The Best Laid Scheme?
Extract from: To a Mouse – Robert Burns, 1759-1796
But
Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Standard English translation:
But
Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leaves us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
Matthew Stoddard was a small man, sandy-haired and not unattractive, if one could ignore the dominating sneer that his face adopted when his mind was elsewhere, and on this particular morning, as he stood unmoving, staring out of the large window of his first floor office on Long Wharf, he was probably at his least appealing. The view of the ships in Boston harbor, and the distant Massachusetts hills beyond, went unnoticed by his cold, grey, unfocused eyes as he remembered back over the years, to the last time he had seen his cousin, Adam Cartwright. Little had he realized then that the man he had met briefly, and ignored as an uncivilized westerner of no importance, would become the one person who could rob him of what he considered to be his rightful inheritance.
Eventually Stoddard turned away from the window, his face reflecting both concern and the beginnings of an idea as he sat at the large, mahogany desk from where he ran the shipping company which had been founded by his great uncle, Abel. He paused as he allowed the idea to solidify in his mind, then he picked up and read again the letter that had come so unexpectedly, but with such perfect timing that for a moment he almost believed that the hand of his Maker had been at work.
‘Dear Cousin.’ The words sent a shiver of resentment through him, but he read on,
I have recently decided that it is time for me to leave the confines of
Nevada
and see something of the world. Events here have made me look at my life, and I
realize that if I am going to fulfill my ambition to travel I cannot delay any
longer, as I feel the moment has come when I am free of my obligation to my
family.
To this end, I would like to offer my services to you, and the Company, in any capacity that you see fit, as long as it takes me overseas. Apart from leading an active life and being able to tackle all the work around the ranch, I have experience in most aspects of running a business, from accounting and book keeping, to negotiating contracts and dealing with buyers, and feel confident that I could successfully fulfill any assignment that you might offer me.
I know that we have met but once, when I was studying in Boston, and that we do not know each other, but I assure you that I am considered to be honest and straightforward in my dealings. If you would like references to that effect please let me know, and they will be supplied.
I hope that you may find a place for me, where I can be of service to you.
Yours sincerely,
Adam Cartwright
Putting one elbow on the arm of his captain’s chair, Stoddard rested his chin on his fingers, nodding silently as his mind wandered down the various roads that the letter opened up to him. After tentatively starting down one path after another, he allowed himself to be drawn to one in particular that he felt offered the simplest solution to the problem that was his cousin. The well paid informant in the office of his great uncle’s attorney had told him that the old man had recently changed his will, leaving the prosperous Stoddard Shipping Company jointly to his grandson, Cartwright, and his great nephew. Matthew had thought that after all his efforts to run the company, and with Abel Stoddard’s only child long dead, he alone would inherit the business. He had intended to ensure that his great uncle would not be long in this world, until the content of the new will had been made known to him; now there was one other obstacle to his fortune that would have to be dealt with first.
A smile crept over Stoddard’s face. It seemed that his cousin would deliver himself voluntarily to an untimely fate, if an interesting position could be suggested that would tempt him out of the wilderness he had been buried in. He considered that Adam would be easy prey, since he had abandoned Boston and civilization and returned to the backwoods, geographically, socially and, more importantly, intellectually.
That evening, as he walked towards home, Stoddard took a familiar detour. The streets of Boston were noisy with carriages and wagons, but he was oblivious to the bustle around him, his mind totally occupied with his immediate problem. He waited impatiently as a small column of blue clad infantry marched past on their way to the bloody battlefields that marked the progress of the civil war between the ideals of the North and South. Stoddard shook his head wondering at their foolishness; there was nothing in his life for which he would consider making such a sacrifice.
He crossed over and went into a large, red brick building two blocks from the harbor and home to the Gentlemen Merchants Club. Inside, he wandered apparently aimlessly through the quiet rooms where soft golden light was thrown by chandeliers hanging from ceilings, and lamps around the walls, and threaded his way past the leather armchairs gathered in small groups round low tables, a few occupied by men of business who were engrossed in their daily papers or talking over the day’s happenings. Stoddard stopped occasionally to speak to someone who caught his eye, until he spied his quarry, who had selected a table in a secluded corner of one oak paneled room where any conversation would not be overheard.
“Hi boss, what did you want to see me about?” asked Flynn. He was a man of medium height, with dull brown hair topping an unremarkable face. His appearance was his living; he could come and go as he pleased without anyone noticing him. He could ask people questions, and if they tried to describe him afterwards, they were unable to recall any detail that would distinguish him.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“Oh?”
“I will want you to go to San Francisco soon, to deal with a little problem I expect to have there.” Stoddard smiled, Flynn should have no trouble taking care of his country cousin, he thought.
“How do you want it dealt with? Just frightened, or…” Flynn left the sentence hanging in the air as a waiter unbidden placed Stoddard’s habitual whiskey on the table.
Matthew took an appreciative sip before he spoke. “Permanently.”
Flynn took the implication in his stride; it would not be the first time that he had disposed of Stoddard’s rivals, or anyone else who got in his way. “My usual fee?”
“Of course, and a bonus.” Stoddard smiled to himself and said quietly, “It’ll be worth every penny.”
**********
After saying fond goodbyes to Virginia City’s sheriff and doctor, Adam Cartwright mounted the steps of the Overland stage and settled himself into a corner seat. There were no other passengers, and he placed his hat on the seat beside him as he stretched out his legs. He thought to himself that it was appropriate he should leave in solitude as it was to be the life that he had chosen; alone, away from his home and family.
He glanced out of the window, taking a last look at the place he had called home for most of his thirty-four years. When he had arrived there as a boy, with his father and young brother, the area was sparsely populated, the canvas tents of gold prospectors scattered about on the side of Sun Mountain giving no hint of the explosion that was to come with the discovery that the blue dirt in the tailings from the digging was actually silver, and outweighed the value of the gold by many millions of dollars. As he and his family had built the Ponderosa into one of the biggest spreads in the west, so the town had also grown, and now he was leaving a thriving community, and with some well-deserved pride he knew that the Cartwrights had contributed to the peaceful settlement of the area.
But now he was on his way to San Francisco to start a new life as an agent for his grandfather’s shipping company, run for the past six years by his cousin, Matthew. Adam had asked his family not to come to see him off, but had said his farewells at home; it was difficult enough to be leaving them, but he did not want to do it with the rest of the town watching. He closed his eyes as he recalled those parting moments, fixing them in his memory.
They had stood awkwardly in the yard in front of the house, trying to be cheerful. Adam hugged his brothers; Hoss, six years his junior, was a giant of a man and as strong as a bear, but whose touch could be as gentle as a feather; and his youngest brother Joe, another six years removed, whose sparkling countenance was dimmed at the prospect of losing his brother. Finally, the effort to control themselves had been too much for his emotional brothers, and they broke down and cried. They knew they were saying goodbye to someone who had been not only a brother to them, but also a father figure in so many ways; someone they looked up to and admired, and who had helped to guide them throughout their lives. Now he was going away, and no one knew when, or if, he would return.
