Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)

by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

  “She’s in a terrible bad way,” the captain insisted. “You’ll have to do something before she can go.”

  “What shall we have to do?”

  “Dry dock her and give her a thorough overhaul. She might sink before she got out o’ the Channel if she went as she is just now.”

  “Very well,” the merchant said coldly. “If you insist on it, it must be done. But, of course, it would make a great difference in your salary.”

  “Eh?”

  “You are at present getting fifteen pounds a month, and five per cent. commission. These are exceptional terms in consideration of any risk that you may run. We shall dry dock the Black Eagle, and your salary is now ten pounds a month and two and a half commission.”

  “Belay, there, belay!” the sailor shouted. His coppery face was a shade darker than usual, and his bilious eyes had a venomous gleam in them. “Don’t you beat me down, curse you!” he hissed, advancing to the table and leaning his hands upon it while he pushed his angry face forward until it was within a foot of that of the merchant. “Don’t you try that game on, mate, for I am a free-born British seaman, and I am under the thumb of no man.”

  “You’re drunk,” said the senior partner. “Sit down!”

  “You’d reduce my screw, would ye?” roared Captain Hamilton Miggs, working himself into a fury. “Me that has worked for ye, and slaved for ye, and risked my life for ye. You try it on, guv’nor; just you try it on! Suppose I let out that little story o’ the painting out o’ the marks — where would the firm of Girdlestone be then! I guess you’d rather double my wage than have that yarn goin’ about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? You don’t know what I mean, do you? Of course not.

  It wasn’t you as set us on to go at night and paint out the Government

  Plimsoll marks and then paint ‘em in again higher up, so as to be able

  to overload. That wasn’t you, was it?”

  “Do you mean to assert that it was?”

  “In course I do,” thundered the angry seaman.

  The senior partner struck the gong which stood upon the table.

  “Gilray,” he said quietly, “go out and bring in a policeman.”

  Captain Hamilton Miggs seemed to be somewhat startled by this sudden move of his antagonist. “Steady your helm, governor,” he said. “What are ye up to now?”

  “I’m going to give you in charge.”

  “What for?”

  “For intimidation and using threatening language, and endeavouring to extort money under false pretences.”

  “There’s no witnesses,” the sailor said in a half-cringing, half-defiant manner.

  “Oh yes, there are,” Ezra Girdlestone remarked, coming into the room. He had been standing between the two doors which led to the counting-house, and had overheard the latter portion of the conversation. “Don’t let me interrupt you. You were saying that you would blacken my father’s character unless he increased your salary.”

  “I didn’t mean no harm,” said Captain Hamilton Miggs, glancing nervously from the one to the other. He had been fairly well known to the law in his younger days, and had no desire to renew the acquaintance.

  “Who painted out those Plimsoll marks?” asked the merchant.

  “It was me.”

  “Did any one suggest it to you?”

  “No.”

  “Shall I send in the policeman, sir?” asked Gilray, opening the door.

  “Ask him to wait for a moment,” Girdlestone answered.

  “And now, captain, to return to the original point, shall we dry dock the Black Eagle and reduce the salary, or do you see your way to going back in her on the same terms?”

  “I’ll go back and be damned to it!” said the captain recklessly, plunging his hands into the pockets of his pea jacket and plumping back into his chair.

  “That’s right,” his grim employer remarked approvingly.

  “But swearing is a most sinful practice. Send the policeman away,

  Ezra.”

  The young man went out with an amused smile, and the two were left together again.

  “You’ll not be able to pass the Government inspector unless you do something to her,” the seaman said after a long pause, during which he brooded over his wrongs.

  “Of course we shall do something. The firm is not mean, though it avoids unnecessary expense. We’ll put a coat of paint on her, and some pitch, and do up the rigging. She’s a stout old craft, and with one of the smartest sailors afloat in command of her — for we always give you credit for being that — she’ll run many a voyage yet.”

