Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Volume 2 of 3

“No! will you, though?” exclaimed Hearty Wibraham, flushed with a good heartʼs enthusiasm. “You are the finest young fellow I have seen since I was your age myself. Suppose, now, we split the difference. Say 125l.; and I shall work you pretty hard, I can tell you. For we do not confine our attention exclusively to the members of the Ministry, and the House of Lords; we also deal with the City magnates, and take a contract for Somerset House. And remember one thing; you will be in exclusive charge whenever I am away negotiating. A man deserves to be paid, you know, for high responsibility.”

“And where will the” – he hardly knew what to call it – “the office, the counting–house, the headquarters be?”

“Not in any common thoroughfare,” replied Mr. Wibraham, proudly; “that would never do for a business of such a character. What do you think, sir, of Howard Crescent, Park Lane? Not so bad, sir, is it, for the sale of the grimy?”

“I really do not know,” said Cradock; “but it sounds very well. When do we open the books?”

“Monday morning, sir, at ten oʼclock precisely. Let me see: to–day is Friday. Perhaps it would be an accommodation to you, to have your salary paid weekly, until you draw by the quarter. Now, remember, I rely upon you to promote my interest in every way consistent with honour.”

“That you may do, most fully. I shall never forget your kind confidence, and your liberality.”

“You will have two young gentlemen, if not three, wholly under your orders. Also a middle–aged gentleman, a sort of sleeping partner, will kindly attend pro tem., and show you the work expected of you. I myself shall be engaged, perhaps, during the forenoon, in promoting the interests of the business in a most important quarter. Now, be true to me, Newman – I take liberties, you see – keep your subordinates in their place, and make them stick to work, sir. And remember that one ounce of example is worth a pound of precept. If you act truly and honestly by me, as I know you will, you may look forward to a partnership at no distant date. But donʼt be over–sanguine, my dear boy; there is hard work before you.”

“And you will not find me shrink from it,” said Cradock, throwing his shoulders back; “but we have not settled yet as to the amount of the premium, or deposit, whichever it may be.”

“Thank you. To be sure. I quite forgot that incident. Thirty guineas, I think you said, was all that would be convenient to you.”

“No, Mr. Wibraham; I said twenty pounds ten shillings.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake. I knew that there was an odd ten shillings. Say twenty–five guineas. A mere matter of form, you know; but one which we dare not neglect. It is not a premium; simply a deposit; to be returned at the expiration of the first twelve months. Will you send it to me by cheque? That, perhaps, would be the more convenient form. It will save you from coming again.”

“I am sorry to say I cannot; for now I have no banker. Neither can I by any means make it twenty–five guineas. I have stated to you the utmost figure of my present census.”

“Ah, quite immaterial. I am only sorry for your sake. The sum will be invested. I shall hold it as your trustee. But, for the sake of the books, merely to look well on the books, we must say twenty guineas. How could I invest twenty pounds ten shillings?”

This appeared reasonable to Cradock, who knew nothing about investment; and, after reflecting a minute or two, he replied as follows:

“I believe, Mr. Wibraham, that I might manage to make it twenty guineas. You said, I think, that my salary would be payable weekly.”

“To be sure, my dear boy, to be sure. At any rate until further arrangements.”

“Then I will undertake to pay you the twenty guineas. Next Monday, I suppose, will do for it?”

“Oh yes, Monday will do. But stop, I shall not be there on that morning; and, for formʼs sake, it must be paid first. Let us say Saturday evening. I shall be ready with a stamped receipt. Will you meet me here at six oʼclock, as you did this evening?”

Cradock agreed to this, and Mr. Hearty Wibraham shook hands with him most cordially, begging that mutual trust and amity might in no way be lessened by his own unfortunate obligation to observe certain rules and precedents.

In the highest spirits possible under such troubles as his were, Crad strode away from Aurea Themis Buildings, and whistled to black Wena, whom two of the most accomplished dog–stealers in London had been doing their best to inveigle. Failing of skill – for Wena was a deal too knowing – they at last attempted violence, putting away their chopped liver and hoof–meat, and other baits still more savoury, upon which I dare not enlarge. But, just as Black George, having lifted her boldly by the nape of the neck, was popping her into the sack tail foremost, though her short tail was under her stomach, what did she do but twist round upon him, in a way quite unknown to the faculty, and make her upper and lower canines meet through the palm of his hand? It wonʼt do to chronicle what he said – I am too much given to strictest accuracy; enough that he let her drop, in the manner of a red–hot potato; and Blue Bill, who made a grab at her, only got a scar on the wrist. Then she retreated to her step, and fired a royal salute of howls, never ending, ever beginning, until her master came out.

