DESSALINES' PRAYER
the great shoulder muscles tighten and relax against his own; the deep voice rumbled in a bass key which undertoned the traffic of the streets.
"Push your work of preparation to the utmost, my dear Rosenthal!" exclaimed Dessalines suddenly. "I die of impatience. Advance the hour of our sailing. Believe me," his voice grew sonorous, contained a regal ring, "you will not find Dessalines ungrateful!"
Rosenthal turned away his head to hide a smile. "We will do our best, majesté," he replied.
Dessalines, delighted, laughed aloud; clapped his agent on the shoulder, embraced him, called him a dear fellow.
•••••••
A week later found the Waccamaw in the Gulf Stream. The day had been one of tension, disquiet. The oppressive air, the mission, had tautened nerves; there had been friction between Rosenthal and the two officers; its cause, a lacking respect in the attitude of the two men toward Dessalines. The hardened old captain and the vicious youthful mate had seen a side of the Semitic character which their joint voyagings had never shown them. A smiling assurance of physical damage from a Jew who stood ferociously ready to put his threat into execution had perhaps awed them more than the threat itself. Rosenthal had won his point, threatened violence, then invited them to drink. He was a competent man.
At midnight Dessalines awoke; his slumbers had been nervous and fitful. The African is not a deep sleeper; he is indolent; rests at odd intervals, like a dog, a cat, any primitive creature. In the deep night he will awake,
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