  “I’m paid for the risk, guv’nor, as you said just now,” the sailor remarked. “But don’t it seem kind o’ hard on them as isn’t — on the mates an’ the hands?”

  “There is always a risk, my dear captain. There is nothing in the world without risk. You remember what is said about those who go down to the sea in ships. They see the wonders of the deep, and in return they incur some little danger. My house in Eccleston Square might be shaken down by an earthquake, or a gale might blow in the walls, but I’m not always brooding over the chance of it. There’s no use your taking it for granted that some misfortune will happen to the Black Eagle.”

  The sailor was silenced, but not convinced by his employer’s logic. “Well, well,” he said sulkily, “I am going, so there’s an end of it, and there’s no good in having any more palaver about it. You have your object in running rotten ships, and you make it worth my while to take my chances in them. I’m suited, and you’re suited, so there’s no more to be said.”

  “That’s right. Have some more rum?”

  “No, not a spot.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I likes to keep my head pretty clear when I’m a-talkin’ to you, Muster Girdlestone. Out o’ your office I’ll drink to further orders, but I won’t do business and muddle myself at the same time. When d’ye want me to start?”

  “When she’s unloaded and loaded up again. Three weeks or a month yet. I expect that Spender will have come in with the Maid of Athens by that time.”

  “Unless some accident happens on the way,” said Captain Hamilton Miggs, with his old leer. “He was at Sierra Leone when we came up the coast. I couldn’t put in there, for the swabs have got a warrant out ag’in me for putting a charge o’ shot into a nigger.”

  “That was a wicked action — very wrong, indeed,” the merchant said gravely. “You must consider the interests of the firm, Miggs. We can’t afford to have a good port blocked against our ships in this fashion. Did they serve this writ on you?”

  “Another nigger brought it aboard.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “No; I threw it overboard.”

  “And what became of the negro?”

  “Well,” said Miggs with a grin, “when I threw the writ overboard he happened to be a-holdin’ on to it. So, ye see, he went over, too. Then I up anchor and scooted.”

  “There are sharks about there?”

  “A few.”

  “Really, Miggs,” the merchant said, “you must restrain your sinful passions. You have broken the fifth commandment, and closed the trade of Freetown to the Black Eagle.”

  “It never was worth a rap,” the sailor answered. “I wouldn’t give a cuss for any of the British settlements. Give me real niggers, chaps as knows nothing of law or civilizing, or any rot of the sort. I can pull along with them.

  “I have often wondered how you managed it,” Girdlestone said curiously. “You succeed in picking up a cargo where the steadiest and best men can’t get as much as a bag of nuts. How do you work it?”

  “There’s many would like to know that,” Miggs answered, with an expressive wink.

  “It is a secret, then?”

  “Well, it ain’t a secret to you, ‘cause you ain’t a skipper, and it don’t matter if you knows it or not. I don’t want to have ‘em all at the same game.”

  “Ho
w is it, then?”

  “I’ll tell ye,” said Miggs. He seemed to have recovered his serenity by this time, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke of his own exploits. “I gets drunk with them. That’s how I does it.”

  “Oh, indeed.”

  “Yes, that’s how it’s worked. Lord love ye, when these fust-class certificated, second-cousin-to-an-earl merchant skippers comes out they move about among the chiefs and talks down to them as if they was tin Methuselahs on wheels. The Almighty’s great coat wouldn’t make a waistcoat for some o’ these blokes. Now when I gets among ‘em I has ‘em all into the cabin, though they’re black an’ naked, an’ the smell ain’t over an’ above pleasant. Then I out with the rum and it’s ‘help yourself an’ pass the bottle.’ Pretty soon, d’ye see, their tongues get loosened, and as I lie low an’ keep dark I gets a pretty good idea o’ what’s in the market. Then when I knows what’s to be got, it’s queer if I don’t manage to get it. Besides, they like a little notice, just as Christians does, and they remembers me because I treat them well.”

  “An excellent plan, Miggs — a capital plan!” said the senior partner.

