ROGERS’ WORK
Manaos is a surprisingly large city for one that is situated in such an
out of the way place, but there is nothing bewildering or startling
about it. In some respects it is very much like the larger but more
backward towns of our own country but in most it is very different.
The first thing to thrust itself upon the visitor’s notice is the
intense heat; all the sun’s rays seem to converge in the depression in
which Manaos nestles. An inspection of the place, however, reveals
compensating virtues in the form of green, shady parks, cooling
fountains, and comfortable hotels for the traveller.
David was not particularly interested in the city although he took note
of some of the more unusual features; he had seen Pará which had
impressed him as being more attractive. He felt that enough time had
been spent already in travel and in sight-seeing and he was eager to
start work. So he lost no time in going to the hotel where someone from
the ranch was to meet him, in accordance with the arrangements that he
supposed had been made by cable before he left home.
No doubt Mr. Rice had come to welcome him personally, he thought; and
he was more than disappointed to learn that such was not the case.
“Senhor Rice has not been here in weeks,” the proprietor of the hotel
told him in answer to his questioning.
“But he was either to be here or to send someone,” David protested. “I
am going to his ranch and they were to come for me.”
“Here is the list of patrons. You may read it. Do you recognize any of
the names?”
David scanned the page of the register and admitted that the names were
all unfamiliar to him.
“I would recognize only Mr. Rice’s name,” he added, “and that is not
there.”
“No, the Senhor is not here.”
“Didn’t someone else say he expected me? There must be somebody here who
is hunting for me right this minute.”
The Brazilian shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, I understand now,” David explained, with a smile. “Whoever is
coming hasn’t arrived. He might have been delayed accidentally or
perhaps he thought the steamer was not due today. I’ll wait and
everything will be all right. When I am asked for, remember that I am
here. And, if a message or letter comes, give it to me without delay.”
The whole explanation seemed so simple to David. It must be exactly as
he had said. It was not in the least remarkable that one should miss
connections in a land lacking the elaborate facilities for travel his
own country boasted. He wondered how the matter could have caused him
concern and why he had not thought of the solution before.
Half an hour later he left his room and in passing through the corridor
could not resist the impulse to step into the office to make another
inquiry. But the answer was the same. There was nothing new, no message;
nor had anyone arrived from the ranch.
“Tomorrow, probably,” he thought, “and if not then, the day after that
without fail. I must learn to be patient although they should apologize
for keeping me waiting.”
In the meantime, he would see what there was of interest in the city,
and by asking questions learn as much as possible about the country of
the hinterland.
He had not gone two blocks before he met Rogers. The latter was stopping
aboard the ship; he felt sure that he could wind up his affairs during
the week the vessel lay in port and had engaged passage for the return
journey.
“Hello!” he greeted David cheerfully. “You still here? I thought you
might be on your way to the ranch by this time.”
“No, we missed connections some way. I can’t understand why, but they
have not come for me yet. But I expect them any minute.”
“Still got the fever, eh? Still want to go as badly as ever?”
“I certainly have got the fever, and the temperature is going up.”
“Say, you know what I said to you before--I think you are one foolish
person.”
“Look here, Rogers,” David retorted hotly. “Why are you so concerned
over my affairs? I didn’t insist on knowing what brought you here but
you keep harping about my business all of the time. Now forget it.”
“If that is the way you feel, I shall not mention it again,” Rogers
stammered, looking offended. “But--but just because I do not mention it
will not make me feel differently about it. I am sorry you are so set on
doing something you will surely regret.”
“Good-bye.” David wanted to fight but he dared not, remembering past
experiences and their consequences, so he quickly continued on his way.
Three days passed and still David remained unsought by anyone from the
ranch. The fact began to worry him.
He had spent the time alternately waiting in the hotel and tramping the
streets. The very sight of the Teatro Nacional, at first so imposing on
its built-up pedestal that covers an entire city block; the plazas with
their tropical trees, shrubs and dazzling flowers; the hot, winding
streets; and the parrots shrieking and squawking from their perches in
the doorways of the squat, thick-walled buildings; all began to pall on
him. He had not come all that distance to see cities; if that had been
his desire he might have remained at home. What he longed for was the
great outdoors and the myriad, varied possibilities it brought with it.
