Captains and The Kings (32 page)

Chapter 21
"You don't dare kill me, an officer of the Union Army," said the young lieutenant. He had sustained only a flesh wound, though a serious one, ?and had been expertly attended by a trained man on the ship. He lay on the cot in the brig and stared derisively in the lantern light at Mr. Montrose, who sat on the only chair, and then at Joseph, who stood near him with his pistol in his hand. "You may be due for an unpleasant surprise," said Mr. Montrose with amiability. "Just because the gentleman near you did not kill you does not mean that we shall hesitate now when we are at sea. It was only expediency which preserved your life and made us bring you aboard. Do not try my patience, Mr. --?" The soldier spat at him. Joseph aimed the pistol at his temple, and the soldier shrank. He looked up at Joseph's face and saw the hollow danger of it and the flat small eyes and contracted mouth. "You don't dare," he repeated, but it was a trembling question. "I am losing patience," said Mr. Montrose. "You have heard our questions. Answer them immediately or, sir, you will die before another minute has passed. If you are candid with us we may spare your life. If not, you will be dead and in the sea, as soon as we have passed the patrols." The soldier was a young man, a very young man, and now he became hysterical both with pain and fear. He began to speak in a rushing and gasping voice. It was almost as Joseph had speculated. Colonel Braithwaite had ordered him to hire ruffians of the city and then, at the right moment, to rob Mr. Montrose on the wharf, take the clearances, and then murder Mr. Montrose, the captain, and Joseph. After that he was to notify the port authorities that he had heard shots, had investigated, and found the three bodies. He was not to go near the ship, but "run for my life," and call for help. The cargo would then be confiscated, after investigation, and the matter closed and labeled "treason." The clipper would also have been confiscated by the government. In this manner the amenable Colonel Braithwaite would have his huge sum of money before his transfer to Philadelphia, and a malicious man's revenge, over which he would gloat. Joseph said, "But why 'revenge?' What had our employer, or ourselves, done to him to make him our enemy?" Mr. Montrose looked at him with immense and unaffected surprise, and seeing this at one quick glance Joseph felt jejune yet confused. "My dear Mr. Francis," the older man gently protested. "Have you not learned as yet that it is not always necessary to injure a man to incur his enmity? In truth, the majority of enemies are made by no effort on a man's part. They are made through envy and malice and the incurable evil which lives in a man's spirit, which makes him by nature the enemy of his fellows, without a single provocation. My deadliest enemy was a man I had believed was my best friend, on whom I had conferred favors and disinterested kindnesses, and unsolicited gifts." He reflected, smiling. "I have come to believe that those are provocations enough, and deserving of enmity." The young soldier, whose face was slimy with sweat and very pale, listened with closed eyes. Mr. Montrose prodded him with a light finger. "But perhaps Colonel Braithwaite had another reason for betraying us." It appeared he had. The lieutenant was to tell authorities that Colonel Braithwaite's suspicions had been aroused concerning the Isabel, and had sent his subordinate to investigate at the last hour. Colonel Braithwaite would maintain that he had given no clearances to the ship, in the event both copies had been found, or if not found that he had been deceived by "traitors" and gun-runners, and finally becoming uneasy had ordered another investigation. For his perspicacity and prompt action he would be soundly rewarded by the government, and advanced to brigadier general at the least. Mr. Montrose listened to this without any emotion at all, but Joseph was sickened, and seeing this Mr. Montrose faintly shook his head and smiled. "You will observe that men do not stay bought, Mr. Francis. They need constant bribes, and not only of money, to remain your friends. A bigger reward, a bigger bribe, was open to Colonel Braithwaite, and so , he accepted it. Had he not been transferred to Philadelphia but had remained here as port military authority, we could have continued to do business with him." He said to the soldier, "Aside from the fact that the colonel was your superior officer and gave your orders, how did he suborn you?" "Two thousand dollars, part of the reward, and the colonel's recommendation that I be made captain." The young man spoke in a dim voice, overcome with pain. He added, "He is also my mother's brother." Mr. Montrose nodded. "So, he was comparatively safe from blackmail in the future, and bound you with his own perfidy and crimes." He turned now to Joseph and said, "What do you now suggest, Mr. Francis?" Joseph's heart gave a great sick leap, and he was silent. The gun was suddenly wet in his hand. "You promised not to kill me!" cried the soldier and opened his eyes, young blue and terrified eyes large and starting in their sockets. "I gave you no such promise," said Mr. Montrose. "Well, Mr. Francis? I leave the conclusion in your hands." Joseph's throat and mouth were as dry as hot stone. He said to Mr. Montrose, "I think I have a more just punishment." He did not know that there was a sound of pleading in his voice. "When we arrive in Virginia his wound will be almost healed. He is in the uniform of a Union officer. We will put him ashore and let him fend for himself." Mr. Montrose laughed aloud with frank delight. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Let him elucidate to our friends in Virginia how a Union officer came to be among them suddenly, in uniform. He will be seized at once for a spy, or if he attempts to explain he will be greeted with happy laughter, and it will seem a mighty joke to our friends. If he is not hanged he will be imprisoned. If he is later rescued by his compatriots, he will not dare to explain to them, nor to mention Colonel Braithwaite. I should love to be present when he tries to rationalize his presence alone in that part of unconquered Virginia, to my people, or when he tries to justify himself to his own friends." He touched Joseph on the arm. "I greatly admire a man of ingenuity and not merely of force, Mr. Francis." "You might as well kill me now and have done with it," said the soldier in a miserable voice. Mr. Montrose surveyed him kindly. "Young sir, if I were your age I would accept any alternative to death. As you are a thief and a willing murderer, you may go far after all, if your life is spared. So, it is spared. Under other circumstances I would recommend you highly to Mr. Healey." They heard shouts above and hurrying feet and the captain opened the barred door. "We are being challenged by a patrol boat," he said. This had happened before and was routine, as the patrols occasionally challenged ships leaving the harbor and examined clearances. The captain looked at the soldier. "Good God," he said, "is he still alive? Now we can't dispose of him before the patrols have released us, and we dare not shoot. Mr. Montrose, you have been careless." "I think not," said Mr. Montrose. He stood up and fastidiously brushed a cheroot ash from his coat. "We shall leave Mr. Francis with our friend here, with orders to kilf if he even opens his mouth. I suggest strangling or smothering, so no sound is heard. You understand, Mr. Francis?" "Yes," said Joseph, and now his voice was resolute. The soldier had been granted mercy. If he violated that mercy he would die. Joseph doubted that he would prefer execution to life. The captain dimmed the light of the lantern in the cell, looked searchingly at Joseph, then accompanied Mr. Montrose outside. The door clanged shut and was locked. Joseph sat down in the chair and looked at the soldier. "I will surely kill you if you make a single sound or as much as lift your hand," he said. There was no porthole in the cell, but Joseph could actually feel the large dark presence of the patrol boat near at hand. He heard the clipper being boarded and the voices of naval men of authority. The clipper had come to a standstill. He and the soldier waited in absolute silence. The soldier had fixed his eyes with fear on Joseph, understanding that this time Joseph would kill him no matter the consequences, and with his bare hands, if he even whispered. The soldier wanted to cry. It had all seemed such a profitable adventure, though dangerous, as explained by his uncle. Money, advancement, honor. Now he was helpless. He suppressed a whimper, and listened acutely to the voices above. He had only one hope: that the authorities would search the ship as sometimes they did. In that event Joseph would not dare combine murder with high treason. Let the authorities merely approach this cell and he, Joshua Temple, would make a final effort, throw himself on Joseph, and shout, before the other man could kill him. So the two young men sat or lay in utter quiet, listening intently. No one descended the stairs. No one approached the cell. The soldier lay with clenched fists, looking only at Joseph, waiting, almost praying. Long minutes passed. Then there was laughter, hoarse jesting voices, the sound of a dinghy leaving the clipper, the weighing of anchors, calls of farewell. The soldier became limp. Joseph relaxed a little. The clipper began to move, sighing, gently groaning in her timbers, swaying, the wind thunderous in her sails as they spread themselves under the moon. Mr. Montrose entered the cell. "We are underway again," he said. "Now, Mr. Francis, we shall have a light supper with the captain, then retire to bed." The soldier said as he tried to keep from weeping, "Dirty foul traitors!" The journey took six days for a storm came up which almost wrecked the Isabel and made even the stout captain apprehensive. The Isabel was overloaded; there was danger of her foundering in blackish green waves which Joseph found unbelievable, so tremendous they were. Mr. Montrose at one point suggested jettisoning some of the cargo but the captain said, "No." He grinned. "I'd rather jettison some of my men." "You