Chapter 10
Philadelphia did not awe Robbie Shatto. It repelled him. The air lay heavy with smoke that was somehow unlike the clean wood fires of lodge or cabin. It smelled gassy and foul. He supposed it was both wood and coal smoke from countless chimneys of houses and businesses packed too closely together. He saw men scurrying like ants to and from tasks of little moment and everyone seemed pressed for time.
Rob found himself unstirred by the bustle of the place and he suspected the clatter of iron rims on cobbled streets could dull a man's hearing.
Frontiersmen wearing skins and carrying weapons were still common enough in Philadelphia to excite little notice. He encountered no one else outwardly armed and supposed he could have left the Shuler hidden beyond the town. He felt slightly naked without the weight of the pistol tugging at his belt, and he had stopped carrying a tomahawk. Pennsylvania was a commonwealth of relative peace. He intended to learn to be comfortable without a weapon to hand, but with the Ruby memories still fresh, he guessed he would wait awhile.
The name James Cummens was immediately recognized in Philadelphia. The Cummens place of business lay close to the docks and proved to be the largest and most permanent building in view. The structure rose three stories and the walls were of brick that looked fortress thick.
An elderly clerk that peered across thick spectacles asked his business.
"I would like a few words with James Cummens. My name is Rob Shatto, from Perry County."
The clerk's acerbic reply inquired if Mr. Shatto wished to see Mr. Cummens, Senior, or Mr. Cummens, Junior? Rob figured Blue Moccasin had to be senior. It then seemed that Mr. Cummens, Senior was tied up with important matters and might remain so for some time.
The ancient clerk did not see fit to ask the nature of Mr. Shatto's business or invite his patience in waiting.
Rob leaned on his rifle and thought about it a moment. The clerk's eyes had jerked a mite toward a closed door. Could be that the senior Cummens was behind it? Grinning to himself, Rob gave the owl hoot the old men of Sherman's Valley had always used.
The clerk's head popped from his ledgers, and he clucked the beginning of an astonished reprimand. Rob leaned on his gun feeling a little foolish about it all.
The closed door was flung wide, and a figure silhouetted itself in the doorway. Above the clerk's stuttered disclaimers Rob heard the figure say, "A fat man's father!"
Genuinely pleased, Rob raised a hand palm out and spoke in old Rob's perfect Delaware. "The grandson of the mighty Quehana greets Blue Moccasin, warrior of the Turtle Clan and message carrier of the Six Nations."
James Cummens, Senior brushed the old clerk aside and almost bounded to Rob.
"Robbie Shatto, Robbie Shatto!" He repeated to himself. "For a moment I thought my old companion had risen and come for me. Robbie Shatto!" he found himself again repeating.
Blue Moccasin's liquid Delaware flew sweet as honey between them. "The great-grandson of Quehana is welcome in the lodge of Blue Moccasin." Then in English, "By all the ghosts, it is good to see you, Robbie. Come in, come in!"
They crowded through the door, making the unnoticed and astounded clerk scramble aside, and stood in James Cummens' spacious offices studying one another.
Rob had known Blue Moccasin as an elderly man. James Cummens had visited the old Shatto place on the Little Buffalo numerous times during Robbie's boyhood. With a dozen added years, Blue Moccasin appeared no older. His handshake was strong, his stride was quick, and his eyes held the same sparkling interest Rob remembered.
Being studied in return, Rob sensed Blue Moccasin's approval. Since his return, he had often been told of his resemblance to old Rob. He liked the comparison and believed himself highly complimented.
If James Cummens, Senior had other business, Rob saw little of it. The Cummens son, James, Junior was introduced. A man in his middle fifties, he appeared concerned with business affairs and little surprised by his father's unusual visitor. James, Junior lingered only a moment. He obviously understood only scraps of the Delaware tongue his father and Rob slipped so easily in and out of. They hardly noticed his departure.
