Nequa; or, The Problem of the Ages

Title: Nequa; or, The Problem of the Ages

Author: Alcanoan O. Grigsby

Mary P. Lowe

Release date: September 8, 2017 [eBook #55505] Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55505

Credits: Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, MFR, Graeme Mackreth, Duke University and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

NEQUA

OR

The Problem of the Ages

By JACK ADAMS

VOL. I.

EQUITY PUBLISHING COMPANY Topeka, Kansas 1900

DEDICATION.

To all lovers of humanity, wherever found who believe that the application of the Golden Rule in human affairs would remove all the burdens that ignorance and greed have imposed upon the masses of mankind, this volume is respectfully dedicated by

The Author.

Copyrighted 1900, by A.O. Grigsby and Mary P. Lowe.

CONTENTS.

EXPLANATORY.

The undersigned claims no credit for the concept of an "Inner World" in which the great economic problems which now confront the people had been solved in the interest of humanity and ideal conditions established for all. This was the leading thought in a work by Dr. T.A.H. Lowe, deceased, which was placed in the hands of the writer by his widow, Mrs. Mary P. Lowe. It contains a glowing description of the ideal conditions which would prevail under the practical application of the principles of Freedom, Equality and Fraternity in human affairs but the author died before he had an opportunity to work out a practical system by which the masses of the people, situated as they now are, without even a clear understanding as to just what is the matter, could commence with existing conditions, and peacefully, effectually and speedily establish the much to be desired system of absolute justice in distribution which he described. Hence it was determined to prepare a series of volumes, illustrating the operation of practical working

methods by which this result could be secured, and then, publish Dr. Lowe's original volume, just as it was written as a fitting conclusion; and we now take pleasure in presenting to the reader the first volume of the series and respectfully ask a candid consideration of the principles which it is designed to elucidate.

Jack Adams.

[Pg 1]

NEQUA.

CHAPTER I.

Beneath the Midnight Sun—a Strange Visitor Comes Down from Above—An Old Acquaintance Recognized—Strange Story By an Old Physician.

Y private office was on the second floor of the sanitarium which I had fitted up in Kansas City to meet the demands of my large practice in the treatment of chronic diseases. The furniture consisted of a large book case, containing my library of standard works, and other publications useful in my practice; a writing desk, a few chairs, sofa and other conveniences usually found in such places. One door opened into the hall, and another connected with my bed chamber, bath room and laboratory in the rear.[Pg 2] In the front was a large bay window where I often sat, in a meditative mood, concealed by the heavy lace curtains, looking out upon the throngs of people and numerous vehicles passing to and fro on the street below. On the opposite side of the main hall, and separated from it by the wide stairway, was the parlor where I received visitors. In the rear of this were the consultation and operating rooms. I usually lunched in my private office, my meals being sent up to me on an elevator, from a restaurant connecting directly with the sanitarium.

As a rule, no one but the office boy, who occupied a small room over the stairway, was ever admitted to my private office. The boy attended the door, conducted visitors to the parlor, and then reported who was in waiting. If I cared to see them, I went around the head of the stairs to the parlor; otherwise I was "Not in."

Many of my patients came from a distance and had lodgings and board in the sanitarium. Others called at my reception rooms during my regular office hours, which were from 9 to 11 A.M. At other hours I was ordinarily occupied in my private office, reading, thinking and writing, or in my laboratory compounding medicines, etc. But it was generally understood that I frequently drove out, and hence people calling to see me, except during office hours, were not surprised to learn that I could not be seen.

This arrangement was an absolute necessity in order that I might have time to attend to my large correspondence and make my usual study of the diseases of patients who had placed themselves under my treatment as their last hope of regaining health. My success in treating these cases which had been given up as incurable,[Pg 3] was such, that the sanitarium was always full, and it was a rare thing indeed, that I called upon patients at their homes.

