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Hocken and Hunken by A. T. Quiller Couch

A >> A. T. Quiller Couch >> Hocken and Hunken




"All sorts o' things, from mirth to mournin'. They say, for instance,
as you and the Widow have fixed it all up to be married this side o'
Jubilee."

"That's a lie, anyway."

"And others will have it as the engagement's broken off by reason of
your losin' all your money in Johnny Rogers's smash?"

"And that," said Cai, "is just as true as the other. But who says that
Rogers has gone smash?"

"Everyone. I tackled Tabb upon the subject this mornin', and he couldn'
deny it. The man's clean scat. He's been speckilatin' for years:
I always looked for this to be the end, and when they told me the
_Saltypool_ wasn't insured, why, I drew my conclusions. As I was sayin'
to Cap'n Hunken just now--"

"Eh? . . . Where is he?"

"Who?"

"'Bias Hunken. You said as you been speakin' with him--"

"Ay, to be sure, over his garden wall. I looked over and saw him
weedin' among the rose-bushes, an' pulled up to give him the time o'
day."

"You didn' tell him about the _Saltypool?_"

"As it happens, that's just what I did. He'd heard she was lost, but
he'd no notion Rogers hadn't taken out an insurance on her, and he
seemed quite fetched aback over it."

"The devil!"

"I'm sorry you feel like that about him. As I was tellin' him, when I
heard your tap here at the window--"

"But I don't--and I wasn' tappin' for you, either."

"Appears not," said Mr Philp, with a glance at the empty glass in Cai's
hand.

"Where is he? Still in the garden, d'ye say?"

"Ay: somewheres down by the summer-house. Says _I_, when I heard you
tappin', 'That's Cap'n Hocken,' says I, 'signallin' me to come an wish
him joy, an' maybe to join him in a drink over his luck. And why not?'
says I. 'Stranger things have happened.'"

"You'll excuse me. . . . If he's in his garden, I want a chat with him."
Cai hurried out to the front door.

"Maybe you'd like me to go with you," suggested Mr Philp, ready for him.

"Maybe I'd like nothin' of the sort," snapped Cai. "Why should I?"

"Well, if you ask _me_, he didn' seem in the best o' tempers, and it
might come handy to take along a witness."

"No, thank'ee," said Cai with some asperity. "You just run along and
annoy somebody else."

He descended the garden, to find 'Bias at the door of his summer-house,
seated, and puffing great clouds of tobacco-smoke.

"Good evenin'!"

"Good evenin'," responded 'Bias in a tone none too hospitable.

"You don't mind my havin' a word with you?"

"Not if you'll make it short."

"I've just come from Philp. He's been tellin' you about the
_Saltypool_, it seems."

"Well?"

"She was uninsured."

"And on top o' that, the fools overloaded her."

"And 'tis a serious thing for Rogers."

"Ruination, Philp tells me--that's if you choose to believe Philp."

"I've better information than Philp's, I'm sorry to say."

"Whose?"

"Fancy Tabb's."

"She didn' tell me so when I saw her to-day."--(And good reason for why,
thought Cai.)--"Still, if she told you, you may lay there's some truth
in it. That child don't speak at random. I don't see, though, as it
makes much difference, up _or_ down?"

"No difference?"

"I didn' say 'no difference.' I said 'not much.' Ruination's not much
to a man already down with a stroke."

"Oh, . . . _him?_" said Cai. "To tell the truth, I wasn't thinkin'
about Rogers, not at this moment."

"No?" queried 'Bias sourly. "Then maybe I'm doin' you an injustice.
I thought you might be pushin' your way in here to suggest our doin'
something for the poor chap." Before Cai had well recovered from this,
'Bias went on, "And if so, I'd have answered you that I didn' intend to
be any such fool."

"I--I'm afraid," owned Cai, "my thought wasn' anything like so
unselfish. It concerned you and me, rather."

"Thinkin' of me, was you?" 'Bias stuffed down the tobacco in his pipe
with his forefinger. "I reckon that's no game, Caius Hocken, to be
takin' up again after all these months; and I warn you to drop it, for
'tis dangerous."

