Bruce Alexander - An Experiment in Treason

“Well then, what’s the report?”

“I fear there was neither rise nor fall in the level of the surf,” said Mr. Donnelly.

“You’re sure?” Did I detect a note of suspicious doubt in that?

“Of course I’m sure,” replied Mr. Donnelly, not in the least intimidated.

“Yes, well, Dr. Franklin kept his spyglass on the beach there at the point, and he saw no change either. I was … just hoping …”

“I fear not.”

“There was a good piece of water between the barge and the longboat that smoothed out proper,” Dr. Lee volunteered.

“Well … good — but there was no change on the beach where we were,” Mr. Donnelly said.

“Yes, but I’m staying on here. I’ll be returning with Dr. Franklin. He is weighing the possibility of attempting the experiment a second time.”

“And what about us?”

“You can take the hire coach back. Just explain to them that I’m remaining. It’s all taken care of.”

(Frankly, I was pleased, reader, for I had no wish to return with Lee, having earlier been so sharply corrected by him.)

“Well, all right,” said Mr. Donnelly to Lee. I could tell he was not pleased. “Stay if you must. We’ll be leaving shortly, I suppose. It was an honor to participate in the experiment, even in a minor role. We thank you for that.”

“What? Oh yes, certainly.” He returned to his seat in the bum-boat and signaled to the boatman that he might proceed. “Good-bye to you then, Mr. Donnelly. I daresay I shall be seeing you soon in London.” He waved as the boat pulled away,

“Well, Jeremy,” said Mr. Donnelly with a sigh, “it seems that we are on our own.”

“It does indeed. Shall we then hasten to claim our coach lest it be taken by some of those who watched with us on the beach?”

“That seems to me an excellent suggestion.”

And so, up the hill we went to the George, and there we separated. I went to collect our bags from the room and Mr. Donnelly lo settle up at the desk for our stay. I returned to find him, red-faced, in loud conversation with the driver of the coach. I perceived at once that this was no ordinary disagreement but a proper battle, involving the driver, Donnelly, and a third party, Arthur Lee, not physically present yet perhaps the cause of it all.

“Jeremy, do you know what this fellow tells me?”

“Let me guess. That all has not been taken care of as regards the return fare to be paid for this coach-for-hire.”

“Exactly. And the worst of it is, I’m inclined to believe the coachman rather than Lee.”

“Well, thank God for that, sir,” said the driver to Mr. Donnelly, “for I ain’t the sort to go chargin’ a man for what’s already been paid. But I tell you fair, the way back just ain’t been paid — not by him, not by anybody. What I was told by Mr. — what’s his name? ‘

“Lee, Arthur Lee.”

“That’s right. That’s him. What Mr. Lee said was, ‘Here’s for the trip down to Portsmouth. I ain’t sure I’ll be making it back with you, but the gent who’ll be traveling down with me certain’y will. You can get the fare to London from him.”

“There was never any hint given to me of such an arrangement.”

“Oh, I believe you, sir, and if I understand your remark to the lad here a-right, you believe me, as well. That’s a good start for workin’ out some sort of a deal, wouldn’t you say so?”

“Well yes, I suppose I would,” said Mr. Donnelly after a moment’s careful consideration. “What sort of a deal did you have in mind?”

And with that began a session of hard bargaining there in the lobby of the George, which must have lasted near ten minutes. Gabriel Donnelly was, as Sir John had often said, one Irishman who was as tight with a shilling as any Scotsman. He demonstrated it then and there as he haggled histrionically, at one point offering to walk to London rather than pay such an exorbitant fare. (I hoped sincerely that it would not come to that.) For his part, the coachman was equally dramatic. He alternated demanding with pleading in a manner quite outrageous. He shouted dramatically that he had a wife and children and would not see them starve with such an offer as Mr. Donnelly had put forth. “Have you no conscience, sir?” (This, I’m sure, was said for the benefit of the crowd that had gathered round them in the lobby.)

It came as a surprise, at least to me, that they did at last settle upon a price. Could it be said that the agreed-upon amount was thought by both to be fair? No, say rather that each for his own reasons seemed to think it unfair. Nevertheless, their onlookers were so relieved that the matter had been settled without resort to violence, that quite spontaneously they burst into applause. Caught by surprise, the two negotiators turned to the crowed and acknowledged the response with waves of the hand and nods of the head. Then, obeying the custom, they did solemnly clasp hands on the matter, thus sealing their hard-won agreement before witnesses.

In no time at all we were in the coach and well-begun upon our journey. I know not the cause — perhaps that the load was lightened so by the absence of Dr. Lee (though he was in no wise an extraordinarily large man) — but the journey seemed to go much faster on the return trip to London.

At first, Mr. Donnelly would do not more than grumble that he had been bested in the haggle with the driver, yet it was not long until he put blame where it belonged and began to assess the extent of Dr. Lee’s guilt in the matter.

“Why would he do such a thing?” said he to me, honestly seeking some explanation for the fellow’s behavior.

“Well,” said I, “perhaps he was financially embarrassed and wished to keep it a secret.”

“Yes, but to tell the coachman that he would have to seek payment for the return trip from me without ever broaching the matter to me — that does exceed the limit, don’t you think? And as for the possibility that he might be, as you suggest, financially embarrassed — well, all of us are from time to time, but, damn his eyes, he should have told me. He should have asked. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. But then again, I do not think these colonial fellows are much concerned with proper behavior — no, not even their champion, Dr. Franklin. He, so they say, is no more a gentleman than this man Lee.”

That interested me. I wished to hear more. Nevertheless, it was evident that he intended to add nothing. Something in his eyes, as he glanced in my direction, seemed to say that he regretted saying all that he had, and that he would tell no more. Under the circumstances, it would have been rude to pursue the matter. And so, did we lapse into silence. He, for his part, sat staring out the window. I, for mine, looked at the colors of autumn reel by and wondered, as I did so, in what way Benjamin Franklin failed to meet a gentleman’s high standard. Could it have something to do with his attractiveness to women? I pondered that for a while, yet could do little with it, for, in all truth, I could not suppose for a moment that a man of such an appearance could be attractive to women. But then, having thought long enough upon it, I put it out of my mind and succumbed to sleep.

When I woke, it was dark enough so that I had a bit of difficulty in discovering just where we were. Staring out the window, I saw lights aplenty in the near-distance and realized, after a bit of staring, that the surrounding darkness was naught but that which encircles on all sides as one crosses the Thames by way of London Bridge. We were, to my astonishment, quite near home. Depending upon the number of coaches and hackneys on the streets at whatever hour this might happen to be, we were no more than minutes away from Number 4 Bow Street.

“Ah, awake, are you?” It was Gabriel Donnelly, leaning for-ward to catch the light in my eye.