_Chapter XIV_
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WHIRLPOOL
On the rear deck of a ferry-boat bound for Hoboken on the morning of May12th stood Randolph Taney, with his hands in his pockets, gazingintently at the foaming waters of the Hudson plowed up by the screw. Itwas all over: he had speculated in Wall Street, putting his money onHarriman, and had lost every cent he had. What Harriman could safely dowith a million, Randolph Taney could not do with a quarter of a million.That's why he had lost. Fortunately only his own money. The whole bundleof papers wasn't worth any more than the copy of the _Times_ tossedabout in the swirling water in the wake of the boat.
Randolph Taney kept on thinking. Just why he was going to Hoboken hereally didn't know, but it made little difference what he did.
"Halloo, Taney," called out an acquaintance, "where are you going?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? How's that?"
"I'm done for."
"You're not the only one; Wall Street is a dangerous vortex."
"But I'm absolutely cleaned out."
"How so?"
"Do you know what I'm going to do, James Harrison?" asked Taney, withbitter irony in his voice. "I'll apprentice myself to a paperhanger,and learn to paper my rooms with my worthless railway shares. I imagineI can still learn that much."
"Ah, that's the way the wind blows!" cried the other, whistling softly.
"What did you think?"
"It was pretty bad, I suppose?"
"Bad? It was hell----"
"Were you in Wall Street on Monday?"
"Yes, and on Tuesday, too."
"And now you want to learn paperhanging?"
"Yes."
"Does it have to be that?"
"Can you suggest anything else?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
Hubert pointed to the button-hole in the lapel of his coat and said: "Doyou see this?"
"What is it?"
"A volunteer button."
Taney looked with interest at the little white button with the Americanflag, and then said: "Have I got to that point? The last chance, Isuppose?" he added after a pause.
"Not the last, but the first!"
"How so?"
"At any rate it's better than paperhanging. Look here, Taney, you'llonly worry yourself to death. It would be far more sensible of you totake the bull by the horns and join our ranks. You can at least try toretrieve your fortunes by that means."
The ferry-boat entered the slip at Hoboken and both men left the boat.
"Now, Taney, which is it to be, paperhanging or--," and James Harrisonpointed to the button.
"I'll come with you," said Taney indifferently. They went further alongthe docks towards the Governor's Island ferry-boat.
"I have a friend over there," said Harrison, "a major in the 8thRegulars; he'll be sure to find room for us, and we may be at the frontin a month's time."
Taney stuffed his pipe and answered: "In a month? That suits me; I haveno affairs to arrange."
The two men looked across in silence at Manhattan Island, where thebuildings were piled up in huge terraces. All the color-tones wereaccentuated in the bright clear morning air. The sky-scrapers of theEmpire City, mighty turreted palaces almost reaching into the clouds,stood out like gigantic silhouettes. The dome of the Singer Buildingglistened and glittered in the sun, crowning a region in which strenuouswork was the order of the day, while directly before them stretched thebroad waters of the Hudson with its swarm of hurrying ferry-boats.Further on, between the piers and the low warehouses, could be seen along row of serious-looking ocean-steamers, whose iron lungs emittedlittle clouds of steam as the cranes fed their huge bodies with nicelittle morsels.
The two men had seen this picture hundreds of times, but were impressedonce again by its grandeur.
"Taney," said Harrison, "isn't that the most beautiful city in theworld? I've been around the world twice, but I've never seen anything toequal it. That's our home, and we are going to protect it by shoulderingour guns. Come on, old chap, leave everything else behind and come withme!"
"Yes, I'll come, I certainly shall!" came the quick response. Then theytook the boat to Governor's Island and Taney enlisted. They promised tomake him a lieutenant when the troops took the field.
When they returned two hours later Randolph Taney also wore the buttonwith the flag in the center: he was a full-fledged volunteer in theUnited States Army.
On the return trip Taney became communicative, and told the story of theeighth of May, that terrible day in Wall Street when billions meltedaway like butter, when thousands of persons were tossed about in thewhirlpool of the Stock Exchange, when the very foundations of economiclife seemed to be slipping away. He described the wild scenes whendesperate financiers rushed about like madmen, and told how some of themactually lost their reason during the bitter struggle for existence,when not an inch of ground was vacated without resistance. Men foughtfor every projecting rock, every piece of wreckage, every straw, as theymust have fought in the waves of the Flood, and yet one victim afteranother was swallowed by the vortex. In the midst of the mad scrimmageon the floor of the Exchange one excited individual, the general managerof a large railroad--with his hair disheveled and the perspirationstreaming down his face, one of his sleeves ripped out and his collartorn off--suddenly climbed on a platform and began to preach a confusedsermon accompanied by wild gestures; others, whose nerves were utterlyunstrung by the terrible strain, joined in vulgar street-songs.
Harrison had read about these things in the papers, but his friend'sgraphic description brought it all vividly to mind again and caused himto shudder. He seemed to see all the ruined existences, which themaelstrom in Wall Street had dragged down into the depths, staring athim with haggard faces. He thought of his own simple, plain life ascompared with the neurasthenic existence of the men on the StockExchange, who were now compelled to look on in complete apathy and letthings go as they were. The rich man, whom in the bottom of his hearthe had often envied, was now poorer than the Italian bootblack standingbeside him.
The ferry-boat now turned sharply aside to make room for the giant_Mauretania_, which was steaming out majestically from its pier into thebroad Hudson River.
The thrilling notes of the "Star Spangled Banner" had just died away,and a sea of handkerchiefs fluttered over the railings, which werecrowded with passengers waving their last farewells to those leftbehind. Then the ship's band struck up a new tune, and the enormoussteamer plowed through the waves towards the open sea.
"There go the rats who have deserted the sinking ship," said RandolphTaney bitterly, "our leading men of finance are said to have offeredfabulous prices for the plainest berths."
The flight of the homeless had begun.