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Updated: May 13, 2025
Harry Baggs was consumed by a desire to talk about the future the future of his voice; he wanted to hear of the triumphs of other voices, of the great stages that they finally dominated. He wanted to know the most direct path there; he was willing that it should not be easy. "I'm as strong as an ox," he thought.
Levi Baggs, the hackler, proceeded presently to weigh his material and was taking it over the bridge to the hackling shop when he met John Best, the foreman. They stopped to speak, and Levi set down the barrow that bore his load. "I see you with him, yesterday. Did you get any ideas out of the man?" Baggs referred to the new master and John Best understood.
"That's a great thought that nothing's impossible," declared Mr. Best. They argued, each according to his character and bent of mind, and, while the meliorists cheered each other, Mr. Baggs laughed at them and held their aspirations vain. Raymond Ironsyde came to Bridetown. He rode in from Bridport, and met John Best by appointment early on a March morning.
Harry Baggs imagined himself singing heroic measures; he finished, there was a tense pause, and then a thunderous acclamation. His spirit mounted up and up in a transport of emotional splendor; broken visions thronged his mind of sacrifice, renouncement, death. The fire expired and the night grew cold.
A nodding drowsiness overtook him, his head rolled forward, he sank slowly into a bowed amorphous heap. Harry Baggs roused him with difficulty. "You don't want to sit like this," he said; "come up by the field, where it's fresher." He lifted Janin to his feet, half carried him to the place under the fence.
Harry Baggs grasped his arm and led him down to their shanty. French Janin entered first, and immediately the other heard a thin complaint from within: "Somebody's got that nice bed you made me." Harry Baggs went into the hut and, stooping, shook a recumbent shape. "Get out of the old man's place!" he commanded. A string of muffled oaths responded. "There's no reserved rooms here." "Get out!"
In the dilapidated camp French Janin eagerly clutched the box. He almost filled his palm with the crystalline powder and gulped it hastily. Its effect was produced slowly.... Janin waited rigidly for the release of the drug. The evening following, under the fence on the hill, the blind man dozed while Harry Baggs exercised his voice. "Good!" the former pronounced unexpectedly.
Baggs banged the door and revealed himself. Thus discomfited, Abel grew pale and then flushed. Mr. Baggs was a very big and strong man and the culprit knew that he must now prepare for the pangs that attended failure. But he bore pain well. He had been operated upon for faulty tendons when he was five and proved a Spartan patient. He stood now waiting for Mr. Baggs.
"I have a lot to learn first," Baggs put in practically. The old man recovered his violin. "Ah!" He drew the note tenuous but correct from the uncertain strings. "Ah!" Harry Baggs vociferated to the inattentive frogs, busy with their own chorus. The practice proceeded with renewed vigor through the evenings that followed; then French Janin sank back into a torpor, varied by acute depression.
Young, from on board the Bonetta sloop under his command, "I lately met with two Smuglers, & landing my boats into a Rocky Bay where they were running of Goods, the Weather came on so Violent I had my pinnace Stove so much as to be rendered unservisable. They threw overboard all their Brandy, Tea and Tobacco, of which last wee recover'd about 14 Baggs and put it to the Custom house.
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