THE RAID ATPUNCHBOWL
THE RAID AT PUNCHBOWL
Therewere ten grocery stores within a radius of half a mile from where Manuel Jacinto lived, and all catered to the Portuguese trade. Not enough people lived around there to keep more than two grocery stores in comfortable circumstances, yet the owners of the eight others managed to pay their bills, their yearly license fees, and to put money in the bank.
And Manuel Jacinto was thinking of adding another store to the long string. Others made money so why couldn’t he? The same way by which the others managed to subsist would put him on the road to being a rich man provided he was careful and escaped beingapanhado, as the term was for those upon whom the heavy hand of the law descended.
He was telling his friend José all this one bright Sunday morning as they quietly sippedtheir Madeira which Manuel had brought from the old country with him on theSuvericwhen he, and over a thousand of his compatriots, decided to cast their lot in the Paradise of the Pacific.
“But why do you have to fear the law?” José asked, “What law can you be breaking by keeping a grocery store?”
Manuel laughed. “When you have been here as long as I have,” he said, “you’ll understand that the laws here are a bit different from those in old Villa Nova. How do you suppose that ten grocery stores exist in such close proximity? Hardly any of them sell enough groceries to pay the rent. ’Tis the little back room, my friend, the little back room which makes us want to start more stores.”
“The little back room? What do you mean?”
José was a recent arrival and had as yet not become acquainted with the ins and outs of a Portuguese grocery store.
“All these stores have a little back room where men may come together for a good time,” replied Manuel with the superiority born of a year’s stay in Honolulu. “The store keepers want to make money (and who does not?) so they put in a barrel of wine in one corner of this little back room, and a table in another.They propose that a game be played and that the loser treat the crowd to wine. With a chance to get a number of glasses ofvinhofor nothing the men begin to play and the store keepers make money, for some one always loses. And there is money in this business for me. The other stores add a little water to their wine to increase the profits. I shall sell only pure wine. You know that I brought a large number of casks of the best with me when I came. My place will be eagerly sought after and, provided the law does not interfere, I shall be rich.”
José nodded in acquiescence. There was much to learn that was different in Honolulu.
Shortly after his talk with José, Manuel opened up a store and as a special inducement, he offered a glass of three-year-old Madeira to all visitors on his opening day. It was not long before card games were in progress at Manuel’s and the attendance daily increased. His wine was purer, it was older, and it was stronger than the kind the other stores supplied. The players got drunk faster at Manuel’s than they did elsewhere, and more than one fight was fought in that little back room. Finally a man was seriously injured in one of these fights and then the police began to sit up and take notice.
“We’ll raid that place tomorrow night,” said the Sheriff to a friend who brought him newsof the latest escapade for which the wine in Manuel’s place was responsible.
“By the way,” asked the friend, “how do you raid?”
“Easy. We send in a man with a marked coin to purchase a drink. We usually have him buy a bottle of wine which he brings out to us. Then we go in and arrest the store keeper. We nab the cash drawer, get the marked coin and bring it to court with the bottle for testimony. It’s easy to convict in this way.”
João Pinto, known to the rest of the force as “Long John,” overheard this conversation. Long John was in love with Maria, and Maria was Manuel’s daughter. Supposing that her father should send Maria to sell the wine on the morrow? He loved her, but his duty would compel him to arrest her just the same. If he did though, he would have to give up all hope of marrying her. If Maria was not selling wine at the time of the raid, her father would, and that was almost the same, for Maria fairly worshiped her father, and, were he arrested, she would never forgive thepoliciawho had a hand in the affair. Ah! he had a plan. He would drop a note to Maria hinting at the proposed raid on the morrow. He would plead sick the next day and so escape being sent out. John chuckled at the plan. Writing the note he dispatched it by a small boy who lived near Manuel’s store. Hewent back to the office and met the chief, who said: “John, that new store on Punchbowl is raising hell with the Portuguese. We’ll raid that place tonight.”
“Tonight?” burst involuntarily from John’s lips.
“Yes, tonight. Things are worse than I thought. We can’t put it off for another day. Here’s the marked coin. Go in and have a game of cards; lose; treat the crowd. We’ll be there about seven. So long.” And the chief went out to dinner.
Tonight! and he had told Manuel in his letter to have a good time that evening as on the morrow the store would have to be quiet.
But it would soon be seven and his duty had to be performed even at the cost of Maria.
He entered the store and was greeted heartily by Manuel who took him aside and whispered, “Thanks for the warning. I’ll give my consent for any day which you may choose to marry Maria.”
John nodded mechanically as he turned to go to the card table. “Let’s have a game of cards,” he said. “The loser pays, of course.”
All turned their attention to the game. The well thumbed pack was brought out and given to John to cut. The game progressed merrily enough for the others, but John was silent. Finally he lost the game.
“Wine all around,” he muttered hoarsely.
“Here, Maria,” shouted her father to the daughter in the store proper, “come and give these gentlemen some wine.” They drank the wine and John flung the marked coin on the counter and started for the door.
Oh, this raiding business was awful!
But before he had reached the door he heard Manuel shout to his daughter, “Ajoga o dinheiro.” (Throw away the money.) “The police are upon us!”
Maria had the coin, which John had paid, in her hand. Just outside the little back room was a pit covered with boards over which her father’s horse and wagon were washed. Maria ran out quickly, dropped the coin between the cracks, and heard the splash which it made as it touched the water.
She returned and saw an officer examining the cash drawer for the marked coin.
“Eu digo a verdade,” her father said, “Me no sell wine; me give mans.”
“You’re a liar,” said the officer testily, for he hated to be beaten in a raid, “but just the same I’ll have to let you go this time. Look out for us, however.” And the police left the store amid the jeers and gibes of the hangers-on at Manuel’s.
“The rascal,” said Manuel to his daughter when all was quiet, “to try and catch us in a trap like that.”
“Never mind him,” said Maria with a toss of her pretty head. “I fooled him once tonight and I’ll fool him again. I just promised Antonio that I’d marry him after theFesta do Espirito Santo.”