Gascoyne, The Sandal-Wood Trader: A Tale of the Pacific

by R. M. Ballantyne

It was observed by the clerks in Mr. Stuart's counting-room, that their chief accountant, Mr. Corrie, was a great letter-writer,—that when one letter was finished, he invariably began another, and kept it by him, adding sheet after sheet to it until the Avenger returned and carried it off. Once Mr. Corrie was called hurriedly away while in the act of addressing one of these epistles. He left it lying on his desk, and a small, contemptible, little apprentice allowed his curiosity so far to get the better of him, that he looked at the address, and informed his companions that Mr. Corrie's correspondent was a certain Miss Alice Mason!

Of course, Mr. Corrie received voluminous replies from this mysterious Alice; and, if one might judge from his expression on reading these epistles (as that contemptible little apprentice did judge), the course of his love ran smoother than usual; thus, by its exceptionality, proving the truth of the rule.

Years passed away. The merchant's head became gray, but his gigantic frame was as straight and his step as firm as ever. His wife, strange to say, looked younger as she grew older! It seemed as if she were recovering from some terrible illness that had made her prematurely old, and were now renewing her youth. The business prospered to such an extent that, by becoming altogether too wonderful, it ceased to be a matter of wonder altogether to the merchants of the Green Isle. They regarded it as semi-miraculous,—the most unprecedented case of "luck" that had ever been heard of in the annals of mercantile history.

But the rich merchant still dwelt in the humble, almost mean cottage, and still wrought as an engineer and shipwright with his own hands.

In the little cottage beside his own there were soon seen (and heard) three stout children, two boys and a girl, the former being named respectively Gascoyne and Henry, the latter Mary. It is needless to say that these were immense favorites with the eccentric merchant.

During all this time there was a firm in Liverpool which received periodical remittances of money from an unknown source. The cashier of that firm, a fat little man, with a face like a dumpling and a nose like a cherry, lived, as it were, in a state of perpetual amazement in regard to these remittances. They came regularly, from apparently nowhere, were acknowledged to nobody, and amounted, in the course of time, to many thousands. This firm had, some years previously, lost a fine vessel. She was named the Brilliant; had sailed for the South Sea Islands with a rich cargo, and was never more heard of. The fat cashier knew the loss sustained by this vessel to a penny. He had prepared and calculated all the papers and sent duplicates on board; and as he had a stake in the venture, he never forgot the amount of the loss sustained.

One day the firm received a remittance from the unknown, with a note to the following effect at the foot of it: "This is the last remittance on account of the Brilliant. The value of the cargo, including compound interest, and the estimated value of the vessel, have now been repaid to the owners."

The fat cashier was thunderstruck! He rushed to his ledger, examined the account, calculated the interest, summed up the whole, and found it correct. He went home to bed, and fell sound asleep in amazement; awoke in amazement; went back to the office in amazement; worked on day after day in amazement; lived, and eventually died, in a state of unrelieved amazement In regard to this incomprehensible transaction!

About the same time that this occurred, Mr. Stuart entered his poor cottage, and finding his wife there, said:

"Mary, I have sent off the last remittance to-day. I have made amends for that evil deed. It has cost me a long and hard struggle to realize the thousands of pounds that were requisite; for some of the goods had got damaged by damp in the cavern of the Isle of Palms; but the profits of my engineering and shipwright business have increased of late, and I have managed to square it all off, with interest. And now, Mary, I can do no more. If I knew of any others who have suffered at my hands. I would restore what I took tenfold; but I know of none. It therefore remains that I should work this business for the good of mankind. Of all the thousands that have passed through my hands, I have not used one penny. You know that I have always kept the business that has grown out of the labors of my own hands distinct from that which has been reared on the stolen goods. I have lived and supported you by it, and now, through God's blessing, it has increased to such an extent that I think we may afford to build a somewhat more commodious house, and furnish it a little better.