Chapter II

Levenstein was the name of the chief German trader at Levua. We had big dealings with him amounting to a share in his business, and we were going out this time with a cargo of trade goods and with some agricultural stuff for a man by name of Marks who had started a plantation on the north of the island. Our hands were pretty full, for we were our own stevedores, not trusting the longshore Johnnies over much, and one day, as we were on deck, the both of us, who should come along the wharf but Pat. Pat looked down in the mouth and as if something was troubling him. He gave us good-day and asked us how we were doing, and then he told us his bother. Sadie wasn’t well, the doctors thought she was going into a consumption.

“There’s nothing but trouble in this world,” said Pat. “First I lost my partner six months ago, then I lost a cargo which wasn’t full insured by a mistake of a damn clerk, and now Sadie is took bad. Well, good-day to you, boys, and better luck than is attending me.”

“Now I wonder why he came along the wharf to tell us that,” says Buck. “Blessed if I can make the old man out. His compasses are wrong, he ain’t sailing true; he’s doing things he’s never done before. Maybe he’s breaking up with old age and that’s what’s the matter with him.”

“He seems to have taken a fancy to us anyhow,” I says, “and if he’s breaking up let’s hope he won’t forget you in his will.”

Then we went on with our work, thinking no more about him till two days later up he turns again, comes down to the cabin of the _Greyhound_, pulls out a big handkerchief, blows his nose and wipes his eyes and starts his batteries.

“Me child’s going to die,” says he. “Oh, it’s the cruel disease as has caught hold of her; it’s only trotting now, but once it begins to gallop Dr. Hennassy says he won’t give her a fortnight. Nothing will save her, he says, but a long sea voyage away from excitement with the good God’s ozone round her. Steamships is no good, and there’s nothing in ’Frisco but Cape Horners and timber ships. Buck, you’re me nephew, and by the same token you had the old _Greyhound_ out of me for next to nothing, though I’m not worryin’ about that. Take her for a trip and I’ll pay the expenses; she can take the old Kanaka mammy with her, that brought her up, to look after her. If it’s ten thousand dollars you can have it, but get her out into God’s good ozone, away off to Honolulu and away round that way for a six months’ trip; fling your cargo in the harbour,” he says, “and I’ll pay, for it’s me house is on fire and me child is burnin’, and what do I care for money where her life is concerned.”

“Sure,” said Buck, “I’d take her jumping, but well you know I’m under contract, and as for throwing the cargo in the harbour, barring what the Port Authorities would say, it’s not mine to throw.”

“Well,” says the old man, “take her along with you, cargo and all; you’ve got an after cabin you don’t use with two bunks in it, that will do for them. You two bunk here in the main cabin, don’t you? Well, there you are, and I’ll pay you a thousand dollars for the trip.”

“Not a cent,” says Buck. “I don’t eat my relations when they’re in trouble. If I take her she goes free—and, sure, how am I to refuse to take her seeing what you say?”

“That’s me brave boy,” says Pat, “the true son of me sister Mary, God rest her soul.”

Then when we’d done some more talk he goes off.

“Well,” I says to Buck, “here’s a nice cargo.”

I’ve told you Buck was married to a woman who had run away from him. He’d never bothered to get divorced from her, fearing if he got amongst lawyers, he’d be sure to be robbed, and feeling that, as he didn’t ever want to get married again, buying a divorce would be like a chap with no heart for music buying a concertina.

“Well,” I says, rubbing it into him, “here’s a nice cargo. I’m no marrying man, and you’re hitched, so what’s the good of her; a thousand dollars won’t pay us for freightage, and if there’s a scratch on her when we get back, there’ll be hell to pay with Pat. S’pose she dies on us?” I says.

“And what would she die of?” asks he.

“Why, what but consumption?” says I.

Buck laughed.

“Consumption of victuals is all that’s wrong with her,” he says, and then he says no more, but goes on deck leaving me harpooned.

I’d taken in this consumption business as honest coin, and now, by Buck’s manner and words, I saw that Pat had been lying to us.

The skylight was open, and seeing Buck’s shadow across it, I called him down and, “For the love of God,” I says, “don’t tell me that the old man has been stuffing us. What’s his meaning?”

“It’s a family affair,” says Buck, “and I’d sooner leave it at that till we get to the end of it, but if you ask his meaning, why I’ll tell you straight that Pat has only one meaning in everything he does, and that’s robbery. He’s making to best me. I can’t see his game yet or what he is playing for, I can only say the stake’s big or he wouldn’t be pulling the girl into it.”

“But where’s the meaning of it?” I says, “unless he’s sending the girl to queer our pitch with Levenstein, and that wouldn’t be worth his trouble; there’s not enough business doing at Levua to make it worth his while, considering the big deals he’s always after.”

“Well,” says Buck, “I don’t know what’s his game, but I’m going to find out.”