Why did not they come or at least communicate with him? he asked himself
again and again. He could bear the suspense no longer. He would
communicate with them.
The telephone occurred to him first of all as the most rapid means but,
of course, there was no service to Las Palmas. Nor was it possible to
send a telegram. A letter was the only thing he could think of; but when
they called for the letter they would also come for him. So there was in
reality no way of communicating with them after all.
In desperation, he went to the owner of the hotel and told him what was
on his mind.
“If they knew you were coming and wanted you at Las Palmas, they would
have been here,” the latter said. “What do you expect to do there,
anyway? My advice would be to go back home, if you asked me. You will be
better off there.”
“Good Heavens! This is beginning to look like a conspiracy of some
kind,” David started, but checked himself. Again the visions of past
experiences loomed up before him. He would endure almost anything rather
than take a single chance of spoiling this new and greatest of all
ventures. So he turned and walked away.
“I know what I’ll do,” he decided. “I’ll see the American Consul. He
will fix me up.”
Just as he turned to enter the doorway beneath the shield that served as
the guiding sign to the consul’s office he almost collided with Rogers
coming out.
They exchanged greetings and each went his way.
After waiting a few minutes in the anteroom he was admitted to the
official’s presence and briefly explained his mission. The consul
listened impatiently for a minute and then interrupted the recital.
“You will never get on there,” he said. “It is no place for an American
without practical experience. Las Palmas is a particularly bad place and
Rice is a terrible person--they call him the viper.”
David was boiling within, but said nothing, so the official continued:
“The ranch is a new one, just being opened up. No one but the natives
and Indians can do the clean-up work that is in progress now. You would
die in a little while if you tried it. I will fix up your passport and
you start back on the next boat.”
“I see,” said David simply, without betraying his feeling. “Thank you
for your offer but I cannot accept it just now for I am certainly not
going back home. I came to stay.”
“Stay and you will be sorry.”
“That’s up to me. And if Mr. Rogers comes to see you again, give him a
passport. I intend to see to it that he leaves the country on the next
boat.”
The air in the street lacked the cooling quality necessary to restore
David’s ruffled temper. Heat-waves rose from the flag-stones and smote
him in the face and the slight eddies that whirled around the corners
could have come out of the mouth of a furnace--they were so stifling.
The truth of the whole matter dawned upon David at last. Rogers was the
cause of all the discouragements he had met. The business upon which he
had come was to try to persuade him to return home. He had been sent for
that purpose. He chuckled grimly as he thought how Rogers would have to
report failure of his mission. They would see that he was not a
quitter. He did not blame his father for guarding his welfare but he
would prove to the world that he could look after his own interest in
any place and under any circumstances. The newly acquired knowledge made
him more determined than ever. So, as he returned to his lodgings a plan
formed itself in his mind; he would put it into effect without delay.
There was but one other matter that had to be attended to first. He must
see that Rogers actually sailed on the departing steamer; with him out
of the way, the rest would be easy.
A full hour before the ship was due to leave, David went aboard. And
about the first person he met on deck was Rogers.
“I came to see you off,” he said in a friendly manner.
Rogers looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face.
“You _are_ going, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I guess so.”
“Seems to me you ought to know for sure. If you don’t, I will tell you.
You _are_. I am on to your game. The best thing for you to do is not to
waste any more time. Tell them back home I am all right; and that you
did your best to discourage me but--you know the result. I am sending
letters on this same boat. Now, good-bye, and have a nice trip. I am
going to wait at the dock until you are out of sight.”
For a moment Rogers did not know what to say. Then he extended his hand.
“Good-bye,” he said simply.
“No hard feelings so far as I am concerned. You went to a lot of trouble
for nothing.”
“I am sorry, that is all.” Rogers appeared dejected. “And I can only
hope that you will reconsider the matter before it is too late. Remember
how they feel about it back home.”
David went ashore and waited. It was with a feeling of relief that he
saw the ship move out into the river at last, with Rogers at the rail
waving a last farewell. When the vessel finally disappeared from view he
turned his steps toward that section of the riverbank where a number of
launches were tied up, with their crews either aboard or on the bank.
