CHAPTER X.—THE CONTINUATION OF THE BATTLE
ATE in March the astute captain of the outlawed army established headquarters in Albany, and sought the help of the legislature to save him and his comrades from the doom that threatened him. The dogs of the law were on his trail and in full cry. Only his intimates saw him, for he had rooms in the Delevan with a secret passage to the street. He came and went under cover of darkness and the protection of his friends. He had millions of dollars at his command. He wanted that illegal issue of stock, which had been forced upon Commodore Vanderbilt, to be investigated and indorsed and sanctified by the legislature itself. Any man that required buying was to be bought.
Then it was that the third house began its career of infamy, and the friendship of the gentleman and the Commodore came to its end. There were buying and rebuying on both sides.
One day a senator made a fierce attack upon the bill. In the midst of his speech a note was passed to him. He glanced at it, and continued his attack. Soon he veered about, saying: “But, gentlemen, while this is one side of the subject, I am glad to say that there is another and a brighter one, to which in fairness I must invite your attention.”
He went on with many and ingenious arguments in favor of the bill.
It was in the midst of this struggle that Bony came to me one day, and said:
“I want a frank talk with you. We have eaten and slept together, and you know me pretty well. I've always kept my word with you, haven't I?”
“I've no complaint to make,” was my answer. “Now, I'm going to be frank with you,” he went on. “This Erie bill has got to go through. It's very important to me. If you can induce McCarthy to favor the bill, it will be worth a hundred thousand dollars to you.”
“Oh, Bony! It's out of the question,” I said. “He's against it, and he's not for sale. You couldn't buy him with all the money in the land.”
“But he'll do anything for you,” said the tempter. “He's a friend of yours, and they tell me he's stuck on your sister. All you've got to do is ask him and your fortune is made. Old Vanderbilt will drop him one of these days—there isn't a colder-blooded pirate in America. McCarthy would do better with us.”
I was dazed by the calm assurance of the man who stood before me. It recalled the day when he waved the crowd out of our way as we were approaching the tent of the rope-walker.
I laughed as I looked at him, and rather enjoyed his anxiety.
“You're barking up the wrong tree,” I said. “There's nothing in it for you—not a thing.”
“Look here,” he said, “McCarthy wants money—don't he?—the same as the rest of us. Of course he does. Well, he can make thousands out of us for every penny that he gets out of the other side. Thousands, old boy! I'll double his fortune in a day—in a day, do you understand?” Again I laughed.
“He wouldn't listen to you,” I said. “McCarthy is honest.”
“Honest fiddlesticks!” he exclaimed. “So am I honest; so are you; but we're going to pick up money when it falls at our feet, aren't we—wads of it? Why, old boy, there's half a million dollars in this thing for you and me and McCarthy.”
He was almost on his knees at my feet, and I had just enough of the “old boy” in me to let him go on, and he persisted with singular blindness.
“Look here,” he continued, “I've got something up my sleeve. You're in love with the best girl in this glorious land of ours. I know all about it, and, old boy, I hold the key to that situation—do you understand? It's in my hand absolutely. She's promised to marry me. You do as I tell you, and I'll make the greatest sacrifice that one man can make for another. Now you can judge how important it is.”
“I'm surprised to hear you make a proposition like that,” I said, turning with disgust. “It's base, and unworthy of human lips.”
“Oh, you've got a grudge against me—that's what's the matter with you,” he added. “You can't forget that I won the girl in spite of you.”
“You didn't play fair,” I said. “You have deceived her and her father.”
“Rats!” he exclaimed. “All things are fair in love and war, aren't they? Don't be a fool.”
“Bony, there isn't an honest hair in your head,” I answered. “He's a knave who isn't square with the girl he intends to marry.”
“All right,” said he. “I'll see McCarthy myself and leave you out of it.”
“You'd better keep away from him,” I said, “or you'll get into trouble. We're against you and all men like you, and, as to the young lady, I warn you now that I shall do everything in my power to prevent the marriage.”
“Bosh!” he hissed, as I was leaving him.
That night McCarthy attended a committee meeting at the Capitol. I had some letters to write, and remained in our rooms.
The gentleman returned about midnight, hatless and dishevelled.
“What's the matter?” I asked.
“Why, I've just had a little argument—that's all. I was coming home by my usual route; the street was deserted; and by-and-by I came to a stretch where every light was out for some reason. I suppose the stage had been set for its drama. Suddenly a man approached me from behind.
“'Is this Mr. McCarthy?' he asked.
“'It is,' I said.
“'You don't know me, and it isn't necessary,' he whispered. 'I have a simple business proposition to make, and all you need to know about me is the amount of my roll: I'll give you a hundred and fifty thousand dollars now if you'll favor the Erie side in this fight.'”
The gentleman looked at me and laughed.
“I can imagine your answer,” I said.
“No, you can't,” said he. “It was the most telling, off-hand effort of my life.”
“You hit him over the head,” I suggested.
“So I did; and down he went,” said McCarthy. “It was brutal, but there's nothing in the books to tell a gentleman how he should act when a man tries to buy his honor.” He laughed again, and went on: “I just followed my own impulse and let fly. Sorry I lost my temper, but it's done now. It's a bad situation we're in here. Huge sums of money are dangled before men, and the weak go down. The Commodore has to hold up his end, I suppose. He's got to beat them or they'll ruin him, and then he finds some excuse in the great cause he stands for. I don't blame him so much, but I'm going to keep out of it for a while. It's got to be a matter of matching fortunes, and I'm sick of it. By-and-by I'll step into the firing-line.”
Before the skirmishing ended, however, Drew deserted his camp, and the other captains of the enemy quickly came to terms, and the breach in the foundations of the house of Vanderbilt had been repaired. But the Commodore had had enough of Erie, and decided “to let those miserable suckers alone.”
The battle was ended.
My friends, we may well regret the evils that came of it, but I, for one, rejoice that a commercial enterprise involving the growth and welfare of a continent remained in the hands of a builder and fell not to the kings and princes of destruction.
For some two weeks we saw nothing of Bony, and when I met him one day at the entrance of the Capitol I observed a red scar on his forehead.
To my surprise, he stopped and greeted me.
“What's the matter?” I asked.
“Oh, that's where a mule kicked me.”
“A mule!”
“Yes, and I didn't know he would kick,” said Bony.
“All's fair in love and war,” I quoted.
“Well, I'm not kicking,” he said, with a smile, as we parted.