University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.
THE “WHARF-RAT.”

On his way home Joseph reviewed the quarrel with a little
more calmness, and, while admitting his own rashness and
want of tact, felt relieved that it had occurred. Julia now
knew, at least, how sorely he had been grieved by her selfishness,
and she had thus an opportunity, if she really loved
him, of showing whether her nature were capable of change.
He determined to make no further reference to the dissension,
and to avoid what might lead to a new one. He did
not guess, as he approached the house, that his wife had long
been watching at the front window, in an anxious, excited
state, and that she only slipped back to the sofa and covered
her head just before he reached the door.

For a day or two she was silent, and perhaps a little
sullen; but the payment of the most pressing bills, the
progress of the new embellishments, and the necessity of
retaining her affectionate playfulness in the presence of the
workmen, brought back her customary manner. Now and
then a sharp, indirect allusion showed that she had not
forgotten, and had not Joseph closed his teeth firmly upon
his tongue, the household atmosphere might have been
again disturbed.

Not many days elapsed before a very brief note from Mr.
Blessing announced that the fifth instalment would be needed.
He wrote in great haste, he said, and would explain
everything by a later mail.

Joseph was hardly surprised now. He showed the note

to Julia, merely saying: “I have not the money, and if I
had, he could scarcely expect me to pay it without knowing
the necessity. My best plan will be to go to the city at
once.”

“I think so, too,” she answered. “You will be far better
satisfied when you have seen pa, and he can also help you
to raise the money temporarily, if it is really inevitable.
He knows all the capitalists.”

“I shall do another thing, Julia. I shall sell enough of
the stock to pay the instalment; nay, I shall sell it all, if I
can do so without loss.”

“Are you —” she began fiercely, but, checking herself,
merely added, “see pa first, that's all I stipulate.”

Mr. Blessing had not returned from the Custom-House
when Joseph reached the city. He had no mind to sit in
the dark parlor and wait; so he plunged boldly into the
labyrinth of clerks, porters, inspectors, and tide-waiters.
Everybody knew Blessing, but nobody could tell where he
was to be found. Finally some one, more obliging than the
rest, said: “Try the Wharf-Rat!”

The Wharf-Rat proved to be a “saloon” in a narrow
alley behind the Custom-House. On opening the door, a
Venetian screen prevented the persons at the bar from being
immediately seen, but Joseph recognized his father-in-law's
voice, saying, “Straight, if you please!” Mr. Blessing was
leaning against one end of the bar, with a glass in his hand,
engaged with an individual of not very prepossessing appearance.
He remarked to the latter, almost in a whisper
(though the words reached Joseph's ears), “You understand,
the collector can't be seen every day; it takes time,
and — more or less capital. The doorkeeper and others
expect to be feed.”

As Joseph approached, he turned towards him with an
angry, suspicious look, which was not changed into one of
welcome so soon that a flash of uncomfortable surprise did
not intervene. But the welcome once there, it deepened
and mellowed, and became so warm and rich that only a
cold, contracted nature could have refused to bathe in its
effulgence.

“Why!” he cried, with extended hands, “I should as
soon have expected to see daisies growing in this sawdust, or
to find these spittoons smelling like hyacinths! Mr. Tweed,
one of our rising politicians, Mr. Asten, my son-in-law!
Asten, of Asten Hall, I might almost say, for I hear that
your mansion is assuming quite a palatial aspect. Another
glass, if you please: your throat must be full of dust,
Joseph,—pulvis faucibus hœsit, if I might be allowed to
change the classic phrase.”

Joseph tried to decline, but was forced to compromise on
a moderate glass of ale; while Mr. Blessing, whose glass
was empty, poured something into it from a black bottle,
nodded to Mr. Tweed, and saying, “Always straight!”
drank it off.

“You would not suppose,” he then said to Joseph, “that
this little room, dark as it is, and not agreeably fragrant, has
often witnessed the arrangement of political manœuvres
which have decided the City, and through the City the
State. I have been together at that table, at midnight,
Senator Slocum, and the Honorables Whitstone, Hacks, and
Larruper. Why, the First Auditor of the Treasury was
here no later than last week! I frequently transact some
of the confidential business of the Custom-House within
these precincts, as at present.”

“Shall I wait for you outside?” Joseph asked.

“I think it will not be necessary. I have stated the
facts, Mr. Tweed, and if you accept them, the figures
can be arranged between us at any time. It is a simple
case of algebra: by taking x, you work out the unknown
quantity.”

With a hearty laugh at his own smartness, he shook the
“rising politician's” hand, and left the Wharf-Rat with
Joseph.

“We can talk here as well as in the woods,” he said.
“Nobody ever hears anything in this crowd. But perhaps
we had better not mention the Amaranth by name, as the
operation has been kept so very close. Shall we say `Paraguay'
instead, or—still better—`Reading,' which is a
very common stock? Well, then, I guess you have come
to see me in relation to the Reading?”

