Hard Cash

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At that Fullalove whipped out a tool no bigger than a nutcracker, forced
the edge in, and sent the door flying open. The room or den was full of
an acrid vapour, and close to them sat he they sought motionless.

"Keep the lady back," cried Green, and threw the vivid light of his
bull's eye on a strange, grotesque, and ghastly scene. The floor was
covered with bright sovereigns that glittered in the lamp-light. On the
table was an open book, and a candle quite burnt down: the grease had run
into a circle.

And, as was that grease to the expired light, so was the thing that sat
there in human form to the Noah Skinner they had come to seek. Dead this
many a day of charcoal fumes, but preserved from decomposition by those
very fumes, sat Noah Skinner, dried into bones and leather waiting for
them with his own Hard Cash, and with theirs; for, creeping awestruck
round that mummified figure seated dead on his pool of sovereigns, they
soon noticed in his left hand a paper: it was discoloured by the vapour,
and part hid by the dead thumb; but thus much shone out clear and
amazing, that it was a banker's receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for L.
14,010, drawn at Barkington, and signed for Richard Hardie by Noah
Skinner. Julia had drawn back, and was hiding her face; but soon
curiosity struggled with awe in the others: they peeped at the Receipt:
they touched the weird figure. Its yellow skin sounded like a drum, and
its joints creaked like a puppets. At last Compton suggested that Edward
Dodd ought to secure that valuable document. "No no," said Edward: "it is
too like robbing the dead."

"Then I will," said Compton.

But he found the dead thumb and finger would not part with the Receipt;
then, as a trifle turns the scale, he hesitated in turn: and all but
Julia stood motionless round the body that held the Receipt, the soul of
the lost Cash, and still, as in life, seemed loth to part with it.

Then Fullalove came beside the arm-chair, and said with simple dignity,
"I'm a man from foreign parts; I have no interest here but justice: and
justice I'll dew." He took the dead arm, and the joint creaked: he
applied the same lever to the bone and parchment hand he had to the door:
it creaked too, but more faintly, and opened and let out this:--

No. 17. BARKINGTON, Nov. 10, 1847.

_Received of_ DAVID DODD, Esq., _the sum of Fourteen Thousand and Ten
Pounds Twelve Shillings and Six Pence,

to account on demand

_For_ RICHARD HARDIE,

NOAH SKINNER.

L. 14,010: 12: 6.

A stately foot came up the stair, but no one heard it. All were absorbed
in the strange weird sight, and this great stroke of fate; or of
Providence.

"This is yours, I reckon," said Fullalove, and handed the receipt to
Edward. "No, no!" said Compton. "See: I've just found a will, bequeathing
all he has in the world, with his blessing, to Miss Julia Dodd. These
sovereigns are yours, then. But above all, the paper: as your legal
adviser, I insist on your taking it immediately. Possession is nine
points. However, it is actually yours, in virtue of this bequest."

A solemn passionless voice seemed to fall on them from the clouds,

"No; it is Mine."

MY story must now return on board the _Vulture._ Just before noon, the
bell the half hours are struck on was tolled to collect the ship's
company; and soon the gangways and booms were crowded, and even the yards
were manned with sailors, collected to see their shipmate committed to
the deep. Next came the lieutenants and midshipmen and stood reverently
on the deck: the body was brought and placed on a grating. Then all heads
being uncovered below and aloft, the chaplain read the solemn service of
the dead.

Many tears were shied by the rough sailors, the more so that to most of
them, though not to the officers, it was now known that poor Billy had
not always been before the mast, but had seen better days, and commanded
vessels, and saved lives; and now he had lost his own.

The service is the same as ashore, with this exception: that the words
"We commit his body to the ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," &c.,
are altered at sea, thus: "We commit his body to the deep, to be turned
into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea
shall give up her dead; and the life of the world to come." At these
words the body is allowed to glide off the grating into the sea. The
chaplain's solemn voice drew near those very words, and the tears of pity
fell faster; and Georgie White, an affectionate boy, sobbed violently,
and shivered beforehand at the sullen plunge that he knew would soon
come, and then he should see no more poor Billy who had given his life
for his.

At this moment the captain came flying on deck, and jumping on to a gun,
cried sharply, "Avast! Haul that body aboard."

The sharp voice of command cut across the solemn words and tones in the
most startling way. The chaplain closed his book with a look of amazement
and indignation: the sailors stared, and for the first time did not obey
an order. To be sure it was one they had never heard before. Then the
captain got angry, and repeated his command louder, and the body was
almost jerked in board.