One bright and unusually pleasant day in June 189—, after I had attended to my patients, I retired to my private office, feeling that a call, even from my most intimate friends, would be very undesirable. I wanted to be alone. I had many letters to write, and other work that I could not well neglect, but I seemed in spite of myself to have lost my usual active interest in my business. I felt oppressed and dissatisfied with its restraints, and after worrying through with my most important correspondence, I got up and paced the floor to and fro.

What could it mean? Why was it I felt this restless longing for something that seemed just beyond my reach? My business was flourishing, my health was never better, my friends were numerous and all my surroundings pleasant. Then why was it that I could not compose myself to read or write? Whenever I tried to do anything, my mind involuntarily reverted to the past, and especially to a voyage I had taken some years before in the capacity of ship surgeon. At last I despaired of being able to complete my work to my satisfaction, and determined to indulge this irresistible tendency to retrospection.

All the afternoon, whatever I did or attempted to do, my mind turned to Jack Adams, a beardless young man who shipped on the same vessel with me as super-cargo. Turn which way I would, his image loomed up before my memory with a vividness that was startling. Why should I be continually thinking of him? True, we had been the closest of friends, and often spent hours together in the most enjoyable conversations.

[Pg 4]

However, notwithstanding our intimacy, there had ever hung around Jack an air of fathomless mystery. His character was faultless, his modesty, refinement and culture unexcelled. His perceptions were keen, his reasoning powers deep and comprehensive, and his innate truthfulness inspired every one with unlimited confidence who came in contact with him. In times of peril he was courageous as a lion and yet he was gentle as a woman.

He was of medium size and perfectly rounded form, too refined in his appearance to be masculine, but none the less active and efficient; and I must say that his face was the most handsome, and the most expressive of the finer emotions of the soul, I had ever met with in man. We were the most congenial of associates, and I was more attached to his personality than I had ever before been to one of my own sex. Though young and beardless, his intellect was mature beyond his years, and by common consent the old and experienced soon came to honor his unusually remarkable judgment.

To me, he was a phenomenon that I was utterly unable to fathom. While he was not shy, he was always reserved and retiring. He never intruded where he had no business except in my cabin, where he often came to while away an hour discussing themes of lofty and far reaching import. He seemed not to live on the common plane of ordinary life, but soared far above it. Still he attended to all his duties in a prompt and energetic manner, often lending a helping hand to others when there was no necessity for him to move a muscle. He seemed to take real pleasure in lightening the burdens of others even at a sacrifice of his own comfort.

Such was Jack Adams, who had worked himself up from the most menial employments on shipboard to a[Pg 5] position of responsibility. Such was my most valued friend, always reserved and reticent with others, but genial, sociable and confidential with me, notwithstanding the disparity in our ages. But why should he now be intruding upon my memory, and holding my thoughts to himself by a mystic chord which I had no power to break, much as I had striven to do so?

I had left the sea at the close of this voyage, the memory of which had haunted me all day. I had scarcely thought of Jack Adams for years, and now I found it impossible to keep from thinking of him all the time. I became almost superstitious, and began to speculate that perhaps he had just passed from earth, and that his spirit was now with me trying to force a recognition. As I was thus ruminating, my office boy announced that a gentleman wanted to see me.

I was just about to send back the word "Not in," when behind the boy, through the half open door, I beheld a tall, handsome and elegantly dressed man, of commanding personal appearance.

My rule had been never to permit anyone to enter my private apartments except on my personal invitation, and as the boy seemed entirely unconscious of his presence, I knew that some mistake had been made, and instinctively felt that the man was not an intruder; so all that remained for me was to recognize the requirements of common politeness and invite him in.

As he entered the room I mentally took his photograph. He was tall, symmetrical, powerful, with a high intellectual forehead, dark, deep-set eyes, dark hair and whiskers, and dark complexion. His countenance was very impressive, inspiring the beholder with a feeling of respect and confidence. As the door closed behind him he fixed his large, penetrating eyes upon me as if he[Pg 6] were reading my inmost thoughts, and after a moment's scrutiny said: "Have I the honor of addressing Dr. Thomas H. Day, who was a surgeon some years ago on a vessel engaged in the East India Trade?"

