chuckled.

  “Ah, I am old—old,” Henry moaned. “It is a lie. She was a peasant child, the daughter of a cottager.”

  He staggered to his feet and moved toward the door. Shame was burning in his face.

  “Captain Morgan, you forget yourself.”

  “I—forget—myself?”

  “There are certain little courtesies. Custom demands that you render them to our person.”

  “I plead pardon, Sire. I plead your permission to leave. I—I am ill.” He bowed himself from the room.

  The King was smiling through his wine.

  “How is it, John, that such a great soldier can be such a great fool?”

  Said John Evelyn, “How could it be otherwise? If great men were not fools, the world would have been destroyed long ago. How could it be otherwise? Folly and distorted vision are the foundations of greatness.”

  “You mean that my vision is distorted?”

  “No, I do not mean that.”

  “Then you imply—”

  “I wish to go on with Henry Morgan. He has a knack for piracy which makes him great. Immediately you imagine him as a great ruler. You make him Lieutenant-Governor. In this you are like the multitude. You believe that if a man do one thing magnificently, he should be able to do all things equally well. If a man be eminently successful in creating an endless line of mechanical dew-dads of some excellence, you conceive him capable of leading armies or maintaining governments. You think that because you are a good king you should be as good a lover—or vice-versa.”

  “Vice-versa?”

  “That is a humorous alternative, Sire. It is a conversational trick to gain a smile—no more.”

  “I see. But Morgan and his folly—”

  “Of course he is a fool, Sire, else he would be turning soil in Wales or burrowing in the mines. He wanted something, and he was idiot enough to think he could get it. Because of his idiocy he did get it—part of it. You remember the princess.”

  The King was smiling again.

  “I have never known any man to tell the truth to or about a woman. Why is that, John?”

  “Perhaps, Sire, if you would explain the tiny scratch I see under your right eye, you could understand. Now the scratch was not there last night, and it has the distinct look of—”

  “Yes—yes—a clumsy servant. Let us speak of Morgan. You have a way, John, of being secretly insulting. Sometimes you are not even conscious of your insults. It is a thing to put down if you are to be around courts for any length of time.”

  III

  Sir Henry Morgan sat on the Judge’s Bench at Port Royal. Before him, on the floor, lay a slab of white sunlight like a blinding tomb. Throughout the room an orchestra of flies sang their symphony of boredom. The droning voices of counsel were only louder instruments against the humming obbligato. Court officials went about sleepily, and the cases moved on.

  “It was the fifteenth of the month, my lord. Williamson went to the Cartwright property for the purpose of determining— determining to his own satisfaction, my lord, whether the tree stood as described. It was while he was there—”

  The case sang to its monotonous conclusion. Sir Henry, behind his broad table, stirred sleepily. Now the guards brought in a sullen vagrant, clothed in rags of old sail.

  “Charged with stealing four biscuits and a mirror from So-and-So, my lord.”

  “The proof?”

  “He was detected, my lord.”

  “Did you, or did you not, steal four biscuits and a mirror?”

  The prisoner’s face became even more sullen.

  “I told ’em.”

  “My lord,” the guard prompted.

  “My lord.”

  “Why did you steal these articles?”

  “I wan’ed ’em.”

  “Say my lord.”

  “My lord.”

  “What did you want with them?”

  “I wan’ed the biscuits for to eat.”

  “My lord.”

  “My lord.”

  “And the mirror?”

  “I wan’ed the mirror for to look at myself in.”

  “My lord.”

  “My lord.”

  They led the man to his imprisonment.

  Now the guards brought in a thin, pasty woman.

  “Charged with harlotry and incontinence, my lord.”

  “Incontinence is illegal,” said Sir Henry irritatedly, “but since when have we been punishing people for harlotry?”

  “My lord, the nature of this woman— The public health demands— We thought the case would be understood.”

  “Ah! I see. She must be locked up. Take her away quickly.”

  The woman began to cry sulkily.

  Sir Henry rested his forehead on his hands. He did not look up at the next prisoners.

  “Charged with piracy on the high seas, my lord; with disturbing the King’s peace; with an act of war against a friendly nation.”

  Sir Henry glanced quickly at the prisoners. One was a rotund little man with eyes of terror, and the other a lean, grizzled fellow whose one arm was gone.

  “What is the proof against the prisoners?”

  “Five witnesses, my lord.”

  “So? Make your plea!”

&n
bsp; The tall man had put his good arm about the shoulders of his companion.

  “We plead guilty, my lord.”

