Alger Horatio Jr.
Cast Upon the Breakers
CHAPTER XXV
JEFFERSON PETTIGREW’S HOME
News spreads fast in a country village. Scarcely an hour had passed when it was generally known that Jefferson Pettigrew had come home from Montana with a few hundred dollars in money, bringing with him a rich boy who could buy out all Burton. At least that is the way the report ran.
When the two new arrivals had finished supper and come out on the hotel veranda there were a dozen of Jefferson Pettigrew’s friends ready to welcome him.
“How are you, Jefferson, old boy?” said one and another.
“Pretty well, thank you. It seems good to be home.”
“I hear you’ve brought back some money.”
“Yes, a few hundred dollars.”
“That’s better than nothing. I reckon you’ll stay home now.”
“I can’t afford it, boys.”
“Are ye goin’ back to Montany?”
“Yes. I know the country, and I can make a middlin’ good livin’ there.”
“I say, is that boy thats with you as rich as they say?”
“I don’t know what they say.”
“They say he’s worth a million.”
“Oh no, not so much as that. He’s pretty well fixed.”
“Hasn’t he got a father livin’?”
“No, it’s his father that left the money.”
“How did you happen to get in with him?”
“Oh, we met promiscuous. He took a sort of fancy to me, and that’s the way of it.”
“Do you expect to keep him with you?”
“He talks of goin’ back to Montana with me. I’ll be sort of guardian to him.”
“You’re in luck, Jeff.”
“Yes, I’m in luck to have pleasant company. Maybe we’ll join together and buy a mine.”
“Would you mind introducin’ him?”
“Not at all,” and thus Rodney became acquainted with quite a number of the Burton young men. He was amused to see with what deference they treated him, but preserved a sober face and treated all cordially, so that he made a favorable impression on those he met.
Among those who made it in their way to call on the two travelers was Lemuel Sheldon, the rich man of the village.
“How do you do, Jefferson?” he said condescendingly.
“Very well, sir.”
“You have been quite a traveler.”
“Yes, sir; I have been to the far West.”
“And met with some success, I am told.”
“Yes, sir; I raised money enough to get home.”
“I hear you brought home a few hundred dollars.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, well,” said the squire patronizingly, “that’s good beginning.”
“It must seem very little to a rich man like you, squire.”
“Oh, no!” said the squire patronizingly. “You are a young man. I shouldn’t wonder if by the time you get as old as I am you might be worth five thousand dollars.”
“I hope so,” answered Mr. Pettigrew demurely.
“By the way, you have brought a young man with you, I am told.”
“Yes.”
“I should like to make his acquaintance. He is rich, is he not?”
“I wish I was as rich.”
“You don’t say so! About how much do you estimate he is worth?”
“I don’t think it amounts to quite as much as a quarter of a million. Still, you know it is not always easy to tell how much a person is worth.”
“He is certainly a VERY fortunate young man,” said the squire, impressed. “What is his name?”
“Rodney Ropes.”
“The name sounds aristocratic. I shall be glad to know him.”
“Rodney,” said Mr. Pettigrew. “I want to introduce you to Squire Sheldon, our richest and most prominent citizen.”
“I am glad to meet you, Squire Sheldon,” said Rodney, offering his hand.
“I quite reciprocate the feeling, Mr. Ropes, but Mr. Pettigrew should not call me a rich man. I am worth something, to be sure.”
“I should say you were, squire,” said Jefferson. “Rodney, he is as rich as you are.”
“Oh no,” returned the squire, modestly, “not as rich as that. Indeed, I hardly know how much I am worth. As Mr. Pettigrew very justly observed it is not easy to gauge a man’s possessions. But there is one difference between us. You, Mr. Ropes, I take it, are not over eighteen.”
“Only sixteen, sir.”
“And yet you are wealthy. I am rising fifty. When you come to my age you will be worth much more.”
“Perhaps I may have lost all I now possess,” said Rodney. “Within a year I have lost fifty thousand dollars.”
“You don’t say so.”
“Yes; it was through a man who had charge of my property. I think now I shall manage my money matters myself.”