"Yes," I replied, "that is my name, and I was surgeon on an East Indiaman."

"Then," he continued, "may I further ask if you remember a young man on the vessel in the capacity of super-cargo, who greatly trusted and confided in you?"

His words penetrated my inmost being like a shock and I exclaimed impulsively:

"You mean Jack Adams! I feel it! I know it! Is he still living?"

"He is alive and well," he said, "and your prompt recognition demonstrates that you are the man I am looking for. I bring you word from Jack Adams. He was also a trusted friend of mine, in whom I felt deeply interested, when he occupied the humble position of cabin boy on a steamer between New York and Liverpool."

His words came to me like a flash of sunlight, dispelling at once the clouds which had seemed to paralyze all my energies. I felt that any word from Jack Adams would be an inexpressible relief to my present agitated state of mind. I grasped my visitor's hand with a warmth I could not restrain, and with an enthusiasm that must have appeared to him effusive, I said:

"Thank God! Your words thrill me with delight. I will esteem any message from Jack Adams a blessing, and the messenger a benefactor. You are indeed a welcome visitor, and you have placed me under bonds of gratitude by removing a most oppressive burden from my mind."

He returned the pressure of my hand in a manner I had hardly expected, and handed me a card on which[Pg 7] was traced a significant inscription in Jack's well known handwriting which, if any confirmation was necessary, would have removed every possible doubt. Shaking his hand again I asked:

"Will we ever have a world of truth such as has been the dream of every altruist?"

"Jack has found it," said my visitor, "and we must make it. That is the mission he sends me on. He has made it his life work to discover just how this may be accomplished with the greatest ease, and to convey the information to us."

"Then you are doubly welcome," I said. "Be seated and make yourself at home. I hail you as a brother in a common cause, even if, as yet, I have no name by which to call you."

"Excuse me," he said, "I should have introduced myself before, but I was so overjoyed at finding Dr. Day that I forgot he knew nothing about me. My name is Leo Vincennes. I have been in the public service in some capacity, ever since I came to years of maturity; as soldier, sailor, scout, and later, as civil engineer and explorer. I come now from Alaska, and my special business here is to see you and deliver a message, committed to my care by our esteemed brother and co-worker, Jack Adams."

I had moved my chair as near to him as decorum would permit, and said in reply:

"I am indeed happy to meet you, Mr. Vincennes. I have been thinking of Jack all day, and I want you to tell me all about him."

"I saw him last at Cape Lisburne, on the northwestern coast of Alaska, where I was on the lookout for a vessel that was to take me and my party to San Francisco. We were employed on the coast survey, and our[Pg 8] allotted portion of the work included the cape, where we went into camp about the last of June. Our lookout was on top of the bluff, which at this point rises to a height of about eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. The other members of our party were out on a hunt while I remained at the lookout. Through my glass I had a clear view of the sea for leagues away, and I continued to sweep the horizon with my glass, as the unusually early breaking up of the ice led me to expect the appearance of a ship at any time. I casually turned my glass and espied a speck on the horizon, a little to the east of north, that at first gave me the impression of a distant sail. Not thinking of a vessel from that direction, I observed it more closely, and soon saw that it was not on the surface of the water, but evidently in the air

and coming directly toward me. It looked like some monstrous bird, of a magnitude such as I had never conceived.

"In my long experience as a soldier, sailor, scout and explorer of the polar regions, I had been accustomed to remarkable adventures, and had come to take pride in the fact that I could face danger of any kind without a tremor; but I do not hesitate to confess that as this gigantic, winged phenomenon of the heavens bore down toward me, I quivered in every vein and fiber of my being. It came with a rapidity that was startling, and ere I could recover my equanimity sufficiently to determine whether I should try to get out of the way or take my chances with the monster, it came to a halt directly over my head, and I could see that it was some kind of a mechanical contrivance for navigating the air, and that its movements were controlled by human intelligence. It remained stationary for a moment, as if the occupant were taking observations, and then dropped slowly down[Pg 9] and alighted on the highest point of the cape, within twenty feet of where I was standing. As this strange vessel came to a rest, a door opened and out stepped a young man who said in the clearest of English:

