Part 3
‘Yes; I do mean,’ interrupted the visitor; ‘and I mean a good deal more than that, as you will find.’ He flourished an ugly-looking stick which he carried, as if to give emphasis to these words.—‘As for you, Nick Smethby, I am surprised and ashamed to think you could be such a fool as to mistake a fellow like this for your own cousin—for _me_!’
Here every hearer started in reality; and Smethby, drawing a long breath, looked from one to the other with an expression which clearly showed that he did not mean to contest the announcement.
‘Do you think,’ resumed the new-comer, ‘that a man, after twenty years’ beating about the diggings, which I have had, could look as young as he did when he started? which is pretty nearly what this fellow does, in spite of his make-up.—I have come back with enough to pay you your loan, Nick, but I have been down very low in my time. I have fought two battles in the colonial ring, and I am going to show this fellow, presently, how I won them.’
‘All this is dreadfully mysterious!’ exclaimed Smethby; ‘yet one thing is clear enough: I will swear you are my cousin George Styles. But then, who is this?—Yes, who are you, you impostor?’ he cried, turning sharply upon his guest, who gasped once or twice, as though trying to speak, but was paralysed by the new-comer, from whom he could not remove his eyes.
‘Don’t trouble yourself about him yet,’ pursued the second Styles. ‘I will just say what I have to say, and then I will get it all out of him; you will see that. I fancy, however, I am only just in time. Is it true that you have agreed to go up to London with this person and invest a lot of money among his confederates?’
The ‘first cousin,’ as he may fairly be called, groaned at this; while Mr Smethby uttered, as well he might, an ejaculation of intense astonishment at finding his intentions and plans thus known to a man whom he had not seen for twenty years.
‘I see you are surprised, Nick, and that our customer there feels he is bowled out,’ said the stranger. ‘But after all, there is nothing to wonder at in the matter. I inquired my way at the station—having learnt your address from your old office—and a gentleman who overheard me, kindly offered to show me the place. I told him who I was; and he was just as much as flabbergasted as you are; but he was delighted as well. He told me all about this’—— The speaker paused while he cast a look of utter contempt at his predecessor, and then went on, evidently unable to find an epithet suitably strong. ‘He told me he was a doctor, by name Robert Crewe.’ (It was now Harriet’s turn to start and change colour.) ‘We walked together to a point just below here, where he turned off at the brow of a hill. He not only told me about the impostor who was taking my name, but pointed him out as he slunk in at the gate.’ (The unlucky cousin remembered, and groaned audibly as he did so, the two men whom he had seen in converse on the rise in the road.) ‘So here I am; and the first thing I mean to do is to collar this fellow, and thrash him until he has not a sound inch of skin on his carcase.—But don’t you turn pale, my dear.’ This was said to Harriet, and the speaker raised his cap with a sort of reassuring politeness. ‘Though I have come straight from the mines, I do not forget what is due to a lady; and I shall take the fellow outside to have his thrashing, and he shall have it now.’ With this, he made a stride forward, and thrusting his huge hand inside the man’s collar, clutched him with a grip which might have been of iron, and with a single tug pulled him to his feet; but the victim seemed unable to stand, and sank back on his chair all of a heap.
Harriet uttered a scream as the real Cousin George bent over the man, evidently intent upon dragging him out by main force; while Mr Joe and Mr Brooks seized his arm, and urged him not to be violent—Joe at the same moment briefly introducing himself and his brother-in-law.
‘I am glad to see you again, anyhow, young Joe,’ returned Styles. ‘I remember buying you a drum the last time I was in your company.—But you had better let me settle this fellow at once.’
‘Spare me!’ whined the man. He could not speak comfortably with such a grip on his collar and with such knuckles buried in his neck.
‘Why, what I am going to do is real mercy to you!’ retorted his captor. ‘You will be sore for a week or ten days, and then be as well as ever; but if I give you over to the police—— Well, as you seem to dread a simple licking so much, we will go to the police. Come on!’
Another tremendous tug here dragged up the unfortunate creature, who broke into most despairing petitions, imploring that they would not give him up to the police—_they_ knew him, he said.
‘Why, confound it! you do not suppose you are to be let off scot-free, after such a game as this, do you?’ exclaimed the other, whose astonishment was so clearly genuine, that Joe and Brooks could not repress a smile.
‘I will confess everything; I throw myself on your mercy!’ urged the man; ‘but don’t give me up to the police. I am sure to get it hot, if you do.’
‘So you ought!’ ejaculated Styles.
‘I think if you were to quit your hold on his neck, he could speak freer,’ said Mr Joe; ‘and I should really like to know how all this came about.’
