Part 22 (2/2)

”Yes, me da capitan,” Marianna replied, a.s.suming strong Italian accent without effort.

”Yas'sa--yas'sa,” the darky echoed, looking about the boat, wet, dirty and littered with bark, slabs, and sawdust. ”My boss, Mista Becka, wants to know--would like to know,” he corrected, ”if you kain't c.u.m ash.o.r.e to see him.”

”Whata yo' boss want?--we start upa quick, gotta not much time.”

”Wal, he did'n zactly say, but I done reckon as how he wants to see you 'bout somp'n pa'tic'lar.”

”Go back, tella da boss we starta to work soon--I talka with him here after we getta da start,” the captain said, pointing toward the deck.

”Yas, I'll tell him dat,” replied the negro, fidgeting as though his mission had been a failure, but immediately started for his boat.

”You tella heem we be here alla day; he come any time,” Marianna called to him as he rowed away.

In about an hour the negro made out again, but this time he had the bulky figure of the man we wanted to see above all others. Of course, while we were running I had to stand by the engine below constantly, while Hiram, antic.i.p.ating Becker's visit, had taken to a boat ostensibly to look over the logs carefully before fastening the grapples that brought them aboard.

Becker had not been aboard long before it was clear that Hiram had planned better than he knew. There is something about a saw in full career that the most blase cannot resist. He stood watching it for some time. A huge wet and mud-laden log was hauled aboard, laid on the carriage, where steel teeth clenched it down. In a twinkling four side slabs came off and it was transformed into a square timber, clean and white, in strange contrast to the slimy thing it had been but a moment before. Then the whirling teeth began to travel through it with an ease that suggested a much softer material, laying out inch boards which disappeared below.

Captain Marianna brought him below to see the stock on hand, and it seemed to fill the bill, but as he was leaving our big motor attracted his attention. Becker was not the debonaire Lothario he affected to be when in New Orleans. Now sadly unkempt, it seemed to me that his great midriff exuded grease, but it might have been sweat.

He was greatly interested in learning how the big motor, originally intended for an air-plane, not only propelled a boat and ran a sawmill, but yanked in the logs, and hauled in our rigging.

He finally came over to where I stood trying my best to look bored and tired.

”Do you ever have any trouble with it?” he asked, jerkily pointing a pudgy thumb toward the motor.

”No-o-o--but of course it's got to be watched.”

”I've got one over there running an ice machine, but I don't know whether its the n.i.g.g.e.r I've got running it, or whether it's overloaded, or no good, but it makes lots of trouble.” I could see he wished to get some free technical instruction.

”It's likely your man doesn't know all about it,” I led him on.

Our talk ended in my promise to go ash.o.r.e that night and take a look at it.

Yes, he wanted lumber and the captain's price seemed satisfactory. In addition he wanted some lumber sawed half an inch thick for crating--and more--he would like to have all the sawdust we could save for him. He needed it in some insulating work on a cooler room--so he said.

That night we were to come alongside his wharf and he would have his negroes unload during the night what lumber we had so we would lose no time next morning.

”Oh, yes, I've got lots of n.i.g.g.e.rs to do it,” he explained when leaving.

When Hiram heard of the turn things had taken he could hardly contain himself. He acted like a man who had been in a dungeon for months and suddenly caught a glimmer of light. As for myself, I saw only that we were nearing the end of a very unpleasant bit of investigation.

”Be careful, Hiram,” I cautioned, ”the least bad move will spoil it.

This man has a low cunning--hypnotize yourself into thinking it is not of much importance and you have a year to do it. A show of haste will be fatal.”

Hiram was quick to see the point and began to grin. I knew he was about ready to jump out of his skin with excitement.

”Do you know,” said he, ”it is now only a little after two and we have sawed more logs and made more good lumber than we did all day yesterday!” Evidently he was trying to control himself. ”The sawyer tells me he must have nice clear logs to make half-inch lumber on Becker's order. I guess I'll spend the afternoon picking them out.”

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