Ben Cartwright had known much sorrow in his life, losing three wives who were mother to his sons, but he had never experienced a loss such as this, deepened as it was by knowing that Adam blamed him for driving him away. He would have given anything he had at that moment to hear Adam say that he had changed his mind, but Ben knew that was not going to happen. Once his determined son made a decision, it would take more than his father’s pleading to make him go back on it. Adam was holding Sport’s reins preparing to mount, when Ben went to him and embraced him. He hugged his son close and for once Adam reciprocated, enfolding his father in his strong arms. They stood for a minute, neither one moving, until Adam released his grip and wordlessly turned, mounted Sport, and rode out of their lives.
As the stage pulled out, Adam smiled fondly at the memory of that rare embrace shared with his father and the love contained in it, but he did not regret the decision he had made. He had found that his relationship with his father had become strained since the time, a few months earlier, when he had been charged with robbing a stage and murdering the guard and, due to the circumstances and with some damning and apparently irrefutable evidence against him, his father had doubted his innocence.
Knowing that Ben thought him capable of such barbarity had reawakened fears and imaginings in Adam that he had kept hidden deep inside, for he knew his father was right. Two years before, in a dusty little cow town to the north, he had bragged to his brother that no man could drive him to murder, but when he had been rescued from certain death in the desert by a prospector named Peter Kane*, he had been proved terrifyingly wrong. That fateful meeting had changed Adam’s perception of who he was; from a man who was in control of himself and his life, to someone who could be pushed over the edge of reason – to murder. He had not actually fallen, but he had looked into the abyss and seen a side of himself which no self-respecting, moral man should ever see, if he wants to remain sane. He had never been able to confide to his father all the events of those terrible days, during which Kane had tortured him and tormented him into wanting to kill, but when Ben had believed he could be guilty of the charges against him it was as though he knew exactly what had happened, and was admitting that his son was capable of killing for his own ends.
When he had told Ben of his decision to leave, Adam had managed to avoid telling him the whole truth behind it, by blaming his father’s doubts. During heated discussions, Ben had protested that Adam was wrong, that he had always believed in his eldest son, but Adam knew the truth, he had seen it in his father’s eyes.
The yearning to travel was strong inside Adam, but he had always found a logical reason for putting it off. Now he had to prove to himself that his father was wrong, and to do that he would go out into the world and test himself against all he would find there. If, somewhere, he could find the proof he needed, then he would return.
He had stopped often on the way into town to take a last look at places that meant so much to him. Adam did not know how long it would be before he could return, but knew it would be years rather than months, and now the time had come to leave, he was finding it difficult to part with this country where he had grown up. It held so many memories, of good times and bad, both equally important to him. In the years that he had lived on the Ponderosa, he had come to know all that the country could throw at you, drought, storms, snow, and some of the most perfect days that God ever gave to man. All had been his, but now he was leaving, going away to face new challenges.
**********
The dusty, bustling streets of San Francisco were just as Adam had seen them on his many previous visits; filled with people from different places and backgrounds. Some of them lived in the increasingly cosmopolitan city, but many more were passing through as he was. He had always looked at the ships in the harbor and dreamed about going on one to foreign lands, now that dream was becoming a reality for him. San Francisco had always been the end of his journey, now it was to be the beginning.
Adam had exchanged his usual black jeans and shirt for more formal wear; still he favored black for his short frock coat, trousers, waistcoat and string tie, but his shirt was white. The only items remaining from his former attire were his black hat, its band studded with silver from the Ponderosa’s mine, and his low-heeled boots; comfortable mementoes from which he would not be parted. He walked out of his hotel and headed towards the offices of the Stoddard Shipping Company to introduce himself to the manager, Jack Palmerton. He took a route that would lead him down to the harbor, which resounded with noise; the shouts of stevedores in a dozen different languages, the thuds of crates and barrels landing on the ground or a deck, the rattle of chains and harness as horses gave their strength to the loading and unloading, and a myriad other sounds.
He stopped and let the scene sink into his consciousness, watching the mass of drays and wagons coming and going, and miners and merchants mingling with the sailors on the dockside as they availed themselves of the goods on offer in the stores, shops and storeships that lined the waterfront. He became aware of the cry of sea birds as they wheeled overhead, waiting for any scraps that the cooks threw from their galleys, before diving downwards, barely touching the water as they collected a treasure and then alighted on a spar, ferociously fending off competitors as they ate.
As he stood, taking in the atmosphere of the docks, he felt himself jostled by passers-by going busily about their business and too pre-occupied to bother with a sightseer. Adam continually stepped back out of their way until he felt something soft yet resisting behind him. He turned and looked down into the upturned face of a buxom woman, who smiled up at him, her thickly painted lips drawn back to reveal that one of her stained front teeth was missing.
“Hello, handsome, wanna buy me a drink?” she said huskily, her question hinting at something more than simple refreshment.
Adam held up both hands. “No, thank you,” he smiled, politely refusing her offer as he moved away. The woman merely shrugged, instantly forgetting about him as she searched for a more willing customer.
Adam walked slowly on, careful to avoid the piles of ropes, nets and sundry equipment lying on the ground to trip the unwary. He looked at the long lines of ships moored to the quayside, and as he saw row upon row and rank upon rank of masts his heart lurched; he thought that the pines of the Ponderosa would look just so, if you took away their needles. He took a deep breath, inhaling the salt air and the sharp, sweet smell of spices from the dockside which combined with the pungent aroma of tobacco and alcohol from the many bars that offered the workers respite from their labors, and his blood sang in his ears, knowing that this was to become his life.
Eventually he tore himself away, turned from the harbor and started up one of the steep, wide streets that held the offices of several different shipping lines. He stopped outside one, which announced proudly over the door that it was the western headquarters of the Stoddard Shipping Company. The building was of wood, with two stories, and dominated its smaller neighbors, reflecting the important position the company held within the world of shipping. There were windows on both sides of the door, and through them Adam could see the counter that stood between the public and the office behind.
“Good morning, can I help you?” Adam was greeted with a smile as he entered.
“My name is Adam Cartwright. I’m here to see Mr. Palmerton.”
“One moment please.” The clerk looked Adam up and down, then nodding, turned from the counter and disappeared into a wood and glass walled office at the back of the low room, in which Adam saw that there were several tall desks, each one occupied by a man on a high stool, bent over his work. For a moment he remembered the world he had left behind, with its wide open spaces and the smell of the pine forest heavy in the air, and thought that there was no way he could spend his life working as they were.
The smiling clerk returned, followed by another man, tall and gaunt, his head bald except for a ring of graying hair stretching from ear to ear and ending in mutton-chop whiskers, whom Adam judged him to be in his mid-fifties. He came up to the counter, lifted a flap at one end of it and, walking through the gap he had made, he held out his hand.
“Mr. Cartwright. Mr. Matthew told me to expect you.” Palmerton’s face was somber and his tone was not welcoming. His employer had insisted that this was the man who was going to solve their problems, but as Palmerton took in the neat clothes, clean hands and freshly shaved, darkly handsome face, he thought that this was not someone who would be comfortable in the rough conditions he would have to face in the future. And why was he suddenly taking to the sea at his age? Palmerton knew little of Adam’s background except his relationship to Abel Stoddard, and wondered if he was the black sheep of his family, irresponsible and finally thrown out to make his own way in the world, and handed to him to make something of.
