Forbidden Cargoes

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER VII JOHNNY WINS A FRIEND

  Just as the first faint glow of dawn lighted the shattered walls andyawning windows of the ancient Guatemalan jail from which Johnny Thompsonhad been so strangely released, the Spanish child in his arms stirred,then sat up to stare about her. At that moment a tall, dark Honduran camewalking rapidly across the plaza.

  "Don del Valle!" Johnny started. This was the man who owned a fifth ofall the banana land in Central America, the man who had ordered himthrown into jail.

  "What next?" he thought.

  Not knowing whether to break and run, or stand his ground, he hesitateduntil the man was upon him.

  "Hah!" the man exclaimed. "At last!"

  Johnny was on his feet in an instant, prepared for flight. "He's beenlooking for me," his thoughts raced on. "Now he's found me, he'll find meanother jail. He'll put me in. If he can catch me. He can't." Yet for themoment he stood still. Why? Probably he did not know why, but it was wellthat he did not run.

  "Where did you find the child?" This was the question the dark-skinneddel Valle shot at Johnny. At the same instant the child Johnny hadprotected during the terrifying earthquake sprang into the Honduran'sarms. The man's tone was not harsh as it had been the night before.

  "Why I--" Johnny tried to think. "I really didn't find her. Shefound--that is, we fell over each other, so we decided to camp here untilthe earth began standing still."

  "But you, my young friend? You are in jail. Is it not so?"

  "I was in jail." Johnny felt a creepy sensation running up his back. Thathad been a terribly uncomfortable jail. "The--the jail wasn't safe,"--hisface twisted into a quizzical smile--"so I came over here to the plaza."

  As he spoke the child was pouring words, soft melodious Spanish wordsinto Don del Valle's ears.

  "I am sorry," said the Honduran. "I was hasty. You should not have goneto jail. My child here, who was lost from us in the catastrophe, tells meyou were her protector. You have returned me good for evil. Pardon. Youwished to ask me something? Bananas, was it not? You should know that Ihave no bananas to sell, that they are all contracted for by yourAmerican fruit company."

  Johnny's heart leaped. Luck was coming his way. Providence had sent himan earthquake to cast down his prison bars and a child to plead hiscause. Before his mind's eye came the faces of good old Kennedy, of MadgeKennedy and of Captain Jorgensen. He might be able to help them yet. Atany rate he was not to go back to jail.

  "But you don't understand," he found himself saying to the rich Spaniard."It is only the six hands I ask. They are not contracted for. Two-thirdsof a ship load is all I need."

  "Ah! Six hands you say." Don del Valle stroked his beard. "It might bearranged."

  "But you are hungry!" he exclaimed. "The walls of my house are cracked,but it has not fallen. The great shudder is over, please God. My servantshave cleared away the rubbish and put things to right. We will havecoffee and hot corn cakes in the garden. After that we will talk of thesesix hands. Come!"

  He led the way through streets strewn with debris. The child, flittingback and forth like a sunbeam, placed a confiding hand first in Johnny's,then in her father's brown palm.

  In spite of the havoc wrought by the earthquake, Don del Valle's gardenwas still very beautiful. The broken fragments of a great flower-filledurn had been cleared away. Two fallen trees still lay prone amid ablazing bed of flowering plants. In the background, in the midst of aluxuriant growth of strange tropical and semi-tropical plants, a path ledto inviting realms beyond.

  On a broad piazza they sat in rosewood chairs around tables of solidmahogany, munching hot corn cakes and sipping coffee. There was Don delValle and his wife, a very beautiful Spanish lady. Besides Johnny and thelittle girl, there were no others.

  "She is their only child," thought Johnny as he noted how tenderly theycared for the dark-eyed girl. "What a privilege to show her a kindness."

  The talk ran on about matters quite foreign to business. They speculatedregarding the extent of damage done by the earthquake and the area shakenby it.

  "And have you many earthquakes in the United States?" asked the lady.

  "I have never experienced one before," Johnny replied. "Our land is verybroad and flat. It has little backbone. Mountains are the backbone of theland. At times the backbone appears to shake up a bit."