Whatever his faults, Cai did not lack courage. "I don't care a cuss for
threats, as you might know by this time. What I owe I pay,--and there's
my trouble. I introduced you to Rogers, didn't I?"

"That's true," agreed 'Bias slowly. "What of it?"

"Why, that I'm in a way responsible that you took your affairs to him."

"Not a bit."

"But it follows. Surely you must see--"

"No, I don't. I ain't a child, and I'll trouble you not to hang about
here suggestin' it. I didn' trust Rogers till I saw for myself he was a
good man o' business and the very sort I wanted. He sarved me, well
enough; and, well or ill, I don't complain to you."

"See here, 'Bias," said Cai desperately. "You may take this tone with
me if you choose. But you don't choke me off by it, and you'll have to
drop it sooner or later. I was your friend, back along--let's start
with that."

"And a nice friend you proved!"

"Let's start with _that_, then," pursued Cai eagerly--so eagerly that
'Bias stared willy-nilly, lifting his eye-brows. "Put it, if you
please, that I was your friend and misled you to trust in Rogers, that
you lost money by it--"

"Who said so?"

"I say so. Put it at the lowest--that you sunk a hundred pound' in the
_Saltypool_--"

"Eh?"

"In the _Saltypool_--" Cai met his stare and nodded. "And not your own
money, neither. Mrs Bosenna--"

'Bias started and laid down his pipe. "Drop that!" he interjected with
a growl.

"Nay, you don't frighten _me_," answered Cai valiantly. "We're goin' to
talk a lot of Mrs Bosenna, afore we've done. Present point is, she gave
you a hundred pound, to invest for her. She gave me the like."

"What!" 'Bias clutched both arms of his chair in the act of rising.
But Cai held up a hand.

"Steady! She gave me the like. . . . You handed the money over to
Rogers, and close on fifteen per cent he was makin' on it--in the
_Saltypool_."

"Who--who told you?"

"Wait! I did the like. . . . Seven pounds eight-and-four was my
dividend, whatever yours may have been--eh? You may call it a--a
coincidence, 'Bias Hunken: but some would say as our minds worked on the
same lines even when--even when--" Cai seemed to swallow something in
his throat. "Anyhow, the money's gone, and we'll have to make it good."

"Well, I should hope so!"

"I'll see to _that_, 'Bias--whatever happens."

"So will I, o' course." 'Bias turned to refill his pipe.

Cai was watching him narrowly. "Happen that mightn't be none too easy,"
he suggested.

"Why so?"

"Heark'n to me now: I got something more serious to tell. The Lord send
we may be mistaken, but--supposin' as Rogers has played the rogue?"

'Bias, not at all discomposed, went on filling his pipe. "I see what
you're drivin' at," said he. "'Tis the same tale Philp was chantin' just
now, over the wall; how that Rogers had lost his own money and ours as
well, and 'twas in everybody's mouth. Which I say to you what I said to
him: ''Tis the old story,' I says, 'let a man be down on his back, and
every cur'll fly at him.'"

"But suppose 'twas true? . . . Did Rogers ever show the bonds and papers
for your money?"

"'Course he did. Showed me every one as they came in, and seemed to
make a point of it. 'Made me count 'em over, some time back.
'Wouldn' let me off 'till I'd checked 'em, tied 'em up in a parcel,
docketed 'em, sealed 'em, and the Lord knows what beside. Very dry
work. I claimed a glass o' grog after it."

"And then you took 'em away?" asked Cai with a sudden hope.

"Not I. For one thing, they're vallyble, and I don't keep a safe.
I put 'em back in the old man's--top shelf--alongside o' yours."

Cai groaned. "They're missin' then!"

"Who told you?"

"The child--Fancy Tabb."

'Bias looked serious. "Why didn' she come to me, I wonder?"

"I reckon--knowing what friends we'd been--she left it to me to break
the news."

"I won't believe it," declared 'Bias slowly. But he sat staring
straight at the horizon, and after each puff at the pipe Cai could hear
him breathing hard.

