CHAPTER XIX.—HE TELLS A STRANGE STORY.
“Bless my soul,” he exclaimed, when he found breath, “you boys are always digging up somebody. Who is this?”
He regarded the ragged figure of the unfortunate Donald with some disapprobation. Jack explained, and then Donald, stumbling and stuttering somewhat under Mr. Jukes’ steady eye, told his story.
“But you have not told us the most important part of it all,” said the millionaire, as he concluded. “Where was my unfortunate brother taken to by this ruffian?”
“That’s just what I don’t know, sir,” rejoined the boy. “You see, they took good care I shouldn’t know too much about their operations. All I know is that I heard them saying something about 'up the river.’”
“Meaning this river—the Bomobori?” asked Mr. Jukes.
“I suppose so.”
“Do you know where the schooner is now?” was the millionaire’s next question, but Donald did not. All he knew was that, after landing him in Bomobori, ‘Bully’ Broom had departed under cover of night. Where he had headed for was a mystery.
Jack whispered something to the millionaire when Donald had concluded his narrative and Mr. Jukes put his hand in his pocket and drew out some coins. Then as he moved off Jack rather hesitatingly said to Donald:
“You’ve had a hard time of it for money, I suppose?”
“Hard? That’s no name for it,” exclaimed the other. “That rascal Broom never gave me a cent, though when he shipped me he promised me wages. If you hadn’t arrived I don’t know what I should have done.”
“Well, we are willing to let bygones be bygones,” said Jack.
“It wouldn’t be fair to be rough on a fellow who is down on his luck,” muttered Donald rather grudgingly. “And—and I guess I’ve learned a lesson, fellows.”
“By the way, Donald,” said Jack, handing the boy the coins Mr. Jukes had given him, “here is something from Mr. Jukes to help you along for the present. I am sure he will see to it that you do not suffer any more hardships in return for the valuable information you have given us.”
The destitute lad’s face brightened wonderfully. The money—about twenty dollars—was more than he had seen in a long time. He fingered the coins greedily.
“I—I’m much obliged to you and to your friend, too,” he muttered rather shamefacedly, “and—er—I’m sorry I ever played you mean tricks.”
“Never mind about that now,” said Jack, cutting him short. “My advice to you is not to hang about here, but to get a job on the first ship that touches here and go home.”
“I’ll go down to the shipping offices right now and see what the chances are,” promised Donald, and with a new spring in his step he started out of the hotel.
“What a change,” exclaimed Jack, when he had gone. “I never thought Donald Judson could become so humbled.”
“He is certainly blue, and that is hardly surprising,” agreed Billy. “But the question is whether his seeming repentance is sincere.”
“Let’s hope all that he has been through has taught him a good lesson,” said Jack.
“It surely ought to have,” said Billy, and then the subject was dismissed by a tall, half-clothed native striding into the lobby and beating stridently on a huge brass gong inscribed with queer characters.
“What’s that for?” asked Jack of the clerk behind the desk who looked like a German.
“Dot iss for Riz Tavel,” replied the clerk.
“For Riz who?” asked Billy.
“For Riz Tavel,” rejoined the man impatiently, as if surprised at their ignorance. “Riz Tavel, dot means lunch.”
“Oh, I see,” replied Jack. “Well, I’m ready for it whatever they call it.”
At the summons of the gong several guests of the hotel came into the lobby, appearing as if they had just got out of bed. The boys were amazed to see that many of the male guests wore pyjamas, while the women were in negligee. This, however, applied only to the half castes and Dutch residents. The Germans and English, who did most of the trading at Bomobori, wore tropical suits of conventional make.
They were waited on by barefooted Malays who set before each of the boys and their shipmates, when these latter appeared, big soup plates full of rice.
“They call this the 'riz-tavel,’ that means the rice table,” explained Captain Sparhawk, thus clearing away the secret of the mysterious words. “Rice is a staple all through the East, just like bread is at home.”
