Part 51 (1/2)
And without hurry or alacrity, sullenly and wearily we got into the boats and pulled away from the Maud Mary until we were clear of her, and then we stayed resting on our oars, motionless upon a gla.s.sy sea, waiting for her to sink. We were all silent, even the captain was silent until she went down. And then he spoke quite mildly in an undertone.
”Dat is the first s.h.i.+p I haf ever lost.... And it was not a fair game!
It wa.s.s not a cargo any man should take. No!”
I stared at the slow eddies that circled above the departed Maud Mary, and the last chance of Business Organisations. I felt weary beyond emotion. I thought of my heroics to Beatrice and my uncle, of my prompt ”I'LL go,” and of all the ineffectual months I had spent after this headlong decision. I was moved to laughter at myself and fate.
But the captain and the men did not laugh. The men scowled at me and rubbed their sore and blistered hands, and set themselves to row....
As all the world knows we were picked up by the Union Castle liner, Portland Castle.
The hairdresser aboard was a wonderful man, and he even improvised me a dress suit, and produced a clean s.h.i.+rt and warm underclothing. I had a hot bath, and dressed and dined and drank a bottle of Burgundy.
”Now,” I said, ”are there any newspapers? I want to know what's been happening in the world.”
My steward gave me what he had, but I landed at Plymouth still largely ignorant of the course of events. I shook off Pollack, and left the captain and mate in an hotel, and the men in a Sailor's Home until I could send to pay them off, and I made my way to the station.
The newspapers I bought, the placards I saw, all England indeed resounded to my uncle's bankruptcy.
BOOK THE FOURTH
THE AFTERMATH OF TONO-BUNGAY
CHAPTER THE FIRST
THE STICK OF THE ROCKET
I
That evening I talked with my uncle in the Hardingham for the last time.
The atmosphere of the place had altered quite shockingly. Instead of the crowd of importunate courtiers there were just half a dozen uninviting men, journalists waiting for an interview. Ropper the big commissionaire was still there, but now indeed he was defending my uncle from something more than time-wasting intrusions. I found the little man alone in the inner office pretending to work, but really brooding. He was looking yellow and deflated.
”Lord!” he said at the sight of me. ”You're lean, George. It makes that scar of yours show up.”
We regarded each other gravely for a time.
”Quap,” I said, ”is at the bottom of the Atlantic. There's some bills--We've got to pay the men.”
”Seen the papers?”
”Read 'em all in the train.”
”At bay,” he said. ”I been at bay for a week.... Yelping round me....
And me facing the music. I'm feelin' a bit tired.”
He blew and wiped his gla.s.ses.
”My stomack isn't what it was,” he explained. ”One finds it--these times. How did it all happen, George? Your Marconigram--it took me in the wind a bit.”