Chapter 9

by Rudyard Kipling

　　Whatever his private sorrows may be, a multimillionaire, like anyother workingman, should keep abreast of his business. HarveyCheyne, senior, had gone East late in June to meet a woman brokendown, half mad, who dreamed day and night of her son drowning inthe grey seas. He had surrounded her with doctors, trained nurses,massage-women, and even faith-cure companions, but they wereuseless. Mrs. Cheyne lay still and moaned, or talked of her boy bythe hour together to any one who would listen. Hope she had none,and who could offer it? All she needed was assurance that drowningdid not hurt; and her husband watched to guard lest she shouldmake the experiment. Of his own sorrow he spoke little - hardlyrealised the depth of it till he caught himself asking thecalendar on his writing-desk, "What's the use of going on?"There had always lain a pleasant notion at the back of his headthat, some day, when he had rounded off everything and the boy hadleft college, he would take his son to his heart and lead him intohis possessions. Then that boy, he argued, as busy fathers do,would instantly become his companion, partner, and ally, and therewould follow splendid years of great works carried out together -the old head backing the young fire. Now his boy was dead - lostat sea, as it might have been a Swede sailor from one of Cheyne'sbig tea-ships; the wife was dying, or worse; he himself wastrodden down by platoons of women and doctors and maids andattendants; worried almost beyond endurance by the shift andchange of her poor restless whims; hopeless, with no heart to meethis many enemies.He had taken the wife to his raw new palace in San Diego, whereshe and her people occupied a wing of great price, and Cheyne, ina verandah-room, between a secretary and a typewriter, who wasalso a telegraphist, toiled along wearily from day to day. Therewas a war of rates among four Western railroads in which he wassupposed to be interested; a devastating strike had developed inhis lumber-camps in Oregon, and the legislature of the State ofCalifornia, which has no love for its makers, was preparing openwar against him.Ordinarily he would have accepted battle ere it was offered, andhave waged a pleasant and unscrupulous campaign. But now he satlimply, his soft black hat pushed forward on to his nose, his bigbody shrunk inside his loose clothes, staring at his boots or theChinese junks in the bay, and assenting absently to thesecretary's questions as he opened the Saturday mail.Cheyne was wondering how much it would cost to drop everything andpull out. He carried huge insurances, could buy himself royalannuities, and between one of his places in Colorado and a littlesociety (that would do the wife good), say in Washington and theSouth Carolina islands, a man might forget plans that had come tonothing. On the other hand...The click of the typewriter stopped; the girl was looking at thesecretary, who had turned white.He passed Cheyne a telegram repeated from San Francisco:Picked up by fishing schooner "We're Here" having fallen off boatgreat times on Banks fishing all well waiting Gloucester Mass careDisko Troop for money or orders wire what shall do and how is mamaHarvey N. Cheyne.The father let it fall, laid his head down on the roller-top ofthe shut desk, and breathed heavily. The secretary ran for Mrs.Cheyne's doctor, who found Cheyne pacing to and fro."What-what d'you think of it? Is it possible? Is there any meaningto it? I can't quite make it out," he cried."I can," said the doctor. "I lose seven thousand a year - that'sall." He thought of the struggling New York practice he haddropped at Cheyne's imperious bidding, and returned the telegramwith a sigh."You mean you'd tell her? 'Maybe a fraud?""What's the motive?" said the doctor, coolly. "Detection's toocertain. It's the boy sure enough."Enter a French maid, impudently, as an indispensable one who iskept on only by large wages."Mrs. Cheyne she say you must come at once. She think you areseek."The master of thirty millions bowed his head meekly and followedSuzanne; and a thin, high voice on the upper landing of the greatwhite-wood square staircase cried: "What is it? what hashappened?"No doors could keep out the shriek that rang through the echoinghouse a moment later, when her husband blurted out the news."And that's all right," said the doctor, serenely, to thetypewriter. "About the only medical statement in novels with anytruth to it is that joy don't kill, Miss Kinzey.""I know it; but we've a heap to do first." Miss Kinzey was fromMilwaukee, somewhat direct of speech; and as her fancy leanedtowards the secretary, she divined there was work in hand. He waslooking earnestly at the vast roller-map of America on the wall."Milsom, we're going right across. Private car straight through -Boston. Fix the connections," shouted Cheyne down the staircase.