Free Wake of the Perdido Star by Gene Hackman Page B

of wisdom followed. Paul explained the planets, the constellations, the heavens as myth and physical reality. Jack had no reason to doubt his own intelligence but he was smart enough to know he was in the presence of a truly remarkable intellect. Jack resolved that he would spend as much time as possible with his new friend when they went ashore.

    Early the next morning, as the O’Reillys were helped aboard the boat that would take them to shore, Jack looked back at his friend who stood forlornly at the rail. Paul, a rescued, penniless refugee, was low on the order for boat assignments. If he took a position on crew as an apprentice seaman, a possibility he had discussed with Quince, he would be even lower. Paul’s sad face and slight build provided a strong contrast to the robust first mate, who stood at the rail next to him, shouting orders for the men handling the boats.
    Jack looked beseechingly to his parents. “Father, mother—may Paul come with us? I’d love for him to be with us when we set foot on Cuban soil.”
    â€œNo,” his father said. “You’ll see him soon enough, I warrant, when he reaches shore with the later boats. We have much to do!”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo, Jack!” His father’s clipped voice carried a mild warning. His mother, who had been about to speak, held her tongue.
    At this point the first mate yelled down to the boat. “Mr. O’Reilly, sir, would you mind taking one more passenger in your skiff?” His hand was on Paul’s shoulder. “It would help us in scheduling the departures.”
    â€œCertainly, Mr. Quince, we’d be glad to, if it helps,” Ethan replied. “Send the lad on down.” Jack tried not to smile for fear his father would reprimand him. His mother gave Jack a knowing wink and raised a finger to her lips for silence.

    Paul climbed down the ladder, Ethan giving him a hand into the boat. Jack ventured a glance at Quince, who, without changing expression, winked as well.
    The oars slapped the water with a vigor Jack had never seen from the sailors; even these worldly seamen couldn’t hide their excitement and the launch fairly leaped through the mild chop, approaching the wharf with its load of old salts and young men, all wide-eyed with anticipation.
    Habana’s din met them as the boat’s bowline was handed to a waiting sailor on the dock. Whitewashed buildings looked like a backdrop for dingy streets that were hardly visible through the throngs of people, most wearing colorful sashes over white cotton, a brightness that Jack was sure could only be found under a tropical sun.
    As soon as they were all gathered on the wharf, Paul tried to engage Jack’s parents in conversation. Though Jack had introduced his new friend to them on the ship, they had spoken only a few polite words to each other. The young man quickly charmed Pilar, and Ethan seemed to like him as well; but Jack could see his father was distracted by his desire to talk to the captain who was standing not far from them, engaged in business with dock officials. And Pilar was anxious to check on the whereabouts of Count de Silva. She hoped he had received her letter. She had bribed one of the port officials to deliver it to him the day before. She knew their arrival would be a great surprise to him. As the manager of her property and its closest neighbor, the count would be the best one to give her the news about the condition of her fields, and to verify the good news about the harvest which her friend Dolores had mentioned in her Easter letter.
    Abruptly, Ethan and Pilar excused themselves, moving in opposite directions.
    Jack signaled to Paul that he wanted to observe his father’s dealings with Deploy, so the two of them positioned themselves a few feet from the older men.

    â€œCaptain Deploy, a moment of your time, sir,” Jack’s father said.
    The captain’s weathered face was expressionless