| With this little victory, I knew I would manage the rest effortlessly. He agreed to the price of three large gold pieces, and I brought him the other map half the next evening, making the exchange under the sharp eye of the tavern keeper, to whom I had given a tip. "You're your mother's daughter, Yellow Moll," said he, after my greedy, wit-starved gull had flown away to find a boat and crew to sail for Jamaica. |
|
|
My mother came in one morning, about a month later, and bade me sit down at table with her. "Smoke with me, my sweet. We've a bone to pick over." She handed me one of Cuba's finest, and smoke soon billowed around us as we sipped tea and ate eggs, fried in lard, with onions and jalapenos. "There was five or six tars about, last night, scouring the town for a lanky young mixblood gal what has green cat eyes and kinked blonde hair. With such a singular appearance, she'd be an easy prey to find, would you agree?" "Oh, indeed she would!" "She sent 'em on a bootless errand to Jamaica, and now they wants her blood on their dirks. You'd not be acquainted with such a lass, would you? " She fixed me with a squint through the rising smoke, and began to cough. |
| I drew forth my gold pieces and, with three soft clicks, snapped them onto the table. "Mayhap the witless fellow's greed got the better of him. I deem it a shame he'd turn his wrath against such an innocent child. If you was to meet up with the unfortunate lass, what flea would you put in her ear?" |
Copyright © Michael B.Stevens, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2005. All rights reserved. Format modified Aug. 2005