Joseph, as briefly as possible, stated the embarrassment
he suffered, on account of the continued calls for payment,
the difficulty of raising money for the fifth instalment, and
bluntly expressed his doubts of the success of the speculation.
Mr. Blessing heard him patiently to the end, and then,
having collected himself, answered:—

“I understand, most perfectly, your feeling in the matter.
Further, I do not deny that in respect to the time of realizing
from the Am—Reading, I should say—I have also been
disappointed. It has cost me no little trouble to keep my
own shares intact, and my stake is so much greater than
yours, for it is my all! I am ready to unite with the
Chowder, at once: indeed, as one of the directors, I mentioned
it at our last meeting, but the proposition, I regret to
say, was not favorably entertained. We are dependent, in a
great measure, on Kanuck, who is on the spot superintending
the Reading; he has been telegraphed to come on, and

promises to do so as soon as the funds now called for are
forthcoming. My faith, I hardly need intimate, is firm.”

“My only resource, then,” said Joseph, “will be to sell
a portion of my stock, I suppose?”

“There is one drawback to that course, and I am afraid
you may not quite understand my explanation. The—
Reading has not been introduced in the market, and its
real value could not be demonstrated without betraying
the secret lever by which we intend hoisting it to a fancy
height. We could only dispose of a portion of it to capitalists
whom we choose to take into our confidence. The
same reason would be valid against hypothecation.”

“Have you paid this last instalment?” Joseph suddenly
asked.

“N—no; not wholly; but I anticipate a temporary accommodation.
If Mr. Spelter deprives me of Clementina,
as I hear (through third parties) is daily becoming more
probable, my family expenses will be so diminished that I
shall have an ample margin; indeed, I shall feel like a large
paper copy, with my leaves uncut!”

He rubbed his hands gleefully; but Joseph was too much
disheartened to reply.

“This might be done,” Mr. Blessing continued. “It is
not certain that all the stockholders have yet paid. I will
look over the books, and if such be the case, your delay
would not be a sporadic delinquency. If otherwise, I will
endeavor to gain the consent of my fellow-directors to the
introduction of a new capitalist, to whom a small portion
of your interest may be transferred. I trust you perceive
the relevancy of this caution. We do not mean that our
flower shall always blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on
the oleaginous air; we only wish to guard against its being

`untimely ripped' (as Shakespeare says) from its parent
stalk. I can well imagine how incomprehensible all this
may appear to you. In all probability much of your conversation
at home, relative to crops and the like, would be
to me an unknown dialect. But I should not, therefore,
doubt your intelligence and judgment in such matters.”

Joseph began to grow impatient. “Do I understand
you to say, Mr. Blessing,” he asked, “that the call for the
fifth instalment can be met by the sale of a part of my
stock?”

“In an ordinary case it might not—under the peculiar
circumstances of our operation—be possible. But I trust I
do not exaggerate my own influence when I say that it is
within my power to arrange it. If you will confide it to
my hands, you understand, of course, that a slight formality
is necessary,—a power of attorney?”

Joseph, in his haste and excitement, had not considered
this, or any other legal point: Mr. Blessing was right.

“Then, supposing the shares to be worth only their par
value,” he said, “the power need not apply to more than
one-tenth of my stock?”

Mr. Blessing came into collision with a gentleman passing
him. Mutual wrath was aroused, followed by mutual apologies.
“Let us turn into the other street,” he said to
Joseph; “really, our lives are hardly safe in this crowd; it
is nearly three o'clock, and the banks will soon be closed.”

“It would be prudent to allow a margin,” he resumed,
after their course had been changed: “the money market is
very tight, and if a necessity were suspected, most capitalists
are unprincipled enough to exact according to the
urgency of the need. I do not say—nor do I at all anticipate—that
it would be so in your case; still, the future is

a sort of dissolving view, and my suggestion is that of the
merest prudence. I have no doubt that double the amount
—say one-fifth of your stock—would guard us against all
contingencies. If you prefer not to intrust the matter to
my hands, I will introduce you to Honeyspoon Brothers,
the bankers,—the elder Honeyspoon being a director,—who
will be very ready to execute your commission.”

What could Joseph do? It was impossible to say to Mr.
Blessing's face that he mistrusted him: yet he certainly did
not trust! He was weary of plausible phrases, the import
of which he was powerless to dispute, yet which were so at
variance with what seemed to be the facts of the case. He
felt that he was lifted aloft into a dazzling, secure atmosphere,
but as often as he turned to look at the wings which
upheld him, their plumage shrivelled into dust, and he fell
an immense distance before his feet touched a bit of reality.

The power of attorney was given. Joseph declined Mr.
Blessing's invitation to dine with him at the Universal
Hotel, the Blessing table being “possibly a little lean to
one accustomed to the bountiful profusion of the country,”
on the plea that he must return by the evening train; but
such a weariness and disgust came over him that he halted
at the Farmers' Tavern, and took a room for the night. He
slept until long into the morning, and then, cheered in spirit
through the fresh vigor of all his physical functions,
started homewards.