The wineglasses had already been filled too frequently for me, and,
pleading business, I had spread out a coast chart on the other end of
the cabin table and was studying it, this by way of removing myself from
a conversation which I saw was not to end with trading or slave-running.
This Rimmle was one of those who held Captain Blaise for a sort of idol.
I had seen dozens of the kind before. Great hours for them when they
could sit in with the famous Captain Blaise, and so now, with the agent
bound to talk of the West Coast trade, lawful and otherwise, Captain
Blaise was making but slow headway.
I was thinking of stepping up on deck to stretch my legs, when the
conversation took a sudden shift. "Captain"--Rimmle put the question
hesitatingly--"I thought I had seen the last of you. May I ask what
lured you back?"
Captain Blaise had decanted another bottle and was viewing the
rich-colored bubbles as he held the carafe up against the light. Such
little things afforded him keen pleasure. He set the carafe
down--softly--only to ask by way of reply: "Rimmle, what is it always
brings men back?"
Rimmle laid his head to one side and nodded shrewdly. "As far as my
experience goes, Captain, it is one of three things."
"And which of the three is my failing?" Captain Blaise was absently
filling their glasses.
"M-m--It cannot be money--you never cared for that.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108