Having filled their plates with rice, as they saw everybody else do, the Americans waited for the next move. The waiters had all vanished after depositing the rice, and Jack was moved to remark whether that was all they were going to get.
His question was answered by the re-appearance of the barefooted servitors. They bore numerous dishes piled with fish, duck, chicken, pork, omelette, onions and peppers. The guests all piled portions of every one of these dishes on the top of the rice, and the visitors seeing that they were not expected to ask for more plates were fain to do the same. The boys, however, balked at a thin curried sauce which was supposed to be poured over this hodge-podge of edibles.
Having disposed of what in itself was a mighty meal they then found that they were expected to despatch beefsteaks, salad and fruit.
“Well, they don’t starve you here, that’s one thing sure,” said Jack.
“You must remember that their 'breakfast,’ as they call it, is eaten in the cool of the morning and usually only consists of coffee and fruit,” said Captain Sparhawk.
A groan from the dyspeptic Mr. Jukes, who had eaten a hearty meal, was followed soon after by the breaking up of the party. There was much to be attended to, but Captain Sparhawk said it would be useless to try to transact business till the late afternoon when the sea breeze sprung up. The interval between riz-tavel and that hour he said was set aside for sleeping, and nobody ever dreamed of interfering with the custom. In fact, he would have found nobody to transact business with.
He warned the boys against walking about in the scorchingly hot afternoon sun also, as it was said to induce fevers. There was nothing left for them to do, therefore, but to pass the afternoon in their rooms, although they would have preferred exploring the town.
When they came down again they found Donald Judson in the lobby. He appeared very disconsolate. He said that no ships for American ports would call at the port for a long time.
“I guess I’m stuck here for the rest of my life,” he complained, and then made a sudden suggestion.
“Say, why can’t you take me with you on that expedition?” he asked, for the boys had told him something about the object of their presence in New Guinea.
“Um—er—I don’t know that Mr. Jukes wants anybody else along,” hesitated Jack.
“I’d work hard and do anything I was told to,” said Donald pleadingly. “Won’t you ask him about it? It’s awful to be stuck here like a bump on a log.”
“Well, perhaps we might see about it,” relented Jack, really feeling sorry for the unhappy plight of their former enemy, mean and despicable as he had proved himself to have been in the past.
“Thanks, awfully,” exclaimed Donald, gratefully, and he went off through the gardens, saying that he was going to get himself a pair of new shoes. Soon after Mr. Jukes, having got over his attack of dyspepsia, appeared, the boys laid Donald’s request before him.
“I really don’t know,” he hesitated. “Of course, the lad is in hard luck, but somehow I don’t exactly like his looks and I don’t see what use he could be to us. I’d rather leave money here to pay for his living till some ship arrives he could get a berth on.”
“If you left him money in a place like this he might fall back into his old bad ways,” suggested Jack.
“That is true. I wouldn’t wish to push any one down the hill when there was a chance of helping them up,” said the millionaire, musingly. “Well, I’ll see about it,” he added after an interval of thought. Just then, as Captain Sparhawk came up, the incident was ended and the two elders set out for a trading store to arrange for supplies and other necessaries for their dash into the interior, for Mr. Jukes had resolved to act on Donald Judson’s unexpected clue and make his way up the river.
“I’ve got a notion that if we did take that fellow Donald along that he would make trouble for us,” said Raynor as soon as they were out of ear-shot.
“I don’t see how he could, or what object he would have,” doubted Jack. “Still, I myself wouldn’t trust him very far, in spite of his declarations of reform.”
But as it so happened neither of the boys need have troubled themselves over the matter, for that evening, when Mr. Jukes sent for Donald to have a talk with him, the boy’s manner had changed entirely. He was no longer servile and cringing as he had been earlier. In fact, he intimated very plainly that he wanted nothing more to do with the Jukes party.
There was a reason for this, a reason that none of the party naturally was able at the time to guess. Donald’s change of front was not due to any mere caprice. A deep-seated reason lay behind it, and that reason was rooted in an encounter he had had just after he left the boys in the hotel garden.