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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Deacon's Australian, you know, and they're daffy down there on colour." "I fancy that's it," McMurtrey had agreed. "But we can't permit any bullying, especially of a man like Peter Gee, who's whiter than most white men." In this the manager had been in nowise wrong. Peter Gee was that rare creature, a good as well as clever Eurasian.
"Afraid of a little game like casino," Deacon girded. "Maybe the stakes are too high. I'll play you for pennies or farthings, if you say so." The man's conduct was a hurt and an affront to all of them. McMurtrey could stand it no longer. "Now hold on, Deacon. He says he doesn't want to play. Let him alone."
Jacketed, trousered, and shod, they were: Jerry McMurtrey, the manager; Eddy Little and Jack Andrews, clerks; Captain Stapler, of the recruiting ketch Merry; Darby Shryleton, planter from Tito-Ito; Peter Gee, a half-caste Chinese pearl-buyer who ranged from Ceylon to the Paumotus, and Alfred Deacon, a visitor who had stopped off from the last steamer.
"Some of the niggers do amazing things that way," McMurtrey interposed tactfully. As with the others, this conduct of their visitor jarred on the manager. From the moment of Peter Gee's arrival that afternoon Deacon had manifested a tendency to pick on him. He had disputed his statements and been generally rude. "Maybe it's because Peter's got Chink blood in him," had been Andrews' hypothesis.
Violence he deprecated, though he had killed men in his time. Turbulence he abhorred. He always avoided it as he would the plague. Captain Stapler stepped in to help McMurtrey: "I remember, when I changed schooners and came into Altman, the niggers knew right off the bat it was me. I wasn't expected, either, much less to be in another craft. They told the trader it was me.
"You personally guarantee that?" Deacon demanded. "I certainly do," McMurtrey said. "Depend upon it, the company will honour his paper up and past your letter of credit." "Low deals," Grief said, placing the deck before Deacon on the table. The latter hesitated in the midst of the cut and looked around with querulous misgiving at the faces of the others. The clerks and captains nodded.
Among the slain were Major Wyllys and Lieutenant Ebenezer Frothingham, of the regular troops, and Major Fontaine, Captains Thorp, McMurtrey and Scott, Lieutenants Clark and Rogers, and Ensigns Bridges, Sweet, Higgins and Thielkeld, of the militia.
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