are an incurable romanticist," said Mr. Montrose. "In spite of everything I fear you are devoted to the Confederacy." The captain's eyes glinted. "There are worse devotions," he said and Mr. Montrose laughed. "I won't repeat that to Mr. Healey who has no devotions to anything but profits." They landed in hushed darkness at night in a little deserted bay. The keel of the Isabel barely escaped coming to rest on a reef under the shallowing water. Everything was silent and seemingly without life when the Isabel dropped anchor, but at that very instant the dock, unlightecl except for starlight and stormy moonlight, came alive with silent men who, with the help of men aboard, swiftly unloaded her contraband. No one spoke except when absolutely necessary, and then frequently in whispers. Everyone was pressed into service, including the captain, Mr. Montrose, and Joseph. Only the lookouts held their posts, surveying everything through swinging binoculars. The transaction took several hours. Joseph could see only dark figures and sometimes a featureless oval of a face. He felt the unbearable haste and tension, and labored until he was soaking with sweat. The night was humidly hot and breathless and threatening. Lightning sometimes flashed in the black clouds that raced across the moon, hiding and then revealing her.
Thunder rumbled. There were brief and drenching showers and the deck became slippery. For the second time Joseph was aware of war and its impingement on him. He did not find this occasion exciting, though he guessed that many of these reckless men found it so. He also felt that they were dedicated patriots and this seemed absurd to him. They worked and risked their lives, not for profits, but for their beloved Confederacy. Nothing much of the countryside beyond the rickety dock could be seen, but sometimes the moon revealed a far black emptiness unlit by any lamp or lantern. If people lived in the vicinity their presence was unseen. But Joseph felt a watchfulness in the darkness, an alertness. At the last Joshua Temple, unspeaking, white-faced, was put ashore. He could walk now, limping. Joseph saw him being forced down the ramp and he heard subdued laughter. At the foot of the ramp and on the dock, the soldier looked back despairingly, but was rudely pushed. He disappeared into the night. Finally the ramp was pulled aboard, the doors locked. The Isabel raised anchor, and silently drifted out to sea, nimble and dancing, her sails filled with moonlight. Joseph experienced a sense of enormous relief, which disgusted him. As if he understood Mr. Montrose said, "There are men who love danger for itself and could not live without it, and search for it. And there are men who do not love danger, but will face it as bravely as the others. I do not know, in all honesty, which I prefer, but if it came to the question of my life I would choose the men who do not seek danger though they will not run from it." He laughed a little. "I fear I am of the first persuasion, and not the second." On their return to New York they went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and it seemed to Joseph that the near past had not happened at all. Shortly after their return Mr. Montrose requested his presence at the meeting with the bankers. Joseph was impressed by their strange anonymity. (He understood he was not to question or speak, but only to listen.) He heard foreign accents, though all spoke in English to Mr. Montrose. It was impossible to distinguish among them, to catch any peculiarity of temperament, of dissent, eccentricity, or even of individual character. They were gentlemen, courtly and genial and of the most elaborate manners, marvelously reserved and polite and attentive, never disagreeing, never raising a voice. They carried documents and ledgers with them in tooled cases, and drank wine around the large table in Mr. Montrose's apartment. When they spoke it was in calm and dispassionate accents, almost disembodied. There was no emotion, no rancor, no protest. Some were Russians, some French, some English, some German, and others of various races not explained. There was even a Chinese, and a Japanese, all impeccable and deferential to each other. It was like a majestic minuet to Joseph, danced to the clinking music of cold money, and executed with precision, no eyes brightening or dimming, no voice lifted in a joke or in mirth. It was business, and none of them had allegiances or attachments or involvements with any nation, not even their own. It would have been unseemly to them to have betrayed any human heat or personal entanglement. It was possible that most of them were husbands and fathers and sons, but none ever showed an absent eye or spoke of anything pertaining to his intimate self. Joseph immediately called them "the gray and deadly men," and did not know why he detested them, or why he found them the most dangerous of all among the human species. He noticed that none of them drank whiskey and drank only sparingly of wine. They might have mutual and intricate business to transact with each other, but it was most evident to Joseph that none trusted the