Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood Trader by R. M. Ballantyne (guided reading books txt) 📕

These long-headed men of business little knew the man. They did not know that he was great in the highest sense of the term, and that, among other elements of his greatness, he possessed the power of seizing the little things—the little opportunities—of life, and turning them to the best account; that he not only knew what should be done, and how to do it, but was gifted with that inflexible determination of purpose to carry out a design, without which knowledge and talent can never accomplish great things. The merchant did not, as they supposed, work late at night. He measured his time, and measured his work. In this he was like many other men in this struggling world; but he stuck to his time and to his work, in which respect he resembled the great few whose names stand prominent on the page of history.

In consequence of this, Mr Stuart wrought with success at both departments of his business, and while in the one he coined thousands, in the other he earned more than the average wages of a working man.

The Avenger was erratic and uncertain in her voyages. She evidently sailed to the principal islands of the South Seas, and did business with them all. From one of these voyages, Henry, her captain, returned with a wife—a dark-haired, dark-eyed, ladylike girl—for whom he built a small cottage beside his father’s, and left her there while he was away at sea.

It was observed by the clerks in Mr Stuart’s counting-room, that their chief accountant, Mr Corrie, was a great letter writer—that when one letter was finished, he invariably began another, and kept it by him, adding sheet after sheet to it until the Avenger returned and carried it off. Once Mr Corrie was called hurriedly away while in the act of addressing one of these epistles. He left it lying on his desk, and a small, contemptible, little apprentice allowed his curiosity so far to get the better of him, that he looked at the address, and informed his companions that Mr Corrie’s correspondent was a certain Miss Alice Mason!

Of course, Mr Corrie received voluminous replies from this mysterious Alice; and, if one might judge from his expression on reading these epistles, (as that contemptible little apprentice did judge,) the course of his love ran smoother than usual; thus, by its exceptionality, proving the truth of the rule.

Years passed away. The merchant’s head became grey, but his gigantic frame was as straight and his step as firm as ever. His wife, strange to say, looked younger as she grew older! It seemed as if she were recovering from some terrible illness that had made her prematurely old, and were now renewing her youth. The business prospered to such an extent that, by becoming altogether too wonderful, it ceased to be a matter of wonder altogether to the merchants of the Green Isle. They regarded it as semi-miraculous—the most unprecedented case of “luck” that had ever been heard of in the annals of mercantile history.

But the rich merchant still dwelt in the humble, almost mean, cottage, and still wrought as an engineer and shipwright with his own hands.

In the little cottage beside his own there were soon seen (and heard) three stout children, two boys and a girl, the former being named respectively Gascoyne and Henry, the latter, Mary. It is needless to say that these were immense favourites with the eccentric merchant.

During all this time there was a firm in Liverpool which received periodical remittances of money from an unknown source. The cashier of that firm, a fat little man, with a face like a dumpling and a nose like a cherry, lived, as it were, in a state of perpetual amazement in regard to these remittances. They came regularly, from apparently nowhere, were acknowledged to nobody, and amounted, in the course of time, to many thousands. This firm had, some years previously, lost a fine vessel. She was named the Brilliant; had sailed for the South Sea islands with a rich cargo, and was never more heard of. The fat cashier knew the loss sustained by this vessel to a penny. He had prepared and calculated all the papers and sent duplicates on board, and as he had a stake in the venture he never forgot the amount of the loss sustained.

One day the firm received a remittance from the Unknown, with a note to the following effect at the foot of it:— “This is the last remittance on account of the Brilliant. The value of the cargo, including compound interest, and the estimated value of the vessel, have now been repaid to the owners.”

The fat cashier was thunderstruck! He rushed to his ledger, examined the account, calculated the interest, summed up the whole, and found it correct. He went home to bed and fell sound asleep in amazement; awoke in amazement; went back to the office in amazement; worked on day after day in amazement; lived, and eventually died, in a state of unrelieved amazement in regard to this incomprehensible transaction!

About the same time that this occurred Mr Stuart entered his poor cottage, and finding his wife there, said—

“Mary, I have sent off the last remittance to-day. I have made amends for that evil deed. It has cost me a long and hard struggle to realise the thousands of pounds that were requisite; for some of the goods had got damaged by damp in the cavern of the Isle of Palms, but the profits of my engineering and shipwright business have increased of late, and I have managed to square it all off with interest. And now, Mary, I can do no more. If I knew of any others who have suffered at my hands I would restore what I took tenfold—but I know of none. It therefore remains that I should work this business for the good of mankind. Of all the thousands that have passed through my hands I have not used one penny. You know that I have always kept the business that has grown out of the labour of my own hands distinct from that which has been reared on the stolen goods. I have lived and supported you by it, and now, through God’s blessing, it has increased to such an extent that I think we may afford to build a somewhat more commodious house and furnish it a little better.”

“As for the mercantile business—it must go on. It has prospered and still prospers. Many mouths are dependent on it for daily bread. I will continue to manage it, but every penny of profit shall go in charity as long as I live. After that, Henry may do with it as he pleases. He has contributed largely to make it what it is, and deserves to reap where he has sown so diligently. Do you think I am right in all this, Mary?”

We need scarcely remark that Mary did think it all right, for she and Gascoyne had no differences of opinion now.

Soon after this, Corrie went off on a long voyage in the Avenger. The vessel touched at San Francisco, and, while there, some remarkable scenes took place between Jo Bumpus and a good-looking woman whom he called Susan. This female ultimately went on board the Avenger, and sailed in her for Green Isle.

On the way thither they touched at one of the first of the South Sea islands that they came in sight of, where scenes of the most unprecedented description took place between Corrie and a bluff old gentleman named Ole Thorwald, and a sweet, blue-eyed, fair-haired, maiden named Alice Mason!

Strange to say this fair girl agreed to become a passenger in the Avenger; and, still more strange to say, her father and Ole Thorwald agreed to accompany her, also an ancient piece of animated door-matting called Toozle and a black woman named Poopy, whose single observation in regard to every event in sublunary history was, “Hee! hee!”

On reaching Green Isle, Corrie and Alice were married, and on the same day Bumpus and Susan were also united. There was great rejoicing on the occasion; Ole Thorwald and Dick Price distinguished themselves by dancing an impromptu and maniacal pas de deux at the double wedding!

Of Captain Montague’s future career we know nothing. He may have been killed in the wars of his country, or he may have become an admiral in the British navy, for all we know to the contrary. One thing only we are certain of, and that is, that he sailed for England in the pirate schooner, and seemed by no means to regret the escape of the pirate captain!

Years rolled away. The head of Gascoyne became silvery white, but Time seemed impotent to subdue the vigour of his stalwart frame, or destroy the music of his deep bass voice. He was the idol of numerous grandchildren as well as of a large circle of juveniles, who, without regard to whether they had or had not a right to do so, styled him “Grandfather.”

Little did these youngsters think, as they clambered over his huge frame, and listened with breathless attention to his wild stories of the sea, that “grandfather” had once been the celebrated and much-dreaded Durward, the pirate!

Nothing would induce Gascoyne to take a prominent part in the public affairs of his chosen home; but he did attempt to teach a class of the very smallest boys and girls in the missionary’s Sunday school, and he came, in time, to take special delight in this work.

He was never so happy as when telling to these little ones the story of redeeming love. In the choice of subjects for his class, he was somewhat peculiar as well as in his manner of treating them. He was particularly emphatic and earnest, used to fill his little hearers with awe, when he spoke of the danger of sin and the importance of resisting its beginnings. But his two favourite themes of all—and those which dwelt most frequently on his lips—were, “God is Love,” and, “Love is the fulfilling of the law.”