Blue had lost most of his contact with the Shattos following old Rob's death. He noted that only Robbie had learned the old ways. The rest seemed a tamer breed. He had heard of the Shatto departure for the Carolinas and pursed his lips thoughtfully over Rob's description of the fires and accidents that had so harried them,
Rob spoke also of the Rubys and the rumors that they had been the cause of Shatto misfortune. He described the Ruby downfall and flight to distant kin without involving himself, but Blue's eyes glinted and his head bobbed knowingly.
They came at last to the business of Rob's visit. James Cummens marveled at the story of Rob's gold and whistled in amazement over the large sample Rob had brought into the city.
"I've the rest buried a few miles out, Blue. Left Jack's pack animal with a farmer until I made certain you could help me."
James Cummens handed Rob back his gold. "Robbie, it would appear that you are a well-to-do young man. Your gold, changed into money will more than see you through your lifetime. If you bury your hoard and remove only what you need to live on, your children will inherit a worthwhile sum.
"Of course, my advice would be different. Careful investment will allow you to spend freely, yet never reduce your original sum." Blue Moccasin smiled, his eyes crinkling with multiple laugh lines, "That is the businessman's way, Robbie. Quehana was content with life in the endless hills and perhaps you will find contentment enough there."
He paused, tugging reflectively at his ear. "However, times will change. Mighty forces never before experienced by mankind are at work in our world. A wise man will know of them and perhaps use them to his advantage. We will talk more of this later.
"Now, let us leave this place of clinking coins and rustling papers. You have yet to visit the lodge of Blue Moccasin, last warrior of the Delaware, Turtle Clan."
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Chapter 11
The home of James Cummens lay distant from the waterfront bustle. Broad acres, cropped short by sheep bands, sloped to the wide Delaware River, while the home itself squatted in brick solidity atop a wooded knoll.
Basically Georgian, the house had been constructed by Paul Cummens and left at last to his first son, James, known to some as Blue Moccasin.
Despite its elegance, and his unfamiliarity with great affluence, Robbie Shatto felt at ease in the home. He ascribed his comfort to Blue Moccasin's own easy ways. Despite his recognized business acumen and obvious wealth, James Cummens avoided the airs, posturing and arrogance often practiced by the rich. He spoke to his people as equals and swept through the luxuries of the home with no more attention than a wilderness camp would have merited.
They paused in Blue Moccasin's study, gazing through the open French doors at the broad sweep of fields and river. Blue had been speaking of the land and the incredible growth even now spreading across it.
He had said, "The rivers have led the development of this country, Rob, and they will always be important, but you avew seen the canals? Fortunes are being made from them. Your first investments should be there.
"If you desire us to handle your finances, you will find my son James highly skilled in gaining a good return with the smallest possible risk."
Blue Moccasin chuckled almost ruefully, "I could wish for a warrior-son to know and cherish the Delaware ways, yet I recognize those wishes as outdated and impractical. My son's Indian blood runs thin, but his business sense exceeds my own or even my father's, whose appreciation of money began it all.
"But I wander. To return to the conversion of your gold. First, we will invest in canal maintenance. We will not speculate on canals themselves making profits. My own belief is that such profits will be small indeed. Our gains will come from construction and repair of canals.
We will establish a number of construction companies who will bid on canal sections. They will bid low and obtain c
ontracts. Costs will run beyond the bid, and extra payment will be asked for. And Rob, additional payment will always be received.
'There is a huge irony here. The commonwealth is financing canal construction. The legislature will invariably authorize any expenditure to complete and maintain the canals. They cannot wait. Construction is well along, but until all is completed, little can return the commonwealth's investments. We will construct locks, build tow paths, and dig canal. We will labor without risk while gaining equitable returns."
Rob found himself dazzled by the ease with which Blue Moccasin chose a method to make money without effort or danger. Holding the money reins, James Cummens, Junior would send out crews to learn canal building on the job and extract a good return as owner of the crews. Rob gathered that was business as usual.
Blue Moccasin continued, "Canals will begin your investment, Rob, but we will risk a little in shipping while watching further development of what I consider to be the most remarkable machines man has ever seen. There you will make great profits, Robbie. If I survive the next few years, I will divert the Cummens holdings almost entirely in that direction."
