At the Sign of the Silver Flagon

by B. L. Farjeon

"What's the fine for that, Philip?" cried Margaret. "This," replied Philip, shaking a bag of money vindictively at Mr. Hart. "Here you are, old fellow;" and he handed Mr. Hart two hundred and fifty-nine pounds odd, being an eighth share of the gold. "For this unwarrantable assault, you will instantly pay me the two hundred and fifty you owe me. I don't intend to wait three minutes for the money."

Mr. Hart paid Philip with a grateful sigh; he knew that it would be useless to remonstrate with the young man. Had Mr. Hart been alone in the world, with no ties, he would not have accepted Philip's generosity; he would have quarrelled with him first. But you see how it was with him, and you will not blame him, I am sure.

The theatre was open again, and was thronged as usual. The actors and actresses were much concerned as to the fate of the missing treasurer; none of them, with the exception of Mr. Hart, suspected him. (Mr. Hart had enjoined secrecy upon Philip and Margaret, and no one but the three knew of his loss.) As they never received any tidings of him, they settled that he had been lost in the storm, and they mourned him as one who had come to an undeserved end.

Silver Creek township throve and flourished. New discoveries were made every week, and new leads of gold found in gullies and plains. William Smith, always playing his cards well, knew that now the township was becoming a settled thing, there must soon be a Government land sale, and he began to build and let, and to buy up rights of land wherever he could. Depend upon it, he bought in the proper places, having settled, after careful survey, where it was imperative that the streets would be laid out. You would have thought he had enough to do, what with one thing and another, but he seemed never to have his hands full. He was not of an envious disposition, but he did covet one thing: Philip's quartz claim. It was yielding finely, and he believed he saw a colossal fortune in it. Not to be made out of it in the way Philip and his mates were working it. No; he would put up machinery. He would sink new shafts. The stone should be drawn from the bottom of the shafts not by hand, but by steam-power; the men should be lowered by steam; he would have a steam-engine below, if it was necessary; everything should be done by steam, and labour should be economised. Would that reduce the number of men necessary to work the claim? Not at all. Where there were a hundred men at work now William Smith would have five hundred. What he would do really would be to get ten times as much gold. He would open the claim to its fullest extent; he would buy up as many claims as he could get hold of north and south of Philip's land, and would pay for them all liberally.

You may ask why William Smith wanted to do this. He was making so rapid a fortune, that if things continued as they were for twelve months, he would be at least a fifty-thousand-pounds man. And in three years these figures would be doubled. A hundred thousand pounds! When he was a bricklayer at home working for a bare pittance, on high scaffoldings at the risk of his life, the very idea of possessing such a sum would have been enough to take away his breath. Now he thought nothing of it. But he wanted Philip's claim. For this reason: he burned to be a master of men, not of twenty, or fifty, or a hundred. He wanted to be a master of not fewer than five hundred men, all doing well under him, all living comfortably and being well paid, and if he had Philip's claim he saw his way to it. Then when he went home to the old country, he could say to his old master, "You thought it a great thing to have eighty men under you, each of whom could earn about a guinea and a half a week. Why, I, one of those eighty, went into a new country and employed five hundred men, and every one of them had a house of his own and was well clothed, and could give his family meat for breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper; and after paying for everything, and more besides, could put by thirty shillings a week in the savings bank--in the savings bank, which I started and am trustee of!" You see, the master used to cry out that working men in the old country were better off than they were in any other part of the world. William Smith wanted to show him that he was wrong.

So William Smith yearned to be king of five hundred men, and the proper complement of women and children--to be master of five hundred pairs of hands--to see peace and plenty and industry all about him--to walk among his workmen, and chat and smile with them--to walk among the women and children, and pat the youngsters on the head, and pass kind words with the mothers. He had all these thoughts. It was not a bad ambition.

He offered money for Philip's claim--a large sum. Philip and his mate shook their heads. Mr. Hart would have been glad to sell his share; if he had one-eighth of what William Smith offered, the white sails should spread for him over the seas, for Home, dear Home! But he decided that it would be base to sell; it would be like deserting Philip. "I'll wait yet a little while," he thought. "A few months will soon pass."

William Smith tempted him. Philip stood by.

Mr. Hart declined, and saw in the look of joy which flashed into Philip's face what pleasure his refusal had given the young man.

The largest retorted cake of gold that had been produced for many a score of miles round was produced from a great crushing out of Philip's claim. It weighed no less than two thousand two hundred ounces. It was exhibited in the principal gold-broker's window on a Saturday, which was the busiest day in the township. On that day all the gold-diggers and their wives and children came in from the hills and gullies, and made their purchases. A more bustling scene of its kind could not be witnessed in any other part of the world. All day long the diggers and the women poured in, from east, from west, from north, from south. Where a storekeeper took ten pounds on another day, he took fifty on a Saturday. You should have seen the theatre on Saturday nights.