"The child's not given to lyin'. And yet I don't see--Rogers bein'
helpless to open the safe on his own account. At the worst 'tis a bad
job for ye, 'Bias."

"Eh? . . . 'Means sellin' up an' startin' afresh: that's all--always
supposin' there's jobs to be found, at our age. I don't know as there
wouldn't be consolations. This here life ashore isn't all I fancied
it."

Now Cai had in mind a great renunciation: but unfortunately he could not
for the moment discover any way to broach it. He played to gain time,
therefore, awaiting opportunity.

"As for getting a job," he suggested, "there's no need to be downcast;
no need at all. If the worst came to the worst, there's the _Hannah
Hoo_, f'r instance, and a providence she never found a buyer."

"Ay, to be sure--I'd forgot the bark'nteen."

"Come!" said Cai with a quick smile, playing up towards his grand
_coup_. "What would you say to shippin' aboard the _Hannah Hoo?_"

"What?--as mate under _you_? . . . I'd say," answered 'Bias slowly,
"as I'd see you damned first."

"But"--Cai stared at him in bewilderment--"who was proposin' any such
thing? As skipper I thought o' you--what elst? Leastways--"

"And you?"

"Me? . . . But why? There's no call for _me_ goin' to sea again."

"Ah, to be sure," said 'Bias bitterly, "I was forgettin'. You'll stay
ashore and make up your losses by marryin'!"

"But I haven't _had_ any losses!" stammered Cai. "Not beyond the
hundred pound in the _Saltypool_. . . . Didn't I make that plain?"

"No, you didn't." 'Bias laid down his pipe. "Are you standin' there
and tellin' me that _your_ papers are all right and safe?"

"To be sure they are. Rogers handed 'em over to me, and I took 'em home
and locked 'em in my strong-box--it may be four months ago."

"Ay, that would be about the time. . . . Well, I congratulate you," said
'Bias, with deepening bitterness of accent. "The luck's yours, every
way, and that there's no denyin'."

"Wait a bit, though. You haven't heard me finish."

"Well?"

"Since this news came I've been thinkin' pretty hard over one or two
things . . . over our difference, f'r instance, an' the cause of it.
To be plain, I want a word with you about--well, about Mrs Bosenna."

"Stow that," growled 'Bias. "If you've come here to crow--"

"The Lord knows I've not come here to crow. . . . I've come to tell you,
as man to man, that I don't hold 'twas a pretty trick she played us over
them two hundreds. You may see it different, and I hope you do.
I don't bear her no grudge, you understand? . . . But if you've still a
mind to her, and she've a mind to you, I stand out from this moment, and
wish 'ee luck!"

'Bias stood up, stiff with wrath.

"And the Lord knows, Cai Hocken, how at this moment I keep my hands off
you! . . . Wasn't it bad enough before, but you must stand patronisin'
there, offerin' me what you don't want? First I'm to ship in your
sarvice, eh? When that won't do, I'm to marry the woman you've no use
for? And there was a time I called 'ee friend! Hell! if you must
poison this garden, poison it by yourself! Let me get out o' this.
Stand aside, please, ere I say worse to 'ee!"

He strode by, and up the garden path in the gathering twilight.

Poor 'Bias!


Poor Cai, too! His renunciation had cost him no small struggle, and he
had meant it nobly; but for certain he had bungled it woefully.

His heart was sore for his friend: the sorer because there was now no
way left to help. The one door to help--reconcilement--was closed and
bolted! closed through his own clumsiness.

It had cost him much, a while ago--an hour or two ago, no more--to
resign his pretensions to Mrs Bosenna's hand. The queer thing was how
little--the resolutions once taken--Mrs Bosenna counted. It was 'Bias
he had lost.

As he sat and smoked, that night, in face of Mrs Bowldler's fire-screen,
staring at its absurd decorations, it was after 'Bias that his thoughts
harked--always back, and after 'Bias--retracing old friendship
faithfully as a hound seeking back to his master.