‘Ah! so he might,’ assented Styles, acting on the suggestion. ‘I can easily catch hold of him again when I want him. I’ll bet he does not give us the slip.’
In spite of the threat conveyed in the last speech, the culprit’s face visibly brightened after Joe’s remark. Mr Smethby had remained silent all this time, being not only confused with the unexpected revelation, but a little ashamed, possibly, of his own management, which was so over-cunning as to make him a readier prey to the swindler.
‘Well, go on,’ was the rough command of Styles. ‘Who are you? Where do you come from?’
‘My name is John Smith,’ began the man. A furtive leer which he cast upon the company as he said this, might have been involuntary; but certain it is that none of those who saw it believed he was speaking the truth. ‘I had got into trouble,’ he continued, ‘and wanted some money for a fresh start. While I was at my wits’ end to get this, a pal—a friend—who knew I had been in a difficulty, said’ (he paused here, and glanced at Smethby)—‘he said there was a flat to be had at Valeborough, if he was properly worked.—No offence, I hope, sir. It was not me who said this; it was my friend.’
‘It was correct enough, whoever said it,’ replied Smethby, to whom the remark had been addressed.
‘He knew a lot about the family affairs here,’ continued Smith: ‘he had scraped about and picked the particulars up, till he thought he had got quite enough to enable a man to act as the cousin they had not seen for twenty years; but he owned he had not got the headpiece to keep the game up for any time; so I was to be the cousin; and he was to be a friend who knew me, and was to manage—as he did very well—to get hold of Mr Smethby, as if by accident, and tell him all about the good luck of his old friend Styles, and how he was going to try on a game with his cousin Mr Smethby.’
‘I never thought I was such an idiot; but go on,’ said the host.
‘We raked up some money between us,’ resumed Smith; ‘but it was a hard job to get enough, as of course I had to be pretty liberal; but luckily this gentleman would not let me spend much.—However, I got a letter this morning, saying that Ben—my friend—could not send another penny, and that unless I could make a haul at once, the thing must burst up. But the business was nearly ripe. I had prepared the way for persuading my cousin, as I called him, to invest a lot of money, by dropping a pretended letter from my stockbroker, which I knew they would find and read. In fact, there was no difficulty all through; and I had arranged for a visit to London to-morrow, so I was in hope that’——
‘That you could make the haul,’ said Smethby, as the other paused. ‘How did you mean to do it, when I should be with you? I was to go to the office, you know.’
‘I meant to take you to a place where you would wait in a room, while I went into what you would think was only an inner office, but which I knew had a way out,’ answered Smith. ‘In fact, if I had once touched the money, there would have been an end of it.’
‘And your friend with the villa and the bracelets?’ asked Smethby.
‘All put in to make it seem more natural,’ said the man. ‘But I have not robbed your place of a pennyworth ever since I have been here, I assure you. I hope you will take that into consideration.’
He went on a little further, until he was interrupted by Styles, who led him to the door—no force was now wanted—and telling him that he would give him in charge to the nearest policeman if he ever saw him again, pitched him out on the dark road, and then returned to the circle he had left.
At first, Smethby was terribly chopfallen, but recovered ere long, and joined in the laugh with which first ‘Cousin George’ and then the others reviewed the past. Harriet was not the noisiest of the party, but she was not the least happy, and ‘Cousin George’ appeared to have taken a great fancy for her.
Styles paid his debt to ‘Nick Smethby’ that night, to prove, as he said, that he was not another impostor, and said, besides, that while he should not bother about amethyst bracelets or diamonds and sapphires, yet, if that young doctor had the courage to get married within three months, and a few hundreds would help him to get into practice, why, he George Styles, had enough for such a purpose, and Harriet should take care of it, until it was wanted.
Altogether, although rougher and coarser than the first cousin, this second edition was a great improvement; and settling down as he did in Valeborough, he was a regular visitor, not only at Mr Smethby’s but at Dr Crewe’s, when the latter set up his own house, after an early marriage to Miss Harriet.
And improvident and wild as George had once been, he was steady enough in his friendships now, so he never left the little circle; and when he died, his property—a good deal less than the hundreds of thousands attributed to the first cousin—went to the children of Dr and Mrs Crewe, with which cluster of young people he had always been a great favourite.
AIR AS A MOTIVE FORCE.
