Shields and I would rise and yawn.
“To-morrow there may be a boat.”
IV
The one break in the day’s monotony came at mid-afternoon.
Then a shore-party from the Rochester, still lingering far out in the harbor, would shoot past the waterfront in a trim white launch, and come rolling up the long wharf to see the sights of town.
Whenever the Chinaman saw them coming, he would shout for all his servants to man the bar.
The sailors, seeming to know the local geography instinctively, headed straight for the hotel. While their Ship’s Police scattered out through town with swinging clubs, the tars all trooped into the establishment.
“Hello there, buddy! Say, kin you talk this spig language? Tell that Chink we want liquor!”
And presently they were all over the city, bargaining in every shop, contriving somehow despite their ignorance of Spanish to obtain whatever they desired. They purchased native rope bags, and filled them with fresh eggs, live turtles, earthenware jars, Spanish daggers, goat-skulls, fruits, vegetables, and snake skins. They stood on street corners, frowning over handfuls of unfamiliar coins received in exchange, wondering to what extent they had been cheated.
“Hey there, feller. You’re a Yank, ain’t you? Tell me how much I’ve got here in real money.”