“Doubtless you are right. That was certainly a heavy loss. I shouldn’t like to lose so much. I suppose, however, you had something left?”
“Oh yes,” answered Rodney in an indifferent tone.
“He must be rich to make so little account of fifty thousand dollars,” thought the squire.
“How long do you propose to stay in town, Mr. Pettigrew?” he asked.
“I can’t tell, sir, but I don’t think I can spare more than three or four days.”
“May I hope that you and Mr. Ropes will take supper with me tomorrow evening?”
“Say the next day and we’ll come. Tomorrow I must go to my uncle’s.”
“Oh very well!”
Squire Sheldon privately resolved to pump Rodney as to the investment of his property. He was curious to learn first how much the boy was worth, for if there was anything that the squire worshiped it was wealth. He was glad to find that Mr. Pettigrew had only brought home five hundred dollars, as it was not enough to lift the mortgage on his uncle’s farm.
After they were left alone Jefferson Pettigrew turned to Rodney and said, “Do you mind my leaving you a short time and calling at my uncle’s?”
“Not at all, Mr. Pettigrew. I can pass my time very well.”
Jefferson Pettigrew directed his steps to an old fashioned farmhouse about half a mile from the village. In the rear the roof sloped down so that the eaves were only five feet from the ground. The house was large though the rooms were few in number.
In the sitting room sat an old man and his wife, who was nearly as old. It was not a picture of cheerful old age, for each looked sad. The sadness of old age is pathetic for there is an absence of hope, and courage, such as younger people are apt to feel even when they are weighed down by trouble.
Cyrus Hooper was seventy one, his wife two years younger. During the greater part of their lives they had been well to do, if not prosperous, but now their money was gone, and there was a mortgage on the old home which they could not pay.
“I don’t know whats goin’ to become of us, Nancy,” said Cyrus Hooper. “We’ll have to leave the old home, and when the farm’s been sold there won’t be much left over and above the mortgage which Louis Sheldon holds.”
“Don’t you think the squire will give you a little more time, Cyrus?”
“No; I saw him yesterday, and he’s sot on buyin’ in the farm for himself. He reckons it won’t fetch more’n eighteen hundred dollars.”
“Thats only six hundred over the mortgage.”
“It isn’t that Nancy. There’s about a hundred dollars due in interest. We won’t get more’n five hundred dollars.”
“Surely, Cyrus, the farm is worth three thousand dollars.”
“So it is, Nancy, but that won’t do us any good, as long as no one wants it more’n the squire.”
“I wish Jefferson were at home.”
“What good would it do? I surmise he hasn’t made any money. He never did have much enterprise, that boy.”
“He was allus a good boy, Cyrus.”
“That’s so, Nancy, but he didn’t seem cut out for makin’ money. Still it would do me good to see him. Maybe we might have a home together, and manage to live.”
Just then a neighbor entered.
“Have you heard the news?” she asked.
“No; what is it?”
“Your nephew Jefferson Pettigrew has got back.”
“You don’t mean so. There, Jefferson, that’s one comfort.”
“And they say he has brought home five hundred dollars.”
“That’s more’n I thought he’d bring. Where is he?”
“Over at the tavern. He’s brought a young man with him, leastways a boy, that’s got a lot of money.”
“The boy?”
“Yes; he’s from New York, and is a friend of Jefferson’s.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s back. Why didn’t he come here?”
“It’s likely he would if the boy wasn’t with him.”
“Perhaps he heard of my misfortune.”
“I hope it’ll all come right, Mr. Hooper. My, if there ain’t Jefferson comin’ to see you now. I see him through the winder. I guess I’ll be goin’. You’ll want to see him alone.”
CHAPTER XXVI
THE BOY CAPITALIST
“How are you, Uncle Cyrus?” said Jefferson Pettigrew heartily, as he clasped his uncle’s toil worn hand. “And Aunt Nancy, too! It pays me for coming all the way from Montana just to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you, Jefferson,” said his uncle. “It seems a long time since you went away. I hope you’ve prospered.”
