"You're going far, then, in the Pied Witch, Zack?""I am," said Zachary.
"And where might yu be goin' in that old trampin' smut factory?""Morocco."
"Heu!" said the old man, "there's nothing there; I know that coast, as I know the back o' my hand." He stretched out a hand covered with veins and hair.
Zachary began suddenly to pour out a flood of words:
"Below Mogador--a fellow there--friend of mine--two years ago now.
Concessions--trade-gunpowder--cruisers--feuds--money--chiefs--Gatling guns--Sultan--rifles--rebellion--gold." He detailed a reckless, sordid, bold scheme, which, on the pivot of a trading venture, was intended to spin a whole wheel of political convulsions.
"They'll never let you get there," said old Pearse.
"Won't they?" returned Zachary."Oh yes, they will, an' when Ileave, there'll be another dynasty, and I'll be a rich man.""Yu'll never leave," answered the old man.
Zachary took out a sheet of paper covered with figures.He had worked the whole thing out.So much--equipment, so much--trade, so much--concessions, so much--emergencies."My last mag!" he ended, "a thousand short; the ship's ready, and if I'm not there within a month my chance is as good as gone."This was the pith of his confidences--an appeal for money, and we all looked as men will when that crops up.
"Mad!" muttered the old man, looking at the sea.
"No," said Zachary.That one word was more eloquent than all the rest of his words put together.This fellow is no visionary.His scheme may be daring, and unprincipled, but--he knows very well what he's about.
"Well!" said old Pearse, "you shall have five 'undred of my money, if it's only to learn what yu're made of.Wheel me in!" Zachary wheeled him into the house, but soon came back.
"The old man's cheque for five hundred pounds!" he said, holding it up."Mr.Treffry, give me another, and you shall have a third of the profits."I expected Dan to give a point-blank refusal.But he only asked:
"Would that clear you for starting?"
"With that," said Zachary, "I can get to sea in a fortnight.""Good!" Dan said slowly."Give me a written promise! To sea in fourteen days and my fair share on the five hundred pounds--no more--no less."
Again I thought Pearse would have jumped at this, but he leaned his chin on his hand, and looked at Dan, and Dan looked at him.While they were staring at each other like this, Pasiance came up with a kitten.
"See!" she said, "isn't it a darling?" The kitten crawled and clawed its way up behind her neck.I saw both men's eyes as they looked at Pasiance, and suddenly understood what they were at.The kitten rubbed itself against Pasiance's cheek, overbalanced, and fell, clawing, down her dress.She caught it up and walked away.Some one, I don't know which of us, sighed, and Pearse cried "Done!"The bargain had been driven.
"Good-bye, Mr.Pearse," said Dan; " I guess that's all I'm wanted for.I'll find my pony waiting in the village.George, you'll see Pasiance home?"We heard the hoofs of his pony galloping down the road; Pearse suddenly excused himself, and disappeared.
This venture of his may sound romantic and absurd, but it's matter-of-fact enough.He's after L.s.d.! Shades of Drake, Raleigh, Hawkins, Oxenham! The worm of suspicion gnaws at the rose of romance.What if those fellows, too, were only after L.s.d....?
I strolled into the pine-wood.The earth there was covered like a bee's body with black and gold stripes; there was the blue sea below, and white, sleepy clouds, and bumble-bees booming above the heather;it was all softness, a summer's day in Devon.Suddenly I came on Pearse standing at the edge of the cliff with Pasiance sitting in a little hollow below, looking up at him.I heard him say:
"Pasiance--Pasiance!" The sound of his voice, and the sight of her soft, wondering face made me furious.What business has she with love, at her age? What business have they with each other?
He told me presently that she had started off for home, and drove me to the ferry, behind an old grey pony.On the way he came back to his offer of the other day.
"Come with me," he said."It doesn't do to neglect the Press; you can see the possibilities.It's one of the few countries left.If Ionce get this business started you don't know where it's going to stop.You'd have free passage everywhere, and whatever you like in reason."I answered as rudely as I could--but by no means as rudely as Iwanted--that his scheme was mad.As a matter of fact, it's much too sane for me; for, whatever the body of a scheme, its soul is the fibre of the schemer.
"Think of it," he urged, as if he could see into me."You can make what you like of it.Press paragraphs, of course.But that's mechanical; why, even I could do it, if I had time.As for the rest, you'll be as free--as free as a man."There, in five words of one syllable, is the kernel of this fellow Pearse--"As free as a man!" No rule, no law, not even the mysterious shackles that bind men to their own self-respects! "As free as a man!" No ideals; no principles; no fixed star for his worship; no coil he can't slide out of! But the fellow has the tenacity of one of the old Devon mastiffs, too.He wouldn't take "No" for an answer.
"Think of it," he said; "any day will do--I've got a fortnight....
Look! there she is! "I thought that he meant Pasiance; but it was an old steamer, sluggish and black in the blazing sun of mid-stream, with a yellow-and-white funnel, and no sign of life on her decks.
"That's her--the Pied Witcb! Do her twelve knots; you wouldn't think it! Well! good-evening! You'd better come.A word to me at any time.I'm going aboard now."As I was being ferried across I saw him lolling in the stern-sheets of a little boat, the sun crowning his straw hat with glory.
I came on Pasiance, about a mile up the road, sitting in the hedge.
We walked on together between the banks--Devonshire banks, as high as houses, thick with ivy and ferns, bramble and hazel boughs, and honeysuckle.
"Do you believe in a God?" she said suddenly.