“Wena, dear,” he said, for he always looked on the little thing as an inferior piece of Amy, “you are very tired, my darling; the pavement has been too much for you. Sit upon my arm, pretty. We are both going to make our fortunes. And then you ‘shall walk in silk attire, and siller hae to spare.’”

Wena nuzzled her nose into its usual place in Cradockʼs identicity, and growled if any other dog took the liberty of looking at him. And so they got home, singing snug little songs to each other upon the way; and they both made noble suppers on the strength of their rising fortunes.

CHAPTER IX

The following day was Saturday, and the young fellow spent great part of it in learning the rules, the tables, and statistics of the coal trade, so far as they could be ascertained from a sixpenny work which he bought. Not satisfied with this, he went to the Geological Museum, in Jermyn–street, and pored over the specimens, and laid in a stock of carbonic knowledge that would have astonished Clinkers and Jenny. When the building was closed at four oʼclock he hurried back to Mortimer–street, paid Mrs. Ducksacre for his weekʼs lodgings, and ran off to a pawnbrokerʼs to raise a little money. Without doing this, he would not be able to deposit the twenty guineas. Mr. Gillʼs shopman knew Cradock well, from his having been there frequently to redeem some trifling articles for the poor people of the court, and felt some good–will towards him for his kindness to the little customers. It increased the activity of his trade, for most of the pledges were repledged or ever the week was out. And of course he got the money for issuing another duplicate.

“Hope thereʼs nothing amiss, Mr. Newman,” said the pawnbrokerʼs assistant; “sorry to see you come here, sir, on your own account.”

“Oh, you ought to congratulate me,” returned Cradock, with a knowing smile: “I am going to pay a premium, and enter into a good position upon advantageous terms; very advantageous, I may say, seeing how little I know of the coal trade.”

“Take care, sir, take care, I beg of you. People run down our line of business, and call it coining tears, &c.; but you may take my word for it, there is a deal more roguery in the coal trade, or rather in the pretence of it, than ever there is in the broking way.”

“There can be none in the present case, for the simple reason that I am not in any way committed to a partnership, neither am I to be at all dependent upon the profits.” And Cradock looked thankful for advice, but a deal too wise to want it.

“Well, sir, I hope it may be all right; for I am sure you deserve it. But there is a man, not far from here, I think you took some things out for him, by the name of Zakey Jupp; a shrewdish sort of fellow, though a deal too fond of fighting. Heʼll be up to some of the coal tricks, I expect, heʼs about in the yards so much; and the whippers and heavers are good uns to talk. Donʼt you think it beneath you, sir, to consult with Zakey Jupp, if you have the pleasure of his acquaintance.”

“I am proud to say that I have at last,” replied Cradock, smiling grimly; “but he went on board the Industrious Maiden, at Nine Elms, yesterday morning, and may not be back for a month. He wanted me to go with him; but I did not see how to be useful, and had not given my landlady notice. Now, if you please, I have not a moment to spare.”

The shopman saw that he could not, without being really impertinent, press his advice any further; and, although Cradock was so communicative, as young men are apt to be, especially about their successes, he never afforded much temptation to any one for impertinence.

“And how much upon them little articles?” was the next question put to Cradock; and he did not ask any very high figure, for fear of not getting them out again.

As he set off full speed for Aurea Themis Buildings, without inviting Wena, it struck him that it would be but common prudence just to look at the place of business; so he dashed aside out of Oxford–street, at the rate of ten miles an hour – for he was very light of foot – and made his way to Howard–crescent, whose position he had learned from the map. Sure enough there it was, when he got to the number indicated. And what a noble plate! So large, indeed, that it was absolutely necessary to have it in two parts. What refulgent brass! What fine engraving, especially on the lower part! You might call it chalco–illumination, chromography, chromometallurgy; I do not know any word half grand enough to describe it. And the legend itself so simple, how could they have made so much of it? The upper plate, though beautifully bright, was comparatively plain, and only carried the words, “Wibraham, Fookes, and Co.;” the lower and far more elaborate part enabled the public to congratulate itself upon having the above as “Coal Merchants and Colliery Agents to Her Most Gracious Majesty and the Duchy of Lancaster. Hours of Business, from Ten till Four.”