'Bias would never think well of him again. As a friend, 'Bias was lost,
had gone out of his life. . . . So be it! Yet there remained a 'Bias in
need of help, though stubborn to reject it: a 'Bias to be saved somehow,
in spite of himself, an unforgiving 'Bias, yet still to be rescued.
Cai smoked six pipes that night, pondering the problem. He was aroused
by the sound of the clock in the hall striking eleven. Before retiring
to bed he had a mind to run through his parcel of bonds and securities
on the chance--since he and 'Bias had made many small investments by
consent and in common--of finding some hint of possible salvage.

His strong-box stood in a recess by the chimnney-breast. A stuffed
gannet in a glass case surmounted it--a present from 'Bias, who had shot
the bird. The bird's life-like eye (of yellow glass) seemed to watch
him as he thrust the key into the lock.

He took out the parcel, laid it on the table under the lamp, and--with
scarcely a glance at the docket as he untied the tape--spread out the
papers with his palm much as a card-player spreads wide a pack of cards
before cutting. . . . He picked up a bond, opened it, ran his eye over
the superscription and tossed it aside.

So he did with a second--a third--a fourth.

On a sudden, as he took up the fifth and, before opening it, glanced at
the writing on the outside, his gaze stiffened. He sat upright.

After a moment or two he unfolded the paper. His eyes sought and found
two words--the name "Tobias Hunken."

He turned the papers over again. Still the name not his--"Tobias
Hunken!"

He pushed the paper from him, and timorously, as a man possessed by
superstitious awe, put out his fingers and drew forward under the
lamplight the four documents already cast aside.

The name on each was the same. The bonds belonged to 'Bias.
By mistake, those months ago, he had carried them off and locked them up
for his own.

Should he arouse 'Bias to-night and tell him of the good news?
He gathered up the bonds in his hand, went to the front door, unbarred
it, and stepped out into the roadway. Not a light showed anywhere in
the next house.

Cai stepped back, barred the door, and sought his chamber, after putting
out the lamp. He slept as soundly as a child.



CHAPTER XXVI.


'BIAS RENOUNCES.

"Is Cap'n Hunken upstairs?"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Mr Tabb from behind his pile of biscuit tins and
soapboxes. The pile had grown--or so it seemed to Cai--and blocked out
more of the daylight than ever. "Won't you step up? You'll be kindly
welcome."

"I was told I should find him here." Cai, on requesting Mrs Bowldler
that morning to inform him how soon Captain Hunken would be finishing
breakfast, had been met with the information that Captain Hunken had
breakfasted an hour before, and gone out. ("Which," said Mrs Bowldler,
"it becomes not one in my position to carry tales between one
establishment and another: but he bent his steps in the direction of the
town. I beg, sir, however, that you will consider this to be strickly
between you and me and the gatepost, as the saying is.") Cai at once
surmised the reason of this early sallying forth, and, following in
chase, ran against the Quaymaster, from whom he learnt that 'Bias had
entered the ship-chandler's shop half an hour ago. "He has not since
emerged," added the Quaymaster Bussa darkly, as doubtful that in the
interim Captain Hunken might have suffered forcible conversion into one
of the obscurer "lines" of ship-chandlery, wherein so much purports to
be what it is not.

--"I was told I should find him here," said Cai. "But would ye mind
fetchin' him down to me? The fact is, I want him on a matter of private
business."

Mr Tabb considered for a moment. "If I may advise, sir," he suggested
meekly, "you'll find it as private up there as anywhere. The master's
past hearin' what you say--or, if he hears, he's past takin' notice:
whereas down here, you're liable to be interrupted by customers--let
alone that I mustn't leave the shop. And," concluded Mr Tabb, "I would
hardly recommend the Quay. Mr Philp's just arrived there."


On recovering from his previous stroke, Mr Rogers had given orders that,
if another befell him, his bed was to be fetched downstairs and laid in
the great bow-window of the parlour. There Cai found him with Fancy in
attendance, and 'Bias seated on a chair by the bedside.

"Good-mornin'," Cai nodded, hushing his voice, and advanced towards the
bed almost on tiptoe. "He won't reckernise me, I suppose?"

