“Yes, a small one, though. Not a liner like the Tropic Queen, but it was the best I could get.”
Jack felt a twinge of remorse. Cummings said this uncomplainingly and yet with an emphasis that made Jack feel uncomfortable. The man was incompetent, it was true, but still, Jack almost began to think that he ought to have given him another chance.
“When did you get in?” pursued Cummings.
“This morning. We’ll lie here two days, I guess. We’ve got a big cargo.”
“Is that so? Well, I hope we’ll see a lot of each other.”
“I hope so, too,” said Jack, without, however, very much cordiality.
“Well, come and have a drink before you go,” suggested Cummings.
“Thanks, but I never drink. I think it would be better for you, too, Cummings, if you did not touch liquor.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I wanted you to try some cola. It’s a native drink. They make it here. It’s very cool and nice.”
Jack had been walking fast and was hot. The idea appealed to his thirsty, dust-filled throat.