“And I will do it. How can I refuse? I should lose all their India trade.”
“There will soon be no trade to lose. You are, as I know, drawing in your capital. Go abroad. Wind up your affairs in England; do the same in Holland. Use all your ships this summer. Go to Madeira from London. Buy freely, and pay at once so as to save interest; it will rise fast. Come home in the fall of ‘74 late. Hold the goods, and, above all, see that in your absence no consignments be taken. Am I clear, John?”
I heard her with such amazement as was shared by my father. The boldness and sagacity of the scheme impressed a man trained to skill in commerce, and ever given to courageous ventures.
“You must sail in October or before; you will need a year. No less will do.”
“Yes—yes.”
I saw from his look that he was captured. He walked to and fro, while my Aunt Gainor switched the dust off her petticoat or looked out of the window. At last she turned to me. “What think you of it, Hugh?”
“Mr. Wilson says we shall have war, aunt, and Mr. Attorney-General Chew is of the same opinion. I heard them talking of it last night at thy house. I think the king’s officers want a war.” I took refuge, shrewdly, in the notions of my elders. I had no wiser thing to say. “I myself do not know,” I added.
“How shouldst thou?” said my father, sharply,
I was silent.
“And what think you, John?”