Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  The appearance of this small but gorgeous individual in our dingy sitting-room produced an incongruous effect. The air was fogged with tobacco smoke; my father still lazily rested his legs across the table-top; the rest of us lounged in unconventional attitudes. However, being Americans we were more astonished than impressed by the vision that burst upon us and did not rise nor alter our positions in any way.

  “Which it is the gentleman who the ship Seagull owns?” demanded the stranger, mixing his English in his agitation, although he spoke it very clearly for a foreigner.

  Uncle Naboth became our spokesman.

  “There are three owners,” said he.

  “Ah! where they are?”

  “All in this room,” replied my uncle.

  “Excellent!” exclaimed our visitor, evidently pleased. He glanced around him, drew a chair to the table and sat down. My father moved his wooden leg a bit to give the stranger more room.

  “What is price?” he inquired, looking at Mr. Perkins, whom he faced.

  “Price for what, sir?”

  “Ship,” said the man.

  “Oh, you want to buy the ship?” gasped my uncle, fairly staggered by the suggestion.

  “If you please, if you like; if it is rais — rais — raison — a — ble.”

  Uncle Naboth stared at him. My father coolly filled his pipe again. The man’s quick eye caught Joe and I exchanging smiling glances, and he frowned slightly.

  “At what price you hold your ship?” he persisted, turning again to my uncle.

  “My dear sir,” was the perplexed reply, “we’ve never figured on selling the Seagull. We built it to keep — to have for our own use. We’re seamen, and it’s our home. If you’d ask us offhand what we’d sell our ears for, we’d know just as well what to answer.”

  The man nodded, looking thoughtful.

  “What the ship cost?” he asked.

  “Something over two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “United State America dollars?”

  “Of course.”

  Our visitor drew an envelope from his pocket; laid it on the table and scribbled some figures upon the back.

  “Ver’ well,” he said, presently; “I take him at two hunder’ thousan’ dollar, American.”

  “But — ”

  “It is bargain. What your terms?”

  “Cash!” snapped Uncle Naboth, laughing at the man’s obstinacy.

  The diamond-bedecked man leaned his elbow on the table and his head on his hand in a reflective pose. Then he straightened up and nodded his head vigorously.

  “Why not?” he exclaimed. “Of course it must the cash be. You will know, sir, that a gentleman does not carry two hunder’ thousan’ dollar about his person, and although I have had more than that sum on deposit in Bank of Melbourne, it have been expend in recent purchases. However, nevertheless, in spite of, I may say, I have ample fund in Bogota. I will make you draft on my bank there, and you may sail with me in my ship and collect the money in gold when we arrive. That is cash payment, Senor; is not?”

  “Bogota!” remarked my uncle, by this time thoroughly bewildered. “That is a long way off.”

  “Merely across Pacific,” said the other easily. “There is direct route to it through the South Seas.”

  My father nodded in confirmation of this statement. He knew his charts by heart.

  “Sir,” said Uncle Naboth, sitting up and heaving a deep sigh, “I have not the honor of knowing who the blazes you are.”

  The stranger cast a stealthy glance around the room. Then he leaned forward and said in a low voice:

  “I am Jiminez.”

  This impressive statement failed to enlighten my uncle.

  “Jiminez who?” he inquired.

  For an instant the man seemed offended. Then he smiled condescendingly.

  “To be sure!” he replied. “You are of United State and have no interest in South American affairs. It is natural you have ignorance regarding our politics. In Bogota the name of De Jiminez stands for reform; and reform stands for — ” He hesitated.

  “What?” asked my uncle.

  “Revolution!”

  “That’s only nat’ral,” observed Mr. Perkins complacently. “I hear revolutions are your reg’lar diet down in South America. If there didn’t happen to be a revolution on tap your people wouldn’t know what to do with themselves.”

  Senor de Jiminez frowned at this.

  “We will not politic discuss, if you please,” he rejoined stiffly. “We will discuss ship.”

  “We don’t want to sell,” said my uncle positively.

  De Jiminez looked at him speculatively.

  “I tell you with frankness, I must have ship,” said he.

