alternating watchfully between the
writing and the black chief
before him, while the black chief himself speculated and
studied the
chance of getting behind him and, with the single knife-thrust he
knew so well, of severing the other's
spinal cord at the base of the
neck.
"Sati," Van Horn read. "Last monsoon begin about this time, him
fella Sati get 'm sick belly belong him too much; bime by him fella
Sati finish
altogether," he translated into beche-de-mer the written
information: Died of dysentery July 4th, 1901.
"Plenty work him fella Sati, long time," Nau-hau drove to the point.
"What come along money belong him?"
Van Horn did
mentalarithmetic from the
account.
"Altogether him make 'm six tens pounds and two fella pounds gold
money," was his
translation of sixty-two pounds of wages. "I pay
advance father belong him one ten pounds and five fella pounds. Him
finish
altogether four tens pounds and seven fella pounds."
"What name stop four tens pounds and seven fella pounds?" Nau-hau
demanded, his tongue, but not his brain, encompassing so prodigious
a sum.
Van Horn held up his hand.
"Too much hurry you fella Nau-hau. Him fella Sati buy 'm slop chest
along
plantation two tens pounds and one fella pound. Belong Sati
he finish
altogether two tens pounds and six fella pounds."
"What name stop two tens pounds and six fella pounds?" Nau-hau
continued inflexibly.
"Stop 'm along me," the captain answered curtly.
"Give 'm me two tens pounds and six fella pounds."
"Give 'm you hell," Van Horn refused, and in the blue of his eyes
the black chief sensed the
impression of the
dynamite out of which
white men seemed made, and felt his brain
quicken to the
vision of
the
bloody day he first encountered an
explosion of
dynamite and was
hurled through the air.
"What name that old fella boy stop 'm along canoe?" Van Horn asked,
pointing to an old man in a canoe
alongside. "Him father belong
Sati?"
"Him father belong Sati," Nau-hau affirmed.
Van Horn motioned the old man in and on board, beckoned Borckman to
take
charge of the deck and of Nau-hau, and went below to get the
money from his strong-box. When he returned, cavalierly ignoring
the chief, he addressed himself to the old man.
"What name belong you?"
"Me fella Nino," was the quavering
response. "Him fella Sati belong
along me."
Van Horn glanced for verification to Nau-hau, who nodded affirmation
in the
reverse Solomon way;
whereupon Van Horn counted twenty-six
gold sovereigns into the hand of Sati's father.
Immediately
thereafter Nau-hau
extended his hand and received the
sum. Twenty gold pieces the chief retained for himself, returning
to the old man the remaining six. It was no quarrel of Van Horn's.
He had fulfilled his duty and paid
properly. The
tyranny of a chief
over a subject was none of his business.
Both masters, white and black, were fairly
contented with
themselves. Van Horn had paid the money where it was due; Nau-hau,
by
virtue of kingship, had robbed Sati's father of Sati's labour
before Van Horn's eyes. But Nau-hau was not above strutting. He
declined a proffered present of
tobacco, bought a case of stick
tobacco from Van Horn, paying him five pounds for it, and insisted
on having it sawed open so that he could fill his pipe.
"Plenty good boy stop along Langa-Langa?" Van Horn, unperturbed,
politely queried, in order to make conversation and advertise
nonchalance.
The King o' Babylon grinned, but did not deign to reply.
"Maybe I go
ashore and walk about?" Van Horn
challenged with
tentative emphasis.
"Maybe too much trouble along you," Nau-hau
challenged back. "Maybe
plenty bad fella boy kai-kai along you."
Although Van Horn did not know it, at this
challenge he experienced
the hair-pricking sensations in his scalp that Jerry experienced
when he bristled his back.
"Hey, Borckman," he called. "Man the whaleboat."
When the whaleboat was
alongside, he descended into it first,
superiorly, then invited Nau-hau to accompany him.