Part 4

On the morning after the return of the prodigal Cheever to his native town, the worthy old Captain was walking down the High Street slowly and deliberately. He was revolving in his mind the unpleasant experience of the night before, and the necessity which had arisen for the speedy raising of three thousand dollars troubled him not a little. His ships had not brought him in an income for some time, and his new house had made a great hole in his cash. In the troubled state of public affairs, when men said that war might involve the country at any moment, purchasers for vessels and real estate in a seaboard town were rare. The Captain had a horror of debt; yet he could see no way in which he could speedily raise this sum of money, save by borrowing it at the bank or of some friend. He soon dismissed the idea of borrowing from a friend, as he felt sure that no individual whom he could ask would be able in so short a time to raise for him so large an amount. The bank was his only resource, that was clear; and unfortunately he had had high words with Deacon Fairbanks, the president, at the post-office only the day before, in which neither of the fierce old gentlemen spared his adversary. It was hard to be compelled to ask the Deacon a favor after having called him a British parasite, in full hearing of the assemblage at the post-office, and yet there seemed to be no alternative. It was necessary that Cheever should be got out of the town as soon as possible, and the Captain felt an eager desire to pay him the money and get rid of him at once.

His steps had brought him to the post-office at the same moment that his thoughts had led him to this conclusion, and the first person he laid eyes upon, as he came back into the world from his brown study, was the Deacon.

A puffy and consequential-looking man was Deacon Fairbanks. The mean lines of his face were not improved by the fat which bulged his cheeks and jaw. He was smooth shaven, as was the fashion of the day, and his mouth had the tight, short look, which indicates economy of speech and closeness in money matters. His eyes were a light green in color, deep set in his head, and his colorless eyebrows were long and bushy. The Deacon inclined his head slightly when he saw Captain Woodbury, and looked at him sharply from beneath the shaggy eyebrows.

I have my doubts whether the Deacon had really been as sound asleep as his daughter supposed when James was telling the story of the mysterious sailor who had sent the ring to her from the wicked uncle. Captain Woodbury felt uneasy under the Deacon’s keen gaze, and he thought of the unfortunate quarrel with him of the day before.

The Deacon, however, either from Christian charity or from policy, seemed to bear no ill-will towards his neighbor on account of the abusive language which the latter had heaped upon him, and he advanced to greet the newcomer with more than ordinary politeness.

“Good morning, Captain Woodbury,” said he in his soft, disagreeable voice. “It’s a fine June morning.”

“It is,” replied the Captain, curtly. He did not like to have a man whom he had insulted the day before speak to him so civilly. To be sure, he had intended to be polite to the Deacon, but then he had an axe to grind. It was his unpleasant necessity to borrow three thousand dollars that morning of Fairbanks’ bank, and the old fellow did not imagine for a moment that the other might have an object in being polite to him.

“Bad news from across the ocean,” observed the Deacon, pointing to his Boston Atlas, where the news from the European wars were displayed in modest type. “It looks as if they never would be at peace again.”

“I don’t care how much they fight with each other, if they only leave our ships and seamen alone,” growled the Captain, who would have plunged at once into a grand quarrel with the Federalist Deacon, if it had not been for the loan he expected to make.

“The recall of our minister looks like war with Great Britain,” observed the Deacon, shaking his head sadly.

“We must fight them, or confess ourselves a nation of slaves,” replied Woodbury, growing red in the face with his suppressed emotions.

“I fear, friend, that if we pursue the subject farther, we shall renew our heated discussion of yesterday,” remarked the Deacon, noticing the gathering wrath on his neighbor’s face. “How is your good sister, Captain? I hear from my daughter that she has been ill.”

“Elizabeth had a faint turn last night. She is subject to them, you know,” replied the other. The Captain cleared his throat, hesitated, and finally said, in a low, constrained tone:

“By the way, Deacon Fairbanks, I have a little business matter which I wish to talk over with you. Would you mind walking up to your bank with me?”

The Deacon’s green eyes flashed for a moment, and the lids, with their colorless lashes, were drawn close together, and an oily smile spread over his face.

“So, the Captain wishes to talk over some business at the bank,” he thought; “probably he wants to borrow some money. The old fool has spent a good deal on that fine house of his, but still he paid as he went. I wonder what he needs the money for?”

But the Deacon’s face gave no evidence to his companion of what he was thinking; on the contrary, his smile grew the blander, and he cheerily accepted the suggestion to go to the bank, and slipped his hand under the Captain’s arm.

The two men walked slowly down the sidewalk of the Main Street, the Captain seemingly absorbed in contemplation of the small red bricks which made up the pavement, while the Deacon talked glibly of the depressed condition of commerce.

