Chapter One.

The office of Frank, Trunnion & Swab—Harry Bracewell reports the arrival of the “Arrow”—History of Nicholas Swab—The slave trade—Our firm gives up all connection with it—Captain Roderick Trunnion—Something about myself and friends—Interview between Mr Trunnion and Godfrey Magor, mate of the “Arrow”—An unexpected arrival—A strange accusation—Suspicions of Captain Trunnion—Mrs Bracewell and her daughter Mary.

“The ‘Arrow’ has come in, sir, from the Coast of Africa, under charge of Mr Godfrey Magor, the second mate,” I heard Harry Bracewell, one of our shipping clerks, say, as I was seated on a high stool, pen in hand, leaning over my desk in the office of Messrs Crank, Trunnion & Swab, general merchants, of Liverpool Harry addressed the senior partner, Mr Peter Crank, who had just then stepped out of his private room with a bundle of papers in his hand into the counting-house, where I, with a dozen other clerks, senior and junior, were driving our quills as fast as we could move them over the paper, or adding up columns of figures, or making calculations, as the case might be.

As I turned my head slightly, I could see both Mr Crank and Harry. They afforded a strange contrast. Harry was tall, well-built, had a handsome countenance, with a pleasant expression which betokened his real character, for he was as kind, honest, and generous a young fellow as ever lived—the only son of his mother, the widow of a naval officer killed in action. She had come to Liverpool for the sake of giving a home to Harry, who had been for some time in the employment of the firm. The difference between Mr Crank and Harry was indeed most conspicuous in their personal appearance. Whereas Harry was tall, Mr Crank was short and stout; he had a bald head, shining as if it had been carefully polished, a round face, with a florid complexion, and a nose which was allowed by his warmest friends to be a snub; but he had a good mouth, bright blue eyes, often twinkling with humour, which seemed to look through and through those he addressed, while his brow exhibited a considerable amount of intellect. Had not he possessed that, he would not have been at the head of the firm of Crank, Trunnion & Swab.

“Brought home, did you say, by Godfrey Magor? What has happened to Captain Rig and the first mate?”

“Both died from fever while up the Nunn, as did all hands except himself and three others. So Mr Magor told me; and the survivors were all so weak, that he could not have brought the vessel home had he not shipped six Kroomen. He had also a narrow escape from pirates, who actually boarded his vessel, when a man-of-war heaving in sight, they made off without plundering her or killing any one.”

“Bless my heart! I’m sorry to hear about Captain Rig’s death. The poor man remained longer up the river than he should have done, no doubt about that I have over and over again charged the masters of our vessels to be careful in that respect, but they won’t attend to what I say. Let me see! that makes the fifth who has lost his life during the last two years. I’m thankful he got clear of the pirates. Those rascals have long been the greatest pests on that coast. It is time the British Government should take effectual steps to put a stop to their depredations by sending a squadron into those seas. Have you brought the manifest and the other papers with you?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Harry, producing them. “Mr Magor will be on shore himself in an hour or two, when he has seen the vessel made snug, for he has no one to leave in charge; he himself is still suffering from the fever, and two of her white crew are in their bunks.”

Mr Crank, taking the documents, retired with them into his room, to run his eye over the list of articles brought by the “Arrow,” and to calculate their present market value. The result I know was satisfactory. I had afterwards to note down the prices which they fetched. Merchants who could make so large a percentage on all their cargoes were certain to grow rich. It was at the cost, however, of the lives of a great number of human beings; but that was not my employers’ look out, nor did they allow the matter to trouble their consciences. They could always obtain fresh masters to take charge of their vessels, and fresh crews to man them.

In a short time Mr Trunnion, who had heard on ’Change of the arrival of the “Arrow,” came in to learn what news she had brought, expecting to find her master, who was wont, immediately he came on shore, to put in an appearance at the office. Mr Trunnion expressed himself much shocked at Captain Rig’s death.

“Poor fellow! he used to boast that he was acclimatised, but it is a proof of the old adage, ‘that the pitcher which goes often to the well gets broken at last.’ We might have lost a worse man;” and with this remark Mr Trunnion passed into his room, in which he sat to receive visitors on private business.

Mr Trunnion, although the second partner, was the youngest in the firm. He was a good-looking, urbane, well-mannered man, who, if not always loved by those under him, was much liked and respected in the social circle in which he moved, he being also one of the magnates of Liverpool. For my own part, I had reason to like and be grateful to Mr Swab, the junior member of the firm. He had formerly been a clerk in the house, but by diligent attention to and a thorough knowledge of business and strict honesty, he had some years before been made a partner. To him I felt that I owed all the knowledge I possessed of commercial affairs, as from my first entrance into the office he took notice of me, and gave me the instruction I so much required. My chief friend was Harry Bracewell, who was also a favourite with Mr Swab, and had received the same instruction from him that I had obtained. Mr Swab was not at all ashamed of his origin. He used to tell us that he had risen, not from the gutter, but from the mud, like other strange animals, having obtained his livelihood in his early days by hunting at low tide for whatever he could pick up along the shore, thrown overboard from the lighters or similar vessels unloading at the quays. At length it was his good fortune to pick a purse out of the mud containing ten golden guineas, and, as he used to tell us, being convinced that he should never have a find like it, he resolved to quit his occupation, for which he had no particular fancy, and endeavour to obtain a situation where he might have a prospect of rising in the world. Though he could neither read nor write, he was well aware that those acquirements were necessary for his advancement, as also that a decent suit of clothes would greatly contribute to his obtaining a respectable place. These objects were now within his reach. The most easily attained was the suit of clothes, and these he bought, with a cap and a good pair of shoes, at a slopseller’s, including three shirts, a necktie, and other articles of clothing, for the moderate sum of 2 pounds, 13 shillings and 6 pence. He had taken good care not to let the slopseller know of his wealth; indeed, that fact he kept locked in his own bosom, as he did his purse in a place in which no one was likely to discover it. The balance of the ten pounds into which he had broken he expended in supporting himself while he acquired the first rudiments of knowledge, with the aid of a friend, the keeper of a second-hand bookstall, a broken-down schoolmaster, who, strange to say, still retained a pleasure in imparting instruction to the young. Nicholas Swab first bought a spelling-book, and then confessed that he should find it of no use unless Mr Vellum would explain to him the meaning of the black marks on the pages.

“Then you do not know your letters, my poor boy?”