The invalid reclined in a posture between lying and sitting, his back
propped with pillows, his eyes turned with an expressionless stare
towards the harbour. Save for its rigidity and a slight drawing down of
the muscles on the left side of the mouth, there was nothing to shock or
terrify in the aspect of the face, which kept, moreover, its customary
high colour.

"He can't show it, if that's what you mean," answered Fancy. "But he
knows us, somewhere at the back of his eyes--of that I'm sure. I got to
be very clever watchin' his eyes, the last stroke he had, and there was
quite a different look in 'em when he was pleased, or when he was
troubled or wanted something. If you go over quiet and stand by the
window, right where he must see you if he sees at all, maybe you'll
notice what I mean."

But Cai, though he obeyed, and stood for a moment in the direct line of
their vision, could detect no change in the unwinking eyes.

"Cap'n Hunken will even have it that he hears what's said, or scraps of
it. But that I don't believe. . . . I believe 'tis but a buzzin' in his
ears, with no sense to it, an' 'twould be jus' the same if we was the
band of the R'yal Lifeguards."

"Well, whether he hears or not, I've a piece o' news for 'Bias Hunken,
here. . . . P'raps he'd like to step outside an' discuss it?" suggested
Cai awkwardly, remembering how he and 'Bias had parted overnight.

"I don't want to hear anything you can say," growled 'Bias.

"Oh, yes, you do! . . . I reckoned as you'd be down here, first thing
after breakfast, sarchin' for them papers we talked about."

"Did you, now?"

"And I tried to catch you afore you started; but you'd breakfasted
early. . . . Well, the long and short is, they're not lost after all!"
Cai produced the bundle triumphantly.

"Eh! Where did you find 'em?" asked Fancy, while 'Bias took the parcel
without a word of thanks, glanced at it carelessly, and set it down on
the little round table beside the bed.

"In my strong-box. . . . There was two parcels, pretty much alike, on
the top shelf of the safe yonder, and I must have taken 'Bias's by
mistake. I'm glad, anyway," he went on, turning with moist eyes upon
'Bias, who appeared to have lost interest in the conversation.
"I'm glad, anyway, t'have eased your mind so soon, let alone to have cut
short your sarchin' which must ha' been painful enough--in a house o'
sickness."

"Who was sarchin'?" asked 'Bias curtly. "Not me."

"And that's true enough," corroborated Fancy. "Why, Cap'n Hunken has
never mentioned the papers! I guessed as you hadn' told him they was
missin'."

"Eh? . . . I thought--I made sure, by his startin' down here so early--"

"Not a word of any papers did he mention," said Fancy. "He just come
early to sit an' keep master company, havin' a notion that his poor old
mind takes comfort from it somehow. Seven hours he sat here yesterday,
an' never so much as a pipe of tobacco the whole time. Doctor said as a
bit o' tobacco-smoke wouldn' do any harm in the room: but Cap'n Hunken
allows as he'll be on the safe side."

Cai started. . . . For aught 'Bias knew then--as indeed 'Bias had reason
to suspect--this husk of a man, helpless on the bed, had robbed him of
his all, ruined him, left him no prospect but to begin life over again
when late middle-age had sapped his vigour, attenuated the springs of
action, left sad experience in the room of hope. And 'Bias's thought,
ignoring it all, had been to sit beside this man's calamity, on the
merest chance of piercing it with one ray of comfort!

Whereupon, as goodness takes inspiration from goodness, in Cai's heart,
too, a miracle happened, He forgot himself, forgot his loss which was
'Bias's gain: forgot that, keeping his surly attitude, 'Bias had uttered
neither a "thank you" nor a word of pity. Old affection, old
admiration, old faith, and regard came pouring back in a warm tide,
thrilling, suffusing his consciousness, drowning all but one thought--
one proud thought that stood like a sea-mark above the flood, justifying
all--"Even such a man I made my friend!"

For a long time Cai stared. Then, as 'Bias made no sign of lifting his
sullen gaze from the strip of carpet by the bed, he turned half-about
towards the door.

"'Bias Hunken," said he gently, "you're a good man, an' deserved this
luck better'n me. . . . If you can't put away hard thoughts just yet,
maybe you'll remember, some day, that I wished 'ee long life to enjoy
it."