The old book-keeper and the smart young teller of the Liberty Bank, who were hard at work on their great leather-bound ledgers behind the iron grating, looked up for a moment and bowed to the two magnates as they entered the bank, and walked into the directors’ room. The Deacon politely ushered his customer into that dark apartment and closed the door softly when he entered himself. The windows of the room looked out into a narrow alley, on the other side of which was a carpenter’s shop, built of rough, unpainted wood. There was a large mahogany table in the centre of the room, and a dozen heavily built leather-cushioned chairs of the same handsome wood. The room was carpeted with a dark Turkey carpet. The Deacon stood, from the force of an old habit, in front of the fireplace, though of course, at that season of the year, no fire was burning.

There was a silence for a minute or two, when Fairbanks coughed in an interrogative manner, and said:

“Well?”

The Captain was also standing up, with one hand behind his back, and the other tugging at the seal which hung from his watch fob. He was loath to broach the subject he had in hand, and he felt that if he had not already been brought into the spider’s parlor, he would have tried to have raised the money elsewhere. He had never before asked the Liberty Bank for accommodation, and he did not like the way in which the Deacon looked at him with his small green eyes.

“Well?” questioned the mild voice of the president, again.

“I wished to speak to you on a matter of business,” said Woodbury, thus aroused from his thoughts of escaping. “I desire to raise a sum of money to-day for immediate use, and I thought that the Liberty Bank might accommodate me.”

Fairbanks pursed up the corners of his mouth, and wrinkled his brow as if to personify cautious capital. After an appearance of thought and a mental calculation, he asked:

“How much do you wish to borrow, Captain Woodbury?”

“Three thousand dollars.”

“You say you wish it to-day?”

“Yes, I have immediate need of it.”

“For how long a time?”

“Six months, I should say,” replied Woodbury.

“What rate do you expect to pay?” asked the Deacon, again wrinkling his forehead and lifting his coat-tails with his left hand.

“Not over eight per cent.”

“That is far too low a rate,” objected Fairbanks; “in these troubled times, I expect to get at least ten per cent for the bank’s money. Why, we may have war with England any day, and then hard cash will be scarce enough, I warrant. You had better say ten per cent, Captain.”

“Can you let me have the money this morning?” asked Woodbury.

“H’m, let me see; that’s a different matter,” said Fairbanks. “Our available funds are low to-day. It will be a little difficult to let you have such an amount. Are you particular to have quite so much? Perhaps twenty-five hundred would do?”

“I need three thousand dollars to-day, Fairbanks,” said the Captain, taking up his hat and cane from the table, “and if you cannot let me have it, I must go elsewhere.” He started to open the door leading into the main room of the bank, when Fairbanks stopped him by saying:

“Well, Captain, I guess that after all I can manage it for you as quickly as anybody, that is, if you satisfy me on the matter of security. ’Tis only a matter of form, you know, with such a name as yours.” The Deacon’s voice was as silky as ever, and he stretched out his hand deprecatingly as he spoke.

“I think that there should be no trouble in my borrowing this sum upon my own bill,” said Woodbury.

“Oh, but it would not be business, my dear Captain, not business at all. Your note is as good as wheat, but times are bad, and the greatest caution must be exercised. You will pardon the suggestion, I feel sure.”

“There’s my half interest in the brig _Flying Scud_,” suggested Woodbury.

“The bank has decided not to loan upon shipping property,” said the Deacon, who hoped by judicious objection to get a complete inventory of his neighbor’s possessions.

“I can give you a mortgage on my new house,” said the Captain, after a few minutes’ consideration. “It cost ten times what I wish to borrow on it.”

“Oh, but you cannot expect to get back what you have put in there,” said the bank-president. “Pardon me for referring to the adage as to the class of men who build houses. But, nevertheless, your house will be a satisfactory security for the amount you wish to borrow. But it is pretty short notice you have given me if you wish to borrow the money on real estate. There’s the title to be looked into. I suppose that it will make no difference to you if you wait a few days for the money.”

“Certainly, it will make a difference!” exclaimed the Captain. “I wish the money to-day, and I have told you so. If you cannot arrange the matter for me, pray let me know at once.”

The Deacon raised his hand as if to deprecate the violence of the other’s temper. “Oh, really, Captain Woodbury, do not misunderstand me. I wish to do all in my power to assist you.”

“Assist me! I do not ask for assistance. I came here on a matter of business which will be as advantageous to your bank as it will be to me, and judging from the rate of interest which you demand, much more so.”

“Oh, really, Neighbor Woodbury, how hasty you are!” said the Deacon, in his exasperatingly sweet voice. “You pick the words out of my mouth. I did not mean to imply by the word ‘assist’ that I felt that I was doing an act of charity; far otherwise. It would be much quicker work for you if you could get an endorser on your note. I would be delighted to endorse it were it not that it would be improper for me to do so since I am president of the bank. But it will be very easy for you to get an endorser.”

