we turned from whitehall into the crowded strand.
"murray will figure that this delay gives him time to bribe and buy his will, either in governor burnet's council or in the government here," continued master juggins, with a watchful eye against the return of the spy. "at the worst he will think that he should be able to withstand the law's execution for several years, and in that time much may be done—aye, much may be done, and in more than one way." he concluded grimly.
"then doubtless murray will send at once a swift messenger to new york so that his friends may set to work in his interest," i suggested.
juggins stopped abruptly in the center of the footway.
"no, he will go himself. 'tis too important for trusting to another. that was well thought of, master harry. we must not let him get ahead of us. you must sail on the first passage available. do you follow me."
and he started off as fast as his legs could carry him, bumping and prodding his person against all who did not move from his path.
"whither are we bound now?" i panted.
"to master lloyd's coffee-house, where the ship-owners resort for trade. we shall find news of the sailings there."
we followed the strand past temple bar into fleet street, and so trod a path into the labyrinth of the city—that congested hive of humanity whence the mighty energies of england radiated in a constant struggle for control of the world's arteries of trade. used though i was to the busy life of paris, i was amazed by the throngs of people hurrying to and fro, the concentration of effort that was everywhere visible, the numbers of different races represented on the sidewalks, the signs and letterings that hung over doorways and in windows, proclaiming the multiplicity of endeavors to which the merchants of the city were committed.
"mark well what you see around you, master harry," juggins instructed me. "london hath prospered under king george. here are come traders out of muscovy, cathay, the further indies, the spanish main, the country of the moors, turkey, our own western plantations. and here at last is master lloyd's tavern."
many men stood on the cobbles outside talking. the coffee-room and taproom also were filled. master juggins pushed his way through the shifting groups until he reached a burly, stout man who sat by himself at a table, sucking fragrant mocha from a bowl.
"and what will you ha', bob juggins!" demanded the burly man in a sulky voice.
as he spoke he pushed the bowl of coffee from him and produced a dog-eared record-book, bound in filthy sheepskin, from a pocket in the skirts of his coat.
"a good afternoon to you, tom jenkins," returned juggins. "you gentry are sitting late this afternoon."
"we ha' been making up the subscriptions for the baltic fleet," yawned the burly man.
"and how are sailings to the western plantations?"
"ameriky?"
"aye, new york province."
"from bristol?"
master juggins hesitated, then shook his head.
"no, i must have an early passage," he decided. "'twould take too long to ride thither."
the burly man consulted his record-book.
"we ha' the ship new venture, abbot, master, sailing from greenwich the end of the week—say, saturday post meridian. what's your cargo?"
"'tis not cargo, but a man i would send on her."
master jenkins shook his head forebodingly.
"i fear me she's full up, bob."
"how does that happen?"
"but yesterday we sold four places on her—and she hath limited quarters for passengers."
juggins threw me a humorous glance.
"i'll be bound 'tis master murray of new york she's to carry," he declared.
"why, that's true," admitted jenkins. "and some frenchy, a friend o' his."
i forgot my role of 'prentice lad, and shoved myself across the table.
"not de veulle? the chevalier de veulle?" i challenged him.
jenkins looked at me with mingled amusement and indignation.
"who's your green lad that hankers for the frenchies so?" he asked juggins.
my master sent me spinning to the floor.
"mind your place, boy," he rebuked me.
then he continued half-apologetically to master jenkins—
"this de veulle put a slight upon me before the lords of trade, and the lad—'tis a good youth and devoted, though fresh come out of dorset, as you may see—was most indignant on my behalf."
jenkins blinked his eyes.
"humph," said he.
"and now about the passage?" resumed juggins. "i'll pay well. sure, you can always find room for an extra man on shipboard."
"what will you pay?"
"three guineas."
"four," countered jenkins in a monotonous tone.
"four, then," agreed juggins, "and may the extra guinea find a hole in your pocket."
the ship-owner nodded dispassionately, and made an entry in his book.
"four guineas," he repeated.
juggins drew the coins from a purse and clinked them on the table.
"you'll never lose a debt, will you, tom?"
"not if i can help it," tom agreed.
"and is it de veulle sails with murray?"
"aye; he goes on some government mission for canada."
"but why does he not sail from havre in a french ship for quebec?"