“Where can I hire a boat?” he asked one of the men. “I want to go a
short distance up the river.”
“There is the _capitain_,” the sailor replied, pointing to a man dressed
exactly like the others but wearing an officer’s cap on his head.
David repeated the question to the person indicated.
“Where to?” he asked.
“The ranch Las Palmas.”
“Why don’t you go on one of the Las Palmas launches?” the captain asked
abruptly.
“I would if I knew where to find one. But I have been waiting a number
of days and none of their boats has put in here,” David explained.
“I will show you one. See that gray launch right over there, the
_Aguila_? That belongs to the ranch.”
David could have shouted for joy. They had come for him at last. He
hurried to the _Aguila_. Perhaps Mr. Rice had come in person to greet
him. This was luck indeed! Probably he had hurried to the hotel with
apologies for the delay; but no need for that inasmuch as he had finally
come and the long wait was over. There was the possibility, however,
that he was still aboard the launch.
By the time David reached the boat it was almost impossible to suppress
his eagerness and excitement.
“The _Aguila_ comes from Las Palmas,” he began, “so they tell me. Is Mr.
Rice on board now?”
A sailor who was washing several articles of clothing by beating them on
the rocks near the water’s edge looked up.
“No,” he said. “Senhor Rice is not here. He never travels on the
Aguila--it is not good enough for him.”
“Doesn’t he ever visit Manaos?”
“Yes, when there is some good reason for it but he always uses the
_Indio_ which is larger and much finer; you should see it. The _Aguila_
is for the peons and the cook when they come to buy provisions.”
“Where is the _Indio_ now?” David was becoming somewhat uneasy.
“At Las Palmas.”
“Didn’t Senhor Rice say anything about coming to Manaos in the near
future?”
“He never talks to the peons, so I don’t know.”
“You see,” David explained, “I am on my way to the ranch and they were
to send for me.”
“_Si, Senhor._” The man now stopped washing and listened respectfully.
“Did you hear anything about that?”
“_No, Senhor._”
“When do you start back?”
“This afternoon.”
“Today?” in surprise. “When did you arrive?”
“Two days ago.”
“There must be a misunderstanding somewhere. I have been waiting a good
many days and this is the first I heard of your coming, and that was by
accident. Who is in charge of the boat?”
“The captain. He went with the others to get some rice and other things.
He will be back soon.”
“I’ll wait, then.”
“Yes, Senhor,” and the man resumed his washing.
Here was a new predicament he had not counted on. For a while he racked
his brain in an effort to disentangle the puzzle, but it was of no
avail. He was compelled to give it up. There was certainly a mix-up
somewhere and that was all there was to it. By and by it would be all
cleared up and he would then laugh at his present anxiety and vexation.
The captain arrived before very long, followed by three men carrying
heavy bags on their shoulders. He was a thick-set, burly fellow and one
could tell at a glance that he was accustomed to giving orders which
others dared not hesitate long in obeying. A stubby beard covered the
greater part of his face effectually, concealing his features--all but
the eyes--small, black and penetrating. A flat cap with a long peak was
perched on the top of his head, the black hair, touched with gray,
appearing under the rim in a dense, unkempt ring.
That head-dress, David was to learn later, was typical of the masters
of the smaller river craft and was their only badge of position and
authority for, otherwise, they were dressed exactly like their ragged
crews.
David did not like the looks of the swarthy newcomer. But that did not
matter. He wanted to get to Las Palmas and the man possessed the means
of getting him there.
“My name is David Jones and I am from New York,” he said by way of
greeting. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”
“Me? Why have you been waiting for me? What do you want?” the captain
asked in surprise.
“I want to get to the ranch. Didn’t Mr. Rice instruct you to bring me
out?”
“I don’t know anything about it. Nobody said a word to me.”
“Well,” David tried to conceal his impatience with a laugh, “I am
expected at the ranch and I want to get there so soon as possible. I can
have my baggage here in fifteen minutes.”
The captain was looking at him sharply, even suspiciously.