“I have never asked a man to endorse a bill for my accommodation and I never mean to do so.”

“Oh, how much better it would have been here for some men I know if they had adopted that rule,” said the Deacon; “poor Isaac Wills, for instance. Oh, that was a sad case!”

“The man was a fool,” said the Captain. “I have laid down this rule that I _never_ will endorse for another, or ask another to endorse for me. If you cannot afford to lend the money, you cannot afford to lend your name.”

The Deacon bowed his head in approbation of this proposition, and insinuatingly said, “Then we shall say a loan of three thousand dollars for two years on your house on North Main Street, interest at the rate of ten per cent per annum.”

“I will pay eight per cent,” said the Captain, obstinately.

“Oh, very well, nine it shall be.”

“I said eight, and I shall pay no more.”

“Ah, I misunderstood you then. We will call it eight per cent, though there is no one else in town to whom I would lend on such terms. I suppose that Judge Cushing looked up your title. You might instruct him to draw the mortgage deed and to send it to young Mr. Baldwin for approval. I send the bank’s business to Baldwin, as he is a clever young fellow, and I like to encourage youthful talent.”

The Deacon rubbed his hands together as he spoke, as if to excite the glow of benevolence by friction.

“And you can let me have the money to-day?” said Woodbury, smiling at the Deacon’s show of benevolence; for he knew well that the bank employed the services of young Baldwin because he did his work well and cheaply.

“I do not see how it can be arranged till to-morrow,” replied Fairbanks. “Baldwin will have to look up the title since you have been the owner, and the lawyers will have the management of the affairs now we have made our bargain, and you cannot hurry lawyers, you know.”

“No, that you cannot! Old Judge Cushing is as slow as a Dutch lugger beating to windward. But if you will send Baldwin around to his office, we will see how quickly we can arrange the matter. Good morning, Mr. Fairbanks.”

“Good morning, Neighbor Woodbury,” said Fairbanks suavely, as he opened the door for the other, “good morning. Do you desire Boston funds or cash?”

“Cash.”

“Very well; I am glad to oblige you, very glad. To-morrow at noon at Judge Cushing’s office. Very well.”

When Woodbury was well out of the bank, Fairbanks shut the door of the directors’ room again. “Ah, so you need this money as soon as you can get it, do you?” he said to himself, as he stood at one of the back windows gazing out over the alley into the carpenter’s shop, where the carpenter’s apprentice was whistling over his wood-butchery. “You want three thousand dollars, do you, Captain Woodbury? And you never borrowed a ninepence before in this town. Yes, and you come to me to borrow it, even after quarrelling with me yesterday. You evidently want it quick and for a purpose. You didn’t need the money then.”

The carpenter’s apprentice looked up just then from the board he was planing and caught sight of the Deacon’s fat face in the window, and the boy, with the frank criticism of youth, stuck his tongue out at the old gentleman; for children and animals instinctively disliked the Deacon, though his manners always appeared to be gentle and his smile was perpetual.

“Darn the old hypocrite!” exclaimed the apprentice, who wasted on the wharves too much of the time which he owed his master. “I wonder what mischief he is up to now. Going to foreclose Widow Hapgood’s mortgage, I guess. The old spider.”

The Deacon, all unconscious of the hostile presence across the alley, continued his train of reasoning.

“Let me see, last night when I was dozing after supper, that young Woodbury came in to see my daughter. I was nearly asleep, but the sound of their voices woke me up, and he told her that cock and bull story about the sailor down at the wharves who gave the lad the ring which Tom Cheever, on his death-bed, had entrusted to the sailor. The boy was not telling the truth, I could see that. It was strange that the name should have turned up again. Let me see; it was fifteen years ago last March that Cheever broke into my house, the villain. I always suspected John Woodbury of helping the rascal escape. Then they got up that story of his dying in South America. _I_ never believed it, though the old Parson did put up that headstone in the burying-ground. The chances are that the thief has come to town again, and that he sent the boy with the message to my daughter. I have got it; that’s it; and now he is bleeding the Captain for money, and, like as not, claiming his share of the Parson’s estate; and Woodbury wants the money so quickly in order to get rid of him. That’s it.”

The Deacon’s green eyes blazed so brightly that the apprentice felt certain that the widow’s mortgage was to be foreclosed and her furniture moved into the street that very day. Fairbanks opened the door into the bank again, and said:

“Mr. Sharp, has any vessel entered the harbor within a day or two?” Mr. Sharp, the smart young teller, answered, that a schooner from Havana had entered on the day before and that she was lying in the stream off Titcomb’s wharf.

The Deacon rubbed his smooth, oily chin with his fat hand for a moment: “Mr. Sharp, go and tell Constable Hallett that I should like to see him at my house at noon. I am going out, Mr. Sharp. I shall be at lawyer Baldwin’s office for an hour.”

