ROMANCE OF BOTTLES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXI, Issue XXIII, 3 December 1898, Page 736

ROMANCE OF BOTTLES.

The crisis was really acute. I had hoped for much from that morning's post, for no better reason, I admit, than that when 1 am most impecunious I am most credulous. And it (1 allude to the first delivery) had brought nothing but two MSS.; a foolishly facetious suggestion from a sanguine tailor that settlement might lie arrived at by means of payment by installments, and a reminder, rather curt than courteous, from the manager of the bank that my account was overdrawn.

I spread the contents of my pockets before me in the vain hope of finding solace. But what solace is there in a half sovereign worn to amazing thinness with the dissipations of its career, two florins, some coppers, and a four shilling piece?

If for the next forty-eight hours I starved—l had just breakfasted sumptuously, and therefore the idea could be entertained—how could I manage that trip to Edinburgh next Thursday? And yet that trip must be made, for Eugenia would be at the provost’s ball. So would Putson, an utterly worthless creature, distinguished only for his profitable soapboilery and his passion for private theatricals. Eugenia, however, regarded him without disfavour, and as for him, he was her devoted lover. So was I, for Eugenia had many charms, and two thousand a year of her own.

She had something else, though, and that was a will of her own. This had induced her to appoint the occasion of the provost’s ball for the delivery of her answer to the momentous question 1 had put to her some weeks before. She had pleaded for delay at the time, saying that so serious a matter demanded careful consideration, and informing me at the same time that I had a rival in Putson. Indeed, I found that three days earlier he had laid himself, boilery and all, at her feet. But while she pleaded for delay, she gave me such gentle encouragement that I felt the rivalry of Putson had in it no element of danger. And now I could not pay my fare to win my lady. Suddenly a happy thought occurred to me. To go without my watch chain would be too loud a proclamation of my poverty; but there was that jewelled dagger which my father, a distinguished romancer, had wrested in single combat from the last Mahdi but one. No self-respecting avuncular relative could offer me less than £lO on that.

‘l'll do it at once,’ I said to myself, ‘and buy Eugenia’s ring at the same shop. Perhaps the beggar will then offer to lend me a little more.’ Of course, if Frogmore had been at his office—l share chambers with him -—I should have borrowed from him, but he had chosen this unfortunate moment for falling a victim to a girl of exemplary character, the best of housewives , but provident to the point of stinginess. Application to him, therefore, would, in the existing circumstances, be fruitless. I took my case from my pocket and was lighting a cigarette, when there came a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ I cried. And in came my clerk, a person of ripe experience and fifteen summers. ‘Mr Ellerslie to see you, sir.’ Then as he noticed the look of amazement in my face, he went on: "He asked if Mr Frogmore was in first, sir, and then said you would do.’ •Show him in.' I said, with the imagined dignity of the barrister with a large clientele. Perhaps I should have explained before that 1 was one of the great army of barristers awaiting ’cases.’ A new hope sprang in my heart. Was this Ellerslie, the West End solicitor, whose clerks brought Frogmore most of his briefs, and was he going to employ me in Frogmore's absence? Mr Ellerslie came in—a little dapper man of exceeding neatness, with carefully brushed iron-grey hair and trim side wiskers. He had sharp, restless eyes, and a chin curiously thrust forward. He seated himself unasked at the table, ami opened the conversation in quick, jerky sentences. ‘Morning! So Frogmore’s down with influenza still, eh? Well, we must see how you’ll do in his place. Ever had a case yet? But no. of course not. 1 must put you through your paces. Confounded nuisance, this "flue.” Case comes on on Friday at latest—“ Ellis v. Leaver.’ Heard anything about it?’

‘How could I?’ I asked. ‘By reading your paper.’ He opened the file of papers he had in his nand, spread them before him, and referred to them from time to time as he proceeded.

‘Ellis, the plaintiff, is the only partner in the well known firm of shipowners, Lavine, Reddish and Co., of Liverpool. Their ships are one of the few remaining lines of passenger sailing vessels trading to Australia. ‘Mr Ellis had in his employ a clerk named Leaver, a smart young fellow, who so advanced in his master’s confidence that he became his managing clerk, and was at times even invited to his master’s table. The presumptuous young monkey dared to fall in love with his employer's daughter, and even to become engaged to her. The justly irate father immediately put his daughter on a diet of pearlbarley and water, reducing her in five days to a mere skeleton and complete submission. The engagement was broken off. and the impudent pretender discharged.

’For weeks Leaver sought employment, but in vain, till at last he was glad to ship as purser’s clerk on a line of steamers to New Zealand. Then his career of infamy began. On that line every member of the staff—l am not up in nautical terms —is allowed to do a little trading on his own account. Leaver did his in bottles—yes, sir. bottles. He used to ship a big crate full of them, and by some arrangement with the stevedore got them stowed near his bunk or with the steward’s stores. Then this young rascal began circulating the world with his bottles, strewing the bay, the Atlantic and Pacific with his libels. Now, Lavine-Reddish ships, as you know, are called the Ben Line. ‘From the time of his shipping with that company the shores of two hemispheres were bestrewn with sealed bottles which when opened always contained some such secret as this: “Ben Nevis, Liverpool to Sydney. Sprung a leak in dead calm; boats useless; just going down. Good-by, mother:” or, "Ben Rhydding. Sinking fast; plates stove in through shifting of cargo. My love to all.”

