Gates of Horn and Ivory

By Joseph J. Sollish

In 1893 Baltimore, Cornelius Maximilian, a rugged ships master who has been summarily dismissed from the merchant navy as a result of the conniving of an avaricious trader, meets strong-willed, independent Vanessa Tompkins. Over everyones objections, Vanessa accompanies him to the Shelbourne coal mine in Pennsylvania, where Captain Max uncovers embezzlement, wretched exploitation, and a murder. When the mine is flooded by an underground river, and is abandoned by its absentee English owners, Vanessa, Captain Max, and mining engineer Andrew Campbell secretly reclaim it and restore it to operation.

Overcoming tremendous odds, the three build Port Maximilian, an entirely new kind of mining town, where instead of being treated as slaves, cheated and exploited, miners live in exceptional housing and enjoy good schools and services, without rent or taxes because everything is supported by profits from the mine.

Gates of Horn and Ivory is an unusual tale of adventure, love, and family. Vanessa and Captain Max marry, have two children. Joshua grows into a mean, spiteful young man, in conflict with his father, whose power he envies and despises. Annie, gentle and devoted to her father, has her mothers strength and will. While the captain battles against conspiracies to destroy him and the industries he has built, plus an attempt by the former English owners to take back the mine, he also supports Vanessa in her leadership of the local womens suffrage movement and in improving the lives of women and young girls. With profits from the mine, they establish a free college for women on a bluff overlooking Port Maximilian.

But with all the success she and her husband achieve, in the end Vanessa faces a heart-breaking situation as she uncovers her son Joshuas evil plot to destroy the mine and bring Captain Maximilian down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 18, 2000
• ISBN: 9781462831869

Joseph J. Sollish

Joseph J. Sollish is the author of seven novels, Gates of Horn and Ivory, Guardians of the Dream, Tell Me a Story, No More Tears, Bless the Children, Casey Calhoun, and Family Forever. He has also published Halls of Academe, a collection of thirteen new short stories. Sollish lives in Los Angeles with his wife of fifty years, Claudia.

Book preview

Copyright © 2000 by Joseph J. Sollish.

ISBN #: Softcover 0-7388-2349-X

eBook 9781462831869

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation 1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TO MY WIFE, CLAUDIA,AND TO MY DAUGHTERS, ERIKA, ROBIN, AND BONNIE.

ONE

Humble in comparison with the fashionably grand homes on Charles Street, the Tompkins house, with its gray siding and white shutters, nevertheless perched proudly on a lofty bluff overlooking Baltimore harbor. Built by ship-builder Joshua Tompkins in 1859 for his bride, Martha, it had witnessed the birth of their two children, Vanessa and Marshall, and his wife’s passing, followed by his own. Its immaculate appearance, inside and out, from cellar to slate mansard roof, gave evidence of skillful management and careful maintenance, a tribute to the skills and dedication of Vanessa Tompkins, mistress of the house for ten years since her mother succumbed to a long and saddening illness.

When a cable arrived from London, informing Marshall Tompkins that Sir John Fletcher would be passing through Baltimore on his way to his spring inspection of company property, Tompkins threw up his hands.

I suppose we have to invite the old goat to stay with us again! he groaned. At twenty-three, he was younger than Vanessa by two years, slight of frame, boyishly handsome, and with a head of unruly sandy-brown hair.

Now, Marshall, his sister said reproachfully, you’re being just plain disrespectful.

Vanessa Tompkins was tall and full-figured. She had flowing blonde hair, deep green eyes in which floated flakes of gold, and a skin with the lucidity of Limoges. Her lips, full and delicately curved, always seemed prepared to reflect the warm smile that lingered in her eyes, yet the set of her chin and the way she squared her shoulders showed the courage and determination that had carried her through trying times.

He was Father’s oldest and dearest friend, she continued. Her well-modulated voice invariably became even softer and gentler whenever she mentioned her father. How I love hearing him tell of old times, when he and Father were lads in England.

And how I hate hearing him tell what a great businessman Father was, Tompkins fumed, and, by inference, what a mess I’ve made of the business left to me.

That’s not his intention, I’m sure, since you’ve certainly done your best and the Tompkins Shipping Company is doing just fine, really. Vanessa urged him toward the door. And now please hurry off to the cable office and invite him to stay with us. Her patient smiled coaxed him. And do be gracious in your wording, Marshall, please?

Although then just a child herself, Vanessa had been more mother than sister to Marshall all during their mother’s long illness, and she understood how poorly suited he was to the harsh business world, with his casual, carefree ways. She sighed, fearing that he would never grow up, while circumstances had obliged her to mature all too quickly, shouldered as she had been with the responsibilities for her mother, father, brother, and house, while other girls of her age had been receiving the calls of Baltimore’s young gentlemen.

The afternoon Sir John arrived at the White Star pier in Baltimore harbor, Marshall Tompkins sent Bayliff, their handyman and coachman, to fetch him in the carriage. While Bayliff and Mrs. Soames, the housekeeper, struggled with the old gentleman’s steamer trunk and portmanteau, Vanessa made him welcome.

How wonderful to see you, Sir John! she said, leading him into the drawing room. It just wouldn’t be spring without your visit. You’re looking quite well.

My dear, each time I see you, he marveled, holding her admiringly at arm’s length, you’re even prettier, lovelier than before.

And also a year older, she smiled.

You’re so like your dear mother, rest her soul, he said, when she pressed her cheek to his. But where is that wayward brother of yours? he asked, showing irritation. I had expected him to be the one who’d meet me at dockside.

My apologies for Marshall, Sir John. He was unexpectedly called away to an important business meeting. But he should be home shortly.

The Englishman nodded grumpily. He spread the tail of his coat so he could settle himself into an easy chair, then smoothed his white side-whiskers.

Of course, of course, he murmured, glancing about the room, business first and always. I understand completely.

He pulled his watch out of a vest pocket and consulted the tall clock standing against the wall. His lips moving soundlessly, he wound the watch and tucked it away again, patting his ample middle.

How was your voyage? Vanessa asked, becoming aware of the dimness of the late afternoon light and reaching up to raise the gaslight flames in the wall fixtures. Was the ocean kind?

Kind? Oh, quite. Calm as a bath and as uneventful. He shook his head dolefully. I think I could have gone for a rip-roaring storm. Nothing so exciting as battling the elements, a frail sailing ship pitted against the awesome might of nature! For a moment, his face flushed, then quickly assumed a wistfulness. How I long for adventure, he sighed. Adventure!

She studied him, smiling at the way he said the word, and was about to speak when she heard voices at the front door. In a moment, Marshall Tompkins entered, dwarfed by a tall, square-shouldered, black-bearded man wearing the gold-braid of a sea captain.

Vanessa dear! Tompkins started with enthusiasm, look who I’ve here! You remember Captain Maximilian, I’m sure? I met him by good chance as I was returning from my meeting, and I persuaded him to accompany me home.

Vanessa responded warmly, smiling after being startled by the bulk of the captain suddenly filling the doorway. How good it is to see you again, Captain Maximilian. Fully recovered from your terrible experience at sea, I trust!

Maximilian seemed flustered for a moment as she fixed her green eyes on him.

Yes, thank you, Miss Tompkins, you’re very kind, he finally said. And I’m pleased to see you again.

I hope you’ll stay for dinner, Captain, she entreated. Please say you will. When his dark eyes prepared to protest, she said, Oh, it will be no trouble at all. I’ll have Mrs. Soames set another place. Before he could respond, she whirled and with a swish of her skirts, prepared to leave, but only after throwing a sharp glance toward her brother, who instantly turned to the Englishman, as if spying him for the first time.

Sir John! Forgive me! Tompkins exclaimed. Welcome, sir, welcome! He shook hands with the old gentleman, then turned to pull the captain forward by the arm, saying, Sir John, this is my very good friend, Captain Cornelius Maximilian. Captain, Sir John Fletcher of London, England.

Sir John shook the captain’s hand firmly, solemnly studying his face.

What was that I overheard? A terrible experience at sea? He beckoned the captain closer and resumed his seat. Come tell me about it, I beg you! My own life is so pitifully lacking in adventure.

Maximilian shrugged. He was beginning to regret accepting Tompkins’ invitation, unexpectedly faced with this well-fed English nobleman who regarded a horrible shipwreck as an adventure. It reminded him of the greedy ship-owners whose self—satisfied, vengeful faces were only too fresh in his memory.

My ship was lost, he said quietly.

Lost? Marshall Tompkins echoed. Hah! She broke in two in a hurricane, Sir John! Clean in two and both parts quickly at the bottom of the sea. The good captain here clung to a spar floating in the briny for weeks before being rescued by a Greek in the West Indies!

Days, Tompkins, the captain corrected, sighing, two days. And it was a Spaniard who picked me up. Off Costa Rica. He shook his head. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind, sir.

Of course, of course, I readily understand your feelings, Captain, Sir John said kindly. Compatriots lost, brave men under your command, a stalwart vessel gone to Davy Jones’s locker. He heaved a sigh. The sea is a terrible taskmaster, yes, indeed.

Vanessa had returned and quietly assumed a chair at the back of the drawing room near the draperied windows. She listened attentively as Marshall scattered about the same bit and pieces of the captain’s disaster she had already heard, her eyes sometimes moving from one man to the other, but for the most part remaining on the captain, except when he glanced in her direction, causing her to shift her gaze quickly. They had first met a year earlier, when she had invited him to dinner to express her gratitude for his assistance to her brother in a business matter involving the shipowners association. Much to Marshall’s amusement, and to her own, she secretly admitted, Maximilian had been rendered totally dumbstruck when first introduced to her, because Marshall had indifferently told the Captain that Vanessa was his ‘older’ sister, leaving him to expect some frumpy, old-maidish creature, instead of this young, vibrantly beautiful woman.

But, Sir John, Tompkins exclaimed, what do you think the owner did after Captain Maximilian was rescued? He had the Association strip the captain of his master’s papers, charging wilful neglect and mismanagement!

Sir John was aghast. No! Not really?

And also had him blackballed up and down the seacoast and on all the seven seas, Tompkins concluded indignantly. The most unjust He pounded a small fist into his hand. That sniveling pickens! He’s the very same lout who caused me all that trouble, Captain, the time you came to my defense against his machinations.

I’m sure Mr. Pickens remembered that case only too well, the captain said wryly. It may have been the secret reason for his spite against me.

Sir John shook his head. So now, sir, you are without papers. Is there no recourse, no appeal?

None, Maximilian answered. The Eastern Shipowners Association is a law unto itself. You can’t defy it and survive.

For shame, Sir John murmured. For shame, indeed.

Vanessa had been eager to hear more details of the shipwreck itself, but it was not to be. When the Association finally brought in its decision, her brother said, a decision which I, as a member, mightily opposed, but to no avail, I happened to run across the captain in his lodgings at an inn near the harbor. He was in a melancholy state, and it took all my powers of persuasion to convince him to leave and join us for dinner. He grinned at Vanessa. Of course, I also told him that it was you who had specifically sent me to invite him, that you had hounded me night and day since his rescue at sea, and so he could hardly refuse.

Vanessa blushed, the color adding vividly to the drama of her face. Marshall, you are incorrigible. She rose, shaking her head at him. Now I must see to our dinner, she declared. Captain Maximilian drew himself to his feet, stammering a confused and embarrassed apology as she left the room. He frowned at Tompkins,

who shrugged and smiled amiably.

As the courses of their dinner were served and their wine glasses were repeatedly replenished by Mrs. Soames, Vanessa and Maximilian were far more absorbed in each other than in Sir John’s discourse on his business enterprises and travels throughout the world. Vanessa wore a deep blue dress fringed with tiny pink lace rosettes which framed the sensual whiteness of her bosom. When she managed to interpose a few words of her own, about the improving weather now that winter had finally gone, of her charity work in the city, and her difficulties in securing good labor to maintain the family property, directing her remarks to no one in

particular, he especially seemed to feel the warmth of her smile and to respond to the gentle tone of her voice.

Well, now, Marshall, she said to her brother when the crown roast was almost picked clean and Mrs. Soames hovered nearby to clear, if you will kindly show your friends to the library.

Port and cigars! Tompkins exclaimed, pushing back from the table and instantly directing Sir John and Maximilian with a gesture of his arm. My favorite part of the evening, with no disrespect, turning toward Vanessa, to your admirable roast.

Excellent dinner, my dear child, Sir John said, a benevolent smile creasing his ruddy face as he took her hand, patting it gently. Your dear father, rest him, would be proud, he added with a touch of sadness.

Maximilian murmured his appreciation to her, their eyes meeting again with an unreserved intensity as the three men prepared to cross the wainscoted foyer into the library.

Then I will say good-night to you all, Vanessa said, and leave you now. But please be mindful of the weather, Captain, she added, tilting her blonde head to one side, catching the distant rumble of thunder. I would hate for you to be caught in still another storm, even on land. They each returned her good-night heartily and entered the book-lined library.

Mrs. Soames deposited the silver tray with its crystal decanter and glasses on the sideboard, turned the gaslights down slightly, poked the log burning in the fireplace, and closed the door behind her. Tompkins filled their glasses and offered the humidor.

My goodness, Sir John said with a tolerant smile, you’re almost civilized here in the colonies. He shook his head sadly as he waved the cigars aside. But I’m afraid my health requires that I temper my indulgence, drat all doctors!

Oh, come now, sir, Maximilian said, waiting for the old man to select the most comfortable leather chair before seating himself, you appear rugged enough to take us both on.

Sir John smiled ruefully. In a game of rummy, perhaps, or whatever it is you men of the sea play.

Not you, too? Tompkins exclaimed when Maximilian also declined the cigars.

Your port alone will do me, thanks, the captain said.

And a fine port it is, indeed, Sir John remarked, smacking his lips.

They settled into their chairs, legs comfortably relaxed on leather ottomans, a cloud of smoke hanging heavily over Tompkins after he energetically puffed his cigar to glowing life.

Now then, Sir John said, before I drop off to sleep. He studied the captain. Sir, I have been thinking of your situation from the very first moment it was mentioned earlier this evening and I hope you’ll forgive an old man’s intrusion, but a fascinating thought has occurred to me. Fascinating.

Maximilian waited for him to continue. Marshall Tompkins closed his eyes, puffing his cigar contentedly.

Let me tell you of a circumstance, Sir John said, taking a deep breath and bringing his lips together in a sucking motion. This circumstance exists at a company here in America in which my firm, Fletcher, pattern, and Rouse, of Fleet Street, London, has invested heavily. He sought for the proper words. Simply stated, there is the strong possibility—possibility, mind you,—that large sums of money may have been—well, diverted, shall we say, from the company.

Tompkins suddenly became interested and leaned forward on Sir John’s words.

And that’s why you’re here? Maximilian asked. To investigate this—circumstance?

More wine, sir! Tompkins urged, filling Sir John’s glass over his mild protest.

Sir John nodded to the captain’s question. To investigate and possibly remedy the—circumstance.

It’s at the mine, isn’t it? Tompkins suggested eagerly. Who do you think the embezzler is? Any of those you’ve mentioned in the past?

Sir John shook his head solemnly. It would be grossly unjust to accuse any one at this juncture. However, it is at Shelbourne, as you surmised. To Maximilian, he explained. A valuable coal mining property the firm has owned for some time, in the Appalachian Mountains of your Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

A coal mine, the captain murmured.

A potentially great coal mine, sir, the Englishman went on, after a sip of his port, to rival the largest in the United Kingdom one day, when fully developed. And with your American steel and iron industries growing apace in the western region of Pennsylvania, the market is ripe for a source of coal located so handily, with prices high and the reduced cost of transportation a significant profit factor. Not to mention the expanding needs of your railroads, as well, for the coal from Shelbourne pit.

Tompkins had settled back in his chair again as Sir John droned on about business matters that now held little interest for him. Maximilian listened attentively, solely out of respect, seeing no application of this information to himself.

Well then, Sir John exclaimed brightly, setting his wine aside and sitting erect in his chair, what has all this to do with you, Captain, that’s what you’re thinking, aye? He laughed. Tell the truth, I’d almost forgot myself, going on about the economics of coal and steel and railroads.

He thought for a moment. Captain, how would you like to come work for me?

Maximilian was startled. Tompkins opened his eyes.

In your coal mine? the captain asked.

At my coal mine, Sir John corrected, not necessarily in it.

Baffled, Maximilian couldn’t respond.

What I need, the Englishman explained, speaking quickly and thrusting his arm forward vigorously, is for someone I can trust to go to the mine and ferret out the facts, discover the truth, and report back to me! Not to take any action on his own, mind you, but to give me the information I need.

But isn’t that why you’re here? the captain asked, "why you’re going to visit your mine?

Sir John shrugged. Oh, I make this voyage every year, but I doubt very much that I will find out anything at all in such a formal visit to Shelbourne. The person responsible is far too clever for that. He sighed. He is too clever indeed.

Maximilian was mystified and intrigued. But what could I do? How would I go about your investigation without facing the same problem?

Sir John smiled. It so happens that a key member of the management staff at Shelbourne, a chap by the name of Bretton, has recently resigned his post. Rather abruptly and without proper notice, too, I might add. You, sir, would be his replacement. You could work from the inside, as it were!

But I know nothing about mining. And my experience with coal is just that it’s what’s burned to heat the boilers of a steamship, and that tending those boilers is just about the worst job a man could have aboard ship.

You would ostensibly be in charge of the miners, Captain, as I understand the duties of the departed Mr. Bretton. Assignments, shifts, personnel, that sort of thing. Mr. Campbell, our engineer, would teach you all you need to know about coal and coal mining in order to handle yourself adequately while you go about your true assignment on my behalf.

Maximilian considered that. But these are miners-----

Think of them as similar to the seamen who have served under you, sir! the old man exclaimed. Regard the mine as your ship, Captain, and the coal your cargo!

Pleased with his analogy, he continued, his eyes shining, while Maximilian listened closely. In my belief, Captain, men who labor in mines are akin to men who go to sea. And it is further my belief that a man who has captained sailing vessels, such as yourself, must be ideally suited to managing the miserable wretches who descend into the earth to hack out coal!

Maximilian frowned. Excuse my bluntness, but you seem to have little respect for the men who toil in the bowels of ships or the earth.

The Englishman raised his eyebrows. Respect, sir? Let us just agree, shall we, that neither occupation is likely to attract the best of men. Our coal miners are mostly immigrants from Poland, Italy, Germany, Russia, places like that, ignorant, uneducated, accustomed to poverty. Hard workers, true, provided they’re closely watched and kept in line. He shrugged. Isn’t that true of the men who work in ships? Haven’t I heard it said that the crack of the bosun’s whip has as much to do with the successful completion of a voyage as the screw that turns the ship’s propeller or the wind that fills her sails?

Maximilian’s jaw tightened. Not on my ship, sir, he said simply.

Overhead, thunder suddenly clapped and rolled and lightning crackled brilliantly in the windows facing the harbor. The captain listened until the thunder subsided.

Sir John hesitated, confused. Yes, yes, but we seem to have gone aground or off the track, he said, looking around. Where was I?

I believe you were talking about the miners, Tompkins supplied, surprising Maximilian who had thought the younger man had been dozing beneath the layers of tobacco smoke hovering over him.

Ah, yes, the miners, Sir John said, the miners, indeed! Well! He turned fully to Maximilian. Captain, we are prepared to pay you the same as if you were the master of a ship, plus a fifty per cent bonus at the end of the voyage. His eyes twinkled. Are you for it, my lad? Will you join me in Pennsylvania? He studied the captain, who had settled back in his chair after his initial irritation with the Englishman’s comments about miners and seamen. Think of it, why don’t you, as merely a stopgap, a form of temporary employment until something can be done to restore your papers and permit you to take your rightful place at the helm of a stout ship once again.

The captain considered what had been said, nodding and pursing his lips. He reached out and raised the flask of port to fill his glass. After a swallow, he said, Please tell me more. Booming thunder almost muted his words and vicious gusts of rain hammered the roof above them.

In her room, Vanessa lay awake, but it was more than the angry sounds of the storm and the lightning flashes in her window that prevented her from falling asleep. Being in the company of Captain Maximilian for just these few hours, absorbed in his conversation, warmed by his smile, feeling a sense of comfort and great protection by just being at the same table with him, had turned her thoughts inward on herself more sharply than ever before.

With the burden of the household and caring for her father and brother during