Complete Works of Hall Caine, page 164
And four of his brethren applauded that sentiment, but Thurstan curled up his red nose and thought, “Aw, yes, of coorse, a powerful big boiler of brotherly love the little miser keeps going under his weskit.”
And having so decided they further concluded to see the crops off the ground, and then lose no time in carrying out their design. “Let’s wait for the melya,” said Asher, meaning the harvest-home, “and then off for Marky the Lord.” The person who went by this name was one Mark Skillicorn, an advocate, of Ramsey, who combined the functions of pettifogger with those of money-lender and auctioneer. Marky the Lord was old, and plausible and facetious. He was a distant relative of the Fairbrothers by the side of their mother’s French family; and it was a strange chain of circumstances that no big farmer ever got into trouble but he became a client of Marky the Lord’s, that no client of Marky the Lord’s did not in the end go altogether to the bad, and that poor Marky the Lord never had a client who did not die in his debt. Nevertheless Marky the Lord grew richer as his losses grew heavier, and more facetious as his years increased. Oh, he was a funny dog, was Marky the Lord; but there was just one dog on the island a shade or two funnier still, and that was Jacob Fairbrother. This thrifty soul had for many a year kept a nest of private savings, and even in the days when he and his brethren went down to make a poor mouth before their father at Castletown he had money secretly lent out on the conscientious interest of only three per cent. above the legal rate.
And thus it chanced that when Ballacraine was advertised in big letters on every barn door in the north of Mann, Jacob Fairbrother went down to Marky the Lord, and made a private bargain to buy it in again. So when the day of the sale came, and Marky the Lord strode over the fields with some thirty men — farmers, miners, advocates, and parsons — at his heels, and then drew up on the roadside by the “Hibernian,” and there mounted the till-board of a cart for the final reckoning, little Jacob was too much moved to be present, though his brothers were there, all glooming around on the outside of the group, with their hands in their breeches pockets.
Ballacraine was knocked down cheap to somebody that nobody knew, and then came the work of the mortgages; so once again Jacob went off to Marky the Lord, and bargained to be made mortgagor, though no one was to be a whit the wiser. And ten per cent. he was to get from each of his five brothers for the use of the money which next day came back to his own hands.
Thus far all was straight dealing, but with the approach of the time to go to Iceland the complications grew thick. Jacob had so husbanded his money that while seeming to spend he still possessed it, and now he was troubled to know where to lodge that portion of it which he should not want in Iceland and might find it unsafe to take there. And while he was in the throes of his uncertainty his brothers — all save John — were in the travail of their own big conception.
Now Asher, Stean, Ross and Thurstan, having each made up his mind that he would go to Iceland also, had to consider how to get there, for their late bargaining had left them all penniless. The proceeds of the sale of Ballacraine were lodged with Jacob for Greeba, and Jacob also held as his own what had come to each man from his mortgage. So thinking that Jacob must have more than he could want, they approached him one by one, confidentially and slyly. And wondrous were the lies they told him, for they dare not confess that their sole need of money was to go to Iceland after him, and watch him that he did not cheat them when Greeba sent them all their fortunes in return for their brotherly love of her.
Thus Asher took Jacob aside and whispered, “I’m morthal hard pressed for a matter of five and thirty pound, boy — just five and thirty, for draining and fencing. I make bold to think you’ll lend me the like of it, and six per cent. I’ll be paying reg’lar.”
“Ah, I can’t do it, Asher,” said Jacob, “for old Marky the Lord has stripped me.”
Then came Stean, plucking a bit of ling and looking careless, and he said, “I’ve got a fine thing on now. I can buy a yoke of ploughing oxen for thirty pound. Only thirty, and a dead bargain. Can you lend me the brass? But whisht’s the word, for Ross is sneaking after them.”
“Very sorry, Stean,” said Jacob, “but Ross has been here before you, and I’ve just lent him the money.”
Ross himself came next, and said, “I borrowed five-and-twenty pound from Stean a bit back, and he’s not above threatening to sell me up for a dirty little debt like that. Maybe ye’d tide me over the trouble and say nothing to Stean.”