  “What for?”

  “I will tell you that — but in more privacy,” with a wave of his hand toward our interested group.

  “Oh, these are all Seagull men,” announced Uncle Naboth. “I’ll introduce you, Mr. Yim — Him — Jim — ”

  “Jiminez.” He pronounced it “He-ma-noth” now, in Spanish fashion. “This is Captain Steele, our skipper and part owner,” continued my uncle. “This young man is Sam Steele, his son, and also part owner. Sam is purser and assistant supercargo of the Seagull. I’m supercargo, the third owner, and uncle to Sam an’ brother-in-law to the Cap’n. Is that all clear to you?”

  De Jiminez bowed.

  “Here is Ned Britton, our first mate; and also Joe Herring, our second mate. Both are trusted comrades and always know as much as we know. So what you say, stranger, is as private before these people as if you spoke to but one of us. Therefore, fire ahead.”

  The man considered a moment; then he said slowly:

  “You must know there are spies upon me here in Melbourne, as there are everywhere, whichever I go; so I cannot too careful be. You ask me why I want ship. I answer: to carry supplies of war to Colombia — arms and ammunition for the Cause — all of which I have successful purchase here in Australia.”

  “Oh; you’re going to start something, are you?” inquired Uncle Naboth.

  “It is already start, sir,” was the dignified response. “I am to complete the revolution. As you do not understan’ ver’ well, I will the explanation make that my country is rule by a bad president — a dictator — an autocrat! We call ourselves republic, Senor Américaine; but see! we are not now a republic; we are under despotism. My belove people are all slave to tyrant, who heeds no law but his own evil desire. Is it not my duty to break his power — to free my country?”

  “Perhaps,” answered Mr. Perkins, his calmness in sharp contrast to the other’s agitation. “But I can’t see as it’s any of our bread-and-butter. It’s your country, sir, but you must remember it’s not ours; and to tell you the cold fact, we don’t propose to sell the Seagull.”

  At this Senor de Jiminez looked a bit worried. But the little Spaniard was game, and did not give up easily.

  “I must have ship!” he asserted. “I am rich — have much money entrusted to me for the Cause — my estate is ver’ large. The best families of Colombia are all with me; now and always, whatever I do. See, Seftor; it was my ancestor who discover South America! who discover the River Orinoco! who was first governor of my country under the Queen of Spain! Yes, yes. I am descend direct from the great navigator Gonzalo Quesada de Jiminez, of whom you read in history.”

  “I congratulate you,” said Uncle Naboth dryly.

  “I have here in Melbourne congregate the means to carry on the war, which is now languish for want of arms and ammunition. It is all ready to send to Bogota. Therefore, you see, I must really have ship.”

  “But why buy one?” asked my uncle. “Why not send your stuff as freight?”

  “Impossible!” exclaimed the other. “You are United State. Well, United State forbid any merchant ship to carry arms to friendly state for starting revolution. If I hire you to do so, I get you in trouble, and myself in trouble. I want no quarrel with United State, for when I am myself President
of Colombia I must stand well with other powers. So it is same with every nation. I cannot hire a ship. I must buy one and take responsibility myself.”

  This frank and friendly explanation led me to regard the flashy little man more kindly than before. I had been busy thinking, knowing that Uncle Naboth had set his heart on making some money on the return voyage. So, during the pause that followed the speech of Senor de Jiminez, I turned the matter over in my mind and said:

  “Tell me, sir, what you propose doing with the ship after you get to Colombia with it?”

  He stared at me a moment.

  “It is of little use then,” said he, “unless I could put some cannon on board and use him for gunboat.”

  “Have you ever been aboard the Seagull?” I continued.

  He shook his head.

  “I have inquire about every ship now in Port Phillip,” he said. “Not one is available but yours that is big enough to carry my cargo — all others are owned in foreign lands and cannot be bought. But I see your ship, and it look like a good ship; I inquire and am told by my friends here it is famous for speed and safety.”

  “It is all that,” agreed my uncle heartily.

