Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
"Well," I said, looking at my passbook, "I see I have L2,335 to my
credit. I will leave the odd L35 with you." He instantly acquiesced. Had
he said: "No, you must leave at least L300, as our rules require," I
should have said "All right," and made it five hundred. I drew out the
L2,300 at once, intending to deposit L300 before leaving London, but in
the haste of our preparations I neglected it, and my balance at the bank
stood L35 for all the weeks I was on our piratical cruise to the Spanish
Main.
Storing most of our baggage in London, we took the train to Liverpool,
and, purchasing tickets for Rio, we went on board the good ship
Lusitania, but not the "good" ship, for her first trip, this being her
second, had won for her the name of being unlucky, and Liverpool
insurance men, no less than Liverpool sailors, do not bank on an unlucky
ship--their faith of ill luck following an unlucky ship has been
justified in thousands of instances, as it was in the case of the
Lusitania. But I am not going to relate the after history of the ship.
From the hour of our arrival in Liverpool we were outwardly strangers,
and during the voyage no one ever suspected that we were anything else.
We soon discovered we had a pleasant company of fellow voyagers, and as
we steamed out of the Mersey and headed southward we settled down to
have a good time. Boreas was friendly, and away we sped across the Bay
of Biscay, rapidly neared the mouth of the Garonne, on an estuary of
which is situated the old city of Bordeaux. Arriving there, the ship lay
at anchor for some hours, taking in and discharging freight, and
receiving emigrants for various parts of South America. When the steamer
was about to leave, it was a strange and rather comical sight to witness
the farewells and leave-takings from the crowds of friends who had come
to see them off. The customary performance appeared to me so peculiar
that I will describe it as well as I can after so many years: Two men
standing face to face, one clasps the other round the body, the other
passive, then leaning back lifts the party clear off the ground once,
twice or thrice, probably according to the degree of relationship or
amount of affection; then the operation is reversed, the embraced
becoming the embracer. In some cases the ceremonial is repeated the
second or third time, neither kissing nor crying being the fashion
there.
The next morning we were off the coast of Spain, watching the silvery
gleam from the ice-clad peaks of the Pyrenees--at least those of us who
were not engaged in the more disagreeable employment of discharging
their debt to Father Neptune. However, by the time the ship arrived at
the small port of Santander the passengers were mostly recovering from
the mal de mer occasioned by the rough water in the Bay of Biscay. While
leaving this tiny landlocked harbor, one of the propeller blades touched
the rocky bottom, and broke short off, but our ship continued her voyage
with undiminished speed, and within three days was steaming up the Tagus
to Lisbon. Here the passengers who wished to avail themselves of the
opportunity had a few hours on shore; then we were off for the long
diagonal run across the Atlantic.
"The Lady of the Lusitania," as she was called, because there was no
other lady among the saloon passengers, was the wife of a captain in the
British army, who was going out for a few months' hunting on the pampas
of Buenos Ayres, and, of course, accompanied by many dogs, with an
assortment of guns. There was also a chaplain in the British navy who
was going out to join his ship at Valparaiso. A strange character was
he; a big, burly man, about 28 years of age, the most inveterate
champagne drinker on board, and that is saying a good deal. Whenever he
met any of the "jolly" ones of the saloon passengers it was "Come, old
fellow, will you toss me for a bottle of fizz?" as he called his
favorite wine, and he had no lack of accepters. The majority in the
saloon consisted of a party of fifteen young Englishmen, civil
engineers, who were going under the leadership of a Swedish colonel to
survey, for the Brazilian Government, a railway line across the southern
part of Brazil, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In all there were
twenty-five young men, full of frolic and fun, who made things rather
lively about the ship. They went in for everything from which any fun
could be extracted. At the equinoctial line they roped in the
"greenhorns" to look through the field glasses at the line, and having
fastened a hair across the field of view, of course, we could all see it
plainly. Father Neptune came on board and those of the crew who had
never crossed the Equator were hunted out of their hiding places,
dragged on deck, lathered with a whitewash brush dipped in old grease,
shaved with a lath-razor, and then tumbled unceremoniously backward into
a cask of water.
After a prosperous voyage of three weeks we arrived within sight of the
famous "Sugar Loaf," and were duly disembarked at the Custom House, our
baggage passed, and were off to our hotels, each going to a different
one, and each registering the name our letters of credit and
introduction bore. While in Rio we went by day in the parks or cafes,
and spent our evenings together, having a most enjoyable time.
This was our first experience of the tropics, and life under the Equator
proved as novel and as fascinating as it ever does to the inhabitant of
a cold climate. The show of tropical fruits in the markets was
magnificent, and, although strangers are warned not to partake of it,
yet our health was so good and our digestion so perfect that we
disregarded all warnings and gratified our palates without stint, with
no bad results following.
However, we felt after all that we were there on business; we wanted
plunder, in fact, and not pleasure, in Rio. Our pleasure lay in Europe
or America, there in the good time just ahead, when, as moneyed men, we
returned, and, surrounded by those nearest and dearest, we would enjoy
life to the full.
Mac was the grand swell of our party, and, wanting to excel us all in
his financial successes, was eager to go to the front. Accordingly, we
fixed everything so that he could everywhere strike the first and the
heaviest blow.
Of course, on our twenty-two days' voyage we had ample time for
discussion, and before we passed the Equator had settled on our plan.
First of all, it was agreed that one of the party should keep his neck
out of the noose, to stand by if either of the others came to grief.
Very much to my satisfaction, it was again decided that I was the man to
stand from under.
The firm of Maua in Rio was the most considerable in all South America,
and Mac's introductions were to this firm. The plan was for Mac to
present himself to Maua & Co., and to draw within twenty-four hours, at
least L10,000, so as to make sure of our expenses, and a day or two
before steamer day to arrange for a very large sum, twenty or thirty
thousand pounds. As soon as that was obtained, George was to go to the
Bank of London and Rio de Janeiro, and secure as much as he thought it
safe to ask for, five or ten thousand pounds. This would be paid in
Brazilian paper money, which I was to exchange for sovereigns. Then I
was to buy a ticket for myself on the steamer going south, take the gold
off and stow it away in my stateroom. At the last moment, in the bustle
and confusion of sailing, Mac and George were to slip into my stateroom,
conceal themselves and sail with the steamer, and when once out of the
harbor, to see the purser, explain that they had arranged with a friend
to purchase tickets; but, as he had not put in an appearance, they would
be obliged to pay a second time. We purposed to go down the east coast
and up the west to Lima. Visiting the cities as we went from Lima, we
would go to Panama, there catch the steamer to San Francisco, and after
a pleasant sojourn in California go overland to New York with a million.
This was our plan, but, as all the world knows, there is a vast
difference between making plans and carrying them into successful
execution.
CHAPTER XVI.
"SHOW ME YOUR LETTERS OF CREDIT."
Fate, Providence, call it what you will, seldom fails to upset
wrongdoing, making it rocky for the wrongdoer.
By an irony of fortune we carried with us that which was going to balk
all, or nearly all, our fine scheme.
In our letters of credit in some mysterious way the name of the
sub-manager of the London and Westminster Bank had been omitted,
although this was absolutely essential to the validity of the letters.
There was also another error, an error of such an extraordinary
nature--that of spelling "endorse" with a "c"--that it is enough to make
any man contemplating an unlawful act despair of success, since we could
be defeated by such mysterious and unforeseen accidents.
A few hours after our arrival Mac called at the bankers' and was well
received by the manager.
He told the manager his letters of credit ran from L5,000 to L20,000
each, and that he should want L10,000 the next day. Would they have it
ready?
The next day he went to the bank, George and myself being posted
outside. In ten minutes he reappeared with a square bundle under his
arm. He smiled as he passed us, and, turning a corner, entered a cafe,
where he joined us. His bundle contained L10,000 in Brazilian bank
notes. He assured us that everything was serene at the bank, that he
could have L100,000 if he wanted to ask for it.
I had already been to the three largest money brokers and arranged to
buy gold. So, leaving Mac and George, I got a sole leather bag we had
for the purpose, and, hiring a stalwart black porter, went to the
brokers. I bought sovereigns for the whole L10,000. It was ten bags with
one thousand pounds in each. The weight was 168 pounds. The black fellow
put it on his head, and followed me to my hotel, and found it a pretty
good load, too. So here we had one big fish landed, and confidently
counted on several more.
I related above how we had in some incomprehensible way omitted putting
on the letter of credit the sub-manager's name. How could we have
committed such a blunder? My answer is that this is only another example
of the unforeseen "something" ever happening to defeat any anticipated
benefit from ill-gotten gains.
The next day Mac went to the bankers again, and was requested by the
manager to show the letter of credit on which was indorsed the ten
thousand pounds he had drawn against it. Looking at the letter, the
manager said: "This is singular; there is only the name of Mr. Bradshaw,
the manager, on this letter; J. P. Shipp, the sub-manager's name, should
be on the credit as well." And then he went on to say that some time
since they had been notified by the London Bank that all letters issued
by them would bear two signatures.
Mac was a man of nerve, but it required all he had not to betray his
uneasiness. He said he really could not say how the omission had
occurred; he supposed it must have been accidental, but he would examine
his other letters as soon as he went back to the hotel.
The look of chagrin and vexation on Mac's face when he came out was a
sight to see, and one that is as vivid in my memory now as in that far
off day in 1872.
He went direct to the hotel, and there George and I soon joined him. We
sat down and looked at each other. The game apparently was up, and we
were a sorely disgusted party. We did not fall out with or reproach
each other, but felt we deserved a kicking. We did not ask each other
any questions, but I know our faces all wore a sadly puzzled look as we
repeated mentally, "How could we have made such an oversight?" But soon