“Make your mind easy, Ross,” said Jacob, “Stean told me himself, and I’ve paid him all you owe him.”
So these two went their ways and thereafter eyed each other threateningly, but neither dare explode, for both had their secret fear. And last of all came Thurstan, made well drunk for the better support of his courage, and he maudled and cried, “What d’ye think? Poor Ballabeg is dead — him that used to play the fiddle at church — and the old parson wants me to take Ballabeg’s place up in the gallery-loft. Says I’d be wonderful good at the viol-bass. I wouldn’t mind doing it neither, only it costs such a power of money, a viol-bass does — twenty pound maybe.”
“Well, what of that?” said Jacob, interrupting him, “the parson says he’ll lend you the money. He told me so himself.”
With such shrewd answers did Jacob escape from the danger of lending to his brothers, whom he could not trust. But he lost no time in going down to Marky the Lord and offering his money to be lent out on interest with good security. Knowing nothing of this, Asher, Stean, Ross, and Thurstan each in his turn stole down to Marky the Lord to borrow the sum he needed. And Marky the Lord kept his own worthy counsel, and showed no unwise eagerness. First he said to Jacob, “I can lend out your money on good security.”
“Who to?” said Jacob.
“That I’ve given my word not to tell. What interest do you want?”
“Not less than twelve per cent.” said the temperate Jacob.
“I’ll get it,” said Marky the Lord, and Jacob went away with a sly smile.
Then said Marky the Lord to each of the borrowers in turn, “I can find you the money.”
“Whose is it?” asked Asher, who came the first.
“That I’ve sworn not to tell,” said Marky the Lord.
“What interest?”
“Only four per cent. to my friend.”
“Well, and that’s reasonable, and he’s a right honest, well-meaning man, whoever he is,” said Asher.
“That he is, friend,” said Marky the Lord, “but as he had not got the money himself he had to borrow it of an acquaintance, and pay ten per cent. for the convenience.”
“So he wants fourteen per cent.!” cried Asher. “Shoo! Lord save us! Oh, the grasping miser. It’s outrageous. I’ll not pay it — the Nightman fly away with me if I do.”
“You need be under no uneasiness about that,” said Marky the Lord, “for I’ve three other borrowers ready to take the money the moment you say you won’t.”
“Hand it out,” said Asher, and away he went, fuming.
Then Stean, Ross, and Thurstan followed, one by one, and each behaved as Asher had done before him. When the transaction was complete, and the time had come to set sail for Iceland, many and wonderful were the shifts of the four who had formed the secret design to conceal their busy preparations. But when all was complete, and berths taken, all six in the same vessel, Jacob and Gentleman John rode round the farms of Lague to bid a touching farewell to their brethren.
“Good-bye, Thurstan,” said Jacob, sitting on the cross-board of the cart. “We’ve had arguments in our time, and fallen on some rough harm in the course of them, but we’ll meet for peace and quietness in heaven some day.”
“We’ll meet before that,” thought Thurstan.
And when Jacob and John were gone on towards Ramsey, Thurstan mounted the till-board of his own cart, and followed. Meantime Asher, Stean, and Ross were on their journey, and because they did not cross on the road they came face to face for the first time, all six together, each lugging his kit of clothes behind him, on the deck of the ship that was to take them to Iceland. Then Jacob’s pale face grew livid.
“What does this mean?” he cried.
“It means that we can’t trust you,” said Thurstan.
“None of you?” said Jacob.
“None of us, seemingly,” said Thurstan, glancing round into the confused faces about him.
“What! Not your own brother?” said Jacob.
“‘Near is my shirt, but nearer is my skin,’ as the saying is,” said Thurstan, with a sneer.
“‘Poor once, poor forever,’ as the saying is,” mocked Jacob. “Last week you hadn’t twenty pound to buy your viol-bass to play in the gallery loft.”
Stean laughed at that, and Jacob turned hotly upon him. “And you hadn’t thirty pound to buy your yoke of oxen that Ross was sneaking after.”
