The Lord of the Sea | Page 2

man in this crisis--I only want 80,000
on all Westring--"
"No good to me, my lord," answered Frankl, who, though a man of
only forty--short, with broad shoulders,--already had his skin divided
up like a dry leaf; in spite of which, he was handsome, with a nose
ruled straight and long, a black beard on his breast.
But the telephone rattled and Frankl heard these words at the receiver:
"Wire to hand from Wertheimer: Austrian Abgeordneten-haus passed a
Resolution at noon virtually expelling Jewish Race...."
When Frankl turned again he had already resolved to possess Westring
Vale, and was saying to himself: "Within six months the value of
English land should be--doubled".
The bargain was soon made now: and within one week the foresight of
Frankl began to be justified.

Austria, during those days, was a nation of vengeful hearts: for the
Jews had acquired half its land, and had mortgages on the other half:
peasant, therefore, and nobleman flamed alike. And this fury was
contagious: now Germany--now France had it--Anti-Semite laws-- like
the old May-Laws--but harsher still; and streaming they came, from the
Leopoldstadt, from Bukowina, from the Sixteen Provinces, from all
Galicia, from the Nicolas Colonies, from Lisbon, with wandering foot
and weary breast--the Heines, Cohens, Oppenheimers-- Sephardim,
Aschkenasim. And Dover was the new Elim.
With alarm Britain saw them come! but before she could do anything,
the wave had overflowed it; and by the time it was finished there was
no desire to do anything: for within eight months such a tide of
prosperity was floating England as has hardly been known in a country.
The reason of this was the increased number of hands--each making
more things than its owner could consume himself, and so making
every other richer.
There came, however, a change--almost suddenly--due to the new
demand for land, the "owners" determining to await still further rises,
before letting. This checked industry: for now people, debarred from
the land, had only air.
In Westring Vale, as everywhere, times were hard. It was now the
property of Baruch Frankl: for at the first failure of Lord Westring to
meet terms, Frankl had struck.
Now, one of the yeomen of Westring was a certain Richard Hogarth.
II
THE FEZ
Frankl took up residence at Westring in September, and by November
every ale-house, market, and hiring in Westring had become a scene of
discussion.

The cause was this: Frankl had sent out to his tenants a Circular
containing the words:
"...tenants to use for wear in the Vale a fez with tassel as the Livery of
the Manor...the will of the Lord of the Manor...no exception..."
But though intense, the excitement was not loud: for want was in many
a home; though after three weeks there were still six farmers who
resisted.
And it happened one day that five of these at the Martinmas "Mop," or
hiring, were discussing the matter, when they spied the sixth boring his
way, and one exclaimed: "Yonder goes Hogarth! Let's hear what he's
got to say!" and set to calling.
Hogarth twisted, and came winning his way, taller than the crowd, with
"What's up? Hullo, Clinton--not a moment to spare to-day--"
"We were a-talking about that Circular--!" cried one.
At that moment two other men joined the group: one a dark-skinned
Jew of the Moghrabîm; the other a young man--an English author--on
tour. And these two heard what passed.
Hogarth stood suspended, finding no words, till one cried: "Do you
mean to put the cap on?"
He laughed a little now. "I! The whip! The whip!"--he showed his
hunting-crop, and was gone.
His manner of speech was rapid, and he had a hoarse sort of voice,
almost as of sore-throat.
Of the two not farmers, one--the author--enquired as to his name, and
farm; the other man--the Moghrabîm Jew-that evening recounted to
Frankl the words which he had heard.

One afternoon, two weeks later, Loveday, the author, was leaning upon
a stile, talking to Margaret Hogarth; and he said: "I love you! If you
could deign--"
"Truth is," she said, "you are in love with my brother, Dick, and you
think it is me!"
She was a woman of twenty-five, large and buxom, though neatwaisted,
her face beautifully fresh and wholesome, and he of middlesize, with a
lazy ease of carriage, small eyes set far apart, a
blue-velvet jacket,
duck trousers very dirty, held up by a belt, a red shirt, an old cloth hat,
a careless carle, greatly famed.
"But it isn't of your brother, but of you, that I am wanting to speak! Tell
me--"
"No--I can't. I am a frivolous old woman to be talking to you about
such things at all! But, since it is as you say, wait, perhaps I may be
able--But I must be going now--"
There was embarrassment