  “You plead guilty?” Sir Henry cried in amazement. “But no pirate pleads guilty. It is a case unprecedented.”

  “We plead guilty, my lord.”

  “But why?”

  “Fifty people saw us in action, my lord. Why should we take up your time in denying what fifty people will swear to? No, we are resigned, my lord. We are content, both with the recent action and with our lives.” The wiry arm squeezed about the small round tub of a buccaneer.

  Henry sat very silently for a time. But finally he raised his tired eyes. “I sentence you to be hanged.”

  “Hanged, my lord?”

  “Hanged by the neck until you are dead.”

  “You are changed, Sir.”

  Sir Henry started forward and closely scrutinized the prisoners. Then his lips smiled. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I am changed. The Henry Morgan you knew is not the Sir Henry Morgan who sentences you to death. I do not kill ferociously any more, but coldly, and because I have to.” Sir Henry raised his voice. “Let the court be cleared, but guard the doors! I wish to speak privately with the prisoners.”

  When they were alone he began:

  “I know well that I am changed, but tell me what is the change you see.”

  The Burgundians looked at each other. “You speak, Emil.”

  “You are changed, Sir, in this way. Once you knew what you were doing. You were sure of yourself.”

  “That is so,” broke in the other. “You do not know—you are not sure of yourself any more. Once you were one man. It is possible to trust one man. But now you are several men. If we should trust one of you, we should be in fear of the others.”

  Sir Henry laughed. “That is more or less true. It is not my fault, but it is true. Civilization will split up a character, and he who refuses to split goes under.”

  “We have forgotten about civilization, thanks to our Mother,” Antoine muttered fiercely.

  “What a pity to hang you.”

  “But is it so necessary to hang us, sir? Could we not escape or be pardoned?”

  “No, you must be hanged. I am sorry, but it must be so. Such is my duty.”

  “But duty to your friends, sir—to the men who bore arms with you, who mixed their blood with yours—”

  “Listen, Other Burgundian; there are two kinds of duty, and you would know that if you remembered your France. You mentioned one species, and it is the weaker kind. The other, the giant duty—that which will not be overlooked—might be called the duty of appearances. I do not hang you because you are pirates, but because I am expected to hang pirates. I am sorry for you. I would like to send you to your cells with saws in your pockets, but I cannot. As long as I do what is expected of me, I shall remain the Judge. When I change, for whatever motive, I may myself be hanged.”

  “That is so, Sir. I remember.” He turned to his friend who stood shaking in the grip of horror. “You see, such is the case, Emil. He does not like to tell us this thing because it hurts him. Perhaps he punishes himself in this manner for something he had done or failed to do. Perhaps he remembers Chagres, Emil.”

  “Chagres!” Sir Henry bent forward with excitement. “What happened after I sailed away? Tell me!”

  “You were cursed, sir, as it is given to few men to be cursed. You were tortured in men’s minds. They feasted on your heart and sent your soul to hell. I enjoyed the scene rarely, because I knew that every man there envied you while he reviled you. I was proud of you, sir.”

  “And they scattered?”

  “They scattered and died, poor little children.”

  “Anyway, I should have hated to fall in with those poor little children! Tell me,” Sir Henry’s voice had become wistful, “tell me about Panama. We did go there, didn’t we? We really captured Panama, didn’t we, and looted it? It was I who led you, wasn’t it?”

  “It was so. It was a grand fight and an ocean of plunder— but, after all, you know more about that last than we do.”

  “Sometimes I doubt whether this body ever went to Panama. I am sure this brain did not. I would like to stay and talk to you of that old time, but my wife expects me. She is apt to fuss if I am late for luncheon.” He spoke jocosely. “When would you like to be hanged?”

  The Burgundians were whispering together.

  “Ah, there is that ‘hanged’ again. When would we like to be hanged? Any time, sir. We do not wish to put you to the trouble, but if you insist—any time there is a man and a rope idle.” Antoine approached the table. “Emil wishes to offer one last compliment. It is a gift for your wife—a gift the history of which alone would make it valuable. Emil has treasured this gift to the end, and of this talisman he has reaped a harvest— for talismanic it is, in truth, sir. But Emil thinks its period of duty should end, sir. He believes that by taking this means he can stop the series of events which has flowed out from his treasure. And Emil, unfortunately, will have no farther use for it. Emil kisses the hand of Lady Morgan—presents his respects and dignified compliments.” He dropped a rose pearl on the table and turned quickly away.

  After they had been led out, Sir Henry sat at his bench and stared at the pearl. Then he put it in his pocket and walked into the street.