-"I thought so."The secretary turned to the typewriter, and their eyes met (out ofthat was born a story - nothing to do with this story). She lookedinquiringly, doubtful of his resources. He signed to her to moveto the Morse as a general brings brigades into action. Then heswept his hand. musician-wise through his hair, regarded theceiling, and set to work, while Miss Kinzey's white fingers calledup the Continent of America."K. H. Wade, Los Angeles - The 'Constance' is at Los Angeles,isn't she, Miss Kinzey?""Yep." Miss Kinzey nodded between clicks as the secretary lookedat his watch."Ready? Send 'Constance,' private car, here, and arrange forspecial to leave here Sunday in time to connect with New YorkLimited at Sixteenth Street, Chicago, Tuesday next."Click - click - click! "Couldn't you better that'?""Not on those grades. That gives 'em sixty hours from here toChicago. They won't gain anything by taking a special east ofthat. Ready? Also arrange with Lake Shore and Michigan Southern totake 'Constance' on New York Central and Hudson River Buffalo toAlbany, and B. and A. the same Albany to Boston. Indispensable Ishould reach Boston Wednesday evening. Be sure nothing prevents.Have also wired Canniff, Toucey, and Barnes. - Sign, Cheyne."Miss Kinzey nodded, and the secretary went on."Now then. Canniff, Toucey, and Barnes, of course. Ready? CanniffChicago. Please take my private car 'Constance 'from Santa Fe atSixteenth Street next Tuesday p. m. on N. Y. Limited through toBuffalo and deliver N. Y. C. for Albany. - Ever bin to N' York,Miss Kinzey? We'll go some day. Ready? Take car Buffalo to Albanyon Limited Tuesday p. m. That's for Toucey."-"Haven't bin to Noo York, but I know that!" with a toss of thehead."Beg pardon. Now, Boston and Albany, Barnes, same instructionsfrom Albany through to Boston. Leave three-five P. M. (you needn'twire that); arrive nine-five P. M. Wednesday. That coverseverything Wade will do, but it pays to shake up the managers.""It's great," said Miss Kinzey, with a look of admiration. Thiswas the kind of man she understood and appreciated."'Tisn't bad," said Milsom, modestly. "Now, any one but me wouldhave lost thirty hours and spent a week working out the run,instead of handing him over to the Santa Fe straight through toChicago.""But see here, about that Noo York Limited. Chauncey Depew himselfcouldn't hitch his car to her," Miss Kinzey suggested, recoveringherself."Yes, but this isn't Chauncey. It's Cheyne -lightning. It goes.""Even so. Guess we'd better wire the boy. You've forgotten that,anyhow.""I'll ask."When he returned with the father's message bidding Harvey meetthem in Boston at an appointed hour, he found Miss Kinzey laughingover the keys. Then Milsom laughed too, for the frantic clicksfrom Los Angeles ran: "We want to know why - why - why? Generaluneasiness developed and spreading."Ten minutes later Chicago appealed to Miss Kinzey in these words:"If crime of century is maturing please warn friends in time. Weare all getting to cover here."This was capped by a message from Topeka (and wherein Topeka wasconcerned even Milsom could not guess): "Don't shoot, Colonel.We'll come down."Cheyne smiled grimly at the consternation of his enemies when thetelegrams were laid before him. "They think we're on the war-path.Tell 'em we don't feel like fighting just now, Milsom. Tell 'emwhat we're going for. I guess you and Miss Kinzey had better comealong, though it isn't likely I shall do any business on the road.Tell 'em the truth - for once."So the truth was told. Miss Kinzey clicked in the sentiment whilethe secretary added the memorable quotation, "Let us have peace,"and in board-rooms two thousand miles away the representatives ofsixty-three million dollars' worth of variously manipulatedrailroad interests breathed more freely. Cheyne was flying to meetthe only son, so miraculously restored to him. The bear wasseeking his cub, not the bulls. Hard men who had their knivesdrawn to fight for their financial lives put away the weapons andwished him God-speed, while half a dozen panic-smitten tin-potroads perked up their heads and spoke of the wonderful things theywould have done had not Cheyne buried the hatchet.It was a busy week-end among the wires; for, now that theiranxiety was removed, men and cities hastened to accommodate. LosAngeles called to San Diego and Barstow that the SouthernCalifornia engineers might know and be ready in their lonelyround-houses; Barstow passed the word to the Atlantic and Pacific;the Albuquerque flung it the whole length of the Atchison, Topeka,and Santa Fe management, even into Chicago. An engine,combination-car with crew, and the great and gilded "Constance"private car were to be "expedited" over those two thousand threehundred and fifty miles. The train would take precedence of onehundred and seventy-seven others meeting and passing; despatchesand crews of every one of those said trains must be notified.Sixteen locomotives, sixteen engineers, and sixteen firemen wouldbe needed - each and every one the best available. Two and onehalf minutes would be allowed for changing engines, three forwatering, and two for coaling. "Warn the men, and arrange tanksand chutes accordingly; for Harvey Cheyne is in a hurry, a hurry-ahurry," sang the wires. "Forty miles an hour will be expected, anddivision superintendents will accompany this special over theirrespective divisions. From San Diego to Sixteenth Street, Chicago,let the magic carpet be laid down. Hurry! oh, hurry!""It will be hot," said Cheyne, as they rolled out of San Diego inthe dawn of Sunday. "We're going to hurry, mama, just as fast asever we can; but I really don't think there's any good of yourputting on your bonnet and gloves yet. You'd much better lie downand take your medicine. I'd play you a game o' dominoes, but it'sSunday.""I'll be good. Oh, I will be good. Only - taking off my bonnetmakes me feel as if we'd never get there.""Try to sleep a little, mama, and we'll be in Chicago before youknow.""But it's Boston, father. Tell them to hurry."The six-foot drivers were hammering their way to San Bernardinoand the Mohave wastes, but this was no grade for speed. That wouldcome later. The heat of the desert followed the heat of the hillsas they turned east to the Needles and the Colorado River. The carcracked in the utter drought and glare, and they put crushed iceto Mrs. Cheyne's neck, and toiled up the long, long grades, pastAsh Fork, towards Flagstaff, where the forests and quarries are,under the dry, remote skies. The needle of the speed-indicatorflicked and wagged to and fro; the cinders rattled on the roof,and a whirl of dust sucked after the whirling wheels, The crew ofthe combination sat on their bunks, panting in their shirt-sleeves, and Cheyne found himself among them shouting old, oldstories of the railroad that every trainman knows, above the roarof the car. He told them about his son, and how the sea had givenup its dead, and they nodded and spat and rejoiced with him; askedafter "her, back there," and whether she could stand it if theengineer "let her out a piece," and Cheyne thought she could.Accordingly, the great fire-horse was "let out" from Flagstaff toWinslow, till a division superintendent protested.But Mrs. Cheyne, in the boudoir state-room, where the French maid,sallow-white with fear, clung to the silver door-handle, onlymoaned a little and begged her husband to bid them "hurry." And sothey dropped the dry sands and moon-struck rocks of Arizona behindthem, and grilled on till the crash of the couplings and thewheeze of the brake-hose told them they were at Coolidge by theContinental Divide.Three bold and experienced men - cool, confident, and dry whenthey began; white, quivering, and wet when they finished theirtrick at those terrible wheels - swung her over the great liftfrom Albuquerque to Glorietta and beyond Springer, up and up tothe Raton Tunnel on the State line, whence they dropped rockinginto La Junta, had sight of the Arkansaw, and tore down the longslope to Dodge City, where Cheyne took comfort once again fromsetting his watch an hour ahead.There was very little talk in the car. The secretary andtypewriter sat together on the stamped Spanish-leather cushions bythe plate-glass observation-window at the rear end, watching thesurge and ripple of the ties crowded back behind them, and, it isbelieved, making notes of the scenery. Cheyne moved nervouslybetween his own extravagant gorgeousness and the naked necessityof the combination, an unlit cigar in his teeth, till the pityingcrews forgot that he was their tribal enemy, and did their best toentertain him.At night the bunched electrics lit up that distressful palace ofall the luxuries, and they fared sumptuously, swinging on throughthe emptiness of abject desolation. Now they heard the swish of awater-tank, and the guttural voice of a China-man, the clink-clinkof hammers that tested the Krupp steel wheels, and the oath of atramp chased off the rear platform; now the solid crash of coalshot into the tender; and now a beating back of noises as theyflew past a waiting train. Now they looked out into great abysses,a trestle purring beneath their tread, or up to rocks that barredout half the stars. Now scaur and ravine changed and rolled backto jagged mountains on the horizon's edge, and now broke intohills lower and lower, till at last came the true plains.At Dodge City an unknown hand threw in a copy of a Kansas papercontaining some sort of an interview with Harvey, who hadevidently fallen in with an enterprising reporter, telegraphed onfrom Boston. The joyful journalese revealed that it was beyondquestion their boy, and it soothed Mrs. Cheyne for a while. Herone word "hurry" was conveyed by the crews to the engineers atNickerson, Topeka, and Marceline, where the grades are easy, andthey brushed the Continent behind them. Towns and villages wereclose together now, and a man could feel here that he moved amongpeople."I can't see the dial, and my eyes ache so. What are we doing?""The very best we can, mama. There's no sense in getting in beforethe Limited. We'd only have to wait.""I don't care. I want to feel we're moving. Sit down and tell methe miles."Cheyne sat down and read the dial for her (there were some mileswhich stand for records to this day), but the seventy-foot carnever changed its long, steamer-like roll, moving through the heatwith the hum of a giant bee. Yet the speed was not enough for Mrs.Cheyne; and the heat, the remorseless August heat, was making hergiddy; the clock-hands would not move, and when, oh, when wouldthey be in Chicago?It is not true that, as they changed engines at Fort Madison,Cheyne passed over to the Amalgamated Brotherhood of LocomotiveEngineers an endowment sufficient to enable them to fight him andhis fellows on equal terms for evermore. He paid his obligationsto engineers and firemen as he believed they deserved, and onlyhis bank knows what he gave the crews who had sympathised withhim. It is on record that the last crew took entire charge ofswitching operations at Sixteenth Street, because "she" was in adoze at last, and Heaven was to help any one who bumped her.Now the highly paid specialist who conveys the Lake Shore andMichigan Southern Limited from Chicago to Elkhart is something ofan autocrat, and he does not approve of being told how to back upto a car. None the less he handled the "Constance" as if she mighthave been a load of dynamite, and when the crew rebuked him, theydid it in whispers and dumb show."Pshaw!" said the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe men, discussinglife later, "we weren't runnin' for a record. Harvey Cheyne'swife, she were sick back, an' we didn't want to jounce her. 'Cometo think of it, our runnin' time from San Diego to Chicago was57.54. You can tell that to them Eastern way-trains. When we'retryin' for a record, we'll let you know."To the Western man (though this would not please either city)Chicago and Boston are cheek by jowl, and some railroads encouragethe delusion. The Limited whirled the "Constance" into Buffalo andthe arms of the New York Central and Hudson River (illustriousmagnates with white whiskers and gold charms on their watch-chainsboarded her here to talk a little business to Cheyne), who slidher gracefully into Albany, where the Boston and Albany completedthe run from tide-water to tide-water - total time, eighty-sevenhours and thirty-five minutes, or three days, fifteen hours andone half. Harvey was waiting for them.After violent emotion most people and all boys demand food. Theyfeasted the returned prodigal behind drawn curtains, cut off intheir great happiness, while the trains roared in and out aroundthem. Harvey ate, drank, and enlarged on his adventures all in onebreath, and when he had a hand free his mother fondled it. Hisvoice was thickened with living in the open, salt air; his palmswere rough and hard, his wrists dotted with the marks of gurry-sores; and a fine full flavour of cod-fish hung round rubber bootsand blue jersey.The father, well used to judging men, looked at him keenly. He didnot know what enduring harm the boy might have taken. Indeed, hecaught himself thinking that he knew very little whatever of hisson; but he distinctly remembered an unsatisfied, dough-facedyouth who took delight in "calling down the old man" and reducinghis mother to tears - such a person as adds to the gaiety ofpublic rooms and hotel piazzas, where the ingenuous young of thewealthy play with or revile the bell-boys. But this well set-upfisher-youth did not wriggle, looked at him with eyes steady,clear, and unflinching, and spoke in a tone distinctly, evenstartlingly, respectful. There was that in his voice, too, whichseemed to promise that the change might be permanent, and that thenew Harvey had come to stay."Some one's been coercing him," thought Cheyne. "Now Constancewould never have allowed that. Don't see as Europe could have doneit any better.""But why didn't you tell this man, Troop, who you were?" themother repeated, when Harvey had expanded his story at leasttwice."Disko Troop, dear. The best man that ever walked a deck. I don'tcare who the next is.""Why didn't you tell him to put you ashore? You know papa wouldhave made it up to him ten times over.""I know it; but he thought I was crazy. I'm afraid I called him athief because I couldn't find the bills in my pocket.""A sailor found them by the flagstaff that - that night," sobbedMrs. Cheyne."That explains it, then. I don't blame Troop any. I just said Iwouldn't work -on a Banker, too - and of course he hit me on thenose, and oh! I bled like a stuck hog."My poor darling! They must have abused you horribly.""Dunno quite. Well, after that, I saw a light."Cheyne slapped his leg and chuckled. This was going to be a boyafter his own hungry heart. He had never seen precisely thattwinkle in Harvey's eye before."And the old man gave me ten and a half a month; he's paid me halfnow; and I took hold with Dan and pitched right in. I can't do aman's work yet. But I can handle a dory 'most as well as Dan, andI don't get rattled in a fog - much; and I can take my trick inlight winds - that's steering, dear - and I can 'most bait up atrawl, and I know my ropes, of course; and I can pitch fish tillthe cows come home, and I'm great on old Josephus, and I'll showyou how I can clear coffee with a piece of fish-skin, and - Ithink I'll have another cup, please. Say, you've no notion what aheap of work there is in ten and a half a month!""I began with eight and a half, my son," said Cheyne."'That so? You never told me, sir.""You never asked, Harve. I'll tell you about it some day. if youcare to listen. Try a stuffed olive.""Troop says the most interesting thing in the world is to find outhow the next man gets his vittles. It's great to have a trimmed-upmeal again. We were well fed, though. Best mug on the Banks. Diskofed us first-class. He's a great man. And Dan - that's his son -Dan's my partner. And there's Uncle Salters and his manures, an'he reads Josephus. He's sure I'm crazy yet. And there's poorlittle Penn, and he is crazy. You mustn't talk to him aboutJohnstown, because - And, oh, you must know Tom Platt and LongJack and Manuel. Manuel saved my life. I'm sorry he's a Portugee.He can't talk much, but he's an everlasting musician. He found mestruck adrift and drifting, and hauled me in.""I wonder your nervous system isn't completely wrecked," said Mrs.Cheyne."What for, mama? I worked like a horse and I ate like a hog and Islept like a dead man."That was too much for Mrs. Cheyne, who began to think of hervisions of a corpse rocking on the salty seas. She went to herstate-room, and Harvey curled up beside his father, explaining hisindebtedness."You can depend upon me to do everything I can for the crowd,Harve. They seem to be good men on your showing.""Best in the Fleet, sir. Ask at Gloucester," said Harvey. "ButDisko believes still he's cured me of being crazy. Dan's the onlyone I've let on to about you, and our private cars and all therest of it, and I'm not quite sure Dan believes. I want toparalyse 'em to-morrow. Say, can't they run the 'Constance' overto Gloucester? Mama don't look fit to be moved, anyway, and we'rebound to finish cleaning out by to-morrow. Wouverman takes ourfish. You see, we're first off the Banks this season, and it'sfour twenty-five a quintal. We held out till he paid it. They wantit quick.""You mean you'll have to work to-morrow, then?""I told Troop I would. I'm on the scales. I've brought the tallieswith me." He looked at the greasy notebook with an air ofimportance that made his father choke. "There isn't but three - no- two ninety-four or five quintal more by my reckoning.""Hire a substitute," suggested Cheyne, to see what Harvey wouldsay."Can't, sir. I'm tally-man for the schooner. Troop says I've abetter head for figures than Dan. Troop's a mighty just man.""Well, suppose I don't move the 'Constance' to-night, how'll youfix it?"Harvey looked at the clock, which marked twenty past eleven."Then I'll sleep here till three and catch the four o'clockfreight. They let us men from the Fleet ride free, as a rule.""That's a notion. But I think we can get the 'Constance' aroundabout as soon as your men's freight. Better go to bed now."Harvey spread himself on the sofa, kicked off his boots, and wasasleep before his father could shade the electrics. Cheyne satwatching the young face under the shadow of the arm thrown overthe forehead, and among many things that occurred to him was thenotion that he might perhaps have been neglectful as a father."One never knows when one's taking one's biggest risks," he said."It might have been worse than drowning; but I don't think it has- I don't think it has. If it hasn't, I haven't enough to payTroop, that's all; and I don't think it has."Morning brought a fresh sea breeze through the windows, the"Constance" was side-tracked among freight-cars at Gloucester, andHarvey had gone to his business."Then he'll fall overboard again and be drowned," the mother saidbitterly."We'll go and look, ready to throw him a rope in case. You'venever seen him working for his bread," said the father."What nonsense! As if any one expected -""Well, the man that hired him did. He's about right, too."They went down between the stores full of fishermen's oilskins toWouverman's wharf, where the "We're Here" rode high, her Bank flagstill flying, all hands busy as beavers in the glorious morninglight. Disko stood by the main hatch superintending Manuel, Penn,and Uncle Salters at the tackle. Dan was swinging the loadedbaskets inboard as Long Jack and Tom Platt filled them, andHarvey, with a notebook, represented the skipper's interestsbefore the clerk of the scales on the salt-sprinkled wharf-edge."Ready!" cried the voices below. "Haul!" cried Disko. "Hi!" saidManuel. "Here!" said Dan, swinging the basket. Then they heardHarvey's voice, clear and fresh, checking the weights.The last of the fish had been whipped out, and Harvey leaped fromthe string-piece six feet to a ratline, as the shortest way tohand Disko the tally, shouting, "Two ninety-seven, and an emptyhold!""What's total, Harve?" said Disko."Eight sixty-five. Three thousand six hundred and seventy-sixdollars and a quarter. 'Wish I'd share as well as wage.""Well, I won't go so far as to say you hevn't deserved it, Harve.Don't you want to slip up to Wouverman's office and take him ourtallies?""Who's that boy?" said Cheyne to Dan, well used to all manner ofquestions from those idle imbeciles called summer boarders."Well, he's a kind o' supercargo," was the answer. "We picked himup struck adrift on the Banks. Fell overboard from a liner, hesez. He was a passenger. He's by way o' bein' a fisherman now.""Is he worth his keep?""Ye-ep. Dad, this man wants to know ef Harve's worth his keep.Say, would you like to go aboard? We'll fix a ladder for her.""I should very much, indeed. 'Twon't hurt you, mama, and you'll beable to see for yourself."The woman who could not lift her head a week ago scrambled downthe ladder, and stood aghast amid the mess and tangle aft."Be you anyways interested in Harve?" said Disko."Well, ye-es.""He's a good boy, an' ketches right hold jest as he's bid. You'veheard haow we found him? He was sufferin' from nervousprostration, I guess, 'r else his head had hit somethin', when wehauled him aboard. He's all over that naow. Yes, this is thecabin. 'Tain't anyways in order, but you're quite welcome to lookaround. Those are his figures on the stove-pipe, where we keep thereckonin' mostly.""Did he sleep here?" said Mrs. Cheyne, sitting on a yellow lockerand surveying the disorderly bunks."No. He berthed forward, madam, an' only fer him an' my boyhookin' fried pies an' muggin' up when they ought to ha' beenasleep, I dunno as I've any special fault to find with him.""There weren't nothin' wrong with Harve," said Uncle Salters,descending the steps. "He hung my boots on the main-truck, and heain't over an' above respectful to such as knows more'n he do,especially about farmin'; but he were mostly misled by Dan."Dan, in the meantime, profiting by dark hints from Harvey earlythat morning, was executing a war-dance on deck. "Tom, Tom!" hewhispered down the hatch. "His folks has come, an' dad hain'tcaught on yet, an' they're pow-wowin' in the cabin. She's a daisy,an' he's all Harve claimed he was, by the looks of him.""Howly Smoke! "said Long Jack, climbing out covered with salt andfish-skin. "D'ye belave his tale av the kid an' the little four-horse rig was thrue?""I knew it all along," said Dan. "Come an' see dad mistook in hisjudgments."They came delightedly, just in time to hear Cheyne say: "I'm gladhe has a good character, because - he's my son."Disko's jaw fell, - Long Jack always vowed that he heard the clickof it, - and he stared alternately at the man and the woman."I got his telegram in San Diego four days ago, and we came over.""In a private car?" said Dan. "He said ye might.""In a private car, of course."Dan looked at his father with a hurricane of irreverent winks."There was a tale he tould us av drivin' four little ponies in arig av his own," said Long Jack. "Was that thrue now?""Very likely," said Cheyne. "Was it, mama?""He had a little drag when we were in Toledo, I think," said themother.Long Jack whistled. "Oh, Disko!" said he, and that was all."I wuz - I am mistook in my jedgments -worse'n the men o'Marblehead," said Disko, as though the words were being windlassedout of him. "I don't mind ownin' to you, Mister Cheyne, as Imistrusted the boy to be crazy. He talked kinder odd about money.""So he told me.""Did he tell ye anything else? 'Cause I pounded him once." Thiswith a somewhat anxious glance at Mrs. Cheyne."Oh, yes," Cheyne replied. "I should say it probably did him moregood than anything else in the world.""I jedged 'twuz necessary, er I wouldn't ha' done it. I don't wantyou to think we abuse our boys any on this packet.""I don't think you do, Mr. Troop."Mrs. Cheyne had been looking at the faces - Disko's ivory-yellow,hairless, iron countenance; Uncle Salters's, with its rim ofagricultural hair; Penn's bewildered simplicity; Manuel's quietsmile; Long Jack's grin of delight; and Tom Platt's scar. Rough,by her standards, they certainly were; but she had a mother's witsin her eyes, and she rose with outstretched hands."Oh, tell me, which is who?" said she, half sobbing. "I want tothank you and bless you - all of you.""Faith, that pays me a hunder time," said Long Jack.Disko introduced them all in due form. The captain of an old-timeChinaman could have done no better, and Mrs. Cheyne babbledincoherently. She nearly threw herself into Manuel's arms when sheunderstood that he had first found Harvey."But how shall I leave him dreeft? " said poor Manuel. "What doyou yourself if you find him so? Eh, wha-at'? We are in one goodboy, and I am ever so pleased he come to be your son.""And he told me Dan was his partner!" she cried. Dan was alreadysufficiently pink, but he turned a rich crimson when Mrs. Cheynekissed him on both cheeks before the assembly. Then they led herforward to show her the fo'c'sle, at which she wept again, andmust needs go down to see Harvey's identical bunk, and there shefound the nigger cook cleaning up the stove, and he nodded asthough she were some one he had expected to meet for years. Theytried, two at a time, to explain the boat's daily life to her, andshe sat by the pawl-post, her gloved hands on the greasy table,laughing with trembling lips and crying with dancing eyes."And who's ever to use the "We're Here" after this?" said LongJack to Tom Platt. "I feel it as if she'd made a cathedral av utall.""Cathedral!" sneered Tom Platt. "Oh, ef it had bin even the FishC'mmission boat instid o' this bally-hoo o' blazes. Ef we only hedsome decency an' order an' side-boys when she goes over! She'llhave to climb that ladder like a hen, an' we - we ought to bemannin' the yards!""Then Harvey was not mad," said Penn, slowly, to Cheyne."No, indeed - thank God," the big millionaire replied, stoopingdown tenderly."It must be terrible to be mad. Except to lose your child, I donot know anything more terrible. But your child has come back? Letus thank God for that.""Hello!" said Harvey, looking down upon them benignly from thewharf."I wuz mistook, Harve. I wuz mistook," said Disko, swiftly,holding up a hand. "I wuz mistook in my jedgments. Ye needn't rubit in any more.""'Guess I'll take care o' that," said Dan, under his breath."You'll be goin' off naow, won't ye?""Well, not without the balance of my wages, 'less you want to havethe "We're Here" attached.""Thet's so; I'd clean forgot"; and he counted out the remainingdollars. "You done all you contracted to do, Harve; and you doneit 'baout's well as ef you'd been brought up -" Here Disko broughthimself up. He did not quite see where the sentence was going toend."Outside of a private car?" suggested Dan, wickedly."Come on, and I'll show her to you," said Harvey.Cheyne stayed to talk to Disko, but the others made a processionto the depot, with Mrs. Cheyne at the head. The French maidshrieked at the invasion; and Harvey laid the glories of the"Constance" before them without a word. They took them in in equalsilence - stamped leather, silver door-handles and rails, cutvelvet, plate-glass, nickel, bronze, hammered iron, and the rarewoods of the Continent inlaid."I told you," said Harvey; "I told you." This was his crowningrevenge, and a most ample one.Mrs. Cheyne decreed a meal; and that nothing might be lacking tothe tale Long Jack told afterwards in his boarding-house, shewaited on them herself. Men who are accustomed to eat at tinytables in howling gales have curiously neat and finished table-manners; but Mrs. Cheyne, who did not know this, was surprised.She longed to have Manuel for a butler; so silently and easily didhe comport himself among the frail glassware and dainty silver.Tom Platt remembered great days on the Ohio and the manners offoreign potentates who dined with the officers; and Long Jack,being Irish, supplied the small talk till all were at their ease.In the "We're Here's" cabin the fathers took stock of each otherbehind their cigars. Cheyne knew well enough when he dealt with aman to whom he could not offer money; equally well he knew that nomoney could pay for what Disko had done. He kept his own counseland waited for an opening."I hevn't done anything to your boy or fer your boy excep' makehim work a piece an' learn him how to handle the hog-yoke," saidDisko. "He has twice my boy's head for figgers.""By the way," Cheyne answered casually, "what d'you calculate tomake of your boy?"Disko removed his cigar and waved it comprehensively round thecabin. "Dan's jest plain boy, an' he don't allow me to do any ofhis thinkin'. He'll hev this able little packet when I'm laid by.He ain't noways anxious to quit the business. I know that.""Mmm! 'Ever been West, Mr. Troop?""Bin's fer ez Noo York once in a boat. I've no use for railroads.No more hez Dan. Salt water's good enough fer the Troops. I'vebeen 'most everywhere - in the nat'ral way, o' course.""I can give him all the salt water he's likely to need - till he'sa skipper.""Haow's that? I thought you wuz a kinder railroad king. Harve toldme so when - I was mistook in my jedgments.""We're all apt to be mistaken. I fancied perhaps you might know Iown a line of tea-clippers - San Francisco to Yokohama - six of'em - iron-built, about seventeen hundred and eighty tons apiece."-"Blame that boy! He never told. I'd ha' listened to that, instido' his truck abaout railroads an' pony-carriages.""He didn't know.""'Little thing like that slipped his mind, I guess.""No, I only capt - took hold of the 'Blue M.' freighters - Morganand McQuade's old line - this summer."Disko collapsed where he sat, beside the stove."Great Caesar Almighty! I mistrust I've bin fooled from one end tothe other. Why, Phil Airheart he went from this very town six yearback - no, seven - an' he's mate on the San Jos now - twenty-sixdays was her time out. His sister she's livin' here yet, an' shereads his letters to my woman. An' you own the 'Blue M.'freighters?"Cheyne nodded."If I'd known that I'd ha' jerked the "We're Here" back to portall standin', on the word.""Perhaps that wouldn't have been so good for Harvey.""Ef I'd only known! Ef he'd only said about the cussed Line, I'dha' understood! I'll never stand on my own jedgments again -never. They're well-found packets, Phil Airheart he says so.""I'm glad to have a recommend from that quarter. Airheart'sskipper of the San Jos now. What I was getting at is to knowwhether you'd lend me Dan for a year or two, and we'll see if wecan't make a mate of him. Would you trust him to Airheart?""It's a resk taking a raw boy -""I know a man who did more for me.""That's diff'runt. Look at here naow, I ain't recommendin' Danspecial because he's my own flesh an' blood. I know Bank waysain't clipper ways, but he hain't much to learn. Steer he can - noboy better, ef I say it - an' the rest's in our blood an' get; butI could wish he warn't so cussed weak on navigation.""Airheart will attend to that. He'll ship as a boy for a voyage ortwo, and then we can put him in the way of doing better. Supposeyou take him in hand this winter, and I'll send for him early inthe spring. I know the Pacific's a long ways off -""Pshaw! We Troops, livin' an' dead, are all around the earth an'the seas thereof.""But I want you to understand - and I mean this - any time youthink you'd like to see him, tell me, and I'll attend to thetransportation. 'Twon't cost you a cent.""Ef you'll walk a piece with me, we'll go to my house an' talkthis to my woman. I've bin so crazy mistook in all my jedgments,it don't seem to me this was like to be real."They went over to Troop's eighteen-hundred-dollar, blue-trimmedwhite house, with a retired dory full of nasturtiums in the frontyard and a shuttered parlor which was a museum of oversea plunder.There sat a large woman, silent and grave, with the dim eyes ofthose who look long to sea for the return of their beloved. Cheyneaddressed himself to her, and she gave consent wearily."We lose one hundred a year from Gloucester only, Mr. Cheyne," shesaid -" one hundred boys an' men; and I've come so's to hate thesea as if 'twuz alive an' listenin'. God never made it fer humansto anchor on. These packets o' yours they go straight out, I takeit, and straight home again?""As straight as the winds let 'em, and I give a bonus for recordpassages. Tea don't improve by being at sea.""When he wuz little he used to play at keeping store, an' I hadhopes he might follow that up. But soon's he could paddle a dory Iknew that were goin' to be denied me.""They're square-riggers, mother; iron-built an' well found.Remember what Phil's sister reads you when she gits his letters.""I've never known as Phil told lies, but he's too venturesome(like most of 'em that use the sea). Ef Dan sees fit, Mr. Cheyne,he can go - fer all o' me.""She jest despises the ocean," Disko explained, "an' I - I dunnohaow to act polite, I guess, er I'd thank you better.""My father - my own eldest brother - two nephews - an' my secondsister's man," she said, dropping her head on her hand. "Would youcare fer any one that took all those?"Cheyne was relieved when Dan turned up and accepted with moredelight than he was able to put into words. Indeed, the offermeant a plain and sure road to all desirable things; but Danthought most of commanding watch on broad decks, and looking intofar-away harbours.Mrs. Cheyne had spoken privately to the unaccountable Manuel inthe matter of Harvey's rescue. He seemed to have no desire formoney. Pressed hard, he said that he would take five dollars,because he wanted to buy something for a girl. Otherwise - "Howshall I take money when I make so easy my eats and smokes? Youwill giva some if I like or no? Eh, wha-at? Then you shall giva memoney, but not that way. You shall giva all you can think." Heintroduced her to a snuffy Portuguese priest with a list of semi-destitute widows as long as his cassock. As a strict Unitarian,Mrs. Cheyne could not sympathise with the creed, but she ended byrespecting the brown, voluble little man.Manuel, faithful son of the Church, appropriated all the blessingsshowered on her for her charity. "That letta me out," said he. "Ihave now ver' good absolutions for six months"; and he strolledforth to get a handkerchief for the girl of the hour and to breakthe hearts of all the others.Salters went West for a season with Penn, and left no addressbehind. He had a dread that these millionary people, with wastefulprivate cars, might take undue interest in his companion. It wasbetter to visit inland relatives till the coast was clear. "Neveryou be adopted by rich folk, Penn," he said in the cars, "or I'lltake 'n' break this checker-board over your head. Ef you forgityour name agin - which is Pratt - you remember you belong withSalters Troop, an' set down right where you are till I come feryou. Don't go taggin' araound after them whose eyes bung out withfatness, accordin' to Scripcher."