"Business appears to be slack," Scott observed.
The first officer shrugged. "Nobody's showed up with any pepper since that ship appeared offshore. I think Pa' Mahmud's getting ready to do some more bargaining.''
Scott rubbed his chin reflectively. "He hasn't delivered a tenth of what he promised. We'll just walk up in the town and look for Mr. Fox. Maybe he can shed some light on things."
Dorcas walked between Scott and her father, seemingly not minding the blinding heat that had driven much of the population indoors. Nor did she appear either surprised or shocked at sight of an occasional woman nude above the waist and good-sized children entirely naked. Scott assumed she had seen such before in the Philippines.
"Do you know," she asked as they neared the palace, "you and the people of the Caroline are the only Americans I've ever seen, besides my father?"
"Is that so strange for someone who has never been to America?"
"No; but, you know, in Manila everybody said Americans were barbarians."
"Not everybody, my dear," her father corrected gently.
"Well, nearly everybody. It used to infuriate me ... on account of Father, you know."
Scott smiled, thinking that few people could be less like a barbarian than the stooped, scholarly looking Russell. "The few Spaniards I've come across have been rather sold on themselves."
"We Spaniards are a proud people."
Now they were at the palace. Fox was inside, and they gained admission immediately, the second mate himself ushering them in. Pa' Mahmud was polite, but not effusive. His wives were nowhere in sight. As soon as he could, Scott told Fox that no pepper had been delivered since the strange American brig appeared offshore.
"I'll ask Pa' Mahmud about it," Fox said.
"We contracted for five hundred piculs, Mr. Fox, and I mean to have them. And at the price agreed on."
After a minute or two of conversation with the rajah the second officer advised Scott the deliveries would be resumed at once. "The other ship had nothing to do with it, I'm certain," he added. "Pa' Mahmud didn't know they'd stopped."
I wonder, Scott mused, studying the impassive face of the Malay. I wonder.
But pepper again was being brought to the weighing station when, after drinking tea with the ruler, they returned to the shore.
"All right now?" Scott asked Peary.
The man wiped sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "They're slower than they were this morning, and the bags are lighter. But at least we're getting some." He paused and looked out at the strange brig, which was now anchoring less than a cable's length on the larboard beam of the Caroline. She was a trim craft, a trifle smaller than the Charleston vessel; and already native proas from Stallapoo were clustering about her. "I can guess why she's here."
"So can I.''
"Will you share the available pepper with her? I seem to recall Fox saying something about such being the custom out here."
"He said it was done if the captains reached an agreement."
"Well, will you agree to such an arrangement?"
"That depends on the skipper of that ship. I've a notion he'll pay us a call about the time I get back to the Caroline."
Nearing his own vessel, Scott read the name of the stranger. She was the Sally Culbreath of Salem.
14
SCOTT observed that the master of the Salem ship equalled him in distrust of the natives, permitting no more than one proa at a time to lay alongside and allowing only a handful of Malays aboard. He also noticed that no boat put out from the brig to visit Stallapoo. However, he was disappointed and annoyed when by supper time he had neither seen nor heard from the vessel's master.
"If you ask me," Peary said dourly at the meal, "the Sally Culbreath spells trouble for us. What sort of American would put into a forsaken place like this and not even pay a courtesy call within an hour?"
Scott, who had been reluctantly thinking along the same line, rubbed his chin. "What do you think, Mr. Fox? Do you know the Sally Culbreath?"
Fox, who had just returned from his lengthy visit to the rajah, shook his head. "She's new to me, sir. I do know that Pa' Mahmud sent out to her, though."
"I hope he isn't figuring on selling her the pepper he agreed to let us have. I'm not letting him out of that bargain, no matter what he's offered."
"I don't think he'd welsh on it, sir," Fox said, a frown creasing his forehead.
"Well, I think he'd try to," Peary interjected. "For my money, he's cut from the same cloth as Suran. You know, don't you, that we got less than a hundred piculs of pepper today . . . considerably less?"
"He told us he knew nothing about the slowdown."
"Oh, come now, Fox. Surely you don't believe that."
"I only know what he said."
Peary sneered. "I'll bet we get no pepper at all tomorrow."
"So?"
"And if we don't, the best thing we can do is swing the ship around and knock seven bells and the Ten Commandments out of Stallapoo."
Before speaking again Fox glanced at the Russells, who were listening to the conversation. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I wouldn't mind, since you ask. I don't believe in truckling to natives who are no better than niggers, when you get right down to it. The captain tried to be decent to Suran—and look what happened."
Scott spoke up. "All right, gentlemen, belay such talk. We're going to get the pepper promised us. I made that clear to the rajah this afternoon, I believe."
"You did, sir," Fox said quickly.
From under the cabin window came a hearty hail. "Ahoy, the Caroline! We'd like to come aboard."
"There's the master of the Sally Culhreath" Scott said, excusing himself and going on deck.
Captain Zenas Bryant, master of the Salem brig, was a handsome sunburned man with sandy hair and a peeling nose. He was a couple of inches shorter than Scott, but a trifle broader across the shoulders. He radiated self-assurance and good humor. Scott liked him immediately.
"Sorry to be so late in paying a call, Captain Rogers," he said breezily, "but we've got several cases of scurvy in my ship, not to mention two quarrelsome fellows who carved each other up in the fo'c'sle this morning. And, of course, I've had the usual delegation from the town to contend with."
"We were just having supper," Scott said. "Will you join us?"
"I'll join you in a drink, if that's agreeable. I've had supper. Mostly raw onions, as you may have noticed; I've been on the ragged edge of scurvy myself."
In the cabin Bryant looked with undisguised interest at Dorcas. "Miss Russell, is it? Mighty rare to see a white woman in these parts . . . especially a pretty unmarried one."
"Captain Rogers rescued us from Malay pirates," she said with a smile. "We had no intention of coming here when we left Manila."
"You'll have to tell me more about it," Bryant said heartily.
"Glad to meet you Mr. Russell. . . . Mr. Peary. . . . Mr. Fox... . Don't I know you, Mr. Fox? You're an Essex County man, I'll bet."
"I'm from Essex County, all right, but we haven't met before, though your name is familiar to me."
"I'm good at remembering names and faces," Bryant said slowly. "I must have seen you somewhere, man. Have you been on this coast before?" Aye.
Bryant frowned slightly, dredging his memory. "I'm sure-well, never mind . . ."
Scott had the steward break out a bottle of port wine, one of a few he carried for occasions such as this. Bryant lifted his glass to Dorcas. "Your health, ma'am."