  "Ah yes!" said the Don. "It is quite true. Our land is very muchbackbone, almost nothing else."

  Johnny was interested in everything that these people had to say, but wasvery anxious to get down to business. He had come to purchase bananas,twenty thousand bunches at least. There was need of haste. SkipperJorgensen's ship, the _North Star_, was lying before Belize in BritishHonduras without a cargo--at least it had been lying there three daysbefore. There was no telling at what moment some one might offer him acargo of cocoanuts, chicle, mahogany or a combination cargo of all. ThenJohnny's chance of helping Kennedy and his granddaughter by getting offtheir year's crop of grapefruit would be gone.

  "And that," he told himself, "would be a great tragedy."

  "And now," said his host, as the others moved away and the servantdisappeared with the dishes, "we may talk. We must make it brief. I am abusy man. In this city I operate two stores, a cotton mill and awarehouse. I must find out at once the extent of damage done by theshock. You want bananas?"

  "Six hand bunches."

  "Ah yes, you wish only the six hand bunches. And how can you use six handbunches? The Fruit Company will never purchase them. How can you hope todispose of them? They are not used. Either they are not gathered at all,or they are given to the stevedores or are cut up and cast into the sea."

  "That's just it," said Johnny, leaning eagerly forward. "It was justbecause you do not care for them, because you have no contract with theFruit Company to deliver them, that I thought you would be willing tosell them to me."

  "Sell them!" The man's eyes lighted. "I could almost give them to you.Five cents a bunch. That would pay for gathering and bringing them to thewharf. But you?" He turned his eyes upon the boy. "What will you do withthem? If the Fruit Company cannot handle them, how can you?

  "You see," he smiled, "because you were kind to my child, I like you. Ido not wish to see you cheat yourself."

  "Look!" said Johnny, rising to pace the stone floor. "You grade yourbananas according to the number of groups on a stem. You call thosegroups hands. For a bunch having seven hands the Fruit Company paystwenty-five cents; eight hands thirty-seven and a half; nine hands ormore fifty cents. If a bunch has only six hands they will not buy it. Isit not so?"

  "_Si, Si, Senor._ It is true."

  "But are the bananas on the six hand bunch smaller? Are they less sweet?Will they spoil more quickly than those on the other bunches?"

  "No, _Senor_."

  "Then why are they not as good?"

  The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders for reply.

  "They are as good, exactly as good!" Johnny struck the table with hisopen palm. "Small bunches are a little more trouble to handle. That isthe only difference. There are plenty larger. The Fruit Company takesonly what it wishes and reaps a rich reward from this. But we will handlethe six hand bunches.

  "In America," his tone became quiet, "there are thousands of poor peoplewho would gladly eat more bananas. Their children love them. Do they eatthem? No. Why? Because, while you sell a bunch, one hundred bananas, fora quarter, in the United States one must pay a quarter for five.

  "There may be legitimate reasons for the great difference in price. I amnot going to look into that. It is not my task. But for once, in a littlecorner of our great country, there will be cheap bananas. Six handbunches. You sell them to me for five cents a bunch and I will do therest. How many may I have? Twenty thousand bunches?"

  "Twenty-five thousand, _Senor_. On my three plantations there are thismany small bunches. You may have them all. I will give you a note to mymanager at Porte Zalaya. He will have them brought to the
docks at once."

  "In regard to the pay, I--"

  "You will pay when your people pay you for the bananas," said thegenerous Spaniard. "Send me a draft. If the money does not come to you,then it will never come to me.

  "And now," he said, "I must go. Come inside, and I will instruct mysecretary about the note you are to carry to my manager at Porte Zalaya."

  Ten minutes later, stepping on air, Johnny made his way toward therailway station.

  "Now," he said to himself, "if only I can reach the _North Star_ beforeCaptain Jorgensen contracts for another cargo, all is well. I'll make itsnappy."

  He had not lived in Central America long enough to know that in thislittle world of sudden revolution and many strange surprises, things arealmost never done snappy. It is the land of _manana_ (tomorrow), a landwhere nearly everyone believes that _manana_ will do very well for all"snappy" business.