“Do you think this is a passenger boat?” he asked. “We don’t carry
strangers without a written order from the boss.”
“But this is different,” David protested. “I am not a stranger. They are
looking for me. Mr. Rice must have misunderstood the date or he would
have been here personally.”
“That is not my fault,” said the captain gruffly.
“But I can go with you, can’t I?”
“No! If you knew the boss you would not ask me to take you. He is awful
when anyone does a thing he don’t like. He killed a man for that very
thing last week.”
“I am not afraid he’ll kill me.”
“Neither am I. I don’t care what happens to you but I do care what
happens to me.”
“How soon is the _Aguila_ coming back to Manaos?” said David in despair.
“Not for six months. Next week she starts on a long trip to carry
supplies to the rubber camps upriver.”
“And the _Indio_?”
“The _Indio_ has a broken propeller. They sent for a new one but it
generally takes a year to get anything from abroad.”
“Say,” David was wiping his face in desperation, “I have to get to Las
Palmas and that is all there is to it.”
“I have nothing against it. Get there any way you like--but not on the
_Aguila_.”
A sudden idea came to him. Perhaps the fellow wanted money.
“I’ll pay you well. How much do you want?” he asked.
The Brazilian straightened up; his eyes blazed.
“Are you trying to bribe me?” he bellowed, “and right in front of my
men? If you are, you’re insulting me. I am paid for my work and I want
none of your money. A fine person, you are, to try to buy me to disobey
my chief’s orders.”
“I did nothing of the kind,” David returned hotly. “I offered you money
to pay my passage because I could hardly ask a stranger to carry me for
nothing.”
“Well, I accept your explanation, but you will not go, just the same.
That is settled--understand? I am very busy.” This was said in such a
manner that David could not fail to grasp its significance.
He was in a quandary. It was just one discouraging thing after another.
Would matters ever become straightened out? He must go on that launch,
for had not the burly captain told him there would not be another in
months? He made one more desperate effort.
“I am going on the _Aguila_ whether you like it or not. And when I get
to Las Palmas--” he began, but the captain stopped him.
“Talk all you want to, but if I catch you aboard my boat I’ll throw you
into the river,” he threatened.
David looked at the man and knew he would keep his word. His mind worked
fast; he thought of one other thing.
“How soon do you start?” he asked.
“In two hours.”
“Will you take a letter for me?”
“Yes, I will take a letter or as many as you want to send, but I will
not take you, so don’t ask it again. Las Palmas is no place for a
foreigner. It is terrible there--snakes, insects and fevers. And the
boss treats us like dogs.”
David ignored these remarks.
“I’ll go to the hotel to write the letter and will bring it to you in
less than an hour.”
He hastened back to his room to prepare the missive, and ignoring a
first impulse to write all that had occurred during the last hour, he
only stated that he had arrived and was eager to reach the ranch, but
had no way of doing so.
“When Mr. Rice gets this he’ll ask the captain questions and then he’ll
be furious at the way I have been treated,” he thought. “And he’ll make
him turn right around and come back for me. Then it will be my turn to
show off, just as he did, and it will serve him right. He will soon find
out who I am.”
He hastened back to the river to deliver the letter, and as he thought
the matter over he was glad he had omitted all reference to the captain,
for the latter would doubtless read it and if he found anything too
personal he would destroy it.
Bad as it was, his position could have been a great deal worse. It was
now a question of only a few days more of waiting. That was a certainty.
But when David reached the river, breathless and perspiring, a new
calamity awaited him. The _Aguila_ was gone.
He looked up and down the river; there was no sign of the boat. As he
stood on the sand, too stunned to move, a sailor came up to him and
spoke sympathetically.
“Are you looking for the _Aguila_?” he asked.
David subconsciously murmered assent.
“She left over half an hour ago--right after you went away.”
“Thanks.”
David turned and slowly walked away. Try as he would to banish the
feeling, there was no denying the fact that his experiences were
beginning to dim the glamor of the life he had longed for; and that,
too, in the face of the fact that so far he had accomplished absolutely
nothing.
He went to the post office and mailed the letter, hoping that somehow or
other it would reach its destination.