PAGE 6
Ben
by
After that Doc became an institution, with a pretty Kanaka girl to carry the drum and pass round the saucer; and every night when he hadn’t a special engagement he would make the round of the bars, picking up what little he could. If there was a ship to be sold at auction, or a public meeting to protest against a high-handed something, it got to be the fashion to plaster the notice of it on Doc’s back, him playing under a tree for all he was worth with the sweat pouring down his face, while all hands turned out to see what was the rumpus. He made money hand over fist, and would have paid for his keep only I wouldn’t have it. We had grown to be sort of friends, him and me, from both having so much to bear–for he was too proud and highly educated a man to like making a monkey of himself, and it ground into him hard, and with me it was Rosie, Rosie, Rosie.
Oh, God, what things I had to put up with! What endless mortifications! What everlasting, heartbreaking scenes and scandals! She got to following me to Council meetings, bellowing like a wildcat, and clawing the policeman who was ordered to put her out; and again and again I had to leave in the middle to try and get her home, half the beach tagging along with us, laughing and jeering till I could have died of shame.
The day I resigned from the Council, being unable to stand it any longer, I was sitting in the front room, with my head in my hands, when Doc came in, and patted me on the back.
“Too bad,” he says, “too bad.”
“Oh, Doc,” I says, “I’m the most miserable chap alive.”
“It’s bound to end some time,” he remarked.
I shook my head. We had no means of taking care of lunatics, and that was about what Rosie was. The Colonies all had laws, barring out undesirables and such, even if a steamer would have taken her, which none of them would. “I’ll tell you what I’d do,” said Doc. “I’d give five hundred dollars to a labor-ship captain, put her aboard at night, and leave it to him to land her in one of those islands where they eat you for dinner.”
“I couldn’t do that,” I said.
“Too fond of your money, eh?” he sneers.
“Oh, Doc,” I answered, “I’d give everything I possess, lock, stock and barrel–and ten years of my life thrown in–to be decently quit of her.”
He smiled a bit incredulous. “Suppose an angel came down from heaven and took you at your word,” he says. “The next day you’d be beating Mr. Angel out of his price–you know you would, and screaming worse than she does at being held to your bargain.”
“Perhaps I would, Doc,” I agreed, his manner of speaking somehow making it feel very real; “it’s hard to begin without a dollar and nothing but the clothes you stand in. But downstairs in my safe I have two thousand dollars in hard cash, American money, which the angel could take and welcome.”
“That’s a lot of money,” he says, wondering like, “but it would be worth it to you, wouldn’t it?”
“My God, yes,” I says, rather regretting I told him about the safe, for there was a shine in his eyes and a calculating look I didn’t like.
“And you wouldn’t bilk the angel when he handed in his bill?” he went on.
“Oh, hell, Doc,” I said, “what’s the use of talking of angels? I’ve just got to grin and bear it.”
“But you’d pay, wouldn’t you?” he persisted.
I said yes, just to stop his pestering; and after a couple of drinks off of the sideboard he went away. That evening I locked myself in the store, took the money out of the safe, and carried it up to the attic where I hid it under an old mattress. I smeared a little varnish around the combination lock with a rag, and next day I looked for finger marks, but there weren’t none. Yet I was still suspicious, and the money stayed in the attic. Doc was too bright a man to have left home without a reason.