Part 45 (2/2)
Captain Marat and Grant Norris had been having some conference with Carlos Brill, and at last called us all together.
”We've been talking with Carlos about the gold,” said Norris. ”Although the mine is his, he will not hear of any arrangement other than share and share alike--after the sailors have been paid a substantial bonus, and Hawkins and the boy have received a proper payment for their labors and sufferings.”
There was an echo of protest. We felt that, as owners, Carlos and his sister should retain at the least a third of their patrimony.
”No,” spoke Carlos. ”No! We never get the mine if it not be for you. I feel in here” (and he put his finger to his chest) ”what is right, and I can never be happy if I cannot do what is right. I speak for my sister, too, she will think jus' like me.”
The final upshot of the whole discussion was, that he would allow that his sister should receive an equal share with the rest, instead of brother and sister having a single share between them as he intended.
What our gold amounted to I will not put down--this is no business volume I am writing; let it be enough, that no one of our party had need to want for any material comfort thereafter, even should he live the length of two average lives.
The news of the arrival of the _Pearl_ had, somehow, pa.s.sed quickly into the city; and we had not finished our noon meal, when a boat came aboard, and we dropped our ladder, and received on deck some Kingston friends. There were Monsieur Cambon, with little Marie Cambon, she whom we rescued from the voodoos.
”She could not wait,” said Cambon. ”She must go and see 'the good American boys'.” And Monsieur Duchanel, the old friend of the Marats, came out of the boat, too. He brought a message from Madame Marat to her son, Captain Marat. Jean must come to sh.o.r.e early, bringing with him all of the party; for she and Madame Duchanel were already about the preparation of a feast to the returning argonauts. Melie Brill sent a word, too, to her brother, Carlos, who must not disappoint her for an early sight of him.
”You all seem cheerful, and in good health,” observed Monsieur Cambon.
”But I see Mistar Norris, here--he have some accident?” Norris still wore his arm in a sling.
”Oh, no,” said Ray. ”It was no accident, it was all on a program; only all the program was not carried out, as, I guess, there are some voodoos left that could tell.”
And then we had to recount something of that parting clash with the blacks.
”Come, Marie,” said her father at last. ”We must leave these boys to get ready for the party.”
The child had discovered the monkey, and they two were making friends, by inches.
”Oh, bring the monkey with you!” cried Marie, as she went over the side.
And so we dug out all our best bib and tucker for the fete. Duchanel sent aboard a pair of men from his establishment, for a guard to the _Pearl_, since all our party were expected ash.o.r.e. And the sailors were given sh.o.r.e leave, except only the regular watch.
It may be imagined what the party was, that evening, with the Cambons, the Duchanels, and the music of the little orchestra in that very park of a lawn, lights hung between the trees, and the cooling drinks and
sherbets, and the wonderful cookery of Madame Marat, a.s.sisted by Madame Duchanel. Andy Hawkins felt a bit out of place, and kept himself a good deal in the background. Once during the evening, Ray got me by the elbow and pulled me toward a clump of the shrubbery.
”Hawkins has been sending someone on an errand,” he said.
We peeked round a bush. On the ground sat Hawkins, grimacing at a pop bottle in his hand. He set it to his lips, and drained it. It was the second; the first--empty--lay beside him. In front, ten bottles, untouched, awaited his attack. He drank out a third, and with some access of squirming, a fourth. The fifth he barely tasted of, and he groaned with his defeat. He set the bottles on the ground, put his hands to his stomach and belched gas.
”What's the matter, Hawkins?” said Ray. ”Sick?”
”Oh, I s'y,” returned Hawkins. ”Hi ain't no good no more. Four bottles puts me under the tyble.”
”Are you full,” said Ray, ”or just intoxicated?”
”Oh, Hi feel just like my 'ead was goin' to blow hoff, or somethink,”
said Hawkins.
For near a week we lay in Kingston Harbor. Carlos and Melie Brill established themselves here, and they took the black boy under their care. Andy Hawkins found the place to his liking, and would remain till the spirit should move him to a trip back to London. The poor chap never got so far, for fever did for him before five months had gone. Grant Norris had some interest in Kingston, and would make it his home for the time.
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