"Oh yes! When her people commanded her to jump from my schooner she refused them. I did not understand at the time, but by an' by she told me." He swelled his chest with pride. "I guess she never seen so brave a man as me before. Eh, señor?"
"Humph! I guess I never will sabe you niggers," acknowledged the American.
Inocencio corrected his recent employer, but without show of the slightest heat:
"I am no nigger, señor; I am Haytian. She is San Blas Indian. My father was not even so dark as me. Black men have thick heads and you have to beat them, but nobody ever beat me, not even a white man. When those niggers sleep I lie awake and study; I make schemes. That is why I left Hayti."
"Do you understand that you've got me into a hell of a fix? I've got to take a trip down there myself to square things."
Inocencio lighted a black cigarette and blew the smoke through his nose. Evidently other people's troubles did not concern him. Recognizing the futility of reproach or indignation, the former speaker continued:
"But see here, now! This girl! You can't keep her."
"Eh? Who's going to take her away?" interrogated the Haytian, quickly. "Bah! One man tried that, and—I killed him with my machete." His thin lips drew back at the memory, and for an instant his yellow face showed a hint of what had made his reputation.
"She won't stay with you."
"Oh yes, she will. She was wild, very wild at first, but—she will stay."