Cradock just took time to read this, by the light of the gas–lamp close to it; then glanced at the house (which looked clean and smart, though smaller than what he expected), and, feeling ashamed of his mean suspiciousness, darted away towards Notting Hill. When he arrived at Aurea Themis Buildings, he was kept waiting at the door so long that it made him quite uneasy, lest Hearty Wibraham should have forgotten all about his little deposit. At last the smart girl opened the door, and a short young man, whose dress more than whispered that he was not given to compromise his æsthetic views, came out with a bounce, and clapped a shilling in the hand of the smiling damsel. “There, Polly, get a peach–coloured cap–ribbon, and wear it in a true knot for my sake. I fancy Iʼve done your governor. Heʼs a trifle green; isnʼt he?” But, in spite of his conversational powers, the handmaid dismissed him summarily, when she saw Cradock waiting there.

The gas in the drawing–room was lit this time, and a good fire burning; and Mr. Wibraham, in spirits absolutely jocular, sprang forward to meet Cradock, and cried, “Hail, oh future partner!” Then he offered him a glass of “rare old Madeira;” and, producing a blank receipt form, exclaimed, “Whatever you do, my young friend, never let it be known in the counting–house that I accepted you with so ridiculous a deposit as the sum of thirty guineas.”

“Twenty, sir, twenty was what you agreed to accept.” Poor Cradock trembled from head to foot, lest even now, at the last moment, he should be rejected. But, to his delight, his new principal replied,

“Then, sir, twenty be it: if in a weak moment I agreed. Hearty Wibraham would rather throw up all his connexion than allow any man to say of him, sir, that he had departed from his word.” His voice trembled slightly, and there was a twinkle as of tears in his eyes. Crad began to apologize, though he could not quite see what harm he had done.

“Dash it, my boy, not another word. We understand each other. There is your receipt.”

In his confidence, Hearty Wibraham passed the receipt form, now filled up, to the aspiring coal–merchant, without having seen so much as the colour of his money. Then Cradock pulled out Amyʼs purse, in which he had put the cash, for good luck, and paid his footing bravely.

“Sir, I will not thank you,” said Mr. Wibraham, as he took the money, “because the act would not be genuine. And I am proudly able to declare that I have never yet done anything, even for the sake of the common courtesies of life, which has not been thoroughly genuine. My boy, this paltry twenty guineas is the opening of your mercantile life. May that life be prosperous; as I am sure you deserve.”

Cradock took another glass of Madeira, as genuine as its owner, and, after a hearty farewell, felt so rapidly on the rise, so touched, for the first time of many weeks, by the dexter wand of fortune, that he bought a quarter of an ounce of birdʼs–eye with an infusion of “Latakia” (grown in the footpath field at Mitcham), and actually warmed his dear brotherʼs pipe, which had not once been incremated ever since the sacred fire of the Prytaneum had languished.

Wena was overjoyed to see him, and she loved the smell of tobacco, and had often come sniffing about on the hearth–rug (or the bit of baize that did for it) to know whether it was true that a big man – a mastiff of a man, they told her – had succeeded in abolishing it; now, seeing the blue curls quivering nicely, she jumped upon his lap; and, although she was rather heavy, he thought it would be practice towards the nursing of Amy, and possibly Amyʼs children. Then, when he thought of that, he grew more happy than fifty emperors.

Fortune may jump on a young fellowʼs heart, with both heels set together; but, the moment she takes one off, up it comes, like a bladder too big to go into the football.

On Monday morning at ten oʼclock, our Crad, in a state of large excitement, appeared before the gorgeous plate, and rang the bell thereover. It was answered by an office–boy, with a grin so intensely humorous that it was worth all the guineas that could have been thrust into the great mouth he exhibited.

“Mr. Newman?” asked the boy, with a patronizing air, which a little mind would have found offensive.

“To be sure,” replied Cradock; “I suppose I am expected.”

“That you are,” said the cheeky boy, grinning harder than ever; “the other three gents is waiting, sir. Get you a penny paper for three half–pence.”

“Thank you,” answered Cradock, hoping to depress that boy, “I am not come here, young man, I trust, to waste time in reading the papers.”