Blue paused for effect. "I speak of railroads, Rob. Great steam-sucking iron monsters that can move on rails at twice the speed of a horse with more than a dozen times the load of a fleet of canal boats."
Excitement entered his voice, and he turned from the windows to pace the parquetted study floor. "Imagine, Rob, railroads that can move unlimited loads wherever man chooses to lay a track. Unlike canal boats, they can reach the earth's furthest corners. Railroads need not stop because of winter freezes. If a load becomes too great, or a hill too steep, one need only hook on more engines to pull at one end or push on the other.
"Our futures will be controlled by railroads, Rob. They will lead our people west, perhaps to the Pacific itself. Truly, I could expect that in your lifetime our young nation will be crossed by iron rails carrying our goods and our people at speeds and with ease never before known."
Rob was impressed by Cummens' vivid words and intrigued by the improbability of vast iron roads winding even through the Shining Mountains. Having never seen a railroad, Rob could not picture exactly what it would look like, but Blue Moccasin told of one moving coal to the Delaware and another abuilding near Reading.
Rob doubted his own preference for such machines roaring and snorting across the country. Offhand, he didn't see a need. He supposed railroads went along with having too many people in one place. First thing you knew a city couldn't haul in food fast enough by wagon or boat. It brought him back to wondering why people preferred swarming like bees or piling like ants in one big heap anyway. He resolved to ask Blue his feelings on it.
Later they sat at ease and Rob listened to Blue Moccasin talk on many subjects. Blue's wide knowledge ranged from the days of Indian power in the colonies and seemed to include about everything that had happened since. Almost ninety years of seeing and understanding allowed James Cummens broad insights. Rob found himself humbled and awed by such knowledge, and he said so.
Blue's lips pursed in thought and he hesitated, as though fearful of speaking too strongly. He rose and stood before a book-lined wall of the study.
"Rob, it is often said that a man who devoted his life to study, might learn all of importance that is known in this world. Yet, obviously, no one could personally experience enough to become knowledgeable in more than a few areas. So, we listen to others and try to gain from their experiences, and that is the limit of effort extended by most people to know and understand the world around them."
Again Blue hesitated, searching for the right words. "Rob, this country is filled with good men like yourself. You are a special breed. You are strong and independent to the extreme. You assume great risks and plan and act in sizes that are new to mankind. There are few like you in Europe. Tradition there is too entrenched and opportunity too small. People rub too close to one another. Everything is already in use, and there is no frontier to escape to.
"Yet, the American too often lacks the broad knowledge that can enrich life and open a thousand unrecognized doors of opportunity.
"The problem is, Rob, that people do not read! Oh, I do not mean that most can't work their way through a sale bill. Rather, that they fail to steep themselves in the accumulated knowledge of a hundred generations of mankind."
Blue Moccasin brushed an open palm across the leather bound volumes ranked behind him. "There, Rob, in books like these, lies waiting more knowledge, more understanding and more pleasure than a man could accumulate in a dozen lifetimes of travel and experience.
'There, waiting for the taking, is almost everything anyone has ever known, yet most pass it by saying, 'I'm too busy' or 'Who cares about all that!'
"How foolish they are. How wasteful their attitudes. Still, I understand how the common condition arises. Even today our people have no educational tradition. Fathers do not say, 'Read and study my son.'
"Until it is accepted that all must attend school and that all must read throughout their lives, our new nation will struggle amid undesirable, indeed harmful ignorance and our people will miss the fullness of life made possible through printed pages."
"Blue, I can't read much to speak of, so I can't for sure appreciate just what I'm missing. I suspect that's the trouble with most folks. There is no way to tell how you will like a thing till you've tasted it some.
"I reckon you're right though. It stands to reason that a lot of important things got written down and it would surely do a man good to know about them."
"So, Rob, you see the target of my little lecture?" Laugh lines crinkled along Blue Moccasin's eyes.
