Our Casualty, and Other Stories Part 16

He stepped into the porch of a reeking public-house and found himself beside a grizzled man, who looked like a sailor. Lord Dunseverick turned to him.

"Can you tell me," he said, "where Mr. McMunn's office is?"

"Is it coal you're wanting?" asked the sailor.

It is thus that questions are often met in Belfast with counter-questions. Belfast is a city of business men, and it is not the habit of business men to give away anything, even information, without getting something in return. The counter-question may draw some valuable matter by way of answer from the original questioner. In this case the counter-question was a reasonable one. McMunn, of McMunn Brothers, Limited, was a coal merchant. Lord Dunseverick, though a peer, belonged to the north of Ireland. He understood Belfast.

"What I want," he said, "is to see Mr. Andrew McMunn."

"I've business with Andrew McMunn myself," said the sailor, "and I'm going that way."

"Good. Then we'll go together."

"My name," said the sailor, "is Ginty. If you're intimate with Andrew McMunn you'll likely have heard of me."

"I haven't But that's no reason why you shouldn't show me the way."

"It's no that far," said Ginty.

They walked together, sometimes side by side, sometimes driven apart by a string of carts.

"If it had been Jimmy McMunn you wanted to see," said Ginty, "you might have had further to go. Some says Jimmy's in the one place, and more is of opinion that he's in the other. But I've no doubt in my own mind about where Andrew will go when his time comes."

"You know him pretty well, then?"

"Ay, I do. It would be queer if I didn't, seeing that I've sailed his s.h.i.+ps this ten year. Andrew McMunn will go to heaven."

"Ah," said Lord Dunseverick, "he's a good man, then?"

"I'll no go so far as to say precisely that," said Ginty, "but he's a man who never touches a drop of whisky nor smokes a pipe of tobacco.

It'll be very hard on him if he doesna go to heaven after all he's missed in this world. But you'll find out what kind of man he is if you go in through the door forninst you. It's his office, thon's one with the bra.s.s plate on the door. My business will keep till you're done with him."

Lord Dunseverick pushed open one of a pair of swinging doors, and found himself in a narrow pa.s.sage. On his right was a ground gla.s.s window bearing the word "Inquiries." He tapped at it.

For a minute or two there was no response. Lord Dunseverick brushed some of the mud, now partially dry, off his trousers, and lit a fresh cigarette. The ground gla.s.s window was opened, and a redhaired clerk looked out.

"I want to see Mr. McMunn," said Lord Dunseverick, "Mr. Andrew McMunn."

The clerk put his head and shoulders out through the window, and surveyed Lord Dunseverick suspiciously. Very well dressed young men, with pale lavender ties and pearl tie-pins--Lord Dunseverick had both--are not often seen in Belfast quay-side offices.

"If you want to see Mr. McMunn," said the clerk, "--and I'm no saying you will, mind that--you'd better take yon cigarette out of your mouth.

There's no smoking allowed here."

Lord Dunseverick took his cigarette out of his mouth, but he did not throw it away. He held it between his fingers.

"Just tell Mr. McMunn," he said, "that Lord Dunseverick is here."

The clerk's manner altered suddenly. He drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and saluted.

The discovery that a stranger is a man of high rank often produces this kind of effect on men of strong democratic principles, principles of the kind held by clerks in all business communities, quite as firmly in Belfast as elsewhere. But it would have been a mistake to suppose that Mr. McMunn's junior clerk was a mere wors.h.i.+pper of t.i.tle. His salute was not the tribute of a sn.o.b to the representative of an aristocratic cla.s.s. It was the respect due by a soldier, drilled and disciplined, to his superior officer. It was also the expression of a young man's sincere hero-wors.h.i.+p. The redhaired clerk was a Volunteer, duly enrolled, one of the signatories of the famous Ulster Covenant Lord Dunseverick had made speeches which moved his soul to actual rapture.

"Come inside, my lord," he said. "I'll inform Mr. McMunn at once."