"'Well, well, I declare! Here is the same Leo Vincennes who gave me my first lessons in navigation. How glad I am to see you so far north. I was heading due south for the mouth of the Yukon, when I discovered you scanning the horizon with your glass. I then changed my course a little to the west and came directly to you.' I recognized his features, but was dazed and stood rooted to the ground. Seeing my embarrassment, he advanced, extending his hand as he said: 'Surely you have not forgotten Jack Adams, the cabin-boy, who sailed on the same ship with you from New York to Liverpool, and asked you so many questions about ships and a seafaring life.'

"I grasped his hand, but for a moment my brain seemed benumbed, and my tongue, to use an oft quoted phrase, 'clave to the roof of my mouth.' I could only look at him in open eyed wonder—the same smooth-faced lad that I had known and admired—nay loved, fifteen years ago. My temporary paralysis gave way to a flood of feeling such as I had never experienced before, and I convulsively shook his hand as I exclaimed:

"'Yes! yes! My dear old Jack, I remember you, but never again did I expect to meet you—and least of all on this barren rock, in the regions of eternal ice, beneath the midnight sun, and dropping from the heavens to this mundane sphere. Where did you come from and whither are you going? Have you put off this mortality with all its weakness and put on immortality in some far off clime of perpetual youth, beyond the utmost limit of our earthly vision?'

[Pg 10]

"'Hold on Leo,' he exclaimed, with that mischievous twinkle in his eye that I remember so well, 'don't for Heaven's sake get superstitious. Remember that if the Kingdom of Heaven can be established in us, there evidently must be more in this mundane sphere than has ever been dreamed of in our philosophy. I am no visitant from another world, but I do come from another country, where man is master of his environments, instead of being their servile victim, just as you and I and all of the brothers and sisters on our plane of thought, believe that all of this glorious old world ought to be. We must continue to spread the light, and inspire our common humanity, in every stage of development, wherever found, with higher aspirations and brighter ideas of what is in store for them. We must give them hope and courage. The good time coming, so oft foretold, is almost here, and it will be realized just as soon as a respectable minority can be brought to fully comprehend the way out of all their miseries, as well as they now understand the crushing effects of their present environments. It is

for us to speak the word that will save them from all their miseries, pains, and woes, here and now, without waiting for some far off time, and wonderful change to be brought about in some mysterious and incomprehensible manner. No! No! Leo, this is no time for us to stop and simply wonder at something that is merely the birth-right of every human being, while by a little well devised, intelligent and earnest effort on the part of the very few reformers who are not yet entirely submerged, we can secure to every human being every blessing he or she is capable of appreciating. There is nothing impossible about this, and if the world is not redeemed from its present low estate, it will be because the few altruists in[Pg 11] the world do not make the necessary effort;—and they will surely make that effort when they comprehend how easy it is to quietly and peacefully remove the burdens that ignorance and greed have imposed, and thus rescue the toiler from the grasp of the selfish. How much are you willing to do toward this work of saving

the world? Could you be persuaded to forget self for awhile and lend your services to the cause of humanity, by spreading the light that will save it, and save it too before even the older people of this generation shall have passed off the stage?'

"I was carried away by his earnest appeal, and promptly responded:

"'I am indeed willing to make any conceivable sacrifice in such a cause, my dear old Jack, but you must tell me what to do and how to do it.'

"'Then can you go into the interior of the United States—to the great Missouri Valley, and deliver a message from me to a dearly loved friend, which will secure his assistance?'

"'I certainly will,' I said. 'Personal matters require my presence in New York. I shall go from here to San Francisco, and thence across the continent by rail, and can stop off at any point you desire. I have been notified that, in the private papers of Richard Sage, who died some years ago, a document was found, clearly proving that I am one of the heirs to a large property, which was held in trust for minors, whose whereabouts were unknown to the testator, my grandfather. I am the representative of those heirs.'