Adam shook hands with the man, a momentary frown creasing his forehead at the unexpectedly frosty welcome. “Good day, Mr. Palmerton. I’m pleased to meet you.”
The neatly trimmed black hair that was revealed when Adam removed his hat did nothing to allay Palmerton’s suspicions about the newcomer’s abilities. Mr. Matthew had informed him of the difficult task he had set his cousin, and Palmerton had not expected a man who looked as though he would be more at home in the salons of the rich than in the rugged surroundings of the ports of the world.
“Please, follow me.” Palmerton led Adam to the manager’s office, which was bright with daylight coming through the window behind a small desk covered with neat piles of paper. As he closed the door, Palmerton indicated that Adam should sit down in the chair in front of the desk, then he went to a side table where he poured them both a cup of coffee while surreptiously observing the man whom his employer had entrusted with such a responsible commission.
The word that sprang to Palmerton’s mind as he looked at Adam was ‘dandy’, but he tried to put aside his prejudice, hoping that he had not been mistaken when he had seen an intelligence and lack of self-centeredness in the brown eyes; but what could the man possibly know of business and shipping? He shook his head, he would do his best to prepare him for the task ahead, but was convinced that once Cartwright was let loose on the world he would not be very much use to them. He handed one cup of coffee to Adam, and then took his own and sat down.
Palmerton was pressed for time; there were ships in harbor that needed his attention and he sat impatiently, searching through one of the piles on the desktop until he found the letter he was looking for, and gazed at it as he leaned back in his chair and spoke. “Mr. Matthew is very pleased that you will be working with us.” His emphasis on the name of his employer plainly told Adam that Palmerton did not share that pleasure. “I understand that it has long been a wish of your grandfather’s that you would one day join the Company.”
“Do you know my grandfather?” Adam asked, curious.
“No. I gather that you have led a very different life from his seafaring one?”
Adam smiled to himself. Despite the manager’s obvious animosity towards him, and the fact that he seemed not to be giving him his complete attention, it appeared that Palmerton was willing to let him explain his presence. “Yes, ranching in Nevada. But I have always wanted to travel. My responsibilities to my family prevented that until recently, but now I am free to do so.”
Taken aback to hear the word ‘responsibilities’ from the man sat opposite him, Palmerton set aside the paper in his hand and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk as a spark of curiosity was lit by the remark and he decided that perhaps it was worth taking the time to talk to Mr. Matthew’s protégée. “Well, we certainly need someone to do the job you have undertaken. Wherever we trade in the world there are always problems, and the Company needs to have someone to sort them out.”
“That’s what Matthew told me,” said Adam, nodding. “I hope we can discuss some of those problems before I leave, to give me a better understanding of what I’m facing.”
There was a distinct pause as Palmerton tried to adjust his thinking away from his first impressions of his visitor. “Well, one of our biggest difficulties at the moment is simply that we have very little control over what happens to our ships, cargoes and crews in some ports. We rely on our captains to do that job for us. We need to set up offices in our main ports of call, for instance in Shanghai, Sydney, Bombay or Liverpool. We have people who work for us in all these places, but they sometimes work for our competitors as well. Under Mr. Matthew’s guidance, this company has grown, and it’s time we had our own offices and staff to oversee the business and help to keep vessels moving. A ship stuck in port is a ship that is not earning its keep.” He was watching Cartwright for his reaction, and was surprised to see the dark eyes wide with excitement. “It will not be easy; this can be a cut-throat business - in some cases, literally.”
Hearing the names of far away places sent a shiver of anticipation running down Adam’s spine, knowing that in the months and years ahead he would become familiar with those cities, their people and culture, but he made himself concentrate on the present. “Well, I do have some experience of the organization involved in running a business; I helped my father to establish our ranch. It took brains to get the best from the contracts, and muscle to do the work, not to mention the mixture of the two that was needed to deal with those who would try to take the ranch from us.”
Palmerton raised his eyebrows, and Adam saw the reaction and smiled. “Some of the contract negotiations were done against men who were less than business-like and thought they could force us into an agreement, but they could usually be made to see the error of their ways. Don’t worry; I’m used to the rough and tumble of the commercial world, as well as the paperwork.” Adam took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to set up the offices, the difficulty will come when I leave each place, finding the right staff to carry on alone and unsupervised. That could take a while.”
“You’re right, of course,” Palmerton nodded in agreement, pleased by what he was hearing. “We would like it done quickly, but it is more important that the organization works smoothly, so for us there is no time limit.”
“Nor for me. I made it clear to Matthew, when I agreed to take on the job, that I am prepared for the fact that I might be away for an extended period.”
“That may be just as well.” Palmerton paused, then told Adam of his plans. “Since we want all the offices to operate to the same system, as far as local conditions will allow, I thought that you should spend some time here with us, getting to know the way we do things.”
Adam stood and turned, raising his cup to his lips as he looked through the glass that formed the top half of the wall separating the manager’s office from the workers outside, and his heart sank; to spend any time at all in a place like that was not what he had in mind. But Palmerton was right, he needed to know the workings of the company, and the shipping world in general, and he was a quick learner; it should not take him long to get to grips with the work, and then he could be gone.
“Very well,” he said decisively, turning back to face Palmerton. “I’ll start first thing in the morning.”
Palmerton’s eyes rested lightly on Adam, and he relaxed; Cartwright had not prevaricated, but had made the suggestion himself that he should start speedily on the task ahead. Despite his earlier misgivings, he realized that this was obviously a man used to making decisions and Palmerton was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he would be an asset to the firm.
For the first time since meeting Adam, he allowed himself to smile. “Will you join me for lunch? Then I will take you to see some of the ships that are in harbor at the moment. We have two vessels here, The Pacific Queen, recently arrived from Australia, and The Adventurer, she’s been docked for two weeks and sails tomorrow for New York, and sometime today or tomorrow I am expecting the Elizabeth Jane.” Adam looked up sharply at the mention of the last ship and Palmerton nodded. “Yes, I believe she was named after Mr. Stoddard’s daughter, your mother. She’s a fine ship and has made many trips for us, usually across the Pacific to China by way of Hawaii. My plan is for you to join her when she leaves for Shanghai.” Adam’s eyes lit as he realized that very soon he would be away and taking up his new life.
The two men finished their coffee, and then went out of the office, walking up the hill and past more offices, ship’s chandlers and the occasional saloon that lined the dirt roadway. Finally, they turned into a street of private houses, where Palmerton stopped in front of one that was three stories high and covered in white clapboard. At the top of the stone steps leading to the front door, Adam turned and looked at the view of the harbor.
The ships that were moored there dotted the water, in some places close together with masts and rigging seeming to be intertwined between one vessel and the next. Adam’s heart sang as he thought that soon to take its place among them would be the ship that would carry him away from his native land. From his Boston birthplace he had crossed a continent to get here, and now he was going to cross the world.
**********
Ethne Palmerton was the opposite of her father in every observable way. She was fair haired, with a round, unlovely face that had beauty in its honesty, cornflower-blue eyes, and short stature, and with a pang of memory, Adam realized that she reminded him of his brothers. Apart from her height, she was built on the same scale as Hoss, with the laughter in her eyes of Joe.
Since her mother’s death from typhoid three years before, Ethne had become her father’s hostess, and so, when Palmerton had explained Adam’s presence, she welcomed him and they walked together along the black and white tiled hallway into the dining room, where lunch was already waiting on a long refectory table laid with a white damask cloth, silver cutlery and crystal candle holders. Ethne invited Adam to sit down, while she called to the maidservant to lay another place, then returned and took her seat opposite him, next to her father at the head of the table, and while they ate, Ethne questioned Adam about his home and family. As he talked, Adam realized that it would be some time before he could speak of them without a tightness in his throat.
When Ethne saw the reaction that her questions had prompted, she deftly moved on to easier subjects. “You must let me show you something of San Francisco. I imagine it is a great change from the surroundings you are used to in Nevada. A large city can be quite intimidating.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I have been here many times, mostly on business, and as far as cities are concerned, I find myself quite at home; I spent some time at college in Boston.” Adam smiled inwardly; city folk always assumed that those from the wilder reaches of the country were the oft described ‘backwoodsmen’ of legend and dime novels.
“Oh, I see,” said Ethne, lowering her eyes down to her plate, embarrassed at having implied that he would feel out of place.
Adam saw her look and took pity on her. “But I’m sure that you could show me things a visitor might miss.”
Ethne immediately brightened. “Oh, in that case perhaps on Saturday afternoon, when you finish work, we might take a tour of the city?”
“I would like that, thank you.” He smiled, glad that he had been able to make up for his thoughtless remark.
Palmerton listened silently to the conversation, chiding himself for the prejudice of his initial feelings towards Adam, which had proved to be so wrong. When Adam mentioned the hotel where he was staying, Ethne suggested that he should come and stay with them while he was in San Francisco, and her father agreed readily.
After lunch, the two men went to the harbor, where they wandered along the quayside, looking at the ships and discussing the problems that Adam might encounter in other ports. When they saw one of the new steamships that were beginning to become a common sight, Adam stopped.
“Has Stoddard and Company got any steamships?” he asked.
“No, not yet. We have thought about purchasing one, to make the run to Valparaiso, but the specialized crews needed are commanding a high premium. We’d rather wait until men are more readily available.”
Adam nodded, it made sense, but he would dearly like to have had the opportunity to get a closer look at one, the engineer in him anxious to see the mechanics of this new transport.
They wandered further and Palmerton explained about the mooring fees in the harbor; small ships costing a hundred dollars a day and larger ones as much as two hundred. Adam calculated the cost of keeping a ship there for any length of time, and quickly realized the importance of getting a vessel turned round as fast as possible. Palmerton told him that they were in the habit of using Cunningham’s Wharf which, while it was one of the more expensive, offered deep mooring that enabled the ships to be unloaded in half the time compared to those out in the stream. It also provided spacious storage, and the wharfage cost included transporting the goods landed there to Sacramento and the mining districts. As Palmerton talked, it confirmed to Adam that he had a lot to learn, and the time he was going to spend in the office would prove to be valuable in the future.
Turning away from the docks, they made their way to Adam’s hotel, where he collected his bags and paid his bill, then returned to Palmerton’s house. Ethne dismissed the maid and led their visitor up the stairs to the guest room, where she stood aside so that he could enter. Adam looked appreciatively at the brown mahogany furniture and the green plush wallpaper, all brightened by the late afternoon sunlight streaming through large, lace curtained windows. He deposited his bags on the floor, and leaned against the decorative ironwork of the bed frame.
“This is very pleasant, so much nicer than my hotel room,” he said with a smile that dimpled his cheeks.
Ethne was standing nervously in the doorway, neither in nor out of the room, the skirts of her red cotton day dress swaying as she shifted nervously from one foot to the other, knowing that social custom dictated she should not be there at all. But a guest was rare enough and she found this one interesting, and so refreshingly different from her father’s usual, dull, stuffy business acquaintances.
“I trust that you will enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Cartwright,” she said, “short though it may be.”
“Please, call me Adam,” he insisted.
“Ethne.” She inclined her head to indicate that she did not mind if he called her by her given name.
“I’m sure I will, Ethne.”
**********
The next day Adam started work in the offices of the Stoddard Shipping Company. Palmerton introduced him to the head clerk, Jonas Winterton, who promised that he would show him everything there was to know about getting a ship to sea. True to his word, Winterton started Adam straight away on learning how to calculate the cost of transporting freight: the manpower needed, the size of the loads that different ships could carry, and the time it should take a vessel to get to its destination. Adam found it all very like running the Ponderosa; working out how much they would charge for timber or cattle, based on the cost of production.
Adam went to bed that night with figures buzzing in his head. He had been correct when he had looked at the office and thought that there was no way that he could spend his life there, and occasionally, through the long hours, he had found himself day-dreaming of the wide cerulean skies of Nevada, only to have his mind dragged back abruptly by the voice of his tutor, who had scant respect for the fact that his pupil was the grandson of the company’s founder. Winterton discovered that Adam quickly absorbed information, and was driving him to learn as much as he could, knowing that they did not have much time.
Even at dinner the learning had not ceased. Palmerton had taken the opportunity to discourse on the politics and personalities of the shipping world, taking delight in the intelligent responses and questions of the man he acknowledged he had derisively and erroneously labeled ‘dandy’.
The following days were filled in the same way; learning about ship’s lists, crew lists, cargo lists, then insurance schedules, custom regulations, and more and more endless pieces of information. Adam took it all in, until he had had enough of words and numbers, and suggested that he would like to look over one of the ships to see the reality of all that he had learned. Palmerton said that the next day, Friday, he would take him to see the Elizabeth Jane, and Adam went back to the house full of anticipation at the prospect of being nearer his goal of leaving.
As had become her custom, Ethne welcomed him and, when he had washed and changed, she settled him into one of the soft upholstered chairs in the parlor, with a glass of sherry.
“I have been thinking about Saturday, and where I might take you,” Ethne said. “Would you like a drive out to Mission Delores and Seal Rock?”
“That sounds very pleasant,” Adam agreed, not wanting to disappoint her by telling her that he was quite familiar with those places.
“Before you agree, I should perhaps warn you that parts of the journey might not be so pleasant. We have to pass the hog ranches, and the smell can be quite frightful. But it is well worth the inconvenience when you see the Mission, nestled in its valley, surrounded by flower nurseries.” Ethne drew in a deep breath, recalling the sweet smells from her previous visits. “Then a few deep breaths will rid you of the aroma of the hogs.”
“Don’t worry about me, remember that I was brought up on a cattle ranch, and believe me they can be just as bad as hogs, if you get too close.” They both laughed, and then Adam pulled an envelope from his pocket. “I have bought us tickets for Maguire’s Opera House on Saturday night, if you would like to go?”
Ethne clasped her hands in front of herself. “Oh, that would be wonderful! So often I have tried to get father to appreciate the finer things in life, but I am afraid that I am fighting an uphill battle.”
Adam laughed softly, remembering. “I know what you mean; I have had the same struggle with my brothers.” He noticed that she was so pleased she did not even ask who was performing. He could see that she was excited at the prospect of showing off her city, and guessed rightly that she had little opportunity to talk to a man such as himself. He was socially aware enough to know that most men would not bother to get to know the woman behind her plain, homely appearance.
