around."
"Supposing I told you where you can find hundreds, maybe more?" Max said.
Chris felt an irresistible surge of curiosity. "Well," she said cautiously, "I might tell you you're drunk. Nobody's seen one alive since 1838. Or do you mean you've found the graveyard where all good little Glories went to die?"
"Alive, my dear, alive."
"Hundreds or more?" Chris said. "Alive? Let's hear it, Max."
Max leaned back against the chair. "Got a cigarette?”
Chris handed him one and held out a match. She left the pack on the table.
"Did you ever hear of a place called Tongariva?" he asked.
"Vaguely," she answered. “I could probably find it on a map."
He took a deep drag on the cigarette. "It's a small island in the south Pacific. It makes a triangle like this." He traced a triangle in the dust on the table top. "Here's Pago Pago, here's Tahiti," he pointed. "And up here at the top is Tongariva."
“I get the picture," Chris said. "So what? You know as well as I do that shell's only been found around the Philippines."
"That's ancient history," Max said.
"I'm listening."
“I'm telling you," he said. "I was working on a freighter out of Valparaiso. This is about six months back. We hit a storm—it was March tenth, in fact. Well, anyhow, we got blown off course and the damned boiler blew up. We had to pull into Tongariva to make repairs." He stopped to fill the glass again. "Still interested?”
"Go on, Max," Chris said.
"Well, the island itself didn't amount to much. But we had some of the natives helping us on the ship for a couple of days. One of them had this shell on a cord around his neck. Like a hunk of jewelry. I thought it was a Glory, but I couldn't believe it till I got him to take it off and let me have a look at it."
Chris picked up the pack of matches and began turning it over slowly in her fingers. She was no longer looking at Max. In the back of her mind she was already calculating how best to present this to Jonathan.
"Sure as hell," Max said, "there it was. You should have seen it, Chris." His eyes mellowed. "A big one, at least five inches. A pink pearly lip, perfect smooth. And deep brown flecks and tan, with a rich warm gold." He was silent for a minute. "I've seen three in my time," he went on, "but this was the most beautiful."
"You're sure, Max?" Chris said.
"Damn it, of course I'm sure. I knew this business before you were born, kid," he said angrily, "and don't you forget it."
"Okay, okay. Take it easy."
He took another drink.
Chris stirred restlessly in her chair and shifted her feet. She wanted him to go on.
Max burped and then continued. “I could make a little talk-talk with the natives. This one had picked up some pidgin English at Tahiti, so between us we managed. He told me that in a kind of lagoon off the southwest of the island were lots of these beautiful creatures. He said, 'Hull lot, like stars in sky!"'
"You just saw the one?" Chris asked.
"Yeah, sure. But this guy had nothing to gain by lying to me, after all," Max said. "He's not up on the par value of shells."
That sounded reasonable. "Go on," Chris said.
"There's not much more," he said. "Except that I went for a look at this lagoon. It's there, all right. I cruised the shore. Kicked up sand and looked under, rocks. I didn't find any of the shells."
"But you didn't do any diving?" Chris said. She took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. She saw that her fingers were trembling and she knew she was more excited than she wanted Max to realize.
"No."
"So, in other words, if I go chasing off to Tongariva, it