"I reckon, Blue, that you figure the time is overdue for Robbie Shatto to start reading books, real serious and about as fast as he can."
Blue's chuckle broke through. "You put it clearly, Robbie. While most must struggle the days away merely to exist, you will have the time and opportunity to improve yourself. I would enjoy seeing my old friend's namesake seize that opportunity."
Rob shifted a bit uneasily. "Well, Blue, I'm game to try, but I don't see no starting point. I'm not interested in working over primers that tell about little boys tending sheep or bringing in wood for their Ma."
Again Blue's laughter rose. "No Rob, I think we can do better. It would please me to furnish you with proper volumes dealing with appropriate subjects. We might begin with this volume."
Blue chose a thick book with a lengthy title lettered in black. "These are the journals of Lewis and Clark written during their 1806 journey to the Pacific. As you have seen more of that country than even the writer did, you might find their observations interesting and the reading will be excellent practice.
"Take it to Perry County. In a few weeks I will post another book to you and you may return this one. I assure you, my young friend, new and wonderful worlds will open for you."
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The horse caught Rob's attention as the rider galloped it across a distant meadow, leaping hedgerows and fences with effortless grace.
Blue moved to follow Rob's gaze and sighed in appreciation, "A memorable sight, Rob. There is little in this world that can surpass the beauty of a fine horse in motion with an equally fine rider up and a challenging course to run."
The rider brought the handsome bay past their window and into a stable area out of their view. On closer look Rob found the horse typical of fine hunters bred for open fields and wooded glades east of the mountains. The horse lacked the weight of bone needed to make a mountain horse and his interest waned.
Studying the horse he had been only dimly aware of the rider. Familiar impressions swept over him, but he could not quite place them. The rider had been slight, perhaps only a boy—probably a hired groom. Then he isolated the picture. The rider was a woman. Riding astride like an Indian squaw was rare in this country and indeed there had been something Indian-like about the rider. Again he could not place it.
Blue had turned away and Rob aske
d, "Was that rider an Indian, Blue? I've seen few since I returned."
Blue Moccasin's eyes glinted sharply at Rob and then appeared to mist as though touched by unshed tears. He sighed deeply, appearing suddenly old and weary. He waved Rob to a chair and seated himself in a pillowed lounge. He chose to speak in Delaware.
"Ami-ta-chena was riding the horse, Rob. In English, her name translates roughly into 'a leaf touching still water.' Of course, we call her 'Amy.'"
James Cummens noisily cleared emotion from his voice. "I asked to name my granddaughter and I fear her parents have never forgiven me. I gave Amy my grandmother's name, although she was commonly known as 'Chena' or in the Delaware, 'Still Water.' I have always thought the name beautiful in Delaware or English, but my son and daughter-in-law would have preferred Suzie, or Helen, or perhaps something French.
"Amy has been the light of my recent life, Rob. Something, perhaps the Indian name, turned her toward the things I hold dear. We are fast friends and see most things eye to eye.
"As you saw, Amy rides as though born to the saddle and horses have been much in her life.
"The winter past, a fractious mare kicked my Amy squarely in the face." For a moment Rob feared Blue would be unable to continue, but he controlled his sorrow and began again. "Amy's face was ruined, Rob. The iron shoe smashed her nose completely flat. Surprisingly, there was no other permanent damage, but her features are no longer lovely to the eye."
Anticipating Rob's words, Blue Moccasin added, "She stood it well, Rob. She stands squarely and does not try to hide her injury, but there is pain in her eyes and she is much alone. The young men have fallen away, except for a few that I fear find the Cummens money more interesting than they find Amy."
Rob spoke, "But Blue, couldn't they straighten her nose out? I mean, it's all still there isn't it?"
"The swelling was terrible, Rob. Her entire face grew hugely. For days, the swelling persisted and the pain must have been unbearable. It was some weeks before Amy's poor face approached normal, and by then bones had knit and our doctors could do nothing,"
Shatto (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series) Page 8