Lord Dunseverick pa.s.sed through a door which was held open for him. He entered a large office, very grimy, which is the proper condition of a place where doc.u.ments concerning coal are dealt with. Six other clerks were at work there. When Lord Dunseverick entered, all six of them stood up and saluted. They, too, so it appeared, were members of the Volunteer Force. The red-haired junior clerk crossed the room towards a door marked "Private." Then he paused, and turned to Lord Dunseverick.

"Might I be so bold as to ask a question?" he said.

"A dozen if you like," said Lord Dunseverick.

"What about the rifles? It's only them we're wanting now. We're drilled and we're ready, but where's the rifles?"

"You shall have them," said Lord Dunseverick.

The clerks in Mr. McMunn's office were accustomed to behave with decorum. No more than a low murmur of approval greeted Lord Dunseverick's words; but the men looked as if they wished to cheer vehemently. The red-haired boy tapped at the door which was marked "Private." A minute later he invited Lord Dunseverick to pa.s.s through it.

Andrew McMunn is a hard-faced, grizzled little man, with keen blue eyes. He can, when he chooses, talk excellent English. He prefers, when dealing with strangers, to speak with a strong Belfast accent, and to use, if possible, north of Ireland words and phrases. This is his way of a.s.serting independence of character. He admires independence.

His office is a singularly unattractive room. He writes at a large table, and has a fireproof safe at his elbow. There are three wooden chairs ranged against the wall opposite the writing-table. Four photographs of steamers, cheaply framed, hang above the chairs. They are _The Andrew McMunn, The Eliza McMunn_, and, a tribute to the deceased Jimmy, _The McMunn Brothers_. These form the fleet owned by the firm, and carry coal from one port to another, chiefly to Belfast. On the chimney-piece under a gla.s.s shade, is a model of _The McMunn Brothers_, the latest built and largest of the s.h.i.+ps.

"Good-morning to you, my lord!" said McMunn, without rising from his seat.

He nodded towards one of the chairs which stood against the wall. This was his way of inviting his visitor to sit down. His eyes were fixed, with strong disapproval, on the cigarette, which still smoked feebly in Lord Dunseverick's hand.

"Your clerk gave me a hint," said Dunseverick, "that you object to tobacco."

"It's my opinion," said McMunn, "that the man who pays taxes that he needn't pay--I'm alluding to the duty on tobacco, you'll understand--for the sake of poisoning himself with a nasty stink, is little better than a fool. That's my opinion, and I'm of the same way of thinking about alcoholic drink."

Lord Dunseverick deposited the offending cigarette on the hearth and crushed it with his foot.

"Teetotaller?" he said. "I dare say you're right, though I take a whisky-and-soda myself when I get the chance."

"You'll no get it here," said McMunn; "and what's more, you'll no' get it on any s.h.i.+p owned by me."

"Thank you. It's as well to understand before-hand."

"I'm a believer in speaking plain," said McMunn. "There's ay less chance of trouble afterwards if a man speaks plain at the start. But I'm thinking that it wasn't to hear my opinion on the Christian religion that your lords.h.i.+p came here the day."

McMunn, besides being a teetotaller, and opposed to the smoking of tobacco, was the president of a Young Men's Anti-Gambling League. He was, therefore, in a position to throw valuable light on the Christian religion.

"I came to settle the details about this expedition to Hamburg," said Lord Dunseverick.

"Well," said McMunn, "there's no that much left to settle. _The Brothers_ is ready."

"_The Brothers?_"

"_The McMunn Brothers_. Thon's the model of her on the chimneypiece."

Lord Dunseverick looked at the model attentively. It represented a very unattractive s.h.i.+p. Her bow was absurdly high, c.o.c.ked up like the snout of a Yorks.h.i.+re pig. Her long waist lay low, promising little freeboard in a sea. Her engines and single funnel were aft. On a short, high quarterdeck was her bridge and a squat deck-house. She was designed, like her owner, for purely business purposes.