“But Congo, why dont you come too? You dont want to shovel crap in a stinking ship’s galley all your life.”
Congo rolled himself round and sat up crosslegged, scratching his head that was thick with kinky black hair.
“Say how much does a woman cost in New York?”
“I dunno, expensive I guess.... I’m not going ashore to raise hell; I’m going to get a good job and work. Cant you think of nothing but women?”
“What’s the use? Why not?” said Congo and settled himself
flat on the deck again, burying his dark sootsmudged face in his crossed arms.
“I want to get somewhere in the world, that’s what I mean. Europe’s rotten and stinking. In America a fellow can get ahead. Birth dont matter, education dont matter. It’s all getting ahead.”
“And if there was a nice passionate little woman right here now where the deck’s warm, you wouldn’t like to love her up?”
“After we’re rich, we’ll have plenty, plenty of everything.”
“And they dont have any military service?”