Last Pages. Oscar MandelЧитать онлайн книгу.
purse. I must look into that so-called seaman, and you must go on petting Mr. Nicholas. That’s not too painful a task, is it?”
“Now it is.”
“Twaddle! You’re to tickle the truth out of him, d’you hear, whether by godly means or otherwise. Five hundred pounds! Your mother forgives you in advance.”
9
AT ABOUT THE TIME mother and daughter were conversing over chops and wine, William Mayhew and Young Nick read the letters they had taken from Wallace’s pouch, while the poor castaway was yet half asleep on a sofa in the parlor, well dried and covered with a blanket. Nicholas, sneezing a great deal, had of course quickly changed clothes. The little group had made its way from the wharf to the Mayhew house without incident, escorted by ten or twelve well-wishers. The house on Oak Street was quickly reached, the door sharply shut on unwanted curiosity. As Wallace could fit into into the younger Mayhew’s clothing, he was quickly stripped naked, dried, and clad, and gently given some rum to drink. He promptly fell asleep. Priscilla was asked to keep an eye on him while Ruth was preparing supper for all. Abishai Cottle, though never was a man more trusted by his employers, was sent to Dr. Phelps for consultation. Finally the two men went into the counting-house, where Mayhew took the pouch out of his pocket and carefully reopened it. Two sealed letters were in it, both blessedly dry, one addressed to Colonel Mayhew, the other to Lieutenant Nicholas Mayhew. The men spoke low, as if fearing to be overheard.
“You first, uncle; break the seal and read and tell me whatever you wish me to know.”
The letter was opened. Mayhew’s hand trembled. He read in silence, Young Nick’s eyes darted on his. Then, solemnly, Mayhew lowered the letter and said: “It is written to me by General Washington. My old friend has been promoted. I am asked to accompany General Schuyler into Canada.”
“Into Canada? That is news!”
“We took it away from France, and now we must take it away from England. Here are the words. ‘Our capture of Fort Ticonderoga on the 26th of May has encouraged the Congress to strike boldly into Canada. General Schuyler has been appointed to lead the northern expedition. He will not pause until Montreal and Quebec have fallen into our hands and our Canadian brethren are embraced into the common cause. Your task, my dear friend, will be to assist General Schuyler as his brigadier.’”
“Brigadier! Dear Friend! General Mayhew! This should be sung by a choir!”
“Hush. There’s more. Listen to this. ‘I entreat you to meet me at Cambridge in the first days of July, for I may as well make known to you here and now what you shall undoubtedly be reading in the gazettes, to wit that the Congress has seen fit to entrust me, for the time being, with the defense of our sacred interests. I am proceeding immediately to Cambridge to take command of the army surrounding Boston.’”
Nicholas jumped up. “Blow, ye trumpets!” he shouted, laughing.
“But not too loud! For at the end of the letter Washington recommends caution and secrecy. ‘There is a rumor here that you are being spied upon. The Tory element on your island is strong. Shroud your departure from Nantucket in secrecy.’”
“We will! Uncle—to think Wallace might have drowned!”
“Your letter, sir, your letter now.”
Nicholas had been hesitant about opening his letter in the Colonel’s presence—the reason will appear shortly—but now he did so and read aloud: “‘You, Nicholas Mayhew, may, as captain of a man-of-war, by force of arms, attack, subdue, and take all ships and other vessels belonging to the inhabitants of Great Britain. You shall—’ and so forth. Just as I had hoped, uncle! My years at sea are remembered. Ah! They can count on me!”
“May God bless our cause,” said Mayhew simply, unafraid of expressing high thoughts.
They looked in on Wallace, and discovered that he was now awake and that Priscilla’s ministrations had made him perfectly ready for supper and talk. He said much, to begin with, of his gratitude to Nicholas, who reciprocated with like gratitude to the agent. “Indeed,” added Mayhew, “impossible to think of you as our agent. As anything except a most precious and reliable friend.”
“I don’t know what to say, Colonel,” said Wallace, much moved. “Mine is a family of humble clerks—” and then his eyes teared, and arms and hands were tightened around three pairs of shoulder.
But Wallace had brought verbal news or commands along with the letters. Again Nicholas had to cry out “Uncle, if he had drowned!” It was now specified that within a week or so the same whale-ship Enterprise, under Captain Fleming’s command, was to return to Nantucket, but bringing the vessel this time round the island and dropping anchor off the south coast between Weweeder and Nobadeer Pond. Fleming would wait for light signals from the little beach, telling him that all was well and that the two men would be rowing out to the ship in short order.
And vanish from the island for who could tell how long? The three men decided there and then that after the Mayhews’ flight to the mainland, Wallace and Cottle were to run the business until peace returned to the land—a matter, they thought, of a year or so, but could one really tell? Wallace was a bachelor. Terms were made attractive to him, and to be sure, the new assignment was a step up for the man. Furthermore, should the Mayhews’ flight be successful—and it appeared to be an uncomplicated if discreet operation—it would no longer matter that Wallace suddenly turned from being an unfortunate sailor to an associate of Mayhew & Mayhew.
But it was time for bed. A room was ready for the agent. “Henry,” said Mayhew as they parted for the night, “few people know you on the island. All the same, for the time being I recommend more time indoors than outdoors for you.”
10
NEXT MORNING proved to be a true early summer day, and after Sunday service, Colonel Mayhew mounted his horse for an innocent ramble to the south shore, followed by Josh Mamack in his cart, loaded already with logs and twigs for the future blaze. The two seamen (they had been lodged in a modest inn in Summer Street) met with Obed Coffin that same morning, purchased two barrels (not really needed by the Enterprise), and thus completed their mission. A Nantucket lad promptly rowed them back to the ship.
Mayhew’s absence was a boon to Young Nick, who had much to hear from Wallace out of his uncle’s earshot. Priscilla had set breakfast for the agent in the dining room, but the man slept long and deep. Nicholas was waiting for him at table when he finally appeared, excusing himself.
“Eat and speak!” cried Nicholas.
And here, between fresh eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, is more or less what Wallace reported, halting only at a sign from Young Nick when Priscilla appeared. A Mayhew relation, a certain Mr. Pigeon, presently commissary general for Massachusetts, promised to purchase whatever Nicholas—were he given a brig to command—would capture. “He’ll purchase lace doilies for the Army,” said Wallace, “if lace doilies is what you take at sea. We were sitting in a private room at the City—that’s the tavern of our true-hearted Whigs when the speechifying has made them thirsty—and he was laughing till the tears rolled from his eyes and his belly bobbed like a lifebuoy. Doilies and diapers, he kept repeating, Cousin Pigeon will buy for Massachusetts! You can’t miss, Mr. Mayhew.”
“He gave you nothing in writing?”
“Pigeon don’t put anything in writing except birthday wishes to his mother. So he said, sir.”
“But is Fillmore going to believe this in Salem? Verbal promises reported at second hand?”
“The question occurred to me, sir. Pigeon agreed to send a trusted messenger to Salem; the man will tell Fillmore what I have told you. Nothing in writing.”
“That will have to do. And Pigeon himself—what are his terms?”
“Ten percent; plus an eighth share in Mr. Davis’ chocolate mill.”
“An eighth? You didn’t agree, did you? A full