V

The low stone-wall of the burying-ground on the hill back of Captain Woodbury’s house had for many years been a favorite meeting-place for young lovers. Many of the silent majority sleeping in the enclosure had plighted their troths, seated on that low stone-wall, and to this day, happy young people watch from this trysting-place the magical changes of light, as the darkness steals silently over the earth, and gaze with a romantic awe at the distant low hills, dark and impressive against the gorgeous colorings of the sky, or down upon the slumberous old town wrapped in its coverlid of leafy trees. Beyond, flows the tidal river, and far off to the east is the sea, flashing back like a mirror the last rays of the sun.

As James sauntered up the hill to meet Alice on the evening of his father’s interview with the Deacon in the bank, the western sky was aglow with orange fire, the fleecy clouds dyed with delicate pink and gray by the wonderful alchemy of the sunlight. The boy’s old hound, Major, trotted along at his master’s heels, tired with the long tramp the two had taken in the afternoon, through the woods and meadows, between Oldbury and Dummer in search of woodchucks. Alice had been seated on the wall for fully half an hour before James appeared, and as soon as she saw him she jumped down and ran to meet him.

“I thought that you would never come, James; where have you been all the afternoon?”

“Oh, Major and I have been over at March’s woods after woodchucks. He starts them up, and we bring them to bay in a stone-wall. How they do fight, when they are put to it.”

“What cruel sport! I do not see how you can enjoy it!”

“Well,” he answered a little shame-faced, “we didn’t find any woodchucks to-day.”

“I have been looking everywhere for you,” said Alice, in a low voice. “I am afraid that something dreadful will happen unless we can prevent it.”

“What can it be?” asked James.

“I will tell you all I know about it, but you must first answer a question. Did a strange man come to your house last night?”

The boy’s heart began to beat the quicker as he remembered his promise to his uncle; he hesitated for a moment, and then answered, “Well, yes, there did.”

“Now, I will tell you what troubles me. I was dusting china in the china-closet this noon when grandfather and Constable Hallett came into the dining-room. Grandfather closed the door leading into the front entry and parlor, but he did not shut the china-closet door. I kept on dusting and did not pay any attention to their conversation until I heard your name.”

“My name! Have they any charge to bring against me?”

“No, not against you; grandfather said that you came to our house last night to see mother, and that you gave her a small package. He said that he was just dropping off to sleep in the parlor, when he was awakened by hearing your voice; and he heard you tell her that the package had been given to you by a sailor to give to her, and that the sailor had told you to say that it had been entrusted to him by Tom Cheever, when he was dying in the hospital at La Guayra. Grandfather then went on to say that your father had just been to his bank to borrow a large sum of money in a great hurry, and that he had heard that a stranger had called at your house last night, and that a schooner, the _Tempest_, had just arrived in port, and that the mate was reported to stutter in a peculiar way, just as your uncle Tom Cheever used to. And--”

“Why do you stop?” asked James, thrilling with excitement.

“You have heard the stories about your uncle, haven’t you?”

“I know that he left the country suddenly, but I never heard what he did that was wrong. They never speak of him at home, I never heard his name mentioned till--”

He stopped short, fearing to betray his secret, and Alice continued: “Grandfather then said that he meant to find out whether the stranger was Tom Cheever; and if he was, he would have him locked up before to-morrow noon.”

“Locked up! What can he lock him up for?” asked James. “I wonder what he did so many years ago, which was so wicked? I must tell you, Alice, what I know, though I promised not to tell any one; for I think that I ought to. My uncle Tom Cheever did come back to life last night, and he is on board of the schooner _Tempest_ at this moment. What could he have done to your grandfather to make him so vindictive?”

“Then I am afraid that he is in danger, James; for I heard the constable say that he would serve the warrant of arrest as soon as the man was identified. Now, we must not let him be arrested; I cannot bear to have disgrace fall upon your family.”

“What shall I do?” asked James. “I can sail out to the schooner in the _Scud_, but I suppose that it would not be safe for him to return to town, and, as he does not command the _Tempest_, he cannot order her to sail.”

“Run to the wharf as quickly as you can and warn him!” said Alice, almost pushing him in her eagerness. He jumped down from the stone-wall and stood in silence for a minute.

“Had I better tell my father?” he asked.

“No, I should waste no time; you may be too late as it is.”

Down the hill he hurried, over across High Street to the bay. He was strangely excited as he ran along under the arching elms so quickly that two old ladies, against whom he jostled, turned around, wondering what mischief the lad was up to. Never before in all his scrapes had he alighted upon a real adventure, but now there was sombre earnest in this afternoon’s work; since he should thwart the redoubtable Hallett, brown-wigged terror to the evil-doer. He made his way to the wharf, off which lay his boat, by short cuts known only to adventurous youths; climbing picket fences, stealing through gardens, and clambering over sheds.