Hawaii - James Michener [282]
On the third day the grating was kicked aside, some of the boards of the hatch covering were removed, and a ladder was thrust down into the hold. Armed sailors stood guard as Dr. Whipple slowly climbed up and adjusted his eyes to bright daylight. Before he departed, the Chinese signified that they were sorry to see him go, and he replied that he would send them more water and better food. Then the boards were hammered home again.
Whipple's meeting with Captain Hoxworth was a painful one. For the first two hours the captain avoided him, but at lunch they had to meet, and Whipple said flatly, "Rafer, we have got to give those people more water."
"We will," Hoxworth grunted.
"And they must have better food."
"At the price we agreed to haul them, Doctor, that's impossible."
"It isn't impossible to keep filth out of the rice."
"Our cook ain't trained in this Chinee stuff, Doctor."
"He's got to feed them better."
"Not at these prices," Hoxworth replied stubbornly.
Dr. Whipple, now sixty-six, was afraid of very little, and without throwing down a blunt challenge, observed: "Two days ago you accused me of being a missionary. It's been many years since I thought of myself as such, but as I grow older I'm increasingly proud to accept the charge. I am a missionary. I've always been one. And, Rafer, do you know the truly damnable thing about a missionary?"
Hoxworth suspected that he was being challenged by a man at least as smart as he was, and replied cautiously, "I think I know the worst about missionaries."
"No, Captain, you don't, because if you did you would never treat me as you have the past two days. You have never learned the one respect in which missionaries must be feared."
"What?" Hoxworth asked.
"They write."
"They what?"
"They write. They have an absolute mania for taking pen in hand and writing a book, or a memorial, or a series of letters to the newspapers." Icily he stared at the big sea captain and said, "Rafer, I have never written, yet, of what I think of the way you treated Abner Hale, your partner's father, because that was a personal thing and could possibly be excused. But unless you feed these Chinese better, when we get to Honolulu I am going to write. I am going to write a series of letters, Rafer, that will forever cast a stigma upon the blue flag that you love so well. Whenever an H & H ship puts into port, someone will have heard about those letters. Because missionaries have one terrible power, Rafer. They write. They are the conscience of the Pacific.'
There was an ominous silence, broken finally by Hoxworth's slamming his fist onto the table till the dishes rattled. "Why, goddamn it, this is nothing but blackmail."
"Of course!" Whipple agreed. "Blackmail is the only refuge of the literate man against barbarism. And you're a barbarian, Rafer."
"What is it you want?" the captain growled.
"Twice as much rice a day. And decent meat. Water three times a day. The slop bucket to come up three times a day. And I will be free to go down into the hold once a day to check the sick."
"I will not run the risk of having this ship mutinied," Hoxworth stormed. "I will not uncover that hold till we reach Honolulu."
"I'll go down through the grating," Whipple countered.
"You'll get back as best you can," Hoxworth warned.
"The Chinese will lift me back."
"You seem very fond of . . ." Hoxworth did not finish this insult but asked confidentially, "Tell me, Doctor, what's happening with that Chinee girl? Do them men take turns?"
"She's the wife of one man," Whipple replied coldly. "They live in one corner of the hold."
"Tell me, does this man, well, does he . . ."
"Yes. Behind a sheet which he hangs from the bulkhead."
"Well, I'll be damned!" the captain mused. "You wouldn't find three hundred American sailors letting a man get away with anything like that. No, sir!"
"Maybe the Chinese are more civilized," Whipple said and left.
It was with pride that he accompanied the first additional ration of water into the hold. He was there when the improved food came down, and by this time