The countinghouse of Shedlock and Craftall—for such was the designation of the concern alluded to—was situate in the High-street of Exeter; and, though the operations of the firm were by no means limited, was presided over by the individual who, from whatever reason, was named last. It was not, however, in the firm’s designation only, but in everything he engaged in, that this person played second to Shedlock; and not to Shedlock alone, but to every one else. So excessive was his modesty, that he had never been known to act on an opinion of his own, and, if he did so act, he kept the matter a profound secret. To hear him speak, one would imagine, on a first acquaintance, that he was incapable of knowing anything from his own observation, or of doing anything at his own prompture. It was always “worthy Master This,” by his account, that told him so-and-so, and “honest Master That” that suggested such a thing. He carried his modesty so far, in all outward appearance, that he would not exercise his own judgment on the most common occasions. Such a neighbour might pursue his trade unfairly; he could not say: it was true, indeed, that gentle Master Chatter, who was said to have good opportunities of knowing, had told him it was so; but he could form no opinion on the matter himself. Another neighbour was hanged for murder: the place of execution, over the city-gaol, was opposite to his window, and the gibbet and swinging corpse literally stared him in the face; but he only knew of the occurrence from honest Master Pry. He never interfered with any one; he could hardly be said, indeed, to understand his own business, much less be acquainted with that of others; and, by those who esteemed themselves shrewd and knowing, he was looked upon as a harmless but irreclaimable fool.
Notwithstanding this, Master Craftall had raised himself, some way or other, from an obscure station, and very limited means, to be a partner in the chief firm in Exeter. His lean, ungainly figure, and hard features, though the last were hardly ever free from a quiet smile, affecting benevolence and equanimity, might have been a disadvantage to him in another walk of life; but, in that of commerce, they had formed no impediment to his progress, and he plodded his way to wealth unobserved, without exciting enmity, or awaking esteem.
Such was the person who received Sir Walter Raleigh, with one of his blandest smiles, at the door of his countinghouse, on the morning after his visit to Bethlehem Hall. Stepping out from the door, he assisted the knight to dismount, and then, delivering his horse to the care of his groom, invited him to pass to the interior. There Sir Walter found Shedlock, and Hardscrew, the lawyer; and after a brief greeting, these persons proceeded, by paying him over the stipulated sum, to bring their transaction with him to a close.
Their business effected, Sir Walter was about to take his leave, when Craftall, turning round from an adjacent desk, from which he could see and hear all that passed, interposed.
“Doth worthy Master Shedlock guess truly, good Sir Walter,” he said, in a silvery tone, “that thou art sending out a ship to Carolina?”
“That does he, Master Craftall,” answered Sir Walter. “I am sending two ships thither.”
“Wherefore askest thou this?” inquired Shedlock.
“I have it from gentle Master Chatter,” replied Craftall, in the same silvery tone, “that thou hast just apprehended an escaped felon, a runaway from the plantations; and sweet Master Pry, who was by when it was told me, thought the knave should be again sent to the plantations, if occasion should serve.”
“Verily, Master Pry thought well,” observed Shedlock.
“If the man be truly a runaway,” said Sir Walter, “and of an able body, he will be right welcome; for we have but few labourers.”