Сердца трех / Hearts of Three

�Take that, you animal of hell!’ he cried, flinging mug and contents at a splinter of a half-breed boy, evidently his servant, who had been unable to repress his glee.

But the sun will rise and the fever will work its will and shortly depart,’ said the Jefe, politely ignoring the display of spleen. �And you are finished here, and you are bound for Bocas del Toro, and we shall go with you, all of us, on a rare adventure. We will pick up the schooner Angelique, calm-bound all last night in the lagoon, and I shall make many arrests, and all Panama will so ring with your courage and ability, Capitan, that you will forget that the fever ever whispered in you.

�How much?’ Capitan Rosaro demanded bluntly.

Much?’ the Jefe countered in surprise. �This is an affair of government, good friend. And it is right on your way to Bocas del Toro. It will not cost you an extra shovelful of coal.’

�Muchacho! More coffee!’ the tug-skipper roared at the boy.

A pause fell, wherein Torres and the Jefe and all the draggled following yearned for the piping hot coffee brought by the boy. Captain Rosaro played the rim of the mug against his teeth like a rattling of castanets, but managed to sip without spilling and so to burn his mouth.

A vacant-faced Swede, in filthy overalls, with a soiled cap on which appeared �Engineer,’ came up from below, lighted a pipe, and seemingly went into a trance as he sat on the tug’s low rail.

�How much?’ Captain Rosaro repeated.

�Let us get under way, dear friend,’ said the Jefe. �And then, when the fever-shock has departed, we will discuss the matter with reason, being reasonable creatures ourselves and not animals.’

�How much?’ Captain Rosaro repeated again. �I am never an animal. I always am a creature of reason, whether the sun is up or not up, or whether this thrice-accursed fever is upon me. How much?’

�Well, let us start, and for how much?’ the Jefe conceded wearily.

�Fifty dollars gold,’ was the prompt answer.

�You are starting anyway, are you not, Capitan?’ Torres queried softly.

�Fifty gold, as I have said.’

The Jefe Politico threw up his hands with a hopeless gesture and turned on his heel to depart.

�Yet you swore eternal vengeance for the crime committed, on your jail,’ Torres reminded him.