Captains and The Kings (33 page)

So long as Congress has this power America can not truly engage in important wars. And, if she decides to engage in wars for profit in the future-as all wars are only for profit-she will find herself curbed by Congress and its power not to finance a war. It would be most frustrating, and balk prosperity. So, we must first remove the power of Congress to coin and regulate currency, and give it into private hands which will, in turn, be controlled by international gentlemen such as you have seen today." Joseph thought about this, his auburn brows pulled together. He said, "Then history is conspiratorial?" "I believe," said Mr. Montrose, "that it was Mr. Disraeli who mentioned that the man who does not believe in the conspiratorial nature of history is a dunce. He should surely know." Joseph bent his russet head and thought and Mr. Montrose watched him, far more acutely than the situation appeared to deserve. He watched the play of tightening emotions on that young face, and then the rejection of those emotions. It seemed to him that visible to his eyes only was the powerful corrupting process of a mind and possibly a soul. He pursed his lips as if in a soundless whistle and poured a little more brandy for himself. Then Joseph said, "Why did Mr. Healey want me to hear all this, without any preparation over a number of years?" When Mr. Montrose did not reply Joseph looked up at him sharply. He saw that Mr. Montrose was regarding him with a closed and strange expression, partly skeptical, partly affronted, and partly cold. This surprised him. He continued to meet Mr. Montrose's eyes and his own became more and more puzzled. Mr. Montrose finally looked aside. Why should I believe, even for a moment, that he has the faintest suspicion? he asked himself. He said, "I never question Mr. Healey's motives, and I advise you to refrain also. He has his reasons. It is sufficient for us to follow them." He felt a vague shame, an emotion long unfamiliar to him, and when he laughed aloud Joseph was both offended and increasingly puzzled.
Chapter 22
"So," said Mr. Montrose to Mr. Healey, "he is not only absolutely brave and ruthless, but is prudent, too. He won't run to danger or recklessness, but he won't avoid them when necessary. I have come to have a great affection for young Joseph Francis Xavier Armagh, and I think you are justified, sir. He can be trusted." Mr. Healey sat expansively in his study and smoked deeply on his cigar. "I never make a mistake," he said, with happy self-satisfaction. "Minute I saw him on that train I kind of knew. Well, he's coming to see me on a matter of importance, he says. Got in last night from Pittsburgh, and I think he took a trip to Philadelphia, too. So, it all depends-" Mr. Healey waited for Joseph's appearance, and when the young man entered the study, soberly dressed in black almost to the point of being funereal, Mr. Healey saw that he carried with him a roll of blueprints. Mr. Healey unaccountably sighed, as if in immense relief. "Sit down, sit down, Joseph Francis What!" he exclaimed. "Happy to see you home, boyo. Got good reports about you, too. Handled it well, though you're still a little rough around the edges. Takes time. Sit down, sit down. Brandy? Whiskey?" "No, Mr. Healey," said Joseph and let his tall lean figure stiffly down into a chair opposite his employer. He was so pale and tense that his freckles seemed to protrude from his high-boned face. "I don't like spirits, as you know." "Now, that's the only thing I don't like about you, Joe. Never trust a man who don't drink, is my motto. He ain't human. He don't intend, usually, to work with you. In a way, it's kind of an enmity, and for an Irisher it's unnatural." Joseph smiled whitely. "I haven't time," he said. "When I have time I will drink, perhaps. But I've seen what the poteen does to the Irish, too many times. I don't know why it is, but it is disastrous to them." "Not to me, it ain't," said Mr. Healey. "If a man can't control himself it's his bad luck, and he don't deserve any sympathy. Some says the drink lets them escape the misery of this here world for a while, and that's good. But when they keep escaping that's the end of 'em. It's up to a man, himself. Well, what is all this?" For Joseph had laid the blueprints on the desk, though he kept his hand on the roll. He looked at Mr. Healey with a fierce concentration, and he became paler. It was all very well to tell yourself, he thought, that you must have courage-when you are not face to face with the actual situation -but it is quite another when that situation confronts you. In five minutes or so he would either be booted out permanently, or Mr. Healey would understand. Joseph was not too optimistic. He had frequently told himself that he was a fool to consider Mr. Healey, and that he, himself, was a milksop and a weakling and a man of no real resolution and fortitude, willing to gamble everything. He said, never taking his eyes from Mr. Healey's red face, "First of all, sir, I went to Philadelphia before coming home. I have heard rumors for a long time that the oil in the southern part of the state, just being drilled, is far superior to the oil of Titusville, for it is so far under ground that it is partially refined, and naturally.