others. They talked only of money, the greatest of powers, the most pragmatic of common denominators. No eye lighted with humor or friendship or intimacy. It was accepted that all other things besides money and the power of money were outside the consideration of intelligent men, and all the affairs of the world beyond money were trivia to be considered only in leisure and with urbane and indulgent smiles, as one entertains himself with the prattle of women or a light and agreeable concerto after "dining. They discussed the War between the States and referred to their notes liand documents, as if the death and blood and agony of a fratricidal war c-planned long before in London for profit-was only a business maneuver. There were diagrams of profit displayed for when the South was iconquered and rich land seized by the North. There was a brief discussion at the movement of industry to the South after the conclusion of the war land the lower wages probable. An Englishman mentioned that England Jwould not be uninterested in the division of land, and that England was fiheavily invested in the South, and that the English bankers would insist Ion the return of a great interest on the money lent the Confederacy for arnaments. The other bankers nodded solemnly. It was only fair, of course. A Russian mentioned, with a cold sharpness in his eye-very ill- bred-that as the North had been protected from England by the Russian 4avy the Czar would be distressed if his investments in the North were at given first consideration. A German later spoke of a possible war between Germany and France. "We have investments in Alsace, and the French are not as industrious as the Germans." Two Frenchmen smiled faintly. "We are as intelligent, if perhaps not as industrious, Herr Schultz. But, alas, our countrymen prefer to enjoy life as well as profits." This, for the first time, evoked slight and quickly suppressed murmurs of amusement. "I think," said one gentleman, "that we can, hopefully, consider the tenets of Karl Marx, who is now in England, in the reorganization of profitable political forces in Germany. We are not unaware of Bismarck. I believe we can manipulate him. Moreover, the Emperor in France-and I honor His Majesty-has been reported to be impressed by the theories of Marx. I have no doubt, therefore, that some-disagreement-can be stimulated between Germany and France in the near future. I am due in London and Berlin and Paris very shortly, and this will all be discussed to the utmost." An Englishman cleared his throat. "We should prefer that the European press no longer express indignation against Her Majesty, Empress of India." He was immediately reassured, without any retreat from neutral accents, that this would be attended to as soon as possible, and the press "informed" in Europe. Mr. Montrose said, with a deferential inclination of his head to his colleagues, "The United States of America is a new country and not warlike, and this war is not to her liking-" "My dear Mr. Montrose," said one of the gentlemen, "do you not agree that it is time for your country to embark on empire and become part of the universal monetary plans?" "Not immediately," said Mr. Montrose. "You must remember that we are mainly, still, an agricultural nation and not an industrial one. Agricultural nations do not engage in wars or disputes to any extent, nor are they particularly interested in the banking business. America is wide and open and we have not as yet fully explored our territory and it may be decades before we can induce the American people to become enthusiastic for wars for profits. The Constitution is also a hindrance. Only Congress can declare war, and Americans are a very recalcitrant people and have suspicion of government, and look on the State with a watchful eye." "Then, it is the duty of informed men to introduce the theories of Karl Marx into America," said one gentleman. "It is ridiculous that your Washington should be so weak, and government so decentralized, and power left to the individual states. Centralized power, as you know, Mr. Montrose, is the only guarantee of profits and controlled wars, and prosperity. We cannot be too much in haste to introduce the theories and mandates of Karl Marx. Those theories destroy the concept of anything but the centralized power of the State. Once power is concentrated in Washington- admittedly not an immediate prospect-America will take her place as an empire and calculate and instigate wars, for the advantage of all concerned. We all know, from long experience, that progress depends on war." Did these men, thought Joseph, have anything to do with the conflict between Ireland and England? and a sick coldness spread through him. "I fear," said Mr. Montrose, "that you will not find Mr. Lincoln very amenable to even the subtlest suggestions after this war." "Then Mr. Lincoln must be-eliminated," said a gentleman in a cool voice. Mr. Montrose looked slowly from face to face. "Politicians in Washington have informed Mr. Healey that it is Mr. Lincoln's intention to heal the wounds of this war, to assist the South to recover, to reconcile neighbor