"Carry him to my cabin; and uncover his face."

By this time nothing could surprise Jackey Tar. Four sailors executed the
order promptly.

"Bosen, pipe to duty."

While the men were dispersing to their several stations, Captain
Bazalgette apologised to the chaplain, and explained to him and to the
officers. But I give his explanation in my own words. Finding the ship
quiet, the purser went to the captain down below, and asked him coolly
what entry he should make in the ship's books about this William
Thompson, who was no more William Thompson than he was. "What do you
mean?" said the captain. Then the purser told him that Thompson's
messmates, in preparing him last night for interment, had found a little
bag round his neck, and inside it, a medal of the Humane Society, and a
slip of paper written on in a lady's hand; then they had sent for him;
and he had seen at once that this was a mysterious case: this lady spoke
of him as her husband, and skipper of a merchant vessel.

What is that?" roared the captain, who hitherto had listened with scarce
half an ear.

Skipper of a merchant vessel, sir, as sure as you command her majesty's
frigate _Vulture:_ and then we found his shirt marked with the same name
as the lady's."

"What was the lady's name?"

"Lucy Dodd; and David Dodd is on the shirt."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" cried the captain.

"Didn't know it till last night."

"Why it is twelve o'clock. They are burying him."

"Yes, sir."

"Lucy would never forgive me," cried the captain. And to the purser's
utter amazement he clapped on his cocked hat, and flew out of the cabin
on the errand I have described.

He now returned to the cabin and looked: a glance was enough: there lay
the kindly face that had been his friend man and boy.

He hid his own with his hands, and moaned. He cursed his own blindness
and stupidity in not recognising that face among a thousand. In this he
was unjust to himself. David had never looked _himself_ till now.

He sent for the surgeon, and told him the whole sad story: and asked him
what could be done. His poor cousin Lucy had more than once expressed her
horror of interment at sea. "It is very hot," said he; "but surely you
must know some way of keeping him till we land in New Zealand: curse
these flies; how they bite!"

The surgeon's eyes sparkled; he happened to be an enthusiast in the art
of embalming. "Keep him to New Zealand?" said he contemptuously, "I'll
embalm him so that he shall go to England looking just as he does now--
by-the-by, I never saw a drowned man keep his colour so well before--ay,
and two thousand years after that, if you don't mind the expense."

"The expense! I don't care, if it cost me a year's pay. I think of
nothing but repairing my blunder as far as I can."

The surgeon was delighted. Standing over his subject, who lay on the
captain's table, he told that officer how he should proceed. "I have all
the syringes," he said; "a capital collection. I shall inject the veins
with care and patience; then I shall remove the brain and the viscera,
and provided I'm not stinted in arsenic and spices----"

"I give you carte blanche on the purser: make your preparations, and send
for him. Don't tell me how you do it; but do it. I must write and tell
poor Lucy I have got him, and am bringing him home to her--dead."

The surgeon was gone about a quarter of an hour; he then returned with
two men to remove the body, and found the captain still writing his
letter, very sorrowful: but now and then slapping his face or leg with a
hearty curse as the flies stung him.

The surgeon beckoned the men in softly, and pointed to the body for them
to carry it out.

Now, as he pointed, his eye, following his finger, fell on something that
struck that experienced eye as incredible: he uttered an exclamation of
astonishment so loud that the captain looked up directly from his letter;
and saw him standing with his finger pointing at the corpse, and his eyes
staring astonishment "What now?" said the captain, and rose from his seat

"Look! look! look!"

The captain came and looked, and said he saw nothing at all.

"The fly; the fly!" cried the surgeon.

"Yes, I see one of them has been biting him; for there's a little blood
trickling. Poor fellow."

"A dead man can't bleed from the small veins in his skin," said the man
of art. "He is alive, captain, he is alive, as sure as we stand here, and
God's above. That little insect was wiser than us; he is alive."

"Jackson, don't trifle with me, or I'll hang you at the yard-arm. God
bless you, Jackson. Is it really possible? Run some of you, get a mirror:
I have heard that is a test"

"Mirror be hanged. Doctor Fly knows his business."