On Friday morning the harbor was shrouded in a mist that chilled the bones, and Palmerton and Adam were well wrapped against the damp air as they made their way to the mooring place of the Elizabeth Jane. Palmerton used the opportunity to continue Adam’s education in matters nautical, telling him that she was a clipper of thirteen hundred tons, one hundred and ninety feet long and only thirty-nine feet wide. Adam stood and admired her trim lines, designed to cut through the waves at speed, and which were emphasized by her laying between two barques whose bulk made them look awkward against her sleek shape. Her hull was painted black, with a broad golden stripe running from stem to stern, where her name was emblazoned proudly in large letters.
Palmerton pointed out her three masts, their tops almost lost in the swirling mist, as he explained that the tallest stood nearly eighty feet from the deck to the top gallant yard, and the three together were designed to take over a hundred acres of canvas to drive the ship fast through the water. Adam imagined her under full sail, perhaps listing slightly with the wind and racing through the waves. So vivid was the image that he could see the creamy bow wave and hear the hiss of the water as the greyhound of the sea raced towards her destination.
The large letters on the stern again drew Adam’s eyes, and he stood staring at them and thinking of the mother who had died on the day that he was born. The ship fitted so perfectly the image he had of her; dark, slender and elegant,
Seeing the look on Adam’s face, Palmerton stopped speaking, then he said simply, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Adam almost said ‘yes, she was’, but managed to stop himself as he realized that Palmerton was referring to the ship. Instead he said simply, “Magnificent.”
Palmerton smiled, thinking that this man might have come out of the pine forests of land-locked Nevada, but he had a seaman’s soul. “Shall we go aboard?” He was answered with a broad smile and a nod.
Standing on the main deck, his hands clasped behind his back, Captain Prescott watched them mount the gang plank and held out his hand as Palmerton introduced Adam. Prescott’s short, stout figure was emphasized by the midnight blue company uniform he wore, which Adam considered gave him an air of authority that was missing from his flaccid, weak chinned face. His pale eyes, Adam noticed, held a look that said he was used to seeing distant horizons, and had to drag his focus back to the more limited view of his visitors.
Palmerton excused himself, saying that he had business to attend to, but that he would come back to take Adam to lunch, and Prescott led the way to his cabin, which was small but well appointed, the wood everywhere shining darkly in contrast to the gleam of the golden brass fittings. Adam felt his hair brush against the low ceiling and he hunched his shoulders, shrinking by the necessary inch, as Prescott invited him to sit. There was a steward in attendance, who served them coffee while Prescott talked of the storm they had encountered on their way in and how, with skill and daring, he had brought the ship through safely.
“So Mr. Cartwright,” said the captain, after Adam had congratulated him on his seamanship, “I understand that you are to travel with me on the Elizabeth Jane?”
“Yes, and I am particularly pleased to be with you on your ship.”
“Oh, may I ask why? I realize that as one of Stoddard’s senior captains I have a certain reputation, but I would not have thought that it would have traveled to the wilds of Nevada, which I think Palmerton mentioned was your home.”
Adam had taken an immediate dislike to the conceited captain, but he kept that to himself, knowing that he was going to be spending several weeks in the man’s company. He replied pleasantly, but without warmth. “I appreciate your expertise as a mariner, Captain, but that is not the reason. Your ship is named for my mother.”
“I see.” Prescott’s eyes narrowed as he took in this piece of information. “Then that would make you Abel Stoddard’s grandson?”
“Indeed it would,” Adam agreed.
“Then I must take particular care of you,” said Prescott. Adam thought that the man had a wary look, but could think of no reason for it aside from carrying a relative of the line’s founder.
Prescott deftly turned the talk to the beauty and capability of his vessel, and Adam realized that behind the pompous words was a man who loved the sea and was genuinely proud of his ship. As they finished their refreshment, Prescott called the steward to find the First Mate.
“Watkins will conduct you on a tour of the ship. I regret that, with the repairs and the unloading in progress, and reports to be completed for the company, I must deprive myself of that pleasure.” A knock on the door announced the Mate’s arrival and Adam stood as Prescott introduced him. “I will see you before you leave.” He shook Adam’s hand then turned away, and the closing cabin door signaled an end to their meeting.
Inside the cabin, Prescott told the steward to wait, while he hurried to his desk and scribbled a note, which he instructed the man to deliver immediately.
Watkins led Adam through the officer’s quarters, the carpenter’s workshop, the sail maker’s cubby-hole, and the spacious hold which was slowly being emptied of the cargo of tea, all the while keeping up a commentary on what he was showing to their visitor, and Adam could feel a growing excitement. His father, a sailor before he married Abel Stoddard’s daughter, had described to him on many occasions the feel of a deck beneath his feet, and the anticipation of a new voyage; now Adam was putting the flesh and blood on the bones of those stories.
When they climbed up the companion-way, Adam was pleased to get back into the daylight; below decks was cramped and gloomy, with an intangible dampness that was oppressive. Watkins continued the tour, taking Adam into the crew’s quarters, housed in a cabin-like structure on the main deck which also contained the galley. He explained that the more experienced sailors knew to hang their clothes on the few pegs fastened to the wall that the crew’s quarters shared with the galley, where the heat from the cooking fire warmed the wooden partition and provided the only artificial means of drying sodden clothes. This piece of information made Adam smile inwardly; every occupation had secret knowledge which would only come with time and experience.
They finished the tour on the quarter deck, from where they could look along the entire length of the ship. Adam put out his hand and ran it slowly over the smooth, warm brown teak of the wheel, imagining himself steering the ship as it cut through the waves.
“Well, that’s it, Mr. Cartwright. That’s the Elizabeth Jane.”
“She’s an impressive vessel,” Adam said admiringly.
“Aye sir, we think so. If you’ll wait here, I’ll go and tell the Cap’n you’re leaving.” Watkins put a finger to his forehead in casual salute, and Adam watched as he made his way down the short ladder to the deck and disappeared in search of Prescott. He followed slowly, all the time looking about him and thinking of the days and weeks ahead.
The main deck was confusing to the untrained eye, crowded with equipment and festooned with ropes, many coiled and hanging from belaying pins, others leading upwards to mysterious destinations. Adam stood staring up into the rigging where men were working, and he marveled at how they managed to keep their footholds among the thin stays and the huge masts and spars. He looked down and studied the sailors on the deck, carrying out the unloading of cargo under the direction of a young man, whom Adam admired for the way he gave commands with quiet authority. After watching for a few minutes, he again allowed his eyes wander.
He was tracing some of the ropes, trying to work out where they led and what might be their purpose, when he became aware of shouts from above. He glanced up in time to see something falling through the rigging; something large and dark and heavy looking. He reacted instantly, racing across the deck and throwing himself at the young officer, who was engrossed in his work and unaware of the danger. Adam caught him around the shoulders and propelled him sideways, and they fell to the deck together, just as an eighteen-inch long tackle block smashed itself to splintered fragments exactly where the young man had been standing.
Captain Prescott emerged from his cabin in time to see the result of the near disaster, and he walked hurriedly over to where Adam was starting to get to his feet.
