Deadly Shoals Read Online Free PDF Page B

and a box of red silk bandannas. Behind this, a wizened old man was perched on a stool, pretending that he hadn’t heard them come in. He was reading a Portuguese book, so Wiki used that language when he addressed him.
    â€œI am the clerk of Senhor Adams,” the fellow grudgingly replied, without the slightest hint of surprise at being questioned in his mother tongue. He kept a finger in his book to mark his place, and refused to meet Wiki’s gaze, focusing on the wall by the surgery door instead.
    â€œWhere is your employer?”
    At this, the clerk did look at Wiki. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œCaptain Stackpole is anxious to speak to him.”
    â€œAs I told the captain one week ago, Senhor Adams is not available.”
    â€œHe has not returned?”
    â€œHe has not.”
    â€œHow long is it since you saw him last?”
    There was a long pause as the little, hostile eyes looked everywhere except at Wiki’s face, and then the clerk grunted, “I have told Captain Stackpole this already.”
    â€œBut you have not told me,” Wiki pointed out.
    â€œIndeed, I have not,” the clerk agreed, and prepared to return to his book.
    Wiki produced his sheriff’s certificate. The inspection the Portuguese gave the document was insultingly brief. “What has this to do with Senhor Adams?”
    â€œSenhor Adams is a citizen of America, and subject to United States law—of which I am an agent, as this paper certifies.”
    The clerk remained unimpressed. “I can say nothing of use to you.”
    â€œLet me be the judge of that,” Wiki advised him. “Just tell me exactly what you told Captain Stackpole.”
    This elicited a martyred sigh. Then the Portuguese recited, “On January fifteenth—ten days ago, now—I arrived here as is my usual habit, but Senhor Adams, he was not here, so I let myself in with my own key. Alone, I attended the counter until the evening. Then I locked up and went home. The next day, Captain Stackpole arrived to see Senhor Adams, but he was not here. Still, he has not returned. Myself, I have looked after the store as usual.”
    â€œDid Senhor Adams leave a note for you?”
    â€œA note was not necessary.”
    â€œThis has happened before?”
    â€œMany times.”
    â€œBut where does Senhor Adams go?”
    â€œI would never inquire.” As the clerk haughtily intimated, he had been Senhor Adams’s trusted employee for several years, and was not the type to ask his employer impertinent questions.
    â€œYour job is just to look after the store?”
    â€œAnd to help keep the books, too,” the clerk said, unable to stop himself from bragging, and Wiki instantly demanded to see them.
    Very reluctantly, two ledgers were produced from a cubbyhole in the back of the counter. Wiki took them both, while the clerk’s eyes suspiciously followed every movement. Ignoring this, Wiki settled down to read, half listening as Stackpole started a halting exchange in English with the clerk, and then losing interest as it became obvious that the whaleman was simply covering the ground he had gone over during his last visit, with as little result as before.
    The first book was one of those usually kept as a ship’s logbook, its ruled columns for position and weather assigned to lists of purchases, sales, and customers’ names instead. Everything was written in English, the script very neat. The catalogue was initially a very long one, and there had been a great deal of trade in both dry and salt provisions for ships. Captain Stackpole’s name featured many times, mostly in connection with the purchase of large quantities of salt beef, much of it carrying the notation that it had come from a ranch owned by a man named Ducatel. Stackpole had been a trader as well, however, having sold Adams rather a lot of tobacco, and Wiki wondered if the collector of customs knew about this.
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