  “We have a couple of guns on board already,” I continued; “for sometimes we sail in seas where it is necessary for us to protect ourselves. But as a matter of fact the Seagull would make a poor gunboat, because she has no protective armor. So it seems all you could use her for would be to carry your revolutionary supplies to Colombia and land them secretly.”

  “That is all that I require!” he said quickly, giving me a keen look.

  “Sam,” said my uncle, “you’re goin’ to make a dum fool of yourself; I kin see it in your eye!”

  CHAPTER 2

  I ADVANCE A PROPOSITION

  By this time all eyes were upon my face, and realizing that I was about to suggest a bold undertaking I was a little embarrassed how to continue.

  “For our part, sir,” said I, addressing Senor de Jiminez and keeping my gaze averted from the others, “it is our intention to sail for America presently, and we would like to carry a good paying cargo with us. So it strikes me we ought to find a way to get together. Have you spent all your funds here in purchases, or have you some left?”

  He figured on the envelope again — eagerly now, for his quick brain had already grasped my forthcoming proposition.

  “I have still in bank here equal to nine thousan’ dollar United State money,” said he.

  “Very well,” I rejoined. “Now suppose you purchase from us the Seagull for two hundred thousand dollars, and pay down nine thousand in cash, agreeing to resell the ship to us as soon as we are free of the cargo for the sum of one hundred and ninety-one thousand dollars, accepting your own draft, which you are to give us, in full payment. In that way the thing might be arranged.”

  He had brightened up wonderfully during my speech and was about to reply when Uncle Naboth, who had been shaking his head discontentedly, broke in with:

  “No, Sam, it won’t do. It ain’t enough by half. Your scheme is jest a makeshift an’ I kin see where we might get into a peck o’ trouble aidin’ an’ abettin’ a rebellion agin a friendly country. Moreover, you don’t take into account the fact that we’ve got to operate the ship across the South Seas, an’ the salaries an’ wages fer such a long voyage amounts to considerable.”

  I have respect for Uncle Naboth’s judgment, so was rather crestfallen at his disapproval. But Senor de Jiminez, who was alert to every phase of the argument, said quickly:

  “It is true. Nine thousan’ dollar is too much for an ordinary voyage, and too little for such voyage as I propose. I will pay fifteen thousan’ dollar.”

  “You haven’t the cash,” remarked my uncle, “and revolutions are uncertain things.”

  Jiminez took time to muse over the problem, evidently considering his dilemma from every viewpoint. Then he began to shed his diamonds.

  He took out his jeweled cuff buttons, his studs, pin and watch guard, and laid them on the table.

  “Here,” said he, “are twenty thousan’ dollar worth of jewels — the finest and purest diamonds in all the world. I offer them as security. You take my nine thousan’ dollar in gold, and my personal note for six thousan’, which I pay as soon as in Colombia we land. If I do not, you keep the diamonds, which bring you much more in your own country. You see, gentlemen, I trust you. You are honest, but you make a hard bargain — hard for the man who must use you in spite of difficulty. But I have no complaint. I am in emergency; I must pay liberally to accomplish my great purpose. So then, what is result? Do I purchase the ship as Senor Sam Steele he describe?”

  Uncle Naboth hesitated and looked at my father, who had listened with his usual composure to all this but said not a word. Now he removed his pipe, cleared his throat and said:

  “I’m agree’ble. Colombia ain’t so blame much out’n our way, Naboth. An’ the pay’s lib’ral enough.”

  “What do you think, Ned?” asked my uncle.

  “The Cap’n’s said it,” answered the mate, briefly.

  “Joe?”

  Joe started and looked around at being thus appealed to. He was only a boy; but Uncle Naboth knew from experience that Joe never spoke without thinking and that his thoughts were fairly logical ones.

  “The deal looks all right on the face of it, sir,” said he. “But before you sign a contract I’d know something more of this gentleman and his prospects of landing his arms in safety, so we can get away from Colombia without a fight. Let Sam find out all he can about this revolution and its justice, and get posted thoroughly. Then, if it still seems a safe proposition, go ahead, for the terms are fair enough.”