So, I invested in options." He smiled slightly. "And in consequence I am not exactly solvent any longer." Mr. Healey nodded. "I heard those rumors, too. Only a couple of wells drilled. A thousand feet or more, sometimes. I didn't invest." He smiled rosily at Joseph. "Should I?" Joseph hesitated. "I don't know, sir. It's all speculation. You surely have better information than I have." " 'Course I do," Mr. Healey waved a fat red hand. "But you invested without information, eh?" Joseph looked at the table. He said, "Mr. Healey, I have to be rich very soon." "Not something to be ashamed of," said Mr. Healey. "You got your reasons, I reckon. But you should have asked me for advice. Ain't always right to put all your chips on one number. Well, that's for the young, and you're young. Kind of a reckless boyo, ain't you?" "Necessity sometimes makes a man reckless," said Joseph, and again Mr. Healey nodded. "Happened to me many times," he said. "Sometimes being too damned prudent can cost you all your cakes." Joseph looked up sharply. Mr. Healey chuckled. "Oh, Mr. Montrose told me all about it. Thought you did the right thing. I don't believe in murder, either, unless it's absolutely necessary. You can get a bad reputation that way, killing," said Mr. Healey, with virtue. Joseph, without warning, felt an hysterical urge to burst out into wild laughter, but he restrained it. His small blue eyes glinted and sparkled under his auburn brows and Mr. Healey chuckled in appreciation. He said, "Well, so you're bankrupt. You ain't here to ask for a loan again, are you, Irish?" "No," said Joseph. He looked down at the roll again under his hand. "I don't think it's important, sir, but you don't know my full name." Mr. Healey shifted his fat bulk in his chair. "I always knew I didn't. Want to tell me what it is?" "Joseph Francis Xavier Armagh." This was the first dangerous step. Joseph waited for Mr. Healey to frown, to lean forward, to glower. But to his astonishment Mr. Healey merely leaned back in his creaking chair, blew out a cloud of smoke, and said, "Right sound name, I'm thinking." "It doesn't matter, sir?" "Now, boyo, why should it? Do you think for a minute Mr. Montrose is Mr. Montrose? You got better sense than that. You knew all the time the men who work for me don't use their real monikers. Why should I hold it against you that you didn't tell, either?" "You always seemed to want to know," said Joseph, baffled. The palms of his hands were wet. "Oh, just curiosity. But you don't go around satisfying curiosity, Joe, without getting yourself in a mighty peck of trouble. Don't tell anybody anything, unless it's necessary, and think on it first." "I thought this was necessary," said Joseph. "You see, I had to give my full name-on these-and I thought you ought to know." "Got something to show me?" Mr. Healey leaned forward again with an air of great interest. Now even Joseph's mouth was deathly pale. "Yes. But first let me explain, sir. I've been watching the wells and the drilling all these years, and the donkey engines, and the wood-burning. And it came to me that as kerosene burns why shouldn't it be burned for fuel, and not just for lamps. I'm not a mechanic, sir, nor an inventor. But I talked it over with Harry Zeff, and he was interested. We went out into the country once, with some kerosene in a pot and we set it afire and we put a pan over the pot and it became steam almost as soon as it boiled." "No great discovery, that," said Mr. Healey in a tone of indulgence. "The lads at the wells do that all the time." "But no one has thought of firing engines with it, sir. Any engines, not only donkey engines." He remembered what he had thought then. He had become dizzy with his thoughts. "Kerosene steam engines for industry. It could be used in place of coal and wood. Harry knows a great deal about machinery, now. He helped me draw some rudimentary sketches. I took them to Pittsburgh." He looked at Mr. Healey, but Mr. Healey waited in inscrutable patience, his hands folded across his belly. "Well," said Joseph, "I found someone there who could put my ideas and my sketches into patentable order. And I patented it, and it was accepted." His heart was pounding heavily and now there was a painful pulsing in his head. He could not read Mr. Healey's attentive face. "There were other patents, I discovered, along the same lines, but mine was the simplest and the cheapest." He was finding it hard to breathe. Damn him, he thought of Mr. Healey, why doesn't he say something? Mr. Healey waited, watching the young man's white and haggard face. "Well," he said at last, "go on." "Last autumn I met, out in the fields, Mr. Jason Handell, the rich oil man who is contending with Rockefeller for the control of the oil industry in Pennsylvania. He owns all the options, wells, and refineries next to the Parker farm, which was sold for only fifty thousand dollars to Jonathan Watson, William F. Hansell, Standish Hanell, Mr. Keen, and Mr. Gillett and Henry E. Rood, who organized their own oil company. Mr. Handell owns just about as much of the land and options and wells in lower Pennsylvania as does Mr. Rockefeller. Mr. Handell's first and only interest is oil, Mr. Healey. He has no other interests and he has a very large oil company-"