All was now flutter and bustle: and various attempts were made to
resuscitate David, but all in vain. At last the surgeon had an idea.
"This man was never drowned at all" said he: "I am sure of it. This is
catalepsy. He may lie this way for a week. But dead he is not. I'll try
the douche." David was then by his orders stripped and carried to a place
where they could turn a watercock on him from a height: and the surgeon
had soon the happiness of pointing out to the captain a slight blush on
David's skin in parts, caused by the falling water. All doubts ceased
with this: the only fear was lest they should shake out the trembling
life by rough usage. They laid him on his stomach, and with a bellows and
pipe so acted on the lungs, that at last a genuine sigh issued from the
patient's breast. Then they put him in a warm bed, and applied
stimulants; and by slow degrees the eyelids began to wink, the eyes to
look more mellow, the respiration to strengthen, the heart to beat:
"Patience, now," said the surgeon, "patience, and lots of air."

Patience was rewarded. Just four hours after the first treatment, a
voice, faint but calm and genial, issued from the bed on their astonished
ears, "Good morning to you all."

They kept very quiet. In about five minutes more the voice broke out
again, calm and sonorous--

"Where is my money--my fourteen thousand pounds?"

These words set them all looking at one another: and very much puzzled
the surgeon: they were delivered with such sobriety and conviction.
"Captain," he whispered, "ask him. if he knows you."

"David," said the captain kindly, "do you know me?" David looked at him
earnestly, and his old kindly smile broke out, "Know ye, ye clog," said
he, "why, you are my cousin Reginald. And how came you into this
thundering bank? I hope you have got no money here. 'Ware land sharks!"

"We are not in a bank, David; we are on board my ship."

"The deuce we are. But where's my money?"

"Oh, we'll talk about that by-and-by."

The surgeon stepped forward, and said soothingly, "You have been very
ill, sir. You have had a fit."

"I believe you are right," said David thoughtfully.

"Will you allow me to examine your eye?"

"Certainly, doctor."

The surgeon examined David's eye with his thumb and finger and then
looked into it to see how the pupil dilated and contracted.

He rubbed his hands after this examination; "More good news, captain!"
then lowering his voice, _"Your friend is as sane as I am._"

The surgeon was right. A shock had brought back the reason a shock had
taken away. But how or why I know no more than the child unborn. The
surgeon wrote a learned paper, and explained the whole most ingeniously.
I don't believe one word of his explanation, and can't better it; so
confine myself to the phenomena. Being now sane, the boundary wall of his
memory was shifted. He remembered his whole life up to his demanding his
cash back of Richard Hardie; and there his reawakened mind stopped dead
short. Being asked if he knew William Thompson, he said, "Yes, perfectly.
He was a foretopman on board the _Agra,_ and rather a smart hand. The
ship was aground and breaking up: he went out to sea on a piano: but we
cut the hawser as he drifted under, and he got safe ashore." David's
recovered reason rejected with contempt as an idle dream all that had
happened while that reason was in defect The last phenomena I have to
record were bodily: one was noted by Mr. Georgie White in these terms:
"Billy's eyes used to be like a seal's: but, now he is a great gentleman,
they are like yours and mine." The other was more singular: with his
recovered reason came his first grey hair, and in one fortnight it was
all as white as snow.

He remained a fortnight on board the _Vulture,_ beloved by high and low.
He walked the quarter-deck in the dress of a private gentleman, but
looking like an admiral. The sailors touched their hats to him with a
strange mixture of veneration and jocoseness. They called him among
themselves Commodore Billy. He was supplied with funds by Reginald, and
put on board a merchant ship bound for England. He landed, amid went
straight to Barkington. There he heard his family were in London. He came
back to London, and sought them. A friend told him of Green; he went to
him, and of course Green saw directly who he was. But able men don't cut
business short. He gravely accepted David's commission to find him Mrs.
Dodd. Finding him so confident, David asked him if he thought he could
find Richard Hardie or his clerk, Noah Skinner; both of whom had levanted
from Barkington. Green, who was on a hot scent as to Skinner, demurely
accepted both commissions; and appointed David to meet him at a certain
place at six. He came; he found Green's man, who took him upstairs, and
there was that excited group determining the ownership of his receipt.

Now to David that receipt was a thing of yesterday. "It is mine," said
he. They all turned to look at this man, with sober passionless voice,
and hair of snow. A keen cry from Julia's heart made every heart there
quiver, and in a moment she was clinging and sobbing on her father's
neck. Edward could only get his hand and press and kiss it. Instinct told
them Heaven had given them their father back, mind and all.

Ere the joy and the emotion had calmed themselves, Alfred Hardie slipped
out and ran like a deer to Pembroke Street.

Those who were so strangely reunited could not part for a long time, even
to go down the stairs one by one.