  “Of course,” answered Uncle Naboth, “we don’t mean to jump before we look. Other things bein’ equal an’ satisfaction guaranteed, I’ll say to you, Mr. Jim — Yim — Jiminez, that I b’lieve we can strike a bargain.”

  The little man’s face had seemed careworn as he listened intently to this exchange of ideas. Evidently he was desperately anxious to get the Seagull to deliver his contraband goods. But he offered no objection to Joe’s cautious suggestion. Instead he turned to me, after a little thought, and said:

  “Time is with me very precious. I must get to Bogota as soon as possible — to the patriots awaiting me. So to satisfy your doubts I will quickly try. It is my request, Senor Sam, that you accompany me to my hotel, and the evening spend in my society — you and your friend Senor Joe. Then to-morrow morning we will sign the papers and begin to load at once the ship. Do you then accept my hospitality?”

  I turned to Uncle Naboth.

  “Do you think you can trust Joe and me?” I asked.

  “Guess so,” he responded. “Your jedgment’s as good as mine in this deal, which is a gamble any way you put it. Go with Mr. Jiminez, if you like, and find out all he’ll let you. Mostly about him, though; nobody knows anything about a revolution.”

  “Very well, Uncle,” I answered. Then I turned to the Colombian. “Sir,” said I, “we cordially accept your invitation. You seem fair and just in your dealings and for the present, at least, I’m glad to have formed your acquaintance. Keep your diamonds until we ask for the security. As you sail in our company you may as well wear them until circumstances require us to demand them of you.”

  He bowed and restored the gems to their former places. Then he rose and took his hat.

  “You will return with me to my apartments?”

  “If you desire it,” said I.

  “Then, Senors, I am at your service.”

  Joe quietly left his seat, saying: “I’ll be ready in a jiffy, Sam,” and started for his room — a room we shared together. After a moment’s hesitation I followed him.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “Slick up a bit and pack my toothbrush. Didn’t you hear De Jiminez speak of his ‘apartments’ at the hotel? And we’re to stay all night it seems.”

  “True enough,” I exclaimed. “We must
look decent, old man,” and I quickly changed my clothing and threw into a small grip such articles as I thought might be needed. Joe was ready before me, and I saw him quietly slip a revolver into his hip pocket; so I did the same, smiling at the incongruity of going armed to make a semisocial visit.

  We found Senor de Jiminez slightly impatient when we returned to the sitting-room, so we merely said good-bye to our friends and followed him out to the street. The Radley Arms was situated in a retired and very quiet district, and our exit seemed entirely unobserved except by our curious landlady. A sleepy beggar was sitting on the comer, and before him the Colombian paused and said in a calm tone:

  “What will your report be, then? That I have visited the Radley Arms? Well, let me give you help. I had friends there — these young gentlemen — who are returning with me to my hotel. You will find us there this evening and until morning. Will such information assist you, my good spy?”

  The beggar grinned and replied:

  “You’re a rare one, De Jimenez. But don’t blame me; I’m only earnin’ my grub.”

  “I know,” said the other gravely. “You do the dirty work for my countryman, the chief spy. But I do not care; you are both powerless to injure me, or to interfere with my plans.”

  Then he walked on, and a short distance down the street hailed a cab that was rolling by. We three entered the vehicle and were driven directly into the busiest section of the city.

  “The driver of this cab,” remarked De Jiminez, “is also a spy; and if you could behind us see, you would find the beggar riding with us.”

  “They seem to keep good track of you, Senor,” said Joe.

  “I do not mind,” answered the man. “If my arrangement with you succeeds I shall be able to get away from here before my enemies can interfere.”

  It was already growing late in the day and the streets were lighted as we entered the main thoroughfares. Our host seemed lost in thought and few remarks were exchanged between us during the long ride.

  Finally we drew up before an imposing looking edifice which I quickly recognized as the Hotel Markham, quite the swellest public house in all Melbourne. It cost one a lot to stop at such a place I well knew, but reflected that Senor de Jiminez, if important enough to conduct a revolution, might be expected to live in decent style — especially if the “patriots” paid his expenses.