“Well, uncle, I’ve brought myself back well and hearty, and I’ve got a few hundred dollars.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Jefferson. You’re better off than when you went away.”
“Yes, uncle. I couldn’t be much worse off. Then I hadn’t a cent that I could call my own. But how are you and Aunt Nancy?”
“We’re gettin’ old, Jefferson, and misfortune has come to us. Squire Sheldon has got a mortgage on the farm and it’s likely we’ll be turned out. You’ve come just in time to see it.”
“Is it so bad as that, Uncle Cyrus? Why, when I went away you were prosperous.”
“Yes, Jefferson, I owned the farm clear, and I had money in the bank, but now the money’s gone and there’s a twelve hundred dollar mortgage on the old place,” and the old man sighed.
“But how did it come about uncle? You and Aunt Nancy haven’t lived extravagantly, have you? Aunt Nancy, you haven’t run up a big bill at the milliner’s and dressmaker’s?”
“You was always for jokin’, Jefferson,” said the old lady, smiling faintly; “but that is not the way our losses came.”
“How then?”
“You see I indorsed notes for Sam Sherman over at Canton, and he failed, and I had to pay, then I bought some wild cat minin’ stock on Sam’s recommendation, and that went down to nothin’. So between the two I lost about three thousand dollars. I’ve been a fool, Jefferson, and it would have been money in my pocket if I’d had a guardeen.”
“So you mortgaged the place to Squire Sheldon, uncle?”
“Yes; I had to. I was obliged to meet my notes.”
“But surely the squire will extend the mortgage.”
“No, he won’t. I’ve asked him. He says he must call in the money, and so the old place will have to be sold, and Nancy and I must turn out in our old age.”
Again the old man sighed, and tears came into Nancy Hooper’s eyes.
“There’ll be something left, won’t there, Uncle Cyrus?”
“Yes, the place should bring six hundred dollars over and above the mortgage. That’s little enough, for it’s worth three thousand.”
“So it is, Uncle Cyrus. But what can you do with six hundred dollars? It won’t support you and Aunt Nancy?”
“I thought mebbe, Jefferson, I could hire a small house and you could board with us, so that we could still have a home together.”
“I’ll think it over, uncle, if there is no other way. But are you sure Squire Sheldon won’t give you more time?”
“No, Jefferson. I surmise he wants the place himself. There’s talk of a railroad from Sherborn, and that’ll raise the price of land right around here. It’ll probably go right through the farm just south of the three acre lot.”
“I see, Uncle Cyrus. You ought to have the benefit of the rise in value.”
“Yes, Jefferson, it would probably rise enough to pay off the mortgage, but its no use thinkin’ of it. The old farm has got to go.”
“I don’t know about that, Uncle Cyrus.”
“Why, Jefferson, you haven’t money enough to lift the mortgage!” said the old man, with faint hope.
“If I haven’t I may get it for you. Tell me just how much money is required.”
“Thirteen hundred dollars, includin’ interest.”
“Perhaps you have heard that I have a boy with me—a boy from New York, named Rodney Ropes. He has money, and perhaps I might get him to advance the sum you want.”
“Oh, Jefferson, if you only could!” exclaimed Aunt Nancy, clasping her thin hands. “It would make us very happy.”
“I’ll see Rodney tonight and come over tomorrow morning and tell you what he says. On account of the railroad I shall tell him that it is a good investment. I suppose you will be willing to mortgage the farm to him for the same money that he pays to lift the present mortgage?”
“Yes, Jefferson, I’ll be willin’ and glad. It’ll lift a great burden from my shoulders. I’ve been worryin’ at the sorrow I’ve brought upon poor Nancy, for she had nothing to do with my foolish actions. I was old enough to know better, Jefferson, and I’m ashamed of what I did.”
“Well, Uncle Cyrus, I’ll do what I can for you. Now let us forget all about your troubles and talk over the village news. You know I’ve been away for four years, and I haven’t had any stiddy correspondence, so a good deal must have happened that I don’t know anything about. I hear Frank Dobson has prospered?”
