Evening star., 1924-07-06
THE GRAFTER-ByH Henry Kitchell Webster
The Family C Board Small Cowise All Hands,
Some Inside Light Central America Republics.


SUPPOSE. since this tale is going
to be literally and meticulously
truthful. there must be a moral
i to it. Indeed, ! can see that
there is a moral. only I'm not quite
clear in my mind what the moral is.
We were coasting along from one
hot, sandy little port to another, in
a curiosity of maritime architecture
whose proudest boast was that she
had once belonged to the Collins Line
and had taken Gen. Grant or Martin
Van Buren, or somebody else from
antique times on his first voyage to
Europe. We were in no hurry; at
least, If any of the passengers were,
it was amply compensated for in the
placid leisureliness of the ship. Under
good weather conditions we used to
log eight knots or Whereabouts, but
most of the voyage was occupied
wallowing patiently at anchor in one
roadstead after another, our cargo
safely aboard. waiting for the COM
mandante of the port to come out
and sign our clearance papers. GEN
orally speaking, the commandante Had
gone off to a cock fight somewhere.
and too drunk to intrust himself to
the mercies of a loagboat.
Once, indeed. when our captain had
ventured to leave without this for
mality we were ignominiously sent
back to our last port of call That
took three days, and it required an
other for the outraged official, now
sufficiently sober to comprehend in
vague way what had happened. to
fine and admonish us and vindicate
his dignity and show his independ-
ence and eventually give US leave
TO go.
The captains feelings and his lam
guage during those four days are no
part of the story.
x
RUT you will understand that we
had plenty of time, we pas
sengers. to get acquainted. At the
time of the inundation it was per-
haps a fortnight since we had lain
all day at Balboa. canted up in the
mud at an angle of 90 degrees or so,
waiting for the tide to give US a
start on our voyage. We were just
about the kind of ships company that
corner of the world
There was a mining engineer named
Atkinson. from somewhere the other
side of the line, invalded home, he
said. with neurasthenia, who, in order
to be happy, had always to sit in a
corner where no one could possibly
come up behind him. He had a
pretty wife, pale as a ghost, in spite
OF the scorch of the overhead sun,
who played solitaire beside him while
he watched and corrected and counted
off the days as if the best of them
were well past.
There was young French in
rentor. with huge beard. dressed
like a type from the Latin Quarter
who expounded the philosophy of
anarchism and had gone a little mad
over an electric device for cutting
down hard wood timber. And there
was an obese promoter who talked
colloquial American with an inde-
f1nably foreign accent, and was ac-
companied by young lady utterly
unaccounted for, except by her per-
sonal charms: an old doctor from
raguan political refugees who were
trying to get up revolution in
Honduras, and a coffee planter with
a Spanish name, a German accent
and high place, it was said, in the
regard of the President of Guatemala.
There was a sprinkling of casuals,
Of course, including myself I was
there because 1 like the yea, as
much as / dislike the modern sea-
going hotel that spends a week cross
ing the North Atlantic in five days.
Last of all U have saved him till
the last because he was the most
importantly, there was the English
man.
After one had looked at him and
said to ones SELF "Englishman," one
didn't for awhile think very much
more about him. He was big man
with a shy, retiring sort of manner
But the next time you saw him you
wondered who he could be, and the
time after that you were perfectly
sure he must be somebody. And by
the end of the day you weren't at all
surprised to be told, in profane words
perhaps. but in awed accents. by the
purser, how great d man in this part
of the world he really was. Among
other things, it appeared that he
owned-carried around in his vest
pocket-one of these little Central
American republics.
Why" said the purser, lowering
his voice and glancing around with
wary eye. why, two or three
months ago the president caught
Johnny Moissant-caught him, and
was going 10 shoot him. of course.
And MIR. Brangwyn happened to hear
about it and told the old man he'd
have to let him go. And he did.
What do you know about that?'
We agreed with the purser that
that had been the manifestation of
"some power"
BECAUSE. you see. this was all
many years ago. before Johnny
Moissant had flown across the Eng
lish Channel with his cat and SO
burst upon the astonished eyes of
Europe and the rest of the civilized
world. He had been bursting upon
the astonished eyes of various little
Central American potentates at un-
expected and disastrous intervals
for a good while before that, and
you whispered his name all along the
coast with awe. Indeed, when our
ship had lain all one day in the
harbor of Los Arenas, our propeller
fouled upon a stern line which a
Nicaraguan roustabout hadn't lifted