Then Ross made a loud guffaw, and Jacob faced about to him. “And maybe you’ve paid back your dirty five-and-twenty pound that Stean threatened to sell you up for?”
Then Stean glowered hard at Ross, and Ross looked black at Stean, and Asher almost burst his sides with laughter.
“And you, too, my dear eldest brother,” said Jacob, bitterly, “you have the advantage of me in years but not in wisdom. You thought, like the rest of them, to get the money out of me, to help you to follow me and watch me. So that was it, was it? But I was too much for you, my dear brother, and you had to go elsewhere for your draining and ditching.”
“So I had, bad cess to you,” said Asher; “and fourteen per cent. I had to pay for the shabby loan I got.”
At that Stean and Ross and Thurstan pricked up their ears.
“And did you pay fourteen per cent.?” said Stean.
“I did, bad cess to Marky the Lord, and the grasping old miser behind him, whoever he is.”
And now it was Jacob’s turn to look amazed.
“Wait,” he said; “I don’t like the look of you.”
“Then shut your eyes,” said Thurstan.
“Did Marky the Lord lend you the money?” asked Jacob of Asher.
“Ay, he did,” said Asher.
“And you, too, said Jacob?” turning stiffly to Stean.
“Ay,” said Stean.
“And you?” said Jacob, facing towards Ross.
“I darn say no,” said Ross.
“And you, as well?” said Jacob, confronting Thurstan.
“Why not?” said Thurstan.
“The blockhead!” cried Jacob, “The scoundrel! It was my money — mine — mine, I tell you, and he might as well have pitched it into the sea.”
Then the four men began to double their fists.
“Wait!” said Asher. “Are you the grasping young miser that asked fourteen per cent.!”
“He is, clear enough,” said Stean.
“Well,” said Thurstan, “I really think — look you, boys, I really do think, but I speak under correction — I really think, all things considered, this Jacob is a damned rascal.”
“I may have the advantage of him in years,” said Asher, doubling up his sleeves, “but if I can’t — —”
“Go to the devil,” said Jacob, and he went below, boiling hot with rage.
It was idle to keep up the quarrel, for very soon all six were out on the high seas, bound to each other’s company at bed and board, and doomed to pass the better part of a fortnight together. So before they came to Iceland they were good friends, after their fashion, though that was perhaps the fashion of cat and mouse, and being landed at Reykjavik they were once more in their old relations, with Jacob as purse-bearer and spokesman.
“And now listen,” said that thrifty person. “What’s it saying? ‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.’ We’ve got our bird in the hand, haven’t we?”
“So we have,” said Asher; “six hundred golden pounds that Ballacraine fetched at the sale.”
“Just so,” said Jacob; “and before we part with it let us make sure about the two in the bush.”
With that intention they started inquiries, as best they could; touching the position of Michael Sunlocks, his salary and influence. And in spite of the difficulties of language they heard and saw enough to satisfy them. Old Iceland was awakening from a bad dream of three bad centuries and setting to work with a will to become a power among the States; the young President, Michael Sunlocks, was the restorer and protector of her liberties; fame and honor were before him, and before all who laid a hand to his plough. This was what they heard in many jargons on every side.
“It’s all right,” whispered Jacob, “and now for the girl.”
They had landed late in the day of Greeba’s visit to Red Jason at the little house of detention, and had heard of her marriage, of its festivities, and of the attempt on the life of the President. But though they knew that Jason was no longer in Mann they were too much immersed in their own vast schemes to put two and two together, until next morning they came upon the sad procession bound for the Sulphur Mines, and saw that Jason was one of the prisoners. They were then on their way to Government House, and Jacob said with a wink, “Boys, that’s worth remembering. When did it do any harm to have two strings to your bow?”
The others laughed at that, and John nudged Thurstan and said, “Isn’t he a boy!” And Thurstan grunted and trudged on.
When they arrived at the kitchen door of the house they asked for Greeba by her new name, and after some inarticulate fencing with a fat Icelandic cook, the little English maid was brought down to them.
