“Fourteen! Good! That means fourteen families some day to make their homes in Hawaii. Fourteen different families to work on the plantations. Good!”
Manuel did not understand what the American was saying, but he made a very good guess and smiled knowingly at Gabriel as he walked up to the registrar.
“Married or single?” he was asked.
“Single. I intend to marry Manuel’s eldest daughter as soon as we get in Honolulu.”
His remark was translated to the American, who rubbed his hands gleefully. “Better and better,” he said. “There goes a man who will make Hawaii his permanent home. In years to come he will be able to vote and for all we know, some of his children may serve in our legislature.”
The interpreter laughed. The idea of a son of a plantation hand being a Senator or even a Representative appeared ludicrous to him, and he said so.
“It has been done before,” he was told, “so why can’t it be done again.”
“Done before?” asked the interpreter, “do you mean to tell me that any of your public men have had parents who worked on the plantations?”
“Sure,” was the response.
The interpreter shook his head. “It is unheard of here.”