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Updated: May 18, 2025
He would come again on the next morning, and then he would begin to be alarmed and would start a second search but with what to reckon by? Nobody knew about the house on the road to Clamart but Mlle. Olga Nilssen, and she was far away. He thought of Captain Stewart, and he wondered if that gentleman was by any chance here in the house, or if he was still in bed in the rue du Faubourg St.
But after a few rather awkward moments Mile. Nilssen waved an irritated hand. "Go away!" she said to her host. "Go away to your other guests! I want to talk to Ste. Marie. We have old times to talk over." And after hesitating awhile uneasily, Captain Stewart turned back into the room; but for some time thereafter Ste.
The Portuguese Captain shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said, "it was bad sickness, an' dey died an' gone over the side. I lose by their passage. I lose also the two fire-bar which I give for funeral palaver. Ver' disappointing." "Sudden kind of sickness," said Nilssen. "Dis sickness is. It make a man lib for die in one minute, clock time. But it don' matter to you pilot, does it?
Nilssen, of Banana, gave the pink gin cocktails a final brisk up with the swizzle-stick, poured them out with accurate division, and handed the tray to Captain Kettle and her husband. The men drank off the appetizer and put down the glasses. Kettle nodded a word of praise for the mixture and thanks to its concoctor, and Mrs.
You lib for below and chop. I take dem ship myself up dis next reach." "Well, it is plain, deep water," said Nilssen, "and I guess you sabbey how to keep in the middle as well as I do. Come along, Kettle." The pair of them went below to the baking cabin and dined off a savory orange-colored stew, and washed it down with fiery red wine, and dodged the swarming, crawling cockroaches.
Marie observed that his eyes were hard and bright and very alert, and that there were two bright spots of color in his yellow cheeks. It occurred to Ste. Marie that the man was afraid to leave him alone with Olga Nilssen, and he smiled to himself, reflecting that the lady, even if indiscreetly inclined, could tell him nothing save in details that he did not already know.
Nilssen gave a flash of white teeth, and then shuffled away off the veranda, and vanished within the bamboo walls of the pilotage. Nilssen sank back into his long-sleeved Madeira chair, a perfect wreck of a man, and Kettle sat up and looked at him with a serious face. "Look here," he said, "you should go home, or at any rate run North for a spell in Grand Canary.
"Me no fit," said the linguister candidly. "He kill me now if I say that, same's he kill you soon." "Oh, he's going to kill me, is he?" The interpreter nodded emphatically. "Or get dem big ju-ju," he added. "Ask him how Cappie Nilssen can be cured." The man with the yaws put the question timidly enough, and the witch-doctor burst into a great guffaw of laughter.
"But, if I were you, I'd ship it home out of harm's way by the next steamer." "Hasn't that missionary brute sent for it yet?" Captain Nilssen evaded the question. "I'll never forget what you've done for me, my lad.
"When you catch a Portuguese in a hurry like this," said Nilssen to Kettle as they made their way to the awninged bridge, "it means there's something wrong. I don't suppose we shall be told, but keep your eyes open." However, there was no reason for prying. Captain Rabeira was quite open about his desire for haste. "I got baccalhao and passenger boys for a cargo, an' dose don' keep," said he.
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