“I thought you said just now they were the bulwarks of Britain?”
“So they are, so they are, but bulwarks, Mr. Schwartzbrod, need to be made of stouter and coarser timber than that which lines the cabin. You must not think I am attributing anything criminal to our captain, Mr. Schwartzbrod; not at all, but it has often seemed to me that they do not always pay that scrupulous attention to the law which animates our business men in the city of London, for instance. A captain out of the jurisdiction of England, much as it may shock you to hear it, will dare to do things that would make our hair stand on end, and send a lawyer or a judge into a dead faint. Now, there’s the Captain Simmons, of whom you just spoke. He tells me that he has undertaken devilish deeds in out-of-the-way parts of the world which he would not think of doing under that arch in the main street of Southampton.”
The company promoter moistened his lips, and stroked the lower part of his face gently with his open hand. Lord Stranleigh beamed across at him with kindly expectancy, as if wishing some sympathetic corroboration of the statements he had made. At last the city man spoke.
“You have perhaps had more experience with seafaring people than I, my lord. I had always supposed them to be a rough-and-ready sort of folk, as reasonably honest as the rest of us.”
“It was to be expected, Mr. Schwartzbrod, that your kind heart would hesitate to credit anything condemnatory said about them. Because you would not do this or that, you think other people are equally blameless. Take Captain Simmons, for instance, and yet, when I think of him I remember, of course, there were mitigating circumstances in the case. Captain Simmons had set his eye on a little bit of property, something like five acres, stretching down to Southampton water. There was a cottage and a veranda, and the veranda seemed to lure Captain Simmons with its prospect of peace, as he passed up Southampton water in command of the disreputable old Rajah. But Simmons never could succeed in saving the money to buy this modest homestead, but at last far more than the money necessary was offered him if he did a certain thing. It was a bribe, Mr. Schwartzbrod, and perhaps at first he did not see where he was steering the blunt snout of the old Rajah. He did not completely comprehend into what miasmatic and turbid waters his course would lead him. But when at last he saw it was involving him in theft, in wholesale robbery, and in potential murder, in the sinking of ships, and the drowning of crews, Simmons drew back.”
A gentle expression of concern came into Lord Stranleigh’s face as he saw the man before him in visible distress, sinking lower and lower in his chair. His face was ghastly: only the eyes seemed alive, and they were fixed immovably on his opponent, striving to penetrate at the thought or the knowledge that might be behind the mask of carelessness he wore.
“Don’t you feel well, Mr. Schwartzbrod? Would you like a little stimulant?”
Without waiting for an answer he rang the bell.
“Bring some whisky and soda,” he said, “also a decanter of brandy.”
Schwartzbrod took a cautious sip or two of the weaker beverage.