“I don’t see it!” said I. “You don’t know Jim.”
“Well, you will see,” said Nares. “And now, here’s another point. This bit of money looks mighty big to Mr. Pinkerton; it may spell life or health to him; but among all your creditors, I don’t see that it amounts to a hill of beans—I don’t believe it’ll pay their car-fares all round. And don’t you think you’ll ever get thanked. You were known to pay a long price for the chance of rummaging that wreck; you do the rummaging, you come home, and you hand over ten thousand—or twenty, if you like—a part of which you’ll have to own up you made by smuggling; and, mind I you’ll never get Billy Fowler to stick his name to a receipt. Now just glance at the transaction from the outside, and see what a clear case it makes. Your ten thousand is a sop; and people will only wonder you were so damned impudent as to offer such a small one! Whichever way you take it, Mr. Dodd, the bottom’s out of your character; so there’s one thing less to be considered.”
“I dare say you’ll scarce believe me,” said I, “but I feel that a positive relief.”
“You must be made some way different from me, then,” returned Nares. “And, talking about me, I might just mention how I stand. You’ll have no trouble from me—you’ve trouble enough of your own; and I’m friend enough, when a friend’s in need, to shut my eyes and go right where he tells me. All the same, I’m rather queerly fixed. My owners’ll have to rank with the rest on their charter-party. Here am I, their representative! and I have to look over the ship’s side while the bankrupt walks his assets ashore in Mr. Speedy’s hat-box. It’s a thing I wouldn’t do for James G. Elaine; but I’ll do it for you, Mr. Dodd, and only sorry I can’t do more.”
“Thank you, captain; my mind is made up,” said I. “I’ll go straight, ruat cœlum! I never understood that old tag before to-night.”
“I hope it isn’t my business that decides you?” asked the captain.
“I’ll never deny it was an element,” said I. “I hope, I hope I’m not cowardly; I hope I could steal for Jim myself; but when it comes to dragging in you and Speedy, and this one and the other, why, Jim has got to die, and there’s an end. I’ll try and work for him when I get to ’Frisco, I suppose; and I suppose I’ll fail, and look on at his death, and kick myself: it can’t be helped—I’ll fight it on this line.”
“I don’t say as you’re wrong,” replied Nares, “and I’ll be hanged if I know if you’re right. It suits me, anyway. And look here—hadn’t you better just show our friends over the side?” he added; “no good of being at the risk and worry of smuggling for the benefit of creditors.”
“I don’t think of the creditors,” said I. “But I’ve kept this pair so long I haven’t got the brass to fire them now.”
Indeed, I believe that was my only reason for entering upon a transaction which was now outside my interest, but which (as it chanced) repaid me fifty-fold in entertainment. Fowler and Sharpe were both preternaturally sharp; they did me the honour in the beginning to attribute to myself their proper vices, and before we were done had grown to regard me with an esteem akin to worship. This proud position I attained by no more recondite arts than telling the mere truth and unaffectedly displaying my indifference to the result. I have doubtless stated the essentials of all good diplomacy, which may be rather regarded, therefore, as a grace of state than the effect of management. For to tell the truth is not in itself diplomatic, and to have no care for the result a thing involuntary. When I mentioned, for instance, that I had but two hundred and forty pounds of drug, my smugglers exchanged meaning glances, as who should say, “Here is a foeman worthy of our steel!” But when I carelessly proposed thirty-five dollars a pound, as an amendment to their offered twenty, and wound up with the remark: “The whole thing is a matter of moonshine to me, gentlemen. Take it or want it, and fill your glasses”—I had the indescribable gratification to see Sharpe nudge Fowler warningly, and Fowler choke down the jovial acceptance that stood ready on his lips, and lamely substitute a “No—no more wine, please, Mr. Dodd!” Nor was this all: for when the affair was settled at thirty dollars a pound—a shrewd stroke of business for my creditors—and our friends had got on board their whaleboat and shoved off, it appeared they were imperfectly acquainted with the conveyance of sound upon still water, and I had the joy to overhear the following testimonial: