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Updated: June 19, 2025
Now we may see the man Lockwin as commandant. He has the police and the touching committees. He is voting his own "passengers" by the thousands. The sailors arrive in wagons. "You can't unload here!" says Lockwin. The sailors unload. Eight men seize a sailor and land him back in the wagon. Corkey sits on the wagon in front. He draws his revolver. "Put up that gun!" cries Lockwin.
Will you be a mother to my little boy? He is lonesome while I am gone!" The matter is settled. It has come by surprise. If David Lockwin had foreseen it, he would have left the field open to Harpwood. If Esther Wandrell had foreseen it, she would have shunned David Lockwin. It is her dearest hope, and yet
"Davy's tonsils swelled, and Tarpion was to cut them off. I wonder if it is my tonsils. I wonder if my nose could be straightened. I have no doubt my skin could be cleared." Once more the supporting forces of nature have come to the rescue of David Lockwin. It is clear that he must be rejuvenated. He must exercise and regain an appetite.
Ouf! that brutal sneeze, that jargon, that tobacco, that quaking of head and hesitancy of expression! It distracts one's thoughts from an insoluble problem; How to shuffle off this coil not of life, but of respectability, conspicuity, environment! But what is this? This is not a wave. If David Lockwin hold longer to this stanchion, he will go to the bottom of the sea.
"Oh, I know you're all no-gooders," he says. "I know that as well as any of ye." There is a hurricane of cat-calls from the galleries. There are cries of "Come down!" "Pull down his vest!" "See the sawed-off!" "Yes, 'come down'!" yells the speaker in a white heat. "That's what you bloodsuckers make Lockwin do. He come down! I should say he did! But I'm no soft mark you hear me?
Money will now keep Davy from a relapse. Money will carry the primaries. Money will win the election. After all, Lockwin is inclined to smile at the terrors of the evening before. "I was in need of sleep," he says. He has not slept since. Why is he so brave now? But brave he is. He carries an air of happiness all about him.
"Davy is very sick," she says, with a white face. "What! My boy!! When was he taken? Is it diphtheria? What has the doctor said? Why wasn't I called? Where is he? Here, Davy, here's papa. Here's papa! Old boy! Old fel'! Oh, God, I'm so scared!" All this as Lockwin goes up the stairs. It is a wheezing little voice that replies; "S-u-h-p-e-s-o-J! What's that, papa?" "Does that hurt, Davy?
"I'm dying, Corkey. God bless you. I wanted to thank you." "God bless you, Lockwin. We're all in the same boat. I'm glad we caught you!" The mascot moves toward the sinking man. The head falls again on the stern seat. The body is in ten inches of water. The boat is moving rapidly. "Want to send any word home, Lockwin?" There is a pause. There is an effort to speak of money.
Love has whispered in David Lockwin's ear that while it might be brave to knock at the door of one's own home, it would be rash to present one's self to Esther Lockwin, on Prairie avenue Esther Lockwin, worth five millions! Yet this lover, in order to bear, to believe, to hope and to endure, must enter the charmed circle of her daily life. He haunts the vicinity, he grows fertile in his plans.
To find Lockwin's body would be a clever feat of journalism, inasmuch as the search has been abandoned by the other papers. A delegation of dock-frequenters waits on Corkey to demand that he shall stand for Congress in the second special election, made necessary by the death of Lockwin. "Gentlemen, I'm off on business. I beg to de de re re drop out! Please excuse me, and take something."
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