Horror of horrors! Our visitor broke out in disjointed English, informed us that his name was the Señor Gaetano de Gama, son of the collector of Ribandar, and a lineal descendant from the Gran Capitaõ; that he had naturally a great admiration for the British, together with much compassion for friendless strangers; and finally, that he might be of the utmost use to us during our stay at Goa. Thereupon he sat down, and proceeded to make himself comfortable. He pulled a cigar out of our box, called for a glass of water, but preferred sherry, ate at least a dozen plantains, and washed down the sherry with a coffee-cup full of milk. We began to be amused.
“Have you breakfasted?”
Yes, he had. At Goa they generally do so betimes. However, for the sake of companionship he would lay down his cigar and join us. He was certainly a good trencher-companion, that young gentleman. Witness his prowess upon a plate of fish, a dish of curry, a curd cheese, a water melon, and half-a-dozen cups of café au lait. Then after settling the heterogeneous mass with a glass of our anisette, he re-applied himself to his cheroot.
We were in hopes that he had fallen into a state of torpor. By no means! The activity of his mind soon mastered the inertness of the flesh. Before the first few puffs had disappeared in the thin air, our friend arose, distinctly for the purpose of surveying the room. He walked slowly and calmly around it, varying that recreation by occasionally looking into our bed, inspecting a box or two, opening our books, addressing a few chance words to us, generally in the style interrogative, trying on our hat before the looking-glass, defiling our brushes and combs with his limp locks, redolent of rancid cocoa-nut oil, and glancing with fearful meaning at our tooth-brushes.
Our amusement now began to assume the form of indignation. Would it be better to disappear into an inner room, send for Salvador to show our bête noire the door, or lead him out by the ear? Whilst still deliberating, we observed with pleasure the tawny face of John Thomas.
The Señor Ioaõ Thomas de Sonza no sooner caught sight of the Señor Gaetano de Gama than his countenance donned an expression of high indignation, dashed with profound contempt; and the latter Señor almost simultaneously betrayed outward and visible signs of disappointment and considerable confusion. The ridiculous scene ended with the disappearance of the unsuccessful aspirant to ciceronic honours, a homily from John Thomas upon the danger of having anything to do with such rabble, and an injunction to Salvador never to admit the collector’s son again.
“His Excellency the Governor General of all the Indies cannot have the exalted honour of receiving your Excellency this morning, on account of the sudden illness of Her Excellency the Lady of the Governor General of all the Indies; but the Governor General of all the Indies will be proud to receive your Excellency to-morrow—if Heaven be pleased!” said John Thomas, tempering dignity with piety.
Thank Goodness for the reprieve!
“So, if the measure be honoured with your Excellency’s approval, we will now embark in a covered canoe, and your servant will have the felicity of pointing out from the sea the remarkable sites and buildings of New Goa; after which, a walk through our celebrated city will introduce your Excellency to the exteriors and interiors of its majestic edifices, its churches, its theatre, its hospital, its library, and its barracks.”
Very well!