  “You are an invaluable servant.”

  “Well,” the captain said, rising from his chair, “I’m getting a great deal too dry with all this palaver. I don’t mind gettin’ drunk with nigger chiefs, but I’m darned if I’ll—” He paused, but the grim smile on his companion’s face showed that he appreciated the compliment.

  “I say,” he continued, giving his employer a confidential nudge with his elbow, “suppose we’d gone down in the bay this last time, you’d ha’ been a bit out in your reckoning — eh, what?”

  “Why so?”

  “Well, we were over-insured on our outward passage. An accident then might ha’ put thousands in your pocket, I know. Coming back, though, the cargo was worth more than the insurance, I reckon. You’d ha’ been out o’ pocket if we’d foundered. It would ha’ been a case o’ the engineer hoisted on his own Peter, as Shakspere says.”

  “We take our chance of these things,” the merchant said with dignity.

  “Well, good morning, guv’nor,” Captain Hamilton Miggs said brusquely. “When you wants me you can lay your hands on me at the old crib, the Cock and Cowslip, Rotherhithe.”

  As he passed out through the office, Ezra rejoined his father.

  “He’s a curious chap,” he remarked, jerking his head in the direction which Miggs had taken. “I heard him bellowing like a bull, so I thought I had best listen to what he had to say. He’s a useful servant, though.”

  “The fellow’s half a savage himself,” his father said. “He’s in his element among them. That’s why he gets on so well with them.”

  “He doesn’t seem much the worse for the climate, either.”

  “His body does not, but his soul, Ezra, his soul? However, to return to business. I wish you to see the underwriters and pay the premium of the Black Eagle. If you see your way to it, increase the policy; but do it carefully, Ezra, and with tact. She will start about the time of the equinoctial gales. If anything should happen to her, it would be as well that the firm should have a margin on the right side.”

  CHAPTER V.

  MODERN ATHENIANS.

  Edinburgh University may call herself with grim jocoseness the “alma mater” of her students, but if she be a mother at all she is one of a very heroic and Spartan cast, who conceals her maternal affection with remarkable success. The only signs of interest which she ever designs to evince towards her alumni are upon those not infrequent occasions when guineas are to be demanded from them. Then one is surprised to find how carefully the old hen has counted her chickens, and how promptly the demand is conveyed to each one of the thousands throughout the empire who, in spite of neglect, cherish a sneaking kindness for their old college. There is symbolism in the very look of her, square and massive, grim and grey, with never a pillar or carving to break the dead monotony of the great stone walls. She is learned, she is practical, and she is useful. There is little sentiment or romance in her composition, however, and in this she does but conform to the instincts of the nation of which she is the youngest but the most flourishing teacher.

  A lad coming up to an English University finds himself In an enlarged and enlightened public school. If he has passed through Harrow and Eton there is no very abrupt transition between the life which he has led in the sixth form and that which he finds awaiting him on the banks of the Cam and the Isis. Certain rooms are found for him which have been inhabited by generations of students in the past, and will be by as many in the future. His religion is cared for, and he is expected to put in an appearance at hall and at chapel. He must be within bounds at a fixed time. If he behave indecorously he is liable to be pounced upon and reported by special officials, and a code of punishments is hung perpetually over his head. In return for all this his University takes a keen interest in him. She pats him on the back if he succeeds. Prizes and scholarships, and fine fat fellowships are thrown plentifully in his way if he will gird up his loins and aspire to them.

  There is nothing of this in a Scotch University. The young aspirant pays his pound, and finds himself a student. After that he may do absolutely what he will. There are certain classes going on at certain hours, which he may attend if he choose. If not, he may stay away without the slightest remonstrance from the college. As to religion, he may worship the sun, or have a private fetish of his own upon the mantelpiece of his lodgings for all that the University cares. He may live where he likes, he may keep what hours he chooses, and he is at liberty to break every commandment in the decalogue as long as he behaves himself with some approach to decency within the academical precincts. In every way he is absolutely his own master. Examinations are periodically held, at which he may appear or not, as he chooses. The University is a great unsympathetic machine, taking in a stream of raw-boned cartilaginous youths at one end, and turning them out at the other as learned divines, astute lawyers, and skilful medical men. Of every thousand of the raw material about six hundred emerge at the other side. The remainder are broken in the process.