“Oh no! oh lor no,” cried the boy as he led the way in; “tip–top business this is, and all of us wears out our marrow–bones. His Ro–oyal Highness will be here bumbye. ‘Spect theyʼll appoint you to receive him, ‘cos you would look such a swell with our governorʼs best boots on. Donʼt you refoose now, mind me, donʼt refoose, mate, if you loves me.”

“You want a little whipcord,” said Cradock; “and you shall have it too, my boy, if you come much into my neighbourhood.”

“There now; there now!” sighed the boy – who would have been worth something on the stage – “I have never been appreciated, and suppose I never shall. Whatʼs the odds to a jinker? Cockalocks, there go in, and let me mind your beaver.”

Cradock was shown into a room furnished as philosophically as the wash–house of Cincinnatus; still, it looked like business. There was no temptation to sit down, even though one had rowing–trousers on. There were four tall desks of deal uncovered; each had four legs, and resembled a naked Punch–and–Judy box. Hales, the Norfolk giant, could not have written at either of them, while sitting on any of the stools there.

Three of these desks were appropriated by three very nice young gentlemen, all burning to begin their labours. Two of the men were unknown to Cradock; but the third, the very short one, who had taken a stool to stand upon, and was mending a pen most earnestly – him Cradock recognised at once as the disburser of the shilling, the sanguine youth, of broad views in apparel, who had cheated Mr. Wibraham so.

“Mr. Fookes, I presume,” he exclaimed, with a leap from the stool, and a little run towards Cradock; “you see we are all ready, sir, to receive the junior partner. Hardly know what to be up to.”

“I am sure I cannot tell you,” answered Crad, with a smile; “I do not belong to the firm as yet, although I am promised a partnership at a date not very distant.”

“So am I,” said the little man, staring; “indeed, I came up from Cambridge principally upon the strength of it.”

“The deevil you did!” cried a tall, strapping fellow, crossing suddenly from his desk; “if yeʼll hearken me, my time comes first. The agrahment was signed for Candlemas, when the gloot of business allows it. And a Durham man knows what coals are.”

“Agrayment, thin, is it?” exclaimed the fourth, a flourishing, red–haired Irishman; “do you think Iʼd a left me Oonivarsity, Thrinity College, Dooblin, wiʼout having it down all black and white? By the same token, itʼs meself as is foremost. Christmas is the time, me boys; and the farst dividend on St. Pathrickʼs Day, wakely sthipend in the intherim. Divil take me sowl, but none o’ ye shall git before Manus OʼToole.”

“Gentlemen,” said Cradock, “donʼt let us be in a hurry. No doubt Mr. Fookes will be here presently, and then we can settle precedence. I see there is work set out for us; and I suppose we are not all strangers here.”

“Canʼt answer for the other gentlemen,” returned the little Cambridge man, “but I was never here before, except to see the place on Saturday.”

“And thatʼs joost my own predeecament,” cried the tall man from Hatfield Hall.

“Chop me up smarl,” said the Irishman, when they turned to him as their senior, “but the gintleman has the advantage o’ me. I niver was here at all, at all; and I hope I niver shall be.”

The four young men gathered round a desk, and gazed sadly at one another. At this moment the office–boy, seeing the distance safe, for he had been watching through the keyhole, pushed his head in at the door, and shouted, “Hi! there, young coal–merchants, donʼt yer sell too much now! Telegram from the Exchange, gents; grimy is on the rise. But excoose me half an hour, gents; Her Majesty have commanded my presence, to put the ro–oyal harms on me. Ho–hoop! Iʼm after you, Molly. Donʼt be afraid of my splashing your legs, dear.”

“Well,” said Cradock, as the rising young coal–merchants seemed to look to him for counsel, and stood in silent bewilderment – “it appears to me that there is something wrong. Let us hope that it is a mistake only; at any rate, let us stop, and see the matter out. I trust that none of you gentlemen have paid a premium, as I have.”

“I am sure I donʼt know,” said the Cantab, “what the others have done; but I was allowed to enter the firm for the sum of eighty guineas, a great deal too little, considering all the advantages offered – the proper sum being a hundred; but an abatement was made in my favour.”

“Ahty guineas!” cried the Durham man; “why I was admeeted for saxty, because I had no more.”

“Itʼs me blessed self, then, as bates you all,” shouted the son of Dublin; “shure and Iʼve made a clear sixty by it, for I hadnʼt no more than forty.”

“And I,” replied Cradock, with a melancholy air, “was received for the trifling sum of twenty, on account of my being an Oxford man.”

“Why, gentlemen,” said the little Cantab, “let us shake hands all round. We represent the four chief universities, only Scotland being omitted.”

“Catch a Scotchman with salt, me frinds!” cried the red Hibernian, as they went through the ceremony. “By Jasers, but that infarnal old Jew would have had to pay the porridge–man, for the pleasure of his company.”

“Now let us fall to our work, gentlemen” (Crad tried to look hopeful as he said it); “the books before us may throw some light upon this strange, and, as it seems, very roguish matter. I was told to act for our principal, during the absence of the sleeping partner; to keep you all in your places, and make you stick to your work; and especially to remember that one ounce of practice is worth a pound of precept.”

“I should be most happy, sir, to obey orders,” said the little Cambridge man, bowing; “only I hold the identical commission, ounce of practice and all, for your benefit, my good sir, and that of all the other juniors.”

“Now that shows a want of vareaty,” cried the tall Dunelmian, “for the sole charge of all of ye is commeeted to me.”

“Itʼs me blessed self that got it last, and that manes to kape it. What time wur you there, gintlemen, at Ory Thamis Buildings?”

It was settled that the Irishman had received his commission last, for, some whisky having been produced, he and Hearty Wibraham had kept it up until twelve oʼclock on the Saturday night. So, to his intense delight, he was now appointed captain.

“An’ if I donʼt drag him from his hole, to pay him the sixty guineas I owe him, out of your money, gintlemen, say my name isnʼt Manus OʼToole. Now the fust arder I give, is to have in the bhoy, and wallop him.”

Easier said than done, Mr. Toole. There was no boy to be found anywhere; and the only result of a strong demonstration in the passage was a curt note from the landlord.

“Gentlemen, – I understood as I had lett my rooms to a respectable party, rent payable weakly, and weak is up this day. Will take it a favuor to reseeve two pound ten per bearer.

“John Codger.”

The four university men looked wondrously blank at this – “gelidusque per ima cucurrit ossa tremor.”

“Well, I am blowed!” cried the little Cantab, getting smaller, and with the sky–blue stripes on his trousers quivering.

“Thereʼs a cousin of mine, a soleecitor,” said the young north countryman, “would take up this case for us, if we made a joint deposeet.”

“Have down the landlord and fight him,” proposed the Emerald Islander.

“I donʼt care a fig for the landlord,” said Cradock, who now recalled some shavings of law from the Quarter Sessions spokeshave; “he can do nothing at all to us, until twelve oʼclock, and then he can send us about our business, and no more harm done. We were not parties to the original contract, and have nothing to do with the rent. Now, gentlemen, there is only one thing I would ask you, in return for my lucid legal opinion.”

“What is that?” cried all the rest; “whatever it is, you shall have it.”

“That you make over to me, vivâ voce, your three–fourths of the brass–plate. I have taken a strange fancy to it; the engraving is so fine.”

“You are perfectly welcome to it,” exclaimed the other three; “but wonʼt it belong to the landlord?”

“Not if it is merely screwed on, as probably is the case. And I have a screw–driver in my knife, which very few screws can resist.”

“Then go and take it, by all means, before twelve oʼclock, for afterwards we shall only be trespassers.”

Crad put his hat on and went out, but returned with the wonderful screw–driver snapped up into his knife–handle, and the first flush of real British anger yet seen upon his countenance. What wonderful beings we are! He had lost nearly all his substance, and he was vexed most about the brass–plate.

“Done at every point,” he said; “that glorious under–plate is gone, and only the narrow bar left with the name of the thief upon it, which of course would not suit him again.”

“Oysters all round!” cried the Cambridge man, “as the landlord cannot distrain us. An oyster is a legal esculent; I see they teach law at Oxford; let us at least die jolly. And I claim the privilege of standing oysters, because I have paid the highest premium, and am the most promising partner – at any rate, the softest fellow. Gentlemen, if you refuse me, I claim our captainʼs decision. Captain OʼToole, how is it?”

“Arrah, thin, and I order eysters at this gintlemanʼs expinse, London stout for the waker stomiks, and a drop o’ poteen for digestion, to them as are wakest of all.”

“Done,” said the little Cantab, “if only to rile the landlord, and he may distrain the shells. Call four university men, by implication, unrespectable parties! We must have our action against him. Gentlemen. I am off for the grub, and see that I get in again.”