The Great Quest. Charles Boardman Hawes
who nodded as if to encourage him to go on.
"Yes, you will be well looked after, however it may appear at first flush. I'll see that no faithful man suffers to my profit, even though I have sold the store."
"What's that? You've sold the store?" Sim wildly broke in. "If you've—you've gone and sold the store? What—what?"
"Be still, Sim," Uncle Seth interposed. "Yes, I have sold the store. I know that Joe'll not be surprised to hear it; but even he has had only the vaguest hint of what's going forward. The gentleman who was here yesterday and to-day, has bought me out, store and house, lock, stock, and barrel."
"The house!" I cried.
"Yes," said Uncle Seth shortly.
"But what'll I do? And Arnold? And Joe?" Sim demanded. "Oh, Seth Upham! Never did I think to see this day and hear them words."
"I'm coming to that," said Uncle Seth. "There'll be room here for the three of you if you want to stay, and there'll be work in abundance in the store; but—ah, lads, here's the chance for you!—there'll be room for you with me, if you wish to come. I have bought a ship—"
"A brig," Cornelius Gleazen put in.
"A brig," said Uncle Seth, accepting the correction. "The Adventure, a very tidy little craft, and well named."
Cornelius Gleazen gave his cigar a harder flick and in a reminiscent voice again forced his way into the conversation. "Ninety-seven foot on deck, twenty-four foot beam, sixteen foot deep, and a good two hundred and fifty ton, built of white oak and copper fastened. Baltimore bow and beautiful rake. Trim as a gull and fast as a duck. Tidy's the word, Seth, tidy."
Gleazen's fingers were twitching and his eyes were strangely alight.
"Yes, yes," said Uncle Seth, sharply.
"But that's not all," Gleazen insisted.
"Well, what of it?" Uncle Seth demanded. "Are you going to tell 'em everything?"
At this Gleazen paused and looked hard at his cigar. His fingers, I could see, were twitching more than ever.
"No," he slowly said, "not everything. Go ahead, Seth."
"If you keep putting in, how can I go ahead."
"Oh, stow it!" Gleazen suddenly roared. "This is no piffling storekeeper's game. Go on!"
As you can imagine, we were all eyes and ears at this brush between the two; and when Gleazen lost his temper and burst out so hotly, in spite of my admiration for the man, I hoped, and confidently expected, to see Uncle Seth come back, hammer and tongs, and give him as good as he sent. Instead, he suddenly turned white and became strangely calm, and in a low, subdued voice went on to the rest of us:—
"We shall take on a cargo at Boston and sail for the West Indies, where we shall add a few men to the crew and thence sail for Africa. I'm sure the voyage will yield a good profit and—"
"O Seth, O Seth!" cried Gleazen, abruptly. "That is no manner of way to talk to the boys. Let me tell 'em!"
My uncle, at this, drew back in his chair and said with great dignity, "Sir, whose money is financing this venture?"
"Money?" Gleazen roared with laughter. "What's money without brains? I'll tell 'em? You sit tight."
We were all but dumbfounded. White of face and blue of lip, Seth Upham sat in his chair—his no longer!—and Gleazen told us.
He threw his cigar-butt on the floor and stepped on it, and drummed on his beaver hat with nimble fingers.
"It's like this, lads," he said in a voice that implied that he was confiding in us: "I've come home here to Topham with a fortune, to be sure, and I've come to end my days in the town that gave me birth. But—" his voice now fell almost to a whisper—"I've left a king's wealth on the coast of Guinea."
He paused to see the effect of his words. I could hear my uncle breathing hard, but I held my eyes intently on Neil Gleazen's face.
"A fit treasure for an emperor!" he whispered, in such a way that the words came almost hissing to our ears.
Still we sat in silence and stared at him.
"With three good men to guard it," he went on after another pause. "Three tried, true men—friends of mine, every one of them. Suppose I have made my fortune and come home to end my days in comfort? I'd as soon have a little more, hadn't you? And I'd as soon give a hand to a hard-working, honest boyhood friend, hadn't you? Here's what I done: I said to Seth Upham, who has robbed many a church with me—"
At that, I thought my uncle was going to cry out in protest or denial; but his words died in his throat.
"I said to him, 'Seth, you and me is old friends. Now here's this little scheme. I've got plenty myself, so I'll gladly share with you. If you'll raise the money for this venture, you'll be helping three good men to get their little pile out of the hands of heathen savages, and half of the profits will be yours.' So he says he'll raise money for the venture, and he done so, and he's sold his store and his house, and now he can't back down. How about it, Seth?"
My uncle gulped, but made no reply. Gleazen, who up to this point had been always deferential and considerate, seemed, out of a clear sky, suddenly to have assumed absolute control of our united fortunes.
"Of course it won't do to turn off old friends," he continued. "So he made up his mind to give you lads your choice of coming with us at handsome pay—one third of his lay is to be divided amongst those of you that come—"
"No, I never said that," Uncle Seth cried, as if startled into speech.
"You never?" Gleazen returned in seeming amazement. "The papers is signed, Seth."
"But I never said that!"
Gleazen turned on my uncle, his eyes blazing. "This from you!" he cried with a crackling oath. "After all I've done! I swear I'll back out now—then where'll you be? What's more, I'll tell what I know."
My uncle in a dazed way looked around the place that up to now had been his own little kingdom and uttered some unintelligible murmur.
"Ah," said Gleazen, "I thought you did." Then, as if Uncle Seth had not broken in upon him, as if he had not retorted at Uncle Seth, as if his low, even voice had not been raised in pitch since he began, he went on, "Or, lads, you can stay. What do you say?"
Still we sat and stared at him.
Sim Muzzy, as usual, was first to speak and last to think. "I'll go," he exclaimed eagerly, "I'll go, for one."
"Good lad," said Gleazen, who, although they were nearly of an age, outrageously patronized him.
With my familiar world torn down about my shoulders, and the patrimony that I long had regarded as mine about to be imperiled in this strange expedition, it seemed that I must choose between a berth in the new vessel and a clerkship with no prospects. It was not a difficult choice for a youth with a leaning toward adventure, nor was I altogether unprepared for it. Then, too, there was something in me that would not suffer me lightly to break all ties with my mother's only brother. After a moment for reflection, I said, "I'll go, for two."
Meanwhile, Arnold Lamont had been studying us all and had seen, I am confident, more than any of us. He had taken time to notice to the full the sudden return of all Cornelius Gleazen's arrogance and the extraordinary meekness of Uncle Seth who, without serious affront, had just now taken words from Gleazen for which he would once have blazed out at him in fury.
It did not take Arnold Lamont's subtlety to see that Gleazen, by some means or other, had got Seth Upham under his thumb and was taking keen pleasure in feeling him there. Gleazen's attitude toward my uncle had undergone a curious series of changes since the day when, for the first time, I had seen him enter our store: from arrogance he had descended to courtesy, even to deference; but from deference he had now returned again to arrogance. In his attitude