David was the first to recover his composure: indeed, great tranquillity
of spirit had ever since his cure been a remarkable characteristic of
this man's nature. His passing mania seemed to have burnt out all his
impetuosity, leaving him singularly sober, calm, and self-governed.

Mr. Compton took the money, and the will, and promised the Executrix,
Skinner should be decently interred and all his debts paid out of the
estate. He would look in at 66 by-and-by.

And now a happy party wended their way towards Pembroke Street.

But Alfred was beforehand with them: he went boldly up the stairs, and
actually surprised Mrs. Dodd and Sampson together.

At sight of him she rose, made him a low curtsey, and beat a retreat. He
whipped to the door, and set his back against it. "No," said he saucily.

She drew up majestically, and the colour mounted in her pale face. "What,
sir, would you detain me by force?"

"And no mistake," said the audacious boy. "How else can I detain you when
you hate me so?" She began to peep into his sparkling eyes to see the
reason of this strange conduct

"C'way from the door, ye vagabin," said Sampson.

"No, no, my friend," said Mrs. Dodd, trembling, and still peering into
his sparkling eyes. "Mr. Alfred Hardie is a gentleman, at all events: he
would not take such a liberty with me, unless he had some excuse for it."

"You are wonderfully shrewd, mamma," said Alfred admiringly. "The excuse
is, I don't hate you as you hate me; and I am very happy."

"Why do you call me mamma to-day? Oh, doctor, he calls me mamma."

"Th' audacious vagabin."

"No, no, I cannot think he would call me that unless he had some good
news for us both?"

"What good news can he have, except that his trile is goin' well, and you
don't care for that"

"Oh, how can you say so? I care for all that concerns him: he would not
come here to insult my misery with his happiness. He is noble, he is
generous, with all his faults. How dare you call me mamma, sir! Call it
me again, my dear child; because then I shall _know_ you are come to save
my heart from breaking." And with this, the truth must be told, the
stately Mrs. Dodd did fawn upon Alfred with palms outstretched and
piteous eyes, and certain cajoling arts of her sex.

"Give me a kiss then, mamma," said the impudent boy, "and I _will_ tell
you a little bit of good news."

She bowed her stately head directly, and paid the required tribute with
servile humility and readiness.

"Well then," said Alfred, and was just going to tell her all, but caught
sight of Sampson making the most expressive pantomime to him to be
cautious. "Well," said he, "I have seen a sailor."

"Ah!"

"And he is sure Mr. Dodd is alive."

Mrs. Dodd lifted her hands to heaven, but could not speak. "In fact,"
said Alfred, hesitating (for he was a wretched hand at a fib), "he saw
him not a fortnight ago on board ship. But that is not all, mamma, the
sailor says he has his reason."

Mrs. Dodd sank on her knees, and said no word to man, but many to the
Giver of all good. When she arose, she said to Alfred, "Bring this sailor
to me. I must speak with him directly."

Alfred coloured. "I don't know where to find him just now."

"Oh, indeed," said Mrs. Dodd quietly: and this excited her suspicion; and
from that moment the cunning creature lay in wait for Master Alfred. She
plied him with questions, and he got more and more puzzled how to sustain
his story. At last, by way of bursting out of his own net, he said, "But
I am sorry to say his hair has turned white. But perhaps you won't mind
that."

"And he hadn't a grey hair."

"It is not grey, like the doctor's: it is as white as the driven snow."

Mrs. Dodd sighed; then suddenly turning on Alfred, asked him, "Did the
sailor tell you that?"

He hesitated a moment and was lost.

"You have seen him," she screamed; "he is in London: he is in the house.
I feel him near me:" and she went into something very like hysterics.
Alfred was alarmed, and whispered the truth. The doctor sent him off to
meet them, and recommended caution; her nerves were in such a state a
violent shock, even of happiness, might kill her.

Thus warned, Julia came into the room alone, and while Dr. Sampson was
inculcating self-restraint for her own sake, she listened with a superior
smile, and took quite a different line. "Mamma," said she, "he is in the
town; but I dare not bring him here till you are composed: his reason is
restored; but his nerves are not so strong as they were. Now, if you
agitate yourself, you will agitate him, and will do him a serious
mischief."

This crafty speech produced an incredible effect on Mrs. Dodd. It calmed
her directly: or rather her great love gave her strength to be calm. "I
will not be such a wretch," she said. "See: I am composed, quite
composed. Bring me my darling, and you shall see how good I will be:
there now, Julia, see how calm I am, quite calm. What, have I borne so
much misery, with Heaven's help, and do you think I cannot bear this
great happiness for my dear darling's sake?"

On this they proposed she should retire to her room, and they would go
for David.

"Think over the meeting, dear, dear mamma," said Julia, "and then you
will behave well for his sake, who was lost to us and is found."

Husband and wife met alone in Mrs. Dodd's room. No eye, even of the
children, ventured to witness a scene so strange, so sacred. We may try
and imagine that meeting; but few of us can conceive it by the light of
our narrow experience. Yet one or two there may be--the world is wide,
and the adventures and emotions of our race are many.

One by one all were had up to that sacred room to talk to the happy pair.
They found David seated calmly at his wife's feet, her soft hand laid on
his white hair, lest he should leave her again: and they told him all the
sorrow behind them; and he, genial and kindly as ever, told them all the
happiness before them. He spoke like the master of the house, the father
of the family, the friend of them all.

But with all his goodness he was sternly resolved to have his L. 14,000
out of Richard Hardie. He had an interview with Mr. Compton that very
night, and the lawyer wrote a letter to Mr. Hardie, saying nothing about
the death of Skinner, but notifying that his client, Captain Dodd, had
recovered from Noah Skinner the receipt No. 17 for L. 14,010 12s. 6d, and
he was instructed to sue for it unless repaid immediately. He added
Captain Dodd was mercifully restored, and remembered distinctly every
particular of the transaction.

They all thought in their innocence that Hardie _v._ Hardie was now at an
end. Captain Dodd could prove Alfred's _soi-disant_ illusion to be the
simple truth. But Compton thought that this evidence had come too late.
"What, may we not get up and say here is papa, and it is all true?" cried
Julia indignant.

"No, Miss Dodd; our case is closed. And take my advice: don't subject
your father to the agitation of a trial. We can do without him."

Well then, they would all go as spectators, and pray that justice might
prevail.

They did go: and all sat together to hear a matter puzzled over, which
had David come one day earlier he would have set at rest for ever.

Dick Absolom was put in to prove that Alfred had put two sovereigns on
the stumps for him to bowl if he could; and after him the defendant, Mr.
Thomas Hardie, a mild, benevolent, weak gentleman, was put into the box,
and swore the boy's father had come to him with story after story of the
plaintiff's madness, and the trouble it would get him into, and so he had
done for the best. His simplicity was manifest, and Saunders worked it
ably. When Colt got hold of him, and badgered him, he showed something
more than simplicity. He stuttered, he contradicted himself, he
perspired, he all but wept

_Colt._--Are you sure you had no spite against him?

_Deft._--No.

_Colt._--You are not sure, eh?

This candid interpretation of his words knocked the defendant stupid. He
made no reply, but looked utterly flabbergasted.

_Colt._--Did he not provoke you? Did he not call you an idiot.

_Deft._--He might.

_Colt._ (satirically).--Of course he might. (Laughter.) But did he?

_Deft._ (plucking up a little spirit).--No. He called me SOFT TOMMY.

This revelation, and the singular appropriateness of the nickname, were
so highly relished by an intelligent audience, that it was a long time
before the trial could go on for roars. The plaintiff's ringing laugh was
heard among the rest.

The cross-examination proceeded in this style till the defendant began to
drivel at the mouth a little. At last, after a struggle, he said, with a
piteous whine, that he could not help it: he hated signing his name; some
mischief always came of it; but this time he had no option.

"No option?" said Colt. "What do you mean?"

And with one or two more turns of the screw, out came this astounding
revelation:

"Richard said if I didn't put Taff in one, _he_ would put _me_ in one."

_The Judge._--In one what?

_Deft._ (weeping).--In one madhouse, my lord.

A peal followed this announcement, and Colt sat down grinning. Saunders
rose smiling. "I am much obliged to the learned counsel for making my
case," said he: "I need not prolong the sufferings of the innocent. You
can go down, Mr. Hardie."

_The Judge._--Have you any defence to this action?

"Certainly, my lord."

"Do you call Richard Hardie?"

"No, my lord."

"Then had you not better confine yourself to the question of damages?"

The sturdy Saunders would not take the hint; he replied upon the whole
case, and fought hard for a verdict. The line he took was bold; he
described Richard Hardie as a man who had acquired a complete power over
his weaker brother: and had not only persuaded him by statements, but
even compelled him by threats, to do what he believed would be the
salvation of his nephew. "Will you imitate the learned counsel's cruelty?
Will you strike a child?" In short, he made a powerful appeal to their
pity, while pretending to address their judgments.