“Are you hurt, Mr. Cartwright?” Prescott asked, ignoring the second mate who was struggling to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him by Adam’s life-saving action.
Adam brushed at the knees of his trousers, then straightened. “No, I’m fine.” He leaned down and held out his hand to assist the prostrate sailor. “Are you all right?”
Breathing heavily, the mate got to his feet and adjusted his pea jacket. “Thanks to you, sir, I am uninjured.” His voice was deep, which surprised Adam, coming as it did from a man of slim build.
Prescott clasped his hands behind his back and turned to Watkins, who was standing beside him. “Find out who is responsible for this,” he said sharply. “I’ll have him lashed for his carelessness.”
“Captain,” the second mate said, taking a step forward and speaking quickly, “the men have been working long hours to repair the damage done by the storm on our way in, and to get the ship ready for sea. They’ve had little rest and less sleep. It is not their fault if they get careless.”
Prescott pierced the young man with his eyes. “Are you implying that it is my fault, sir?”
The second mate did not flinch, but said forcefully, “No, Captain. I am saying that it was no one’s fault.”
“Mr. Harper, you will assume your position and leave the care of discipline aboard this ship to me.” Prescott’s tone left no one in any doubt that his was the ultimate authority. There was a tense silence, until finally the second mate turned away without acknowledging the order, to be followed by Prescott’s furious gaze.
“I’m sure it was an accident,” Adam insisted, as he watched the young officer go back to take charge of the unloading.
“Mr. Cartwright, you will find that accidents such as this are something that I will not tolerate on my ship. The man must be made to understand his error.” With a nod of his head he dismissed Watkins, who went to find the culprit, then addressed Adam. “I must congratulate you on your quick thinking.”
“It was fortunate that I happened to be in the right place to see what was about to happen.” Adam caught sight of Palmerton approaching along the quayside, and shook hands with the Captain. “Thank you for your time.”
“I always enjoy talking to those who take an interest in my ship,” Prescott replied, and then he stood watching Adam leave.
As Adam and Palmerton walked away from the Elizabeth Jane, they did not see the man that came to stand beside Prescott. He had arrived in response to the captain’s hurriedly written note and Prescott spoke to him without turning. “Did you know that Cartwright is Abel Stoddard’s grandson? Does that have anything to do with Matthew wanting rid of him?”
Flynn nodded his head. “I suspect that it has everything to do with it. Young Stoddard said something about Cartwright robbing him of his inheritance.”
“He’s staying with Palmerton. Will that make it more difficult for you?”
“No. I’ll do it tonight, and then this little problem will be dealt with, and I can go home,” said Flynn, shivering inside his coat.
Prescott turned to look at him, wondering at the casual attitude of the man. But then he shrugged; everyone had their own talents, and Flynn used his to good effect. Prescott stared up into the rigging. “You were very nearly spared the trouble. Pity.”
Adam walked with Palmerton along the busy wharf, discussing what they saw. He was able to recognize the craft tied up alongside, and could name the various types, among them barque, brigantine, clipper and sloop. Thanks to Jonas Winterton, he knew what they might be carrying, the loads they could haul, the crew they would need and how long it should take them to get to their destinations. All he had learned suddenly came into sharp focus.
The pair had a midday meal in the Young Miners Restaurant on Long Wharf, which was dimly lit and noisy with talk of the sea, and Adam felt himself sinking comfortably into his new life. During the afternoon they wandered along the wharves and Palmerton punctuated their talk with visits to the offices of other shippers, insurers, exporters and importers, where he introduced Adam and let him hear first-hand from them some of the problems he would face, and some suggested solutions.
All the while, Adam was absorbing the sights and sounds that were to become familiar to him, until finally they made their way back slowly to the house and retired to their rooms to prepare for supper. Adam had not brought a dinner suit with him to San Francisco, knowing that he would have little use for such clothes once he sailed, so when he had washed, he changed his shirt and went down to join his host in the parlor.
“Well Adam, what did you think of what you saw today?” asked Palmerton.
Adam chuckled quietly. “I think that I can’t wait to be gone.” He held up his hand as Palmerton was about to speak. “Please Jack, I don’t mean that I haven’t enjoyed your hospitality, but I came here with the intention of going to sea, yet the nearest I have been to that was going aboard the Elizabeth Jane.”
“I know, and I am sorry that you have had to wait, but it is important that you should understand your grandfather’s business.”
“I appreciate that, and I suppose that I had better spend the rest of the time I have here doing more of the same. Jonas seems to be a great asset to you,” said Adam, thinking of the man who had taught him so much.
“Yes, he is. He’s been with us ever since we opened the office here. I hate to admit it, but I think that he is more important to the business than I am.” Palmerton smiled and Adam returned it.
In the background, they heard a knock on the front door, and a minute later the maid appeared and bobbed a curtsey. “’Scuse me, sir, there’s a man at the door wantin’ to speak to Mr. Cartwright.”
Adam raised his eyes at Palmerton; who would be calling to see him? He went out into the hallway, and then returned.
“I have to go out for a while, would you excuse me?” Adam said, a slight frown on his face. The man had told him that if he wanted to find out some interesting information about Prescott, Adam should follow him.
“Of course,” Palmerton agreed. “We’ll wait supper for you.”
“Thank you, I shouldn’t be too long.”
Adam collected his hat from the hall stand, then went to the front door and out into the failing evening light. He followed the small, bearded man who was dressed in a sailor’s jersey and bell-bottomed pants, and was led back to the waterfront, where they walked along the dock for fifty yards before turning off up a narrow side street, then into a dark alley between two wooden buildings. The man stepped aside to allow Adam to pass, telling him that someone was waiting for him. Adam strained his eyes to look into the blackness ahead, but could see no one, and when he turned to speak to his guide, the little man had disappeared.
The hairs on the back of Adam’s neck rose as he sensed danger and he took a step back, preparing to leave the menacing confines of the alley but, before he could escape, an arm snaked round his neck threatening to choke him. As he raised his hands to try to relieve the pressure on his throat, he felt a blow and a deep burning pain in the middle of his back, and then another joined it, lower down. Suddenly it seemed that all the strength had been drained from him; his hands dropped to his sides and his legs would not support him, and it was only the throttling arm that prevented him falling. When his assailant loosened his hold, Adam crumpled to the ground where he lay on his side, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He saw the feet and legs of his attacker standing in front of him, then they turned and walked away, and he was alone.
Adam tried to move his head, his arms, his legs…anything. But his body was slowly going numb and his muscles refused to obey his brain. He had no feeling at all, no pain, nothing, and he knew in his heart that the end was near. A vision of his father swam before his eyes, “Good…bye… Pa,” he whispered, as his mind spiraled downwards into a black, bottomless abyss.
**********
There is a saying that warns ‘you should be careful what you wish for – you might get it’, and Ben had cause to remember that in the days that followed. But at that moment he was only concerned with the misbegotten numbers in the bought ledger before him, as they began to swim in front of his eyes. He sat back, sighing with tiredness and wishing for a distraction that would give him an excuse to leave them for a while. He found what he was looking for when his youngest son crashed open the front door and rushed into the house shouting for his father, with Sheriff Roy Coffee following behind more slowly.
