"And have you signed your estimate showing what you consider to be a
fair price for both the lighthouse itself and for the cost of its
erection on the Lobo Reef?"
"Yes; there it is," and I pointed to the document lying on my desk.
"And now one word, please. When did you last see Mr. Lawton? He's our
agent, you know, and you must have met him in connection with this
matter. When Senor Garlicho arrived he brought us a letter from him."
Onativia's lips curled slightly as he recognized the hidden meaning of
the inquiry, but his expression never changed.
"I have never seen him. If I had I should not have wasted my time in
getting a letter from him or from anybody else. As to Senor Garlicho,
his time has expired; he has not asked for its renewal, and so far as
this deal is concerned he does not count. I am here, as I told you, to
keep the affair alive. I would have come sooner, but I have been away
from the city of San Juan for months. Most of us who have opinions of
our own have been away from San Juan--some for years. San Juan has not
been a healthy place for men who believe in Paramba."
"And do you?"
"Absolutely. So do thousands of our citizens."
"You don't seem to agree with Senor Garlicho, then. He thought your
former president, Paramba, a tyrant. As for President Alvarez, he
looked upon him as the saviour of his country."
The lips had full play now, the smile of contempt wrinkling up to his
eyelids.
"Saviour of his country! Saviour of his pocket! Pardon me; I am not
here to discuss the polities of our people. Is this your estimate?" And
he reached over and picked it from my desk. "Ah, yes: forty thousand
dollars for the ironwork; one hundred and twenty thousand for the
erection on the Lobo Reef; one hundred and sixty thousand in all. Thank
you." Here he tucked the paper in his pocket and rose from his seat.
"You will hear from me in a month, perhaps earlier. Good-day." And he
waddled out.
The return of the Tampico six weeks later brought another South
American consignment. This was a roll of plans concealed in a tin
case--the identical package which Mawkum had handed the "Bunch of Dried
Garlic" months before, together with a document stamped, restamped and
stamped again, containing an order in due form, signed "Carlos
Onativia," for a lighthouse to be erected on the "Garra de Lobo"--this
last was in red ink--with shipping directions, etc., etc.
With it came the clerk of the bankers (he had the case under his arm),
a reputable concern within a stone's throw of my office, who signed the
contract and paid the first instalment.
Then followed the erection of the ironwork in the Brooklyn yard; its
inspection by the engineer appointed by the bankers; its dismemberment
and final coat of red lead--each tie-rod and beam red as sticks of
sealing-wax--its delivery, properly bundled and packed, aboard a
sailing vessel bound for San Juan, and the payment of the last
instalment.
This closed the transaction, so far as we were concerned.
A year passed--two of them, in fact--during which time no news of any
kind reached us of the lighthouse. Mawkum kept the duplicate blue-print
of the elevation tacked on the wall over his desk to show our clients
the wide range of our business, and I would now and then try to
translate the newspapers which Lawton sent by every mail. These would
generally refer to the dissatisfaction felt by many of the Moccadorians
over the present government, one editorial, as near as I could make
out, going so far as to hint that a secret movement was on foot to oust
the "Usurper" Alvarez and restore the old government under Paramba. No
reference was ever made to the lighthouse. We knew, of course, that it
had arrived, for the freight had been paid: this we learned from the
brokers who shipped it; but whether it was still in storage at San Juan
or was flashing red and white--a credit to Onativia's energy and a
godsend to incoming shipping--was still a mystery.
Mawkum would often laugh whenever Garlicho's or Onativia's name was
mentioned, and once in a while we would discuss the difficulties they
must have encountered in the erection of the structure in the open sea.
One part of the transaction we could never understand, and that was why
Garlicho had allowed the matter to lapse if the lighthouse was needed
so badly, and what were his reasons for sending Onativia to renew the
negotiations instead of coming himself.
All doubts on this and every other point were set at rest one fine
morning by the arrival of a sunburned gentleman with gray
side-whiskers, a man I had not seen for years.
"Why, Lawton!" I cried, grasping his hand. "This is a surprise. Came by
the Tampico, did you? Oh, but I am glad to see you! Here, draw up a
chair. But stop--not a word until I ask you some questions about that
lighthouse."
The genial Scotchman broke out into a loud laugh.
"Don't laugh! Listen!" I said to him. "Tell me, why didn't Garlicho go
on with the work, and what do you know about Onativia?"
Lawton leaned back in his chair and closed one eye in merriment.
"Garlicho did not go on with the work, my dear friend, because he was
breaking stone in the streets of San Juan with a ball and chain around
his ankle. When Paramba came back to power he was tried for high
treason and condemned to be shot. He saved his neck by turning over the
lighthouse papers to Onativia. As to Carlos Onativia, he is a product
of the soil. Started life as a coolie boss in a copper mine, became
manager and owner, built the bridge over the Quitos River and the
railroad up the Andes; is the brightest man in Moccador and the brains
of the Paramba Government. One part of his duty is to keep the people
satisfied, and he does it every single time; another is to divide with
Paramba every dollar he makes."
"But the lighthouse!" I interrupted. "Is it up? You must have passed it
on your way out of the harbor."
"Up? Yes, and lighted every night--up in the public garden in San Juan
among the palms and bananas. The people eat ice-cream on the first
platform and the band plays Sundays in the balcony under the boat
davits. The people are wild about it--especially the women. It was the
last coat of red lead that did it."
And again the office rang with Lawton's laugh.