“Leave her to me,” whispered Jacob, and straightway he tackled her.
Could they see the mistress? What about? Well, it was a bit of a private matter, but no disrespect to herself, miss. Aw, yes, they were Englishmen — that’s to say a sort of Englishmen — being Manxmen. Would the mistress know them? Ay, go bail on that. Eh, boys? Ha! ha! Fact was they were her brothers, miss. Yes, her brothers, all six of them, and longing mortal to clap eyes again on their sweet little sister.
And after that Master Jacob addressed himself adroitly to an important question, and got most gratifying replies. Oh, yes, the President loved his young wife beyond words; worshipped the very ground she walked on, as they say. And, oh, yes, she had great, great influence with him, and he would do anything in the wide world to please her.
“That’ll do,” whispered Jacob over his shoulder, as the little maid tripped away to inform her mistress. “I’ll give that girl a shilling when she comes again,” he added.
“And give her another for me,” said Stean.
“And me,” said Asher.
“Seeing that I’ve no land at home now I wouldn’t mind staying here when you all go back,” said Jacob.
“I’ll sell you mine, Jacob,” said Thurstan.
The maid returned to ask them to follow, and they went after her, stroking their lank hair smooth on their foreheads, and studying the remains of the snow on their boots. When they came to the door of the room where they were to meet with Greeba, Jacob whispered to the little maid, “I’ll give you a crown when I come out again.” Then he twisted his face over his shoulder and said: “Do as I do; d’ye hear?”
“Isn’t he a boy?” chuckled Gentleman John.
Then into the room they passed, one by one, all six in file. Greeba was standing by a table, erect, quivering, with flashing eyes, and the old trembling on both sides her heart. Jacob and John instantly went down on one knee before her, and their four lumbering brethren behind made shift to do the same.
“So we have found you at last, thank God,” said Jacob, in a mighty burst of fervor.
“Thank God, thank God,” the others echoed.
“Ah, Greeba,” said Jacob, in a tone of sorrowful reproach, “why ever did you go way without warning, and leave us all so racked with suspense? You little knew how you grieved us, seeming to slight our love and kindness towards you — —”
“Stop,” said Greeba. “I know too well what your love and kindness have been to me. Why have you come?”
“Don’t say that,” said Jacob, sadly, “for see what we have made free to fetch you — six hundred pound,” he added, lugging a bag and a roll of paper out of his pocket.
“Six hundred golden pounds,” repeated the others.
“It’s your share of Lague — your full share, Greeba, woman,” said Jacob, deliberately, “and every penny of it is yours. So take it, and may it bring you a blessing, Greeba. And don’t think unkind of us because we have held it back until now, for we kept it from you for your own good, seeing plain there was someone harking after you for sake of what you had, and fearing your good money would thereby fall into evil hands, and you be made poor and penniless.”
“Ay, ay,” muttered the others; “that Jason — that Red Jason.”
“But he’s gone now, and serve him right,” said Jacob, “and you’re wedded to the right man, praise God.”
So saying he shambled to his feet, and his brothers did likewise.
But Greeba stood without moving, and said through her compressed lips, “How did you know that I was here?”
“The letter, the letter,” Asher blurted out, and Jacob gave him a side-long look, and then said:
“Ye see, dear, it was this way. When you were gone, and we didn’t know where to look for you, and were sore grieved to think you’d maybe left us in anger, not rightly seeing our drift towards you, we could do nothing but sit about and fret for you. And one day we were turning over some things in a box, just to bring back the memory of you, when what should we find but a letter writ to you by the good man himself.”
“Ay, Sunlocks — Michael Sunlocks,” said Stean.
“And a right good man he is, beyond gainsay; and he knows how to go through life, and I always said it,” said Asher.
And Jacob continued, “So said I; ‘Boys,’ I said, ‘now we know where she is, and that by this time she must have married the man she ought, let’s do the right by her and sell Ballacraine, and take her the money and give her joy.’”