"the st. lawrence is frozen. there will be no french ships for canada for two months yet."
juggins pursed his lips in that quaint gesture of a whistle which was a characteristic trait.
"they use our goods," he muttered; "they use our rivers, our trading-posts, our people, the tribes which are friendly to us—and now they use our ships."
"often," admitted jenkins disinterestedly. "since the peace of utrecht we ha' done a sight o' shipping business with the frenchies."
"'tis to our shame," declared master juggins roundly.
"why, 'tis business," answered jenkins with his first show of interest. "would you have a merchant reject the trade that came his way?"
"aye, if 'twas not to his interest to accept it," rejoined juggins.
"show me a heathen, let alone a frenchy, will pay a farthing more than an englishman, and i'll show you a better customer," said the ship-owner. "trade is trade. leave politics to governments. if i make not my own living, will the gentry at westminster carry my debts? i think not."
juggins swelled with indignation.
"god help england when men like you come to rule it, tom jenkins!" he declared. "good afternoon to you."
"one moment," interposed jenkins. "you ha' not given me the name of my passenger."
"must you have it?"
"aye. how else shall i know whom to admit on board?"
"'tis this youth here."
"he who hath the interest in the frenchy?" responded jenkins. "well, lad, keep your hands off him, despite his insults to your master. and what's your name?"
"bill," i said in a voice i made as hoarse as i could.
"bill," he repeated. "'tis a good plain name. but you must ha' more to it. so the custom officers will say."
"'tis juggins," interposed my master. "the lad is a cousin once removed. he goes to seek employment in the new world. to tell the truth, though strong and willing, he is not overburdened with wits. but he can swing an ax as well as any one, and his muscles should bring him good hire on some wilderness farm."
"aye," agreed master jenkins tonelessly.
he wrote the name carefully in his record-book, slipped it back in his coat-tails and returned to his bowl of mocha. the sucking of his lips was the last sound i heard as we left the table.
in the street juggins turned upon me indignantly. "would you ruin us, master harry!" he demanded. "zooks, you were like to plunge yourself into trouble by your forward manner! i'll wager jenkins is wondering now whether you are a criminal or only a half-wit."
"not he," i replied confidently. "he hath his four guineas, and a reasonable explanation for the receiving of it, and he will not worry about government or the character of the man who paid him."
"mayhap," said juggins doubtfully. "but for your own sake, lad, mind the playing of your part till you have the atlantic behind you. why did you flare up over this de veulle?"
"because i know him."
this time 'twas juggins who forgot our parts, for he stopped me in front of st. paul's and grasped my arm.
"you know him? but——"
"i know him and i hate him," i answered doggedly.
"why? what hath he done!"
"oh, he owes me nothing. like enough he thinks the obligation is the other way. he is one of the gallants of the court in paris. he came out of canada some three years ago, and made a reputation for gambling, fickleness and daredeviltry of all kinds. i never had the money to mingle with him and his friends, but once in the toison d'or i heard him slur the poor young man i then served."
"james!"
"i called him king james in those days," i answered. "yes, de veulle was mocking the petty motley of our exiled court, mocking it as much as anything else because he sought to humiliate the two englishmen in the room.
"'what is this king but a puppet figure for us to dandle in england's face!' he said. 'and what are his courtiers but other puppets to dress the show?'"
"his toadies all laughed. they laughed so that they did not see the other englishman and me rise in our seats.
"'and the most comical thing of all,' ended de veulle, 'is to think of this puppet king, with a puppet court, ruling over a puppet england while france pulls the strings—as will surely happen some day.'"
"it was then i knocked him out of his chair."
master juggins gripped me by the hand with a warmth that surprized me.
"good lad!" he exclaimed. "i would have done it myself!"
"what! you are no jacobite!"
"i am no jacobite," he replied in some confusion, "but no more were you a jacobite when you struck him. 'twas for england, master harry; and a man's country means more than any king that ever ruled. but what came after?"
"we fought in the upper room of the toison d'or—de veulle and i and a friend of his and my friend. my friend was badly wounded."
"and you?"
"i disarmed my opponent."
"only that!" remonstrated juggins whimsically.
"well, i disarmed him several times. when we began to fence i found he knew little of the small-sword—remember, he had been brought up in canada—and 'twould not have been pretty to slay a man so at my mercy. also, to treat him as i did was more humiliating to his pride than death."
