The Firm of Girdlestone Chapter 11 - Senior and Junior

Ashton Hoffman (0:00)

Chapter 11 of The Firm of Girdlestone by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Ashton Hoffman. Senior and Junior.

Although not a whisper had been heard of it in ordinary commercial circles, there was some foundation for the forecast which Ron Bumser had made as to the fate of the great house of Girdlestone. For some time back, matters had been going badly with the African traders. If the shrewd eyes of Major Toby's Colourback were unable to detect any indications of the state of affairs in the manner of conversation of the junior partner, the reason simply was that the gentleman was entirely ignorant of the imminent danger of John Hartson. A momentous secret was locked in the breast of his grim old father, who bore it about with him as the spurtin lad did the fox.

Without a quiver or ground to indicate the care which was gnawing at his heart, placed face to face with the room in Girdlestone, exerted himself and exerted himself successfully to prevent any rumour of the critical position of the firm from leaking out in the city. He knew well that should that once occur, nothing could save him. As the wounded buffalo is gored to death by the herd, so the crippled man of business may give up all hope when once his position is known by his fellows. At present, although Von Bormser and a few other such Ishmaelites might have an inkling from sources of their own, as to how matters stood, the name of Girdlestone was still regarded by businessmen as a very synonym for commercial integrity and stability. If anything, there seemed to be more business in Fenchurch Street and more luxury in the residence at Ecclestone Square, than the former days, only the stern-faced and silent senior putner knew how thin the veneer was, which shone so deceptively upon the surface. Many things had contributed towards the state of affairs. The firm had been involved in secession of misfortunes, some known to the world and others known to no one save the Elder Girdlestone. The former had been accepted with such perfection, stoicism, and cheerfulness, that they rather increased than diminished the reputation of the concern. The latter were the more crushing and also the more difficult to bear. Lines of fine vessels from Liverpool, from Hamburg, were running to the west coast of Africa. Competition had cut down freightage to the lowest possible point, where the Girdlestones had once held almost a monopoly. There were now many in the field again. The Negro of the coast were becoming educated and had a keen eye to business, so that the old profits were no longer obtained. The days had gone by when Frintlock guns and Manchester prints could be weighed in the balance against ivory and gold dust. While these general causes were at work, a special misfortune had befallen the House of Girdlestone. Finding that the fleet of old sailing vessels was too slow and clumsy to compete with more modern ships, they had bought two first-rate steamers. One was the Providence, a fine screw vessel of 1200 tons, and the other was the Evening Sturr, somewhat smaller in size, but both classed A1 at Lloyds. The former cost 22,000 pounds and the latter 17,000. Now, Mr. Girdlestone had always had a weakness for petty savings, and in this instance, he determined not to insure his new vessels. It's the crazy old tubs from which he had paid fancy premiums for so many years. It was an eye to an ultimate profit, met with no disaster, surely those new powerful clippers were safe. With a tonnage in horse power, they appeared to him to be superior to all the dangers of the deep.

It chanced, however, by that strange luck which would almost make one believe that matters nautical were at the mercy of some particularly malignant demon, that as the evening storm was steaming up the channel in a dense fog on her return from her sankent voyage, she ran right into the Providence, which had started that very morning, from Liverpool upon their third outward trip. The Providence was almost cut in two and sank in within five minutes, taking down the captain's six of her crew. While the evening storm was so much damage about the bow that she put into fall mouth in a sinking condition, that day's work cost the African firm more than five and thirty thousand pounds.

Other mishaps had occurred to weaken the firm, apart from the trade with the Coast, the senior partner had engaged in speculation without the knowledge of his son, and the result had been disastrous. One of the Cornish tin mines, in which he had sunk a large amount of money, in which had hitherto yielded him a handsome return, became suddenly exhausted and the shares went down to zero. No firm could stand against such a ruin of bad luck, and the African trading company, real before it, John Girdlestone, had not said a word yet of all this to his son. His claims arose, he settled them in the best manner he could, and postponed an ineventable day when he should have to give a true account of their financial position. He hoped against hope that the chapter of accidents or the arrival of some brilliant cargos from the coast might set the concern on its legs again. From day to day, he had opened expecting news of one of his vessels. At last, one morning he found a telegram awaiting him at the office. He tore it eagerly open for it bore the Madeira mark. It was from his agent, Joe's Aldevic curse, and announced that the voyage from which he had hoped so much had been a total failure. The cargo was wholly sufficient to defray the working expense. As the merchant read it, his head dropped over the table and groaned aloud. Another of the props which upheld him from ruin had snapped beneath him. There were three letters lying beside the telegram. He glanced through them, but there was no consolation in any of them.