Complete Works

like a brush; long face, long legs, long arms, twinkle in his specs, jocular way of speaking — in a low voice. . . See that?”
    I nodded, but he was not looking at me.
    “Never laughed so much in my life.  The beggar — would make you laugh telling you how he skinned his own father.  He was up to that, too.  A man who’s been in the patent-medicine trade will be up to anything from pitch-and-toss to wilful murder.  And that’s a bit of hard truth for you.  Don’t mind what they do — think they can carry off anything and talk themselves out of anything — all the world’s a fool to them.  Business man, too, Cloete.  Came over with a few hundred pounds.  Looking for something to do — in a quiet way.  Nothing like the old country, after all, says he. . . And so we part — I with more drinks in me than I was used to.  After a time, perhaps six months or so, I run up against him again in Mr. George Dunbar’s office.  Yes, that office.  It wasn’t often that I . . . However, there was a bit of his cargo in a ship in dock that I wanted to ask Mr. George about.  In comes Cloete out of the room at the back with some papers in his hand.  Partner.  You understand?”
    “Aha!” I said.  “The few hundred pounds.”
    “And that tongue of his,” he growled.  “Don’t forget that tongue.  Some of his tales must have opened George Dunbar’s eyes a bit as to what business means.”
    “A plausible fellow,” I suggested.
    “H’m!  You must have it in your own way — of course.  Well.  Partner.  George Dunbar puts his top-hat on and tells me to wait a moment. . . George always looked as though he were making a few thousands a year — a city swell. . . Come along, old man!  And he and Captain Harry go out together — some business with a solicitor round the corner.  Captain Harry, when he was in England, used to turn up in his brother’s office regularly about twelve.  Sat in a corner like a good boy, reading the paper and smoking his pipe.  So they go out. . . Model brothers, says Cloete — two love-birds — I am looking after the tinned-fruit side of this cozy little show. . . Gives me that sort of talk.  Then by-and-by: What sort of old thing is that Sagamore? Finest ship out — eh?  I dare say all ships are fine to you.  You live by them.  I tell you what; I would just as soon put my money into an old stocking.  Sooner!”
     
    He drew a breath, and I noticed his hand, lying loosely on the table, close slowly into a fist.  In that immovable man it was startling, ominous, like the famed nod of the Commander.
    “So, already at that time — note — already,” he growled.
    “But hold on,” I interrupted.  “The Sagamore belonged to Mundy and Rogers, I’ve been told.”
    He snorted contemptuously.  “Damn boatmen — know no better.  Flew the firm’s house-flag.  That’s another thing.  Favour.  It was like this: When old man Dunbar died, Captain Harry was already in command with the firm.  George chucked the bank he was clerking in — to go on his own with what there was to share after the old chap.  George was a smart man.  Started warehousing; then two or three things at a time: wood-pulp, preserved-fruit trade, and so on.  And Captain Harry let him have his share to work with. . . I am provided for in my ship, he says. . . But by-and-by Mundy and Rogers begin to sell out to foreigners all their ships — go into steam right away.  Captain Harry gets very upset — lose command, part with the ship he was fond of — very wretched.  Just then, so it happened, the brothers came in for some money — an old woman died or something.  Quite a tidy bit.  Then young George says: There’s enough between us two to buy the Sagamore with. . . But you’ll need more money for your business, cries Captain Harry — and the other laughs at him: My business is going on all right.  Why, I can go out and make a handful of sovereigns while you are trying to get your pipe to draw, old man. . . Mundy and Rogers very friendly about it: Certainly, Captain.  And we will manage her for you, if you like, as if she were still our own. . . Why, with a connection like that it was good investment to buy that ship.  Good!  Aye, at the time.”
    The turning of his head slightly toward me at this point was like a sign of strong feeling in any other man.
    “You’ll mind that this was long before Cloete came into it at all,” he muttered, warningly.
    “Yes.  I will