Ben rose to reprimand Joe for his noisy entry. “Joseph, you do not enter the house as though it were…” He stopped as he saw the tears that streaked Joe’s face. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“I…I met Roy…on the way to town…” Joe held out a copy of that day’s Territorial Enterprise, which he was clutching in a shaking hand. Ben took it and his face paled as he found and read a small headline at the top of the front page.
‘Prominent Nevada Citizen Murdered’, it screamed at him. Then underneath, ‘Adam Cartwright slain’.
Ben staggered backwards, his hand searching for support, and he sat heavily on the table behind the sofa, knocking over the ornaments with a crash that no one heard. He glanced up into Joe’s face in disbelief, then looked at Roy, desperately seeking denial of what he had read.
The sheriff approached and put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m real sorry. I only found out when the Enterprise published it, and I was on my way here to tell you when I met Little Joe.”
Nodding silently in understanding, Ben reluctantly returned to the paper to read the detail underneath the stark headline.
‘It is reported from the city of San Francisco that, two nights ago, the body of Adam Cartwright was found in an alley near the waterfront. It appeared that he had been stabbed several times. Robbery was not thought to be the motive as Mr. Cartwright still had his wallet in his possession. Police confirmed that they had no clue to the identity of his assailant, and told our correspondent that the area where the body was found was well known as one of the more lawless parts of the city.
‘Adam Cartwright was the eldest son…’
Ben sat stunned, gazing at the print but unable to see it through the tears that blurred his vision. ‘Was the eldest son…was the eldest son…’ The words ran through his head, burning into his mind, and he screamed a silent denial – not was…is, please God…is. As a sailor himself, he knew of the dangers that Adam would face at sea, but it had not occurred to him that, before he even set sail, his son would meet an untimely end in the streets of the city that he had visited so often in the past.
“What…how?” So many questions came into Ben’s mind that he could not voice any of them, but sat shaking his head in disbelief.
“Ben, I’ve sent a telegraph to the authorities, asking for more details,” Roy said gently.
But Ben wasn’t listening and suddenly he stood. “I’m going to San Francisco; I have to know what happened,” he paused, swallowed hard, and added in a whisper, “and bring him home.” Ben started for the stairs on shaky legs, but was stopped by Joe’s hand on his arm.
“I’m coming with you.”
Ben looked at his youngest son, seeing the same mixture of sorrow, disbelief, and fear of the truth that he knew must be on his own face. He put a hand over Joe’s and spoke gently. “No, you stay here. The round-up has only just started and the men need you and Hoss to be here.” Ben glanced down at the newspaper, now crumpled in his fist. “Sometimes they get it wrong…but if this is true, then all of us going will make no difference,” he said softly. “Find Hoss, tell him.”
Joe and Roy watched as Ben climbed the stairs, his tread weary and his head bent, then Joe went in search of Hoss with a heavy heart, dreading having to tell him the news. Meanwhile Roy followed Ben, to help him if he could, but mostly just to be there for his friend.
**********
Three sleepless days later, Ben stood in Ohio Street looking up at a ramshackle red brick building. He could not feel the wooden sidewalk beneath his feet, or the warm sun on his back; he had gone numb. All through the seemingly endless journey from Virginia City, he had been aching to know what had happened to Adam, but now the moment had come he hesitated to enter the station house of the Third District, where he would find the official who was dealing with the murder of his son. He was stony faced; he had prepared himself to hear the details of Adam’s death, but now he was not certain that he was strong enough to keep his emotions under control.
The top half of the door to the station was of glass, and as Ben watched himself approach his reflection his throat tightened with the tears that he had not allowed to come to him throughout his journey. He saw himself wearing black; not only a color for mourning and of respect for the dead, but a cruel imitation of the clothing that Adam habitually wore. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and pushed open the door. After enquiring at the front desk, Ben was asked to wait and he paced to and fro in the dark vestibule.
A few minutes later a man walked towards him, his hand outstretched. He was dressed in the distinctive grey uniform adopted by the San Francisco police department, and was tall and powerfully built, with neatly trimmed grey hair, which receded at the temples. He also had intelligent brown eyes that were reminiscent of Adam’s dark gaze, and Ben almost cried aloud; everywhere he looked there were reminders of the son he feared he had lost.
“Mr. Cartwright, my name is Wheeler, Captain Wheeler. I am in charge of the investigation into the attack on your son.”
“Captain,” Ben acknowledged apprehensively as he shook the man’s hand, knowing that the policeman could, against all desperate hopes to the contrary, confirm the reports of Adam’s death.
“Now sir, I know you must have a lot of questions,” Wheeler said briskly, “but before I answer any of them I would ask you to follow me, and please don’t ask me for any details until we arrive at our destination, where I will be able to enlighten you as to recent events.”
Ben hesitated, but if a short delay meant that he would get the information he wanted, but dreaded, he would for the moment do as the captain requested; he knew he was willingly putting off facing that moment of truth, and inside he berated himself for his weakness. They left the station and walked for a short distance through the busy streets that were so familiar to Ben from previous visits, but which now seemed so cold as he thought of Adam walking those same thoroughfares. Wheeler stopped outside a white clapboard house overlooking the bay, mounted the steps to the front door, and knocked. Ben followed, frowning, and they waited until a maidservant opened the door and they were invited inside.
“Would you tell Mr. Palmerton that Captain Wheeler is here, with Mr. Ben Cartwright?”
The maid showed them into the parlor, bobbed a curtsey, and went in search of her master.
Ben threw his hat down on a chair and faced Wheeler. “Well?”
“Mr. Cartwright, we will tell you everything you want to know in a moment.”
The level stare from the dark eyes stopped Ben from pressing him further; the man seemed to be in complete control and unconcerned, and Ben had a fleeting moment of hope, which he quickly quashed. He could not allow himself to hope, only to have his son snatched away from him again.
Wheeler sat waiting, watching as Ben prowled the room, restlessly examining pictures on the walls and china in glass fronted walnut cabinets, until Palmerton entered and Wheeler introduced him.
“Now will you tell me what happened?” Ben demanded, barely managing to disguise his dismay at the emotional merry-go-round he was riding.
Palmerton held out his hand. “Mr. Cartwright, it is a pleasure to meet you; would you follow me?”
This was too much for Ben and he stood, hands on hips, unmoving. “I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what is going on.”
Palmerton and Wheeler exchanged glances. “Very well,” said Wheeler. “Please sit down, Mr. Cartwright.” Ben didn’t move. “Please,” Wheeler repeated.
Believing that compliance would bring forth some information, Ben sat reluctantly, perching on the edge of a chair. “Well?” he asked impatiently.
“Mr., Cartwright,” said Palmerton, “I am happy to be able to tell you that your son is alive. He is in a bedroom upstairs, very weak as a result of the attack, but the doctor…”
The rest of Palmerton’s sentence was lost to Ben as the walls around him seemed to recede and he grasped the arm of the chair as he swayed with relief. Adam – alive! How? Why…? It didn’t matter – he was alive.
Ben jumped to his feet. “I want to see him.”
“Of course. Please, follow me.” Palmerton led them upstairs and passing one door, stopped outside the second and turned to warn Ben and the Captain, “Adam is probably sleeping. He has strength for little else at the moment, and if he is you should not disturb him.”