  He came to the squat, white Palace of the Lieutenant-Governor. It was exactly as Sir Edward had left it. Lady Morgan would not have felt right if a detail had been changed. She met Henry at the door.

  “We are to have dinner with the Vaughns. And what am I to do about the coachman? He’s drunk. I’ve told you and told you to lock your closet, but you will not pay attention to me. He sneaked into the house and got a bottle off your shelf. He must have done that.”

  “Open your hand, my dear. I have a gift for you.”

  He dropped the rose pearl into her palm.

  For a moment she looked at the rosy sphere and her face flushed with pleasure, but then she searched his face suspiciously.

  “What have you been up to?”

  “Up to? Why, I have been holding court.”

  “I suppose you got this in court!” Her face lighted up. “I know! You suspected my displeasure at your actions last night. You were practically intoxicated, if you must know the truth; and all the people were staring at you and whispering. Don’t say a word. I saw them and I saw you. And now you want to bribe my feeling—my decency.”

  “Suspected your displeasure! My dear, I suspected it all the way home with you, and nearly all night after I got here. You are right. I strongly suspected your displeasure. In fact, I was certain of it. But I will tell you the truth about the pearl.”

  “You will tell the truth only because you know you cannot deceive me, Henry. When will you give up the idea that I don’t know every little thought you possess?”

  “But I didn’t try to deceive you. You didn’t give me time.”

  “It takes no more time to tell the truth than—”

  “Listen to me, Elizabeth, please. I tried two pirates this morning and they gave it to me.”

  She smiled a superior smile. “They gave it to you? Why? Did you release them? It would be like you to release them. Sometimes I think you would still be one of them if it weren’t for me. You never seem to realize, Henry, that it is really I who have made you what you are—a knight and a gentleman. You made yourself a buccaneer. But tell me, did you release these pirates?”

  “No; I sentenced them to death.”

  “Ah! Then why did they give you the pearl?”

  “My dear, they gave it to me because they had nothing else to do with it. They might have presented it to the hangman, but one would feel a trifle diffident about giving pearls to the man who put a rope about one’s neck. Friendship isn’t possible with one’s hangman, I should imagine. Thus, they gave it to me, and I—” he smiled broadly and innocently, “I am giving it to you because I love you.”

  “Well, I can easily find out about the pirates, and a
s to your affection—you love me as long as I have my eye on you, and no longer. I know you thoroughly. But I am glad they are hanged. Lord Vaughn says they are a positive danger even to ourselves. He says they may stop fighting Spain at any moment and start on us. He says they are like vicious dogs, to be exterminated as soon as possible. I feel a little safer every time one of them is out of the way.”

  “But, my dear, Lord Vaughn knows nothing about buccaneers, while I—”

  “Henry, why do you keep me here with your talking, when you know I have a thousand things to attend to. You think, because you have all the time in the world, that I can afford to help you idle. Now do see to the coachman, because I should be terribly embarrassed if he were not fit. His livery will not suit Jacob by any pinching. Did I tell you he is drunk? Get him sober for to-night if you must drown him to do it. Now hurry along. I won’t feel right until I know he can sit up straight.” She turned to reënter the house, then came back and kissed him on the cheek.

  “It’s really a nice pearl. Thank you, dear,” she said. “Of course, I am going to have Monsieur Banzet value it. After what Lord Vaughn said, I have very little faith in pirates. They might have been trying to bribe you with paste, and you would never know the difference.”

  Sir Henry walked toward the stables. Now, as on other occasions, he was gently moved by uneasiness. Now and then there came a vagrant feeling that, in spite of all Elizabeth’s declamation to the effect that she knew him thoroughly, perhaps she really did. It was disquieting.

  IV

  Sir Henry Morgan lay in an enormous bed; a bed so wide that his body, under the coverlid, seemed a snow-covered mountain range dividing two great plains. From the walls about the room the shiny eyes of his ancestors regarded him. On their faces were smirks which said, “Ah, yes! A knight, to be sure—but we know how you bought your knighthood.” The air in the room was heavy and thick and hot. So always the air seems in a room where a man is about to die.

  Sir Henry was staring at the ceiling. For an hour he had been puzzled with this mysterious ceiling. Nothing supported it in the middle. Why did it not fall? It was late. Every one about him was silent; they went sneaking about pretending to be ghosts, he thought. They were trying to convince him that he was dead already. He closed his eyes. He was too tired or too indifferent to keep them open. He heard the doctor come in, and felt him reading the pulse. Then the big, confident voice boomed: