She gave me a look, and I promised….
By the time Jonas was forty (Grandma said), he was a fine-looking man. Maybe he was a little too lean, and I guess his eyes looked a little too much like cold chunks of gray glass in dark caves. They say, too, that his big, pale hands were always opening and closing all by themselves, as if they were hungry. But he had curly black hair, and a good set of white teeth, and a walk like a lion out hunting.
(In my mind, I saw Great-uncle Jonas clear as could be, and I shivered.)
Besides (she went on), by that time he owned a good part of the land around here, and had loans out on lots more. He had some business in Boston, and down in New York, which he kept to himself. But everyone knew that he owned a three-quarter share in the tea-clipper Queen of the East, because everyone knew young Middleton Martin, who was her first mate and the one friend Jonas had in the world.
You’d have thought there’d have been lots of men willing to call him their friend, and plenty of women hereabouts to marry him at the drop of a hat. But there weren’t. Only Middleton Martin forgave him for the things he had done — maybe because he’d been off to sea so much of the time, and never seen Jonas at work. You see, boy, Jonas was never content just making a dollar. He had to make it off someone, so it hurt — and the more it hurt the better he liked it.
Let’s say a neighbor had something that’d just about kill him if anyone knew, and Jonas found out. Pretty soon he’d show up and offer to buy the man’s team, or his pasture, or even his house. He’d look it over, taking his time, and they’d have a talk, friendly like, and finally they’d get to the price — and Jonas’d offer a dollar, or maybe fifteen, or fifty at the outside. Usually his neighbor would shout he was crazy. Then Jonas would tighten the screws. He’d whisper what he’d found out. He’d let the man cuss and threaten, and argue and beg. He’d pretend to give in. And right at the last, he’d tighten his jaw and say, “No siree bob. Not for all the tea in China, I won’t.”
(Grandma paused for a minute, but I just pulled at the dry grass at my feet instead of looking up at her.)
He always did it that way (Grandma said). It was the same when he’d clamp down on a loan. He was hated by every man, woman, and child within fifteen miles. He’d built a fine, big, new house, and he lived there alone except for two foreign servants he’d brought in from the city. He never went out to visit, even his kin, or showed up at church, or had anyone over except Middleton Martin. And all through the years, he never so much as looked at one of the girls. Then all of a sudden, when he’d turned forty, he started courting Mary Ann Thorpe.
She was the prettiest girl in the valley, twenty years younger than he, with hair like honey. It was known that Jonas had a money hold on her father, but what really started tongues wagging was that she’d been promised to Middleton Martin for close on three years. A few said it was queer that Jonas Hackett would do such a thing to the one friend he had, but mostly folks thought it was just like his nature. She was Middleton’s girl, and no man could find anyone finer; and betraying a friendship just made him want her the more. The whole valley waited for the Queen of the East to come back with her cargo of tea. And because Jonas was Middleton’s friend, and for fear of what he could do to her father, Mary Ann let him sit on her porch in the evenings, and tried to pretend she didn’t know what he’d come for.
That went on for three months, with Mary Ann crying herself quietly to sleep every night; and after a while there was even some lowdown gossip that she was going to accept Jonas Hackett for his money, and because of what he might do, and because his house was the finest house in the county, in the prettiest place.
(Grandma broke off, and I thought to myself she was making it up, because Hackett’s Hill was the ugliest place in the county, not the prettiest. Besides, searching around, I couldn’t see any sign of where a house might have been, not even a small one. But her face looked as if she was telling the truth. It made me feel queer.)
Then (Grandma said), the Queen of the East came in from the sea with Middleton Martin aboard, and he took the stage straight for home, wanting to get back to Mary Ann as fast as he could. But first, not knowing a thing, and it being right on the way, he stopped off a minute or two to leave Jonas a present. Jonas shook hands with him just as if nothing had happened, and Middleton gave him a bundle tied up in canvas, which he’d brought all the way from Foochow.
“Open it up,” Middleton said.
So Jonas took off the canvas, and there was a sort of a cage about two feet square. It was made of lacquered wood and bamboo, and pieces of fancy red cord laced around and criss-crossed inside, and there were bits of silk like bright little flags at the corners, with Oriental writings.
“What is it?” asked Jonas.
“A tea merchant had it,” Middleton told him. “He’d got it from one of the caravan men, who’d brought it in from the mountains out behind China. It’s a demon trap. Suppose you want to catch you a demon. You set it down by some track where they run, and by morning most likely you’ll find a big fat one.” He slapped Jonas’ back, and roared with laughter. “Works every time. Doesn’t even need bait. It’s just what you need!”
“What do they do with the demon?” Jonas asked him, not laughing at all.
Middleton cocked a red eyebrow, but he saw that Jonas was serious, so he made out like he was. “If he’s a water-demon,” he said, “they burn him up right there in the cage, but if he’s a fire-demon — you can tell by the smell — then they chuck him into a well or a lake, cage and all.”
Jonas frowned. Quickly he shoved the cage back behind him, as if to protect it. “I wouldn’t do that,” he declared.
Then Middleton told him good-by, and went on up to Mary Ann’s house. But that was just the first time he saw Jonas Hackett that day.
(Grandma snorted.) He found out soon enough. He was back inside half an hour, and Jonas, standing out on the porch, saw by the look on his face that he knew.
“Well?” he said.
Middleton spoke very softly, “Jonas, I didn’t use to believe what folks said about you. I almost do now. What do you want with my Mary Ann?”
“I’m going to marry her,” Jonas answered.
“Suppose she says no?”
“I can ruin her dad,” Jonas said.
The shoulders of Middleton Martin’s blue jacket went tight. “Suppose I say no, Jonas?”
“Berths are scarce, and you won’t have yours,” Jonas told him. “The Queen is my ship.”
For a while they looked at each other without saying a word. Then Middleton said, “We’ve been friends, Jonas. We’ve been friends a long time. I guess we can still be. Just say you don’t want her — that it’s been a mistake. Give her up, Jonas.”
All the blood left Jonas’ lips. “Not for all the tea in China!” he snapped.
Middleton laughed in his face. “All right, have it your way. I’ve talked to Mary Ann. I’ve talked to her father. We’re getting married next week. Wreck him — he’ll be living with us. Take my berth — I’ve got a new one, a command of my own, bigger and faster.” And with that he turned his back and walked off.
(Grandma shaded her eyes from the sun, and pointed east of the road.) The Thorpe place was just beyond Smathers’. Even now, you can hardly see it from here. Jonas spent some bad nights, I’ve been told, pacing the floor and saying never a word, all eaten inside because not two miles off were three people who’d told him where to head in. The truth was he’d gone off half-cocked. Middleton and Mary Ann and her pa knew the worst he could do, and they just didn’t care. He kept thinking of Mary Ann being Mrs. Middleton Martin, and how folks in the valley would laugh in his face; and the closer they got to the wedding, the worse he became. Those who saw him said his hands were clinching and clenching harder than ever, and he walked with his teeth skinned back like a wolfs. Then, just two nights before the wedding was set to take place, he got his idea.