In a recent number of the _Journal_ we touched on the various methods of transmission of power, and showed how steam had been laid on in mains in the streets of American towns, and a house-to-house distribution thus effected. Loss has been found, however, to result from leakage and condensation, and these defects have militated against the system. Water under pressure has obtained extended application in this country where power was required in docks and warehouses; but up to the present time, a motor has not been introduced satisfying the necessary requirements of economy sufficiently to render the system of commercial value for supplying small power either for domestic purposes or to the lesser industries. Bursting of pipes, through frost or other cause, might result in serious damage, moreover, in dwelling-houses.
The problem of transmission of power may possibly find a solution in electricity in the future; but as regards the present, suffice it to say that the cost of production of such agency entirely precludes it from entering into the field of competition. Attempts now being made, in Paris and Birmingham, to distribute power by rarefied air in the former, and by compressed air in the latter city, possess no slight interest. In each case, the method adopted differs in no way in principle from that of the systems already touched on. Central pumping stations, furnished with boiler and steam-power, supply the requisite energy; whilst the transmitting medium—steam, water, or air, as the case may be—is distributed through the principal mains, which feed in their turn the lesser arteries of the system supplying the individual consumer.
In the case of rarefied air, though, theoretically, a pressure of fifteen pounds per square inch could be obtained, in practice it is found advisable to work at a pressure of about ten pounds, without approaching nearer to an absolute vacuum. Three classes of motors are employed to convert the vacuum in the mains into useful work; suffice it to say, however, that whilst differing in the details of construction, the principle involved throughout is the same, and consists essentially of modifications of the steam-engine to the requirements of air-pressure. Payment is made according to the power absorbed by each consumer, an ingenious arrangement actuating as counter, indicating how much work is actually done, irrespective of the number of revolutions made by the motor. Even where gas is available, the cost of engines for using it has not unfrequently militated against its adoption by the smaller industries; hence the Parisian Company for the distribution of power by rarefied air has elected not only to supply power but to lease out the motors as well. Their customers embrace such users of small power as hat-block makers, jewellers, wood-turners, comb-cutters, stay and clothing manufacturers, dentists, butchers, &c. The cleanliness of this system, and its excellent ventilating capabilities, should form an argument in its favour. Not only is all smell from combustion, as in the case of the gas-engine, avoided, but, by drawing at every stroke a given quantity of air from the room, the motor directly produces ventilation.
Time alone can show whether the system will prove a commercial success; in any case, its promoters could hardly have chosen a better field for its introduction than Paris, a city containing upwards of a million persons engaged in the minor industries already indicated, and which require small motive power.
A NINETEENTH-CENTURY PIRATE.
It is not likely that many of our readers will have heard of a certain Captain Hayes, who a few years ago was one of the most notorious desperadoes among the numerous ‘beachcombers’ and other questionable characters who infested the South Pacific. A few instances of this worthy’s escapades in the paths of fraud and villainy, drawn from _Coral Lands_, by H. S. Cooper (London: R. Bentley & Son), may be of interest, and will also show how, up to a comparatively recent period, a determined character could pursue a career of actual crime and piracy in the Eastern seas with impunity.
Of the antecedents of Captain (or ‘Bully,’ as he was commonly dubbed) Hayes, little is known before 1858, when he appeared in the Hawaiian Islands, having landed from the ship _Orestes_. After a short stay at Honolulu, he left for San Francisco in the beginning of 1859; and a few months afterwards reappeared in command of a brig bound for New Caledonia. Having entered a closed port without having first passed the custom-house, the sheriff arrested him and took possession of the brig. Captain Hayes put all the blame on his first officer, and was virtuously indignant with him for misinforming him as to the necessity of first entering at the custom-house at Lahaina, at the same time treating the sheriff with unbounded courtesy and every mark of respect. He at once agreed to proceed to Lahaina, and seemed delighted to find it was the sheriff’s duty to accompany him thither. When, however, the ship was clear of the land, Hayes ‘changed his tune,’ and coolly informed the sheriff he had no intention of going near the custom-house, and that he (the sheriff) could either remain on board and pay for his passage to New Caledonia, or find his way back to port the best way he could. The sheriff found himself completely outwitted, and was perforce obliged to take to his small boat—luckily, still alongside—and managed to reach the land with considerable difficulty, having the melancholy satisfaction of seeing his late prisoner laughing at him over the taffrail as he resumed his course for the Southern Ocean. Next mail brought instructions to the United States consul at Honolulu for Hayes’ arrest; and it then became known that when last in the islands he had borrowed money from a confiding clergyman, with which he had gone to San Francisco and negotiated the purchase of the brig, fitted her out, engaged his crew and then set sail, paying nobody. His cruise at this time, however, did not last very long; shortly afterwards, his ship was wrecked at Wallace’s Island, the captain and his ‘chums’ escaping in the boat to the Navigators’ Islands, leaving the rest of the crew to their fate. They ultimately, however, succeeded in getting safe to shore by means of a raft.