“Yes, Frank’s pretty forehanded. He’s got a good economical wife, and they’ve laid away five or six hundred dollars in the savings bank.”
“I am glad of it. Frank is a good fellow. If it hadn’t been for him I couldn’t have gone to Montana. When he lent me the money everybody said he’d lose it, but I was bound to pay it if I had to live on one meal a day. He was the only man in town who believed in me at that time.”
“You was a littless shif’less, Jefferson. You can’t blame people. I wasn’t quite sure myself how you’d get along.”
“No doubt you are right, Uncle Cyrus. It did me good to leave town. I didn’t drink, but I had no ambition. When a man goes to a new country it’s apt to make a new man of him. That was the case with me.”
“Are you goin’ back again, Jefferson?”
“Yes, uncle. I’m going to stay round here long enough to fix up your affairs and get you out of your trouble. Then I’ll go back to the West. I have a little mining interest there and I can make more money there than I can here.”
“If you can get me out of my trouble, Jefferson, I’ll never forget it. Nancy and I have been so worried that we couldn’t sleep nights, but now I’m beginnin’ to be a little more cheerful.”
Jefferson Pettigrew spent another hour at his uncle’s house, and then went back to the tavern, where he found Rodney waiting for him. He explained briefly the part he wished his boy friend to take in his plan for relieving his uncle.
“I shall be receiving credit to which I am not entitled,” said Rodney. “Still, if it will oblige you I am willing to play the part of the boy capitalist.”
The next morning after breakfast the two friends walked over to the house of Cyrus Hooper. Aunt Nancy came to the door and gave them a cordial welcome.
“Cyrus is over at the barn, Jefferson,” she said. “I’ll ring the bell and he’ll come in.”
“No, Aunt Nancy, I’ll go out and let him know I am here.”
Presently Cyrus Hooper came in, accompanied by Jefferson.
“Uncle Cyrus,” said the miner, “let me introduce you to my friend Rodney Ropes, of New York.”
“I’m glad to see you,” said Cyrus heartily. “I’m glad to see any friend of Jefferson’s.”
“Thank you, sir. I am pleased to meet you.”
“Jefferson says you are goin’ to Montany with him.”
“I hope to do so. I am sure I shall enjoy myself in his company.”
“How far is Montany, Jefferson?”
“It is over two thousand miles away, Uncle Cyrus.”
“It must be almost at the end of the world. I don’t see how you can feel at home so far away from Vermont.”
Jefferson smiled.
“I can content myself wherever I can make a good living,” he said. “Wouldn’t you like to go out and make me a visit?”
“No, Jefferson, I should feel that it was temptin’ Providence to go so far at my age.”
“You never were very far from Burton, Uncle Cyrus?”
“I went to Montpelier once,” answered the old man with evident pride. “It is a nice sizable place. I stopped at the tavern, and had a good time.”
It was the only journey the old man had ever made, and he would never forget it.
“Uncle Cyrus,” said Jefferson, “this is the young man who I thought might advance you money on a new mortgage. Suppose we invite him to go over the farm, and take a look at it so as to see what he thinks of the investment.”
“Sartain, Jefferson, sartain! I do hope Mr. Ropes you’ll look favorable on the investment. It is Jefferson’s idea, but it would be doin’ me a great favor.”
“Mr. Pettigrew will explain the advantages of the farm as we go along,” said Rodney.
So they walked from field to field, Jefferson expatiating to his young friend upon the merits of the investment, Rodney asking questions now and then to carry out his part of the shrewd and careful boy capitalist.
When they had made a tour of the farm Jefferson said: “Well, Rodney, what do you think of the investment?”
“I am satisfied with it,” answered Rodney. “Mr. Hooper, I will advance you the money on the conditions mentioned by my friend, Mr. Pettigrew.”
Tears of joy came into the eyes of Cyrus Hooper and his worn face showed relief.
“I am very grateful, young man,” he said. “I will see that you don’t regret your kindness.”
“When will Squire Sheldon be over to settle matters, Uncle Cyrus?” asked Jefferson.
“He is comin’ this afternoon at two o’clock.”
“Then Rodney and I will be over to take part in the business.”
CHAPTER XXVII
THE FAILURE OF SQUIRE SHELDON’S PLOT
On the morning of the same day Squire Sheldon sat in his study when the servant came in and brought a card.
“It’s a gentleman thats come to see you, sir,” she said.
Lemuel Sheldon’s eye brightened when he saw the name, for it was that of a railroad man who was interested in the proposed road from Sherborn.
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Caldwell,” he said cordially, rising to receive his guest. “What is the prospect as regards the railroad?”
“I look upon it as a certainty,” answered Enoch Caldwell, a grave, portly man of fifty.
“And it is sure to pass through our town?”
“Yes, I look upon that as definitely decided.”
“The next question is as to the route it will take,” went on the squire. “Upon that point I should like to offer a few suggestions.”
“I shall be glad to receive them. In fact, I may say that my report will probably be accepted, and I shall be glad to consult you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the compliment you pay me, and, though I say it, I don’t think you could find any one more thoroughly conversant with the lay of the land and the most advisable route to follow. If you will put on your hat we will go out together and I will give you my views.”
“I shall be glad to do so.”
The two gentlemen took a leisurely walk through the village, going by Cyrus Hooper’s house on the way.
“In my view,” said the squire, “the road should go directly through this farm a little to the north of the house.”
The squire proceeded to explain his reasons for the route he recommended.
“To whom does the farm belong?” asked Caldwell, with a shrewd glance at the squire.
“To an old man named Cyrus Hooper.”
“Ahem! Perhaps he would be opposed to the road passing so near his house.”
“I apprehend that he will not have to be consulted,” said the squire with a crafty smile.
“Why not?”
“Because I hold a mortgage on the farm which I propose to foreclose this afternoon.”
“I see. So that you will be considerably benefited by the road.”
“Yes, to a moderate extent.”
“But if a different course should be selected, how then?”
“If the road goes through the farm I would be willing to give a quarter of the damages awarded to me to—you understand?”
“I think I do. After all it seems the most natural route.”
“I think there can be no doubt on that point. Of course the corporation will be willing to pay a reasonable sum for land taken.”
“I think I can promise that, as I shall have an important voice in the matter.”
“I see you are a thorough business man,” said the squire. “I hold that it is always best to pursue a liberal policy.”
“Quite so. You have no doubt of obtaining the farm?”
“Not the slightest.”
“But suppose the present owner meets the mortgage?”
“He can’t. He is a poor man, and he has no moneyed friends. I confess I was a little afraid that a nephew of his just returned from Montana might be able to help him, but I learn that he has only brought home five hundred dollars while the mortgage, including interest, calls for thirteen hundred.”
“Then you appear to be safe. When did you say the matter would be settled?”
“This afternoon at two o’clock. You had better stay over and take supper with me. I shall be prepared to talk with you at that time.”
“Very well.”
From a window of the farmhouse Cyrus Hooper saw Squire Sheldon and his guest walking by the farm, and noticed the interest which they seemed to feel in it. But for the assurance which he had received of help to pay the mortgage he would have felt despondent, for he guessed the subject of their conversation. As it was, he felt an excusable satisfaction in the certain defeat of the squire’s hopes of gain.
“It seems that the more a man has the more he wants, Jefferson,” he said to his nephew. “The squire is a rich man—the richest man in Burton—but he wants to take from me the little property that I have.”
“It’s the way of the world, Uncle Cyrus. In this case the squire is safe to be disappointed, thanks to my young friend, Rodney.”
“Its lucky for me, Jefferson, that you came home just the time you did. If you had come a week later it would have been too late.”
“Then you don’t think the squire would have relented?”
“I know he wouldn’t. I went over a short time since and had a talk with him on the subject. I found he was sot on gettin’ the farm into his own hands.”
“If he were willing to pay a fair value it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“He wasn’t. He wanted to get it as cheap as he could.”
“I wonder,” said Jefferson Pettigrew reflectively, “whether I shall be as hard and selfish if ever I get rich.”