"So you showed him your patent?" Mr. Healey was most affable. Joseph's tight face trembled a little. "I did, sir. As I have said, his only interest is oil and the exploitation of oil, and he is a very rich man-" "Richer than I am," Mr. Healey agreed amiably, "I-I thought so, sir. And he has the facilities to put inventions into use, as you do not. In fact, inventions utilizing oil are of great interest to him. He-invited me to go to Pittsburgh to discuss-things-more fully with him. I did." Joseph bent his head. He continued. "He told me that it is not as yet feasible to use my patent, as there is a war and the patent must be tested in the field. But he wanted to buy my patent. I said no. If Mr. Handell was truly interested in it, and wanted to buy the patent, it was probably worth much more to me than fifteen thousand dollars for all the rights." "A right smart sum," said Mr. Healey. "Maybe you should have taken it." Joseph said, and he was a little less pale now, "No, sir. Mr. Handell wouldn't have given me his time and made me that offer if the patent was worth little or nothing, or was only conjectural. Incidentally, I learned that he did test it, though he never told me, and it was not only workable but heated steam far faster and more efficiently than either wood or coal." "Who told you that?" said Mr. Healey with bland interest. Joseph shook his head. "The man who drew up the blueprints for me. I gave him one hundred dollars for the information." "You should have given him more than that, Joe." "I intend to, sir. In the future." Joseph paused. He was amazed. Mr. Healey seemed quite at ease and only mildly interested and very calm, an attitude which could only have been termed paternal. "Mr. Handell," said Joseph, "was the one who suggested I invest in a pipeline for the transportation of oil, which will be built after the war. I did. I am," said Joseph with a wan smile, "pretty well up to my neck in investments, now." "Handell kind of favors you, eh, Joe?" Joseph, who was inwardly trembling, considered this. "No," he said at last, "I don't think Mr. Handell favors anybody, sir. They say he is as hard and ruthless, if not more so, as Mr. Rockefeller. Nothing except for a profit. At any rate, part of the digging for the pipeline is already under way, and the rights are really owned by Samuel Van Syckel of Titusville. But he didn't have all the money he needed. Mr. Handell is lending him the money. It will run to Pithole." Mr. Healey yawned. "Yes, Irish, I know. I'm invested in it, too. I'm going to build the pumping stations. Got the rights to those pieces of land. Handell's tough. Don't know how you handled him." I didn't," said Joseph. Mr. Healey sat up. "No?" he exclaimed. "He got the better of you, Joe?" "Not exactly, sir. We were at a stalemate. When he agreed to pay me royalties for my kerosene-driven engine-he says it couldn't be put to practical use at once-I told him when he issued shares he must give you the option of buying at least one-third at the private price. Of the subsidiary which will manufacture and sell the engine." Mr. Healey's little dark eyes became protuberant. "Irish! What the hell- Did he throw you out and the blueprints with you?" "No," said Joseph. "I believe you know Mr. Handell, sir. He isn't an impetuous man. He just laughed at me, and asked me why." "Well, well. Why, Joe? Why consider me at all?" Joseph looked aside at the gleaming paneled walls. He took a long time to answer and during that pause Mr. Healey began to pass his hand over and over his mouth.
"I-I tried, sir, to forget. What you did for me and for Harry. You took us in when we had nowhere to go. You-you've treated me honestly and decently, sir." Joseph stared at Mr. Healey with a kind of hopeless despair. "I don't know! I just had to do it! Perhaps I'm a fool, but I couldn't go on with it, unless-" A silence fell in the study and Joseph sat on the edge of his chair, trembling. Mr. Healey took out his handkerchief. He blew his nose. "Damn this smoke," he said. He put away the handkerchief, and resumed smoking. He studied Joseph. "Know something, Irish," he said at last, "you sure are a fool. You worked for me honest and square and so don't owe me anything. You repaid me hundreds of times, with your loyalty. I could trust you. So why this, Irish, why this?" Joseph clasped his hands together on the desk so tightly that the knuckles whitened. He stared down at them. "I haven't an explanation, sir, except that I had to do it." He was freshly amazed. "And I don't know why, either, Mr. Healey, no more than you do!" "Thought you'd be cheating me, or something, if you didn't?" Joseph reflected on this. "Yes. I believe that is it. Though it wouldn't be cheating, truly. Say, perhaps, it might have been gratitude-" "Nothing wrong with gratitude, Irish." Joseph looked up quickly. "You don't mind, sir, that I didn't tell you at once?"