  The merits and faults of this Scotch system are alike evident. Left entirely to his own devices in a far from moral city, many a lad falls at the very starting-point of his life’s race, never to rise again. Many become idlers or take to drink, while others, after wasting time and money which they could ill afford, leave the college with nothing learned save vice. On the other hand, those whose manliness and good sense keep them straight have gone through a training which lasts them for life. They have been tried, and have not been found wanting. They have learned self-reliance, confidence, and, in a word, have become men of the world while their confreres in England are still magnified schoolboys.

  High up in a third flat in Howe Street one, Thomas Dimsdale, was going through his period of probation in a little bedroom and a large sitting-room, which latter, “more studentium,” served the purpose of dining-room, parlour, and study. A dingy sideboard, with four still more dingy chairs and an archaeological sofa, made up the whole of the furniture, with the exception of a circular mahogany centre-table, littered with note-books and papers. Above the mantelpiece was a fly-blown mirror with innumerable cards and notices projecting in a fringe all around, and a pair of pipe racks flanking it on either side. Along the centre of the side-board, arranged with suspicious neatness, as though seldom disturbed, stood a line of solemn books, Holden’s Osteology, Quain’s Anatomy, Kirkes’ Physiology, and Huxley’s Invertebrata, together with a disarticulated human skull. On one side of the fireplace two thigh bones were stacked; on the other a pair of foils, two basket-hilted single-sticks, and a set of boxing-gloves. On a shelf in a convenient niche was a small stock of general literature, which appeared to have been considerably more thumbed than the works upon medicine. Thackeray’s Esmond and Meredith’s Richard Feveret rubbed covers with Irving’s Conquest of Granada and a tattered line of paper-covered novels. Over the sideboard was a framed photograph of t
he Edinburgh University Football Fifteen, and opposite it a smaller one of Dimsdale himself, clad in the scantiest of garb, as he appeared after winning the half-mile at the Inter-University Handicap. A large silver goblet, the trophy of that occasion, stood underneath upon a bracket. Such was the student’s chamber upon the morning in question, save that in a roomy arm-chair in the corner the young gentleman himself was languidly reclining, with a short wooden pipe in his mouth, and his feet perched up upon the side of the table.

  Grey-eyed, yellow-haired, broad in the chest and narrow in the loins, with the strength of a bullock and the graceful activity of a stag, it would be hard to find a finer specimen of young British manhood. The long, fine curves of the limbs, and the easy pose of the round, strong head upon the thick, muscular neck, might have served as a model to an Athenian sculptor. There was nothing in the face, however, to recall the regular beauty of the East. It was Anglo-Saxon to the last feature, with its honest breadth between the eyes and its nascent moustache, a shade lighter in colour than the sun-burned skin. Shy, and yet strong; plain, and yet pleasing; it was the face of a type of man who has little to say for himself in this world, and says that little badly, but who has done more than all the talkers and the writers to ring this planet round with a crimson girdle of British possessions.

  “Wonder whether Jack Garraway is ready!” he murmured, throwing down the Scotsman, and staring up at the roof. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

  He rose with a yawn, picked up the poker, stood upon the chair, and banged three times upon the ceiling. Three muffled taps responded from the room above. Dimsdale stepped down and began slowly to discard his coat and his waistcoat. As he did so there was a quick, active step upon the stair, and a lean, wiry-looking, middle-sized young fellow stepped into the room. With a nod of greeting he pushed the table over to one side, threw off his two upper garments, and pulled on a pair of the boxing-gloves from the corner. Dimsdale had already done the same, and was standing, a model of manly grace and strength, in the centre of the room.