“I don’t believe you will, Jefferson. I don’t believe you will. It doesn’t run in the blood.”
“I hope not Uncle Cyrus. How long have you known the squire?”
“Forty years, Jefferson. He is about ten years younger than I am. I was a young man when he was a boy.”
“And you attend the same church?”
“Yes.”
“And still he is willing to take advantage of you and reduce you to poverty. I don’t see much religion in that.”
“When a man’s interest is concerned religion has to stand to one side with some people.”
It was in a pleasant frame of mind that Squire Sheldon left his house and walked over to the farmhouse which he hoped to own. He had decided to offer eighteen hundred dollars for the farm, which would be five hundred over and above the face of the mortgage with the interest added.
This of itelf would give him an excellent profit, but he expected also, as we know, to drive a stiff bargain with the new railroad company, for such land as they would require to use.
“Stay here till I come back, Mr. Caldwell,” he said. “I apprehend it won’t take me long to get through my business.”
Squire Sheldon knocked at the door of the farmhouse, which was opened to him by Nancy Hooper.
“Walk in, squire,” she said.
“Is your husband at home, Mrs. Hooper?”
“Yes; he is waiting for you.”
Mrs. Hooper led the way into the sitting room, where her husband was sitting in a rocking chair.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hooper,” said the squire. “I hope I see you well.”
“As well as I expect to be. I’m gettin’ to be an old man.”
“We must all grow old,” said the squire vaguely.
“And sometimes a man’s latter years are his most sorrowful years.”
“That means that he can’t pay the mortgage,” thought Squire Sheldon.
“Well, ahem! Yes, it does sometimes happen so,” he said aloud.
“Still if a man’s friends stand by him, that brings him some comfort.”
“I suppose you know what I’ve come about, Mr. Hooper,” said the squire, anxious to bring his business to a conclusion.
“I suppose it’s about the mortgage.”
“Yes, its about the mortgage.”
“Will you be willing to extend it another year?”
“I thought,” said the squire, frowning, “I had given you to understand that I cannot do this. You owe me a large sum in accrued interest.”
“But if I make shift to pay this?”
“I should say the same. It may as well come first as last. You can’t hold the place, and there is no chance of your being better off by waiting.”
“I understand that the new railroad might go through my farm. That would put me on my feet.”
“There is no certainty that the road will ever be built. Even if it were, it would not be likely to cross your farm.”
“I see, Squire Sheldon, you are bound to have the place.”
“There is no need to put it that way, Mr. Hooper. I lent you money on mortgage. You can’t pay the mortgage, and of course I foreclose. However, I will buy the farm and allow you eighteen hundred dollars for it. That will give you five hundred dollars over and above the money you owe me.”
“The farm is worth three thousand dollars.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Hooper. Still if you get an offer of that sum TODAY I will advise you to sell.”
“I certainly won’t take eighteen hundred.”
“You won’t? Then I shall foreclose, and you may have to take less.”
“Then there is only one thing to do.”
“As you say, there is only one thing to do.”
“And that is, to pay off the mortgage and clear the farm.”
“You can’t do it!” exclaimed the squire uneasily.
Cyrus Hooper’s only answer was to call “Jefferson.”
Jefferson Pettigrew entered the room, followed by Rodney.
“What does this mean?” asked the squire.
“It means, Squire Sheldon,” said Mr. Pettigrew, “that you won’t turn my uncle out of his farm this time. My young friend, Rodney Ropes, has advanced Uncle Cyrus money enough to pay off the mortgage.”
“I won’t take a check,” said the squire hastily.
“You would have to if we insisted upon it, but I have the money here in bills. Give me a release and surrender the mortgage, and you shall have your money.”
It was with a crestfallen look that Squire Sheldon left the farmhouse, though his pockets were full of money.
“It’s all up,” he said to his friend Caldwell in a hollow voice. “They have paid the mortgage.”
After all the railway did cross the farm, and Uncle Cyrus was paid two thousand dollars for the right of way, much to the disappointment of his disinterested friend Lemuel Sheldon, who felt that this sum ought to have gone into his own pocket.
