CHAPTER XX IN WHICH A STAIN IS REMOVED FROM THE MEMORY OF AN INNOCENT

MAN

Herbert remained with Captain Janson for several hours. The man and the boy were mutually attracted. After some further conversation regarding David Harkins, the sailor said:

“Now tell me your story.”

Herbert did so as briefly and as modestly as possible. He told of his difficulty with the Argus; but discreetly avoided all reference to Arthur Black and the manner in which he had saved him at the expense of his own position.

“My boy,” said the Captain, when he had concluded, “it’s all right; don’t worry about these little things. The first thing we have to do is to straighten out the memory of your father with the people of Cleverly. You know how these stories stick in small communities. My boy, we’ll hoist sail and bear down on the port of Cleverly at once, and when we land there we’ll let the natives know a thing or two. We’ll let ’em know that David Harkins was one of Nature’s noblemen, and now that he’s gone to Davy Jones’ locker, he has left a friend and a son who will take care of his memory.”

The following day they both took the train and went to Cleverly. Their first visit was to the office of the Cleverly Banner, where Captain Jansen was introduced to Noah Brooks. The editor and the sailor had not talked for ten minutes before they became fast friends. Presently they were joined by Horace Coke, the lawyer, who had always been a friend of the Harkins family, and who was delighted with the turn things had taken. After a general conversation in which all hands joined, the sailor suddenly pounded his hand on the desk, and said earnestly:

“Messmates, I’m here for a purpose, and a specific purpose. Dave Harkins was an honest man. I want everybody else to know that fact. How can I do it?”

Noah Brooks scratched his head for awhile, and then said musingly:

“You might print a story in the Banner, telling all about your visit that night, and explaining how you came to give him those ten $100 bills. How does that strike you?”

“Pardon me,” interrupted the lawyer, “but that doesn’t strike me very favorably. It would look forced. Besides everybody knows that Brooks is a friend of Herbert Harkins, and some people might be inclined to think the story was a little overdrawn.”

“Yes, that’s so,” admitted Brooks, “but I hardly know how you can get around it in any other way. Besides, I would do this thing freely and voluntarily. It is not a question of expense or money.”

“Money!” shouted the old sailor, “who said anything about money? I want you to understand that money is not to stand in the way of this business. There isn’t any expenditure that I could make that would help the memory of Dave Harkins that I wouldn’t undertake.”

“Do you mean that?” asked Brooks.

“Of course I mean it. By the way, while I am here I would like to do something for this town of yours. What do you need just now?”

The lawyer laughed at this.

“You talk like a millionaire.”

“Well,” responded the sailor, “I am not a millionaire, but I’ve got enough to live on and a little over, too, and if I can make somebody else feel happy I’m going to do it.”

“You asked me just now,” said the lawyer musingly, “what you could do for the town.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well,” responded the other, “a little fountain in the middle of the main street wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would be the means of slaking the thirst of both man and beast. We had one there some years ago, and it was mighty useful; but it’s worn out now, and we have no means of replacing it.”

“What will it cost?” asked the sailor.

“Not more than two thousand dollars,” responded Mr. Coke; “that would finish the whole thing in first-class style.”

“It’s a go!” shouted the sailor, jumping up; “get the thing up in good shape, and get it up as quickly as possible.”

Then and there specifications were drawn up, advertisements given out and the draft of a communication made to city councils. Within thirty days the whole thing had been completed and was ready for dedication. On the morning fixed for the celebration it slowly dawned on Herbert’s mind that the sailor and the lawyer had a fixed purpose in all that they had done, and this purpose was only now beginning to unfold itself. He got his first inkling of this when he noticed the little silver plate on the side of the fountain, saying that it been erected by Captain Thomas Janson to the memory of his lifelong friend, David Harkins.

Mrs. Harkins wept a great deal when she saw this plate, which was a very good thing for her, because it relieved her pent up feelings and enabled her to recall memories of the dead without doing her any serious injury. Herbert, on the other hand, was flushed with conscious pride. A committee of the city councils had the affair in charge, and they made Mrs. Harkins, Herbert and Captain Janson the guests of honor. The Mayor of the city made the speech accepting the fountain, and then Captain Janson, as the closest friend of David Harkins, was called on for a few remarks.

The speech that he made that day was one of the most remarkable that had ever been delivered in the town. It told the story of the life of David Harkins, and how he had once befriended the speaker during what he firmly believed was the crisis of his life. He then related in great detail how he had come to Cleverly late that night and forced his old friend to accept the ten $100 bills. Thus, without making any direct reference to the ancient rumors that had flourished in the town, the stain attached to the memory of David Harkins was removed in the most effective manner possible. John Black and his daughter were present at the ceremonies, and at the conclusion of the set speeches Mr. Black arose and paid a fervent tribute to the integrity of David Harkins. Altogether everything was done in the most complete manner, and the affair was a great success and a red letter day in the history of Cleverly.

The story of the event was told in a full page report in the current issue of the Banner. To the delight of Mr. Brooks, Herbert had volunteered to write the report, and it proved to be one of the best pieces of reporting that had ever been done for the local paper. Captain Janson was the hero of the occasion. He remained in Cleverly for about a week, and he spent his money so lavishly and with such utter unconcern that he came to be looked upon as a modern Monte Cristo.

During his stay he formed quite an intimacy with Noah Brooks, and it was not very long before the whole-hearted sailor and the eccentric editor were almost indispensable to each other. Sitting in the Banner office one day Janson said:

“See here, Brooks, Cleverly looks to me like a good port in a storm. It strikes me that it would be a pretty good place for an old worn out hulk like Captain Janson. I’ve got a great notion to gather my stores and anchor here for the rest of my life.”

Brooks thought so, too, and said he felt satisfied that the Captain would never have cause to regret making the change in his dwelling place. The sight of the two old men sitting on the porch exchanging stories of the varied experiences they had undergone during their stormy lives was a picture not to be forgotten very quickly. At least Herbert Harkins thought so, and when he finally took the train for his return to New York the pretty little scene remained engraved upon his memory.