“He thinks you have brought back the document he lost,” Sago interpreted.
“Tell him to describe it,” O’Neil ordered.
“He says it’s large, with the big red seal of the Emperor, and is addressed in black characters on the outside.” Sago had put the question and gave the sick man’s answer.
“Nothing doing,” Marley blurted out thoughtlessly, having been eagerly listening, mouth wide open.
“Just tell him we’re sorry, but we didn’t find his letter;—and say we came to give him this from the American officers,” O’Neil said, passing Sago the money that Phil had given him, “and tell him to let you or your cousin know if he needs more.”
O’Neil’s soft heart was touched and by mutual consent both he and Marley pressed into the woman’s hand at parting amounts of money which to her were large, but to the Americans meant simply a small amount of self-sacrifice and one day less liberty with money in their pockets.
“Well, Sago, you can go back to your happy family now,” O’Neil said banteringly as the three reached the waiting carriage, “unless of course you have in mind something entertaining for Bill and me; he’s in need of a little diversion, ain’t you, Bill?” with a poke in the seaman’s ribs. “You’re as glum as an oyster.”
Marley gave a forced smile. He recognized his mental inferiority to O’Neil and was content to listen in silence.
Sago gave orders to the mafoo, and the three were soon on the way back to the main thoroughfares of the city.
The carriage drew up, after about a half hour’s drive, in front of a Japanese theatre. O’Neil could not, of course, read the posters, but from the grotesquely painted pictures on sign boards in front of the entrance he saw that it was a naval play.