"I can understand his attitude," said Captain Weir quite gravely. "There is nothing like becoming saturated with the thing one starts out to understand." To Anthony he said, and there was now nothing but encouragement in the singular eyes, "Your plan is an excellent one; and, fortunately, you can escape most of the drudgery of it, for there are people still in the employ of the house who can tell you all you'll need to know."
Anthony permitted himself to drift with the measured trade of the winter months, and, during this time, he looked about him. Those who saw to the routine in the counting-room were Whitaker, a new-comer in the place; the affable man—who Anthony learned was named Griggs; and then there was Tom Horn, who stood all day at his tall desk and entered items in his books; also a gray, quiet man named Twitchell, who had a great pride in the house and glowed when it was spoken of. Anthony began with Whitaker and carefully led him into speech.
"Of course," said the fop, as he played with a bunch of seals at his watch-fob, "my service only goes back five years; and most of that was spent in other places. This is a great house; every one says so. I never had any trouble disposing of cargo; and I never had any trouble securing accounts. Of course there were those two ships that went down—very unfortunate occurrences. Oh, yes, it's a very considerable house."
Whitaker then went on to speak of the ports he'd visited in the firm's service, the food to be had in them, the beauty of their women, and the splendor of their climates. Cooling drinks under the shade of awnings, with dusky servants to fan one; strange, sweet music that stole through languorous nights; journeys into the interior on the invitation of merchants or agents; the magnificence of the lives of the rajahs: robes studded with jewels; carpets worth fabulous sums, thrown upon the ground; harems crowded with loveliness; dark eyes everywhere; adventure; whisperings; wealth; plenty; little effort.
But there was nothing that attracted the sharply focussed mind of Anthony. He noted that Whitaker was one who never saw the reality of anything in which he was engaged, except by accident. For a time Anthony strove to come upon such an occasion; but, except for the loss of the Two Brothers, and the Sea Mew, there was nothing outstanding.
"It was a singular chance," said Whitaker, "those two ships going down. I've often thought about it. Both were well found, finely officered, with American crews. Rich cargoes, too, and fully insured."
"Then there was no loss," said Anthony.
"Not a dollar, except to the insurance people."
There was another point upon which Anthony desired information; and he carefully led Whitaker to it.
"You had a narrow escape with the Sea Mew," said he. "Your not sailing in her from Lisbon was quite providential."