His hand was on the door. "Here, though--hold hard!" put in Fancy, who
had picked up the bundle of papers. "I don't think Cap'n Hunken
understands; nor I don't clearly understand myself. Was it _both_
packets you carried home, sir? or only this one?"

"I thought as I'd made it clear enough," answered Cai. His eyes were
still on his friend, and there was weariness as well as pain in his
voice. "There's only one packet--'Bias's--what you have in your hand.
I must have carried it home by mistake."

"Then your's is missin'?"

"That's so," said the broken man quietly.

The child turned and walked to the window. On her way she halted a
moment and peered earnestly into the invalid's eyes, as if the riddle
might possibly be read there. But they were vacant and answered her
nothing. Then for some twenty seconds, almost pressing her forehead to
the window-pane, she stood and gazed out upon the glancing waters of the
harbour.

"There's only one thing to be done--" She wheeled about sharply.
"Why, wherever _is_ the man? . . . You don't mean to tell me," she
demanded of 'Bias indignantly, "that you sat there an' let him go!"

"I couldn' help his goin', could I?" muttered 'Bias, but his eyes were
uneasy under the wrath in hers.

"You couldn' help it?" she echoed in scorn, and pointed to the figure on
the bed. "Here you come playin' the Early Christian over a man that,
for aught you knew, had robbed you to a stair: and when 'tis your tried
friend fetchin' back riches to you--fairly bringin' you back to life at
the cost o' bein' a beggar hisself--you let him go without so much as a
thank'ee!"

"Cai Hocken don't want my thanks."

"Didn't even want politeness, I suppose--after runnin' here hot foot
with the news that made you rich an' him a poor man! Oh, you're past
all patience! . . . Who should know what he wanted an' didn't get--
I, that had my eyes on his face, or you, that sat like a stuck pig,
glowerin' at the carpet?"

"Gently, missy! . . . There--there didn' seem anything to say."

"There was one thing to say," answered the girl sternly, "and there's
one thing to be done."

"What's that?"

"It mayn't be an easy thing, altogether. But you'll be glad of it
afterwards, and you may as well make up your mind to it."

"Out with it!"

"Mrs Bosenna--Why, what's the matter?"--for 'Bias had interrupted with a
short laugh.

"I'd forgot Mrs Bosenna for the moment."

"Right. Then go on forgettin' her, an' give her up. When you come to
think it over," urged Fancy with the air of a nurse who administers
medicine to a child, "you'll find 'tis the only fit an' proper thing to
do."

Again 'Bias laughed, and this time his laugh was even shorter and
grimmer than before.

"Well and good--but wait one moment, missy! D'ye know what Cai Hocken
said to me, last night in the garden, when he reckoned as I'd lost my
money? No, you don't. 'Look here,' he said, 'if you've still a mind to
that woman and she've a mind to you, I'll stand aside.' That's what he
said: and d'ye know what I answered? I told him to go to hell."

"I see." Fancy stood musing.

"Makes it a bit awkward, eh?--Cai bein' a man of spirit, with all his
faults."

"Well," she decided, "unless we can find his money for him, he'll have
to marry her, whether or no. 'Faults,' indeed? I believe," went on the
wise child, "you two be more to one another than that woman ever was to
either, or ever will be."

"We won't discuss that," said 'Bias, "now that Cai's got to marry her."


Cai retired to bed early that night, wearied in all his limbs with much
and aimless walking. If, as he trudged highroad or lane in the early
summer heat, any thought of Mrs Bosenna arose for a moment and conquered
the anodyne of bodily exercise, it was not a thought of grudging her to
'Bias. By the turn of Fortune's wheel 'Bias would win her now.
To _him_, at all events, she was lost. Cai had never courted her for
her money: but he had courted without distrust, on the strength of his
own security in a competence. At the back of his mind there may have
lurked a suspicion that Mrs Bosenna, as a business woman, was not in the
least likely to bestow her hand on a penniless sailor: but there was no
reason why he should allow this suspicion to obtrude itself, since
self-respect would have forbidden him, being penniless, to pursue the
courtship.

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