Someone else now appeared, namely Police Constable Lucas; more than once P.C. Lucas had helpedjack demolish a chaparita of rum (without the herb Contribo) at a club or booth; there was no trace of any such memory on the P.C.’s face now. “Would you read your notes,” said the District Officer. Would you step inside. Would you read your notes. The District Commissioner was expert in the donning of the velvet glove. But wrell did John L. Limekiller know what lay inside.
“Acting upon information received,” read P.C. Lucas, “I w^ent in the police launch to the place called Mangrove Creek, accompanied by Mr. Stopford the District Surveyor —”
Limekiller was puzzled, for the first time, genuinely. “The, ah, Surveyor?” he interrupted.
The skies did not fall at this interruption. It was explained to him that it was well-known that the mouth of Mangrove Creek had at one time been located just inside the limits of Woodcutters Cove Town. And it was well-known that the effects of Hurricane Henrietta had closed that mouth and opened another. w'hich lay- outside the Towm limits. It was also known that Hurricane Elvia had quite estopped this and opened yet another. But it was not known if this new mouth lay in or out of the limits. “The question of mooring fees,” explained the D.C. Money.
On coming into sight of the vessel known to them as the boat Saccharissa registered as belonging to Mr. John Lutwidge Limekiller, P.C. Lucas and Surveyor Stopford observed two individuals unfamiliar to them moving about on the deck of aforesaid vessel and attempting to hand down an object not immediately identifiable to a third individual in a cayuco; did the two Officials open fire upon them? did they attempt to cut off their retreat? was the Magna Carta written in Volapiik?
we then hailed the three individuals,” read P.C. Lucas, virtuously, “but they at once made their craft to the opposite bank, and escaped into the bush. We would have pursued them but,” here the P.C. raised his eyes to those of his superior, who evaded them in a manner which indicated that he was at that moment passing no judgment as to should they have pursued said three individuals into the bush but might raise the matter at a time subsequent; “. but upon observing that the object they had dropped was spilling gold coins we thought it best to return with it and them at once and to report the matter to the District Commissioner,” and here he closed his notebook and stood with his legs apart.
“You recognize this shirt, Mr. Limekiller?” Limekiller would at that moment have been willing to swear upon a copy of Domesday Boke and/or the British North America Act that he did not even recognize that it was a shirt, except that -
— except that it had been mended once by Felix who, not content with sewing up its rents and tears had also sewed onto the right breast the initials JL in very large letters: and if there was anyone in the entire District of Seville who had not seen him wearing it, it could only have been Blind Bob who sat in the Market Place, with his sightless eyes rolling, making baskets out of native rushes. Hardly perhaps a case where the principle of Stout Denial seemed in order. “Yes,” said Mr. Limekiller.
“We have examined these coins and find them to be golden guineas of the Reigns of Charles II, James II, and William III,” said the District Commissioner. and indeed one would scarcely- have needed to be a member of the Royal Association of Numismatists to have done so. with the monarchs’ names and titles emphatically emprinted on the coins in neat Latin abbreviations.
“You may know, Mr. Limekiller, that although it is not forbidden to own such coins, their ownership must be registered with the Treasury,” Mr. Limekiller took advantage of the pause to say nothing, “in order to establish the question of rightful ownership.” Pause. Mr. Limekiller continued to say nothing. “So you see there is more than one question we have to answer,” the D.C. began to tick them off on his fingers. “One, are these your gold coins? Two, if they axe, then why have they not been registered? Three: if they have not been registered because you have just recently acquired them, then where and when and how did you acquire them? We perceive that there seems to be sand mixed among the gold and lying in the shirt which they were wrapped in. Can it be that the coins of gold were just recently dug up somewhere? — say, somewhere on the shore? In such a case we would have to add Question Number Four: was the gold obtained in an illegal manner or fashion?”Jack noted that the possibility that he had obtained the gold whilst illegally taking turtle eggs had not been raised: he himself was not going to raise it. “Question Five: is it not so that even if the gold was taken from someone who had himself illegally failed to register it, would that make the taking of it by someone else other than illegal? no — it would NOT! Theft would be and is theft! Mind you,” said the D.C., “I don’t accuse you of theft. Nor do I accuse you of having the gold in your possession — although you don’t deny do you, having the gold in your possession, do you? — other than legally?”
Limekiller cleared his throat, but with great control refrained from saying, “Ahh.” Or even “Umm.” He said, “Who says it was in my possession?”
The District Commissioner sat for a second with his mouth open. “Why who? Two of our Government officials. no. well… if the gold was not in your possession, then how did it come to be on your boat?”
“Maybe the same ones who were taking it off, put it on?”
The D.C. brushed away an invisible fly. “Why would they have done that?” And Limekiller quickly pointed out that it was not for him to ascertain their motives. “Best that you ask them that,” he suggested. And the D.C. looked up at the P.C. But P.C. Lucas continued to stand At Ease, saying nothing.
The District Commissioner now looked his invited guest straight between the eyes and said, “Now, Mr. Limekiller, it is not prohibited to own gold coins regardless of are they legal tender or not and the question, ‘Are such coins still legal tender or not’ is one into which I will not go;” echoes of Churchill’s reply to the new secretary telling him not to end a sentence with a preposition: “This is an impertinence up with which I will not put.” — “however, we are obliged to ahsk, I will not say demand” (and, Damned nice of you! thought Jack) “how you did get these coins, because they are not in shall we say common ownership. So I shall now ahsk you that question.”
There was a loonng pause. Then the D.C. said, “Very well.” He gestured to P.C. Lucas, who gathered up the shirt and its precious contents, the D.C. meanwhile unlocking the huge and antique safe, which would certainly not cause Mr. Jimmy Valentine or his successors much trouble; but where was he? It would certainly baffle anybody in Woodcutters Cove, Seville District: shoved the stuffed shirt in under the shelves of official documents, closed and clicked it shut. “We shall, I trust, see you here at shall we say eight of the morning. Good evening, Mr. Limekiller. and I should advise you to think it over.”
And think it over Jack did. All night long.
There was nobody for him to think it over aloud with. save his former First Mate, Skippy the Cat who had been demoted in favor of Felix. Did Skip chant pieces of eight, pieces of eight? Nope: he offered no grounds for belief that because and just because Jack had not been confined in the district gaol for the night that he might not find himself confined there — or in the national one — at some future time. D.C. FitzEvans was a Bavman and hence “cradled on the water,” as were they alclass="underline" he would know the state of the winds without even taking thought, and he would know that the state of the winds would not carry Limekiller on a flight from Colonial waters at this time. Not only not to “Republican waters,” not to anywhere well — the winds would indeed carry him now' right onto the Muggleton Shoals and there he… or his boat. might have to wait a very long time indeed before any friendly boats and their crews appeared to help tow. push. pull. shove him off; because right on the mainland circumjacent to the Muggleton Shoals was the cabin of old Sully Simpson, a very loud lunatic who notoriously kept open house for Tata Duende, the Spook of the Woods; and nobody darker than lard would come or go within a marine mile of the area.