‘When these bottles were first found Mr Ellis was alarmed, and so were the underwriters, and, being much uninsured, he was willing and even glad to insure the ship the bottle referred to for a bit more. His loss in extra premiums alone has thus amounted to over four figures, for every one of the ships has turned up safely. And still this unabashed libeller went on casting his bottles on the waters. And every statement was not only a forgery and a lie, it was also a libel. It invariably tooK away the character of one of the Ben ships—excellent craft, sir, all classed Al at Lloyd’s. What was the consequence? ‘Sailors grew afraid of the line, and English ones flatly refused to join, so ’ Mr Ellis has had to employ Dutchmen, Swedes and even Portuguese, thus adding greatly to the perils of navigation. But worse. Shippers decline to ship by the line except at greatly reduced rates, and the fair fame of the line seems irretrievably ruined.’ ‘But is the defendant worth ’ ‘Worth fighting? Of course he is. We show that he has been in partnership with Overton, the man at Lloyd’s, who has written every line he had offered by way of reinsurance by the Ben ships. The rates have been enormous, and the “doctors” have been hard at work on them, and Overton and young Leaver have made their fortunes. Mind you, our case is complete. We have experts to prove that the contents of the bottles were in his handwriting, the steward who saw him write some of them, the purser who saw him throw the bottles out of the portholes and the clerk Who over heard him make his terms with Overton. It’s a chance that a junior doesn’t get once in a century, and if Frogmore hadn’t spoken so highly of you to me I shouldn’t let you have it now.’ I agreed with him absolutely, and yet I hesitated. If I threw away this chance I might never have another, and this probably would make my fortune. Surely Eugenia, whose common sense is as remarkable as her uncommon income would be the first to bid me accept this pregnant brief. Besides I could plead in writing that it was for her sake that I accepted it. ‘Of course.’ he wen|t on, unconsciously putting new temptations in

my way, ‘if you do your part to my satisfaction I sha’n’t forget you. And as to your retainer, suppose we say 25, and 5 guineas a day, eh?’ ‘Can’t you make it 40 and 10?* I asked. ‘No.’

He drew me a cheque for £26 5/ and passed it to me with the brief. I wrote an admirable letter to Eugenia, stating that regarding my interests now as hers, I dare not jeopardise them. Then I went out and spent three-fourths of that well-worn half sovereign in a dainty little lunch. This digested, I sought the bank, entered it with dignity, saw the manager, paid in the cheque, and drew £lO on account.

The next day was Thursday, and I gave it up, not to thoughts of the provost’s ball, but to the study of my brief and the preparation of my address. I rose betimes on Friday morning, took the train to Richmond, and after an hour’s row on the river I came back to town and straight to court. ‘Ellis versus Leaver,’ was the next case on the list. At lunch time I found to my dismay that Mr Ellerslie was not in court. I therefore telegraphed to his office, ‘Case on immediately,’ and then made my second attempt—ineffectual as the first—to consume a sandwich as well as a glass of sherry. I was hardly baek in my seat before ‘Ellis versus Leaver* was called. I rose with my heart in my mouth and eried in a shrill falsetto: ‘I appear for the plaintiff, my lord!’ The burly form of Heavitree, Q.C., interposed itself between me and the judge. He turned round to me, while the giggling Bar stared at me with all its eyes, and muttered: ‘Sit down, you young fool!’ Then pulling his gown over his shoulder with the practised ease of a much-employed counsel, he said: ‘I appear for the plaintiff, my lord.’

‘My learned friend is mistaken, my lord. I am duly instructed by Mr Ellerslie, and ’ Heavitree pulled my brief out of my hand and glanced at it. Then, seeing my consternation, he leaned back and whispered: ‘You’ve been hoaxed. IVhiteford and Saltoun are the solicitors, and it is a case of non deliverance of goods according to contract.’ How I found my way out of court I never knew, but when I was back in my chambers my senses had sufficiently returned to me to enable me to understand my letters. The first missive I opened was from the manager of the bank, inclosing the cheque for twenty-six pounds five, dishonoured, and marked ‘Drawer not known.’ The next was from Eugenia, and written in the third person. It expressed her regret that I had not offered some other excuse than the transparently false one that I, an unknown junior, had been chosen as chief counsel in an important commercial case. It concluded with the heart sickening announcement of her engagement to Putson.

Then I saw it all. It was that mean little soap boiling bounder who had played this shameful prank on me. coming to my chambers in the disguise of a man he must have known I had never seen. I took a solemn vow to remove him from the face of this earth within the space of a year, and he has now but three weeks of life left to him. But the method of his removal has yet to be decided on.