with neighbor, to extend the hand of affection to the enemy, and to unite the nation again." "That is absurd," said one gentleman. "There is too much rich treasure in land and city in the South to allow it to fall again into irresponsible hands. Certainly, your country, sir, will be politically united again, but it is to our interests to keep her spiritually divided, and the animosity between North and South quite alive. That is the only way we can be certain of our profits, otherwise, there might be conjecture-" "And a comparing of notes," said Mr. Montrose with a most serious face. The others frowned at him for what they considered levity. "We must not only receive our loans from both North and South," said one, "but the accumulated large interest on those loans. Is it necessary for us to continue to repeat this, sir? These were honorable loans, given in good faith, by us. There are also other agreements which must be honored. If Mr. Lincoln disagrees-he may live, or not live-to regret it." "He loathes bankers," said another gentleman, in a voice such as a man uses when discussing a revolting and despicable person. "Who does he imagine is financing his war?" "And financing the Confederacy," said Mr. Montrose with a beautiful smile. Many cleared their throats as though Mr. Montrose had uttered an embarrassing obscenity. Many appeared to be avoiding a lewd and improper sight, for they discreetly lowered their stony eyelids. To Joseph's surprise Mr. Montrose winked at him over the heads of the bankers, for Joseph was sitting at a quiet distance. That wink partially calmed the hatred and anger and confused turmoil in the young man's mind. The world, again, had briefly intruded upon him and again he had the strength to reject it. Mr. Montrose had found the world preposterous, any involvement in it idiocy, except for profits. The hours went by and Joseph was witness to incredible conspiracies against mankind, all discussed in voices like the grating of bloodless metal, and at last he thought, An honorable man might sometimes be impelled, in this world, as Aristotle said, to kill himself. I am glad that I am not an honorable man, nor a fool, which is the same thing. Imperial Russia was mentioned. It was agreed that Russia was not as yet ripe for great wars nor the introduction of Marxist theories which would divide her people. She was especially not ready for revolution, "for," as one gentleman said, "it is impossible to induce revolution in a country where the majority of the populace is poor and only recently released from serfdom. We all know that it takes a certain affluence in a nation, a certain sense of well-being, a certain leisure and idleness and comfort, to be sympathetic to revolution. Intellectuals cannot flourish nor be heard in a nation which is desperately striving to feed itself. They can only flourish and advance theories in a nation with a considerable amount of prosperity, where the main interest of the people is not mere bodily survival, and where discontent and envy can be stimulated. Moreover, the very temperament of the Slavic peoples is averse to the Marxist dogma, unlike Great Britain, France, and Germany, and also the United States. It will take long subversion and I do not think that many of us here will be alive to see it. No, the immediate question now is Bismarck in Germany, and the growing enmity between Germany and France. The situation is extremely interesting." There was a brief mention of munitions makers all over the world, which Joseph could not entirely follow, but he gathered that the men in this room, and their colleagues, were advancing enormous loans and calculating profits and interest. He thought of Mr. Healey, who was surely not rich enough nor powerful enough to engage these men's attention, and it deeply puzzled him. Later he questioned Mr. Montrose about this. Mr. Montrose did not reply at once. He lit a cheroot and sipped a little brandy, now that he and Joseph were alone, and then he said, "This was all intended to be relayed to Mr. Healey, not for his own use directly, but for the information of politicians. Mr. Healey owns many politicians. Not only Senator Hennessey, who is one of the most powerful and persuasive, but others. Would it not be dangerous for these men to be seen in the company of the international bankers? There are always inflammatory men, especially among the press, who distrust all government, which is perspicacious of them. "You will recall a discussion today concerning the dissatisfaction the gentlemen feel for our absurd Constitutional Amendment that only Congress has the power to coin money. They are now trying to influence our government to permit a private Federal Reserve System to coin and issue and control currency, without the consent of Congress or any other governmental agency. What do you think is the purpose of that?" Joseph shook his head and Mr. Montrose laughed. "Congress, alone, has the power to declare wars. But wars need financing. It is entirely too risky for the bankers to finance a divided nation, like ours, in a war when Congress guards the public purse and chooses when to coin money.