Hayes was next heard of at Batavia in command of a barque; how obtained is not known. He succeeded in getting a cargo of coffee for Europe—which it would never have seen—when the Dutch East India Company got some information as to his antecedents, and were only too glad to get repossession of their coffee, losing the charter-money, which Hayes insisted on being paid before he allowed the cargo to be taken on shore again. Finding he had not much chance of doing any good—or evil, rather—at Batavia, Hayes resolved to depart in search of a fresh field for the exercise of his talents. Proceeding to Hong-kong, he succeeded in filling his vessel with Chinese coolies, and sailed for Melbourne. After a fair voyage, he was nearing the Australian coast, when he spoke a ship, and was informed that a tax had been imposed on all Chinese immigrants, and that he would have to pay fifty dollars per head on his passengers before he would be permitted to land them. This was rather a serious outlook for the captain, but, as usual, his inventive brain was equal to the occasion. He sailed calmly on, and soon arrived off his port of destination. Then he set to work to carry out the plan he had conceived. He coolly filled his ship half-full of water, hoisted signals of distress, and lay to, waiting the development of his ruse. He had not long to wait; his signals for assistance were perceived, and two tug steamers were soon alongside, proffering their services for the purpose of towing him into port. Hayes declared his ship would sink before she could be got into dock, as his pumps were choked and the water rising at a great rate. He implored them to take off his passengers, leaving his crew and himself to escape by means of their boats, should the barque not float till they returned. This the tug-owners agreed to do. The Chinamen were trans-shipped, and the steamers bore off, promising to return as speedily as possible to his assistance. They got their load of Chinamen safely landed, the owners paying the head-tax, and steamed back to bring in the ship; but she was nowhere to be seen, having, as they supposed, gone down with all hands. No such fate, however, had befallen the gallant captain. No sooner were the tugs out of sight, than he pumped his ship free of water, and lost no time in putting a good few miles between him and Melbourne, inwardly chuckling, no doubt, at the clever way he had duped the antipodeans and got his Chinamen landed at others’ expense. Some time after this, Hayes speculated in another cargo of Chinamen; but this time he landed them without trouble and without paying anything, having gone through the formality of getting them all made British subjects before he sailed!
For a few years after this, Captain Hayes was little heard of, except at some of the South Pacific islands, where he occasionally turned up, ostensibly pursuing the avocation of an honest trader. By-and-by, however, he resumed his old habits, and for a couple of years or so he made raids on several of the island groups, robbing and destroying the stations of the traders and native villages. Eventually, he was arrested by the British consul at Upolu. As luck would have it, at this same time a certain friend of Hayes, Captain Pease or Peace, arrived at Upolu in his brig the _Leonora_. On some pretence or other, Hayes obtained leave to go on board; and when next morning dawned, the brig was invisible, having sailed during the night with him on board as a passenger. In due time, the _Leonora_ arrived at Shanghai, and by some dodge or other, Hayes managed to get Captain Pease put in prison, passing himself off to the authorities as the owner of the brig. He next got on board the supplies he was in need of, and set sail, as usual paying for little or nothing. Hayes once more was in command of a good ship, with a crew who asked no questions, and in a position to resume his fraudulent career. His first port of call was Saigon, where he was chartered to take a load of rice to Hong-kong and other intermediate ports. At the first port of call, the owner of the rice went on shore to try and effect a sale. Hayes took this opportunity of leaving the owner behind, and set off for Bankok, where he disposed of his cargo at a good price, and departed once more for his favourite hunting-ground—the South Pacific.
Hayes some time after this was again without a ship, having imprudently intrusted his vessel to the care of his first officer, who treated the ‘Bully’ to a dose of his own game, and went off with her, leaving him in a quandary on one of the South Pacific islets. Hayes was now forced to change his play, and accordingly came out in a new character. Pretending to be converted from his evil ways, he completely got the better of the American missionaries, and obtained command of a small schooner belonging to the Mission. At the first favourable opportunity, as may be supposed, he disappeared with the schooner, and arrived at Manila. Here, however, his fame had preceded him, and on being recognised, he was promptly arrested, and put in prison. The captain’s game seemed now about up; but his good luck had not yet deserted him. Once more adopting the religious dodge, he turned a devout Catholic, and so talked over the priests, that, although there was evidence enough to hang him and a dozen others besides, he got off, and was next heard of at the scene of his first escapade, San Francisco, where he stole a smart schooner called the _Lotus_, and once more was off for the Sunny South.