"you did well, master harry. but granny will be awaiting us. we must hasten."
he walked in silence until we had reached the house in holborn.
"how comes de veulle in london?" he asked suddenly as we climbed the stairs.
"he was in some trouble in paris—what, i know not. the rumor was that he was ordered into exile. but if he sails for canada, as master jenkins says——"
"and on the same ship with murray," interposed juggins excitedly, "after appearing in murray's behalf this afternoon——"
"—then there may be more to his enterprise than the mere punishment of exile from the court," i concluded.
"'tis so!" exclaimed juggins. "beyond doubt 'tis so. aye, master harry, this will be no ordinary struggle i send you upon. and mayhap de veulle will recognize you."
i struck him heavily on the shoulder.
"do you think 'my father's son' will draw back on such excuse at this hour!" i said.
he laughed ruefully, and raised his hail for granny.
"ho, goody! goody, hast lain abed all day! here are two hungry forest-runners will eat your kitchen bare."
granny tripped into the hall, a mug of bitter ale in either hand.
"i heard what you said, and master harry's answer," she rebuked him. "think shame on yourself, robert, to hint that he would hesitate before peril—and you sending him into it, too," she added somewhat illogically, i thought. "now, do both of you drain these. 'twill wash the taste of the streets and taverns from your mouths."
we obeyed her.
"and what luck did you have?" she demanded next.
"he leaves us saturday," said juggins simply.
she cried out.
"so soon! must it be, robert? sure, the lad should have some respite from toil and fear!"
"if he is to go, he must go then," rejoined juggins. "'twas because i felt as you did that i said what you heard, granny."
"and 'twas because he had a sound heart in him that he answered as he did," she snapped. "if he is to go, he should go, i dare say; and the greater the peril, the greater the reward. now come with me. the meal is made ready."
she plied us with questions as we ate, demonstrating a keenness of mind that continually amazed me.
"so master murray hath engaged three berths on his own behalf, aside from the frenchman," she commented. "who could he have with him?"
"the negro servant," i hazarded.
"that is true," assented juggins. "he is tom, murray's body-guard. an evil brute, by all accounts."
"but still there is a third place," insisted granny.
"another servant!" i suggested.
juggins shook his head.
"i have had our men watched as well as may be, but never have we seen a trace of any other follower or servant."
"have you done aught towards securing master harry's equipment?" she inquired.
"no," he answered. "the less he is cumbered with the better. all he needs for forest work he can find to better advantage in new york."
"but arms!" she pressed.
"there i have somewhat will be of aid to him," he agreed.
and he went to a cupboard, from which he produced a bundle of rolled cloths. layer after layer was unwound, and finally he drew from the wrappings a gun such as i had never seen before. it was long in the barrel, well-stocked, yet very light and handy.
"you may exclaim over it, master harry," remarked juggins as he surrendered it into my admiring hands; "but you can have no idea of its value until you have seen it tested in the great forests, where a man's life depends upon the swiftness and accuracy with which he can shoot. i learned that in my own youth, and so when i returned to london i had this gun made for me by the king's own gunsmith, after plans i drew for him. there is none other like it."
"and it is for me?" i asked, delighted as a child with a new toy.
"what better use could it have?" he replied. "oh, yes, and these go with it."
he brought from the same cupboard a shot-pouch of beaded deerskin and a powder-horn, ornamented with dull silver that would not catch the light. also a belt of hide from which there hung in sheaths a delicately balanced hatchet and a long, broad-bladed knife.
"these you will discover no less useful than the gun," he explained, drawing the weapons from their coverings. "this which you call a hatchet is the tomahawk of the indians, used for fighting at close quarters and for throwing. this other is the scalping-knife, and a deadly blade it is, too. you will feel them strange at first, but among my friends in new york there is a dutchman named corlaer who will instruct you in the ways of the wilderness."
"you will not be letting master harry go upon his adventures without smoothing the path for him, will you, robert?" interposed granny, looking up from the work-table by which she sat.
"no, indeed; he shall have letters to governor burnet himself, whom i met before he went overseas, and to master cadwalader colden, the governor's surveyor-general and a member of his council, a fine, loyal gentleman with whom i have had some correspondence. they will see to him, more especially because he brings news of value to their plans; and he may be used to thwart the intrigues they struggle against."
