lot of trouble I’m havin’ ag’in with the help, señora, ma’am.’ ‘Laws, now!’ says Missis Guatemala, ‘you dont’ say so, ma’am! Now, mine never think of leavin’ me—te-he! ma’am,’ snickers Missis Guatemala.
“I was wonderin’ how I was goin’ to move away from them tropics without bein’ hired again. Dark as it was, I could see a steamer ridin’ in the harbour, with smoke emergin’ from her stacks. I turned down a little grass street that run down to the water. On the beach I found a little brown nigger-man just about to shove off in a skiff.
“‘Hold on, Sambo,’ says I, ‘savve English?’
“‘Heap plenty, yes,’ says he, with a pleasant grin.
“‘What steamer is that?’ I asks him, ‘and where is it going? And what’s the news, and the good word and the time of day?’
“‘That steamer the Conchita, said the brown man, affable and easy, rollin’ a cigarette. ‘Him come from New Orleans for load banana. Him got load last night. I think him sail in one, two hour. Verree nice day we shall be goin’ have. You hear some talkee ’bout big battle, maybe so? You think catchee General De Vega, señor? Yes? No?’