All Ben could do was nod silently at the request for quiet, not trusting his voice enough to speak.
Inside the darkened room, Ethne sat beside the bed and leaned over to the nightstand, where there was a basin filled with cold water that was laced with lavender. She rinsed out a cloth and, after turning back the bed clothes, she bathed Adam’s face and body, trying to cool his fever. A noise outside the door made her glance up, and when she heard her father’s voice she replaced the covers carefully, then, after dropping the cloth in the basin, she went to the door and eased it open just enough to see who was coming to visit her patient.
In answer to his daughter’s annoyed look, Palmerton whispered, “Adam’s father is here.”
Ethne nodded in understanding, and then, putting a finger to her lips, she opened the door sufficiently to allow the men to enter but not so far as to admit any light that might disturb Adam, then she went out onto the landing, closing the door silently behind herself.
Ben followed Palmerton into the dimly lit bedroom, the curtains drawn across the window allowing only a chink of daylight to enter, and Ben’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom.
“Adam!” Ben tried to move, but his knees had gone weak and he stood immobile, watching as the bedclothes rose and fell, only a slight movement but a definite indication that the occupant of the bed was, indeed, breathing. He had hardly dare believe what he had been told, but seeing that it was true, he moved by sheer force of will to the bedside and sank to his knees. He stared at the familiar features of his eldest son, undeniably alive though he was pale and drawn, and a thin sheen of sweat marked the battle for survival that was raging within his body. Adam’s face showed a stubbly growth of beard over a grey complexion, and his limp black hair clung to his head, but to Ben it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He took hold of his son’s hand, vaguely registering that it was too warm. “Adam,” he whispered, forgetting the warning not to disturb the sleeping man, “it’s Pa. Please, if you’re awake, look at me. Adam…Adam.”
Adam had opened his eyes only once since regaining consciousness, but then the figures he saw surrounding him were unfamiliar and he had retreated away from them because they made him feel alone and vulnerable. Since then his mind had remained suspended in a state that was neither sleeping nor waking. Sometimes he would see a cold, dark shape approach, knowing that he wanted to get away but he was unable to escape, and as it enveloped him in its icy cloak he would feel again the pain of the knife as it entered his body. At other times he was aware of people around him, but he lacked the motivation to open his eyes and look upon strangers. Now, he gradually became aware that someone had hold of his hand, and he associated the familiar voice speaking his name with home and safety, and knew that it offered him warmth and shelter from the chill ebony phantom of his dreams, if only he could find the strength to open his eyes.
“Pa?” The question came out faintly, no more than a breath.
“Yes…yes, son, it’s me.” Tears came and Ben ignored them, letting them fall as they would. He knelt there for some minutes drinking in the sight of his son, alive and breathing, though obviously far from well. Finally he wiped his fingers across his eyes and turned to the two men standing silently smiling in the shadows of the room.
“Would somebody please explain?” Ben’s emotions had gone from relief to curiosity, and were now verging on anger.
“Mr. Cartwright,” Wheeler said, his voice little more than a whisper, “if you would just sit down I will tell you what we know, what we think we know, and what we have done about it.”
A chair stood against the wall, and Palmerton drew it up to the side of the bed. Ben sat, still holding tight to Adam’s hand, his anger abating as he stared at his son, relief again filling his soul. His head came up as he heard a knock on the door and an older man entered whom Palmerton introduced to Ben as Doctor Bassett, and then he and Wheeler left, saying that they would see Ben downstairs, where they would continue with their explanation when he was ready.
Adam turned his head and finally managed to force his eyes open just enough to take in the room. They came to rest on his father. “Pa?” he queried again. Then, as though doubting what he was seeing, he closed his eyes and whispered hopelessly, “No…a dream.”
“No, son, I’m here,” said Ben leaning closer. “Feel my hand holding yours. Can you feel it?” Ben squeezed Adam’s hand and felt a slight tightening of his son’s grip in response.
Adam again opened his eyes and muttered a believing, “Pa…Pa…”
Ben could see the pain in the weak brown gaze and his heart ached. He turned worriedly to Bassett. “How is he? Please tell me the truth, will he be alright?”
“It’s really too soon to tell, and I don’t want to give you false hope, but I think he will be,” Bassett said cautiously as he put his bag on the dressing table, then turned back to Ben. “He was stabbed twice, in the back. It was obviously meant to be fatal, but his attacker hadn’t allowed for his tenacity, his determination to hold on to life. I notice that your son has recently healed scars on his back and shoulder, from bullet wounds I would surmise.” Bassett waited for Ben to confirm his observation.
Remembering the events of those terrible days, Ben swallowed hard. It was those bullets that had, ultimately, led to Adam leaving. “Yes. He was shot some months ago, but he had recovered.”
“Let us hope so, for he will need all his strength if he is to overcome his injuries. The blade grazed his liver, and that would have been almost instantly fatal, had it been the smallest portion of an inch higher. As it was we nearly lost him when infection set in. Fortunately, we caught it early, though he is still running a fever, but I am of the opinion that the danger from that is passed. Your son seems to be a very fit and strong young man; no doubt the active life he has led in Nevada helped him to survive.”
Ben smiled down at Adam. “You see, I knew all that hard work would pay off one day.”
“Yeah…lucky…” Adam whispered. He wanted to sleep but he could not let his eyes close for fear that when he opened them again his father would be gone.
“I need to examine him,” the doctor said, “and then we should allow him to rest.”
Adam’s grip tightened on his father’s hand. “Don’t…go,” his voice held a touch of pleading. He was aware that the strangers were caring for him and tending to his needs, but it was his father that he wanted by his side.
“The doctor wants to take a look at you.” Ben patted Adam’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be far away and I’ll come back when he’s finished.” He leaned over and gently kissed his son’s damp forehead, then laid Adam’s hand on the bedcovers, and left in search of the answers he had come to find.
When Ben entered the parlor, Palmerton handed him a glass of brandy. “This may be a bit early for strong drink, but I think you could do with it.” Ben smiled in agreement as he took the glass. Palmerton raised his coffee cup in salute. “To your son, and his survival.”
“Amen,” was Ben’s heartfelt reply as he took a seat next to Wheeler. “Now, will you please tell me what happened?”
“We have reason to believe that the attack on your son was part of a plan by his cousin, Matthew Stoddard, to be rid of him,” Wheeler said. “He sent a man named Flynn to kill him, and as you know he very nearly succeeded. Indeed he would have but for Gideon Harper, the second mate from the Elizabeth Jane.”
Ben was anxious to hear the rest of the story, and did not interrupt when he heard the name of the ship, for he was certain he knew its origin.
Wheeler was still speaking. “Harper heard Flynn talking to the Captain of that ship about what he described as Stoddard’s ‘little problem’; it seems that Stoddard was concerned that Adam would rob him of his inheritance. The two men spent the afternoon in the captain’s cabin, but the mate followed Flynn when he left the ship that evening, and saw him stab Adam and leave him in the alley; unfortunately Harper was too far away to prevent it. He knew that Adam was staying with the Palmerstons, and managed to get him back here, where the doctor was called, and the police. We have…”