“If this is a joke—” began Mr. MacCandlish.
“Do I look like I'd joke?” demanded Mr. Feeny. “It's system I'm telling you about,—the elimination of haphazard methods of distribution, for one thing. Now there's Corrigan, a husky lad with a good back and a strong pair of arms, him and Pete, the Swede, has become common carriers for the good of all,—you'll find none commoner anywhere. The Portuguese's buildin' a fence about the bananas and cocoanuts preparatory to puttin' a price on 'em. He's a taste for farmin' and is aimin' to develop the natural resources of this island. By the same token, Corrigan's gone into the poultry business with them turtles, and O'.ara's adopted the oyster beds. He says there's a future in oysters. He looks for a short crop, as he's got no gum boots and is timid about gettin' his feet wet,—but with prices fair, and constantly tendin' higher round the R in February.”
They had reached what Mr. Feeny called the hotel tent. The Orinoco's awnings had been used with admirable effect, and across the front of the canvas edifice was displayed a sign with letters two feet high, “St. Murphy-Feeny. European Plan.” The humor of the situation seemed lost on Mr. MacCandlish and his party; only the stout brother-in-law laughed, but a hostile glance from the eye of a friend caused him to repress his mirth.
“Mister Murphy's prepared to cater for you at them prices that has the indorsement of the Hotel Trust,” said Mr. Feeny.
“I denounce this as an iniquitous outrage! It's downright piracy!” sputtered Mr. MacCandlish, very red in the face.
“Easy,” said Mr. Feeny soothingly. “We made a fair split with the salvage, but feelin' that you'd prefer to have the whole of your personal belongin's we let 'em offset the ship's stores. Now do you be reasonable! Mr. Murphy says he'll have no rough-house for his. Any man that's white and willin' to behave himself can feed here. For such as can't conform to these simple rules, Pete, the Swede, will do the bouncin'. 'twill be one, two, three and out ye go to the inquest. I little thought, Mr. MacCandlish, sir, I'd have to p'int out to you of all men the fairness of this arrangement,” continued Mr. Feeny severely. “Ain't it highly necessary you should be fed and looked after? You can't well do that for yourself, havin' outgrowed the habit; and you're too busy playing poker, when you ain't eatin' and sleepin', to rightly know what you do need——”
“Bridge!” snapped Mr. MacCandlish.
“It's cards, ain't it? Well, the b'ys and me have agreed to take the job of caring for you off your hands. Having saved the salvage from the sea, we are minded to turn an honest penny with it, but owin' to the scarcity of the necessities of life and bein' aware that none know better than yourselves that the value of a thing depends on how hard it is to get, the St. Murphy-Feeny will adopt a scale of prices that will compare favorably with what you're used to in New York, at them places that's run for the millionaire trade. I've heard in the papers of your eatin' meals costin' twenty dollars a plate, and that sometimes your lady friends dissolves pearls and di'monds in the apple vinegar for to take away that cheap taste; we can't give you di'monds and pearls, nor yet 'lectric lights, but we can give you prices—” Mr. Feeny rested a long forefinger against the side of his nose. “Maybe we can go 'em one better—Mister Murphy, how is it with ham and eggs this day?”
“With two eggs?” asked Murphy.
“With two eggs,” said Mr. Feeny.