This was the currency of the time. So unsettled had the War of 1812 made the nation's credit, so doubtful was the value of federal money, and so unsafe all banks, that a "bit" in the hand was worth, in actual purchasing power, many times its value of paper in the pocket.
One of his dollars Mr. Holman had presented to Francis Vigo with the formal request, "I beg you will accept my contribution to my country's cause in the matter of this voyage."
The second dollar he had given to Doby. "This is a stake for your future fortune," he said.
The third he had put in his own pocket.
Afterward, Doby had asked of his father: "Why did you give Francis Vigo money in such a way that he had to take it? He is the richest man in town. Everybody says so, because the Government owes him thirty thousand dollars. Nobody else in town has that much money."
Doby felt of the "bits" in his pocket and imagined them thirty thousand times as heavy. Rich indeed!
Mr. Holman had a gloomy expression. "I know we will continue to owe him." Then he quoted something about the "law's delay—the insolence of justice," but added, practically, "I don't suppose we ever have that much in our treasury that we want to pay debts with. Our money affairs are in disorder."
Scandalized Doby almost whispered, "Do you mean that he probably hasn't any money except what you gave him?"
Mr. Holman nodded, and glowered at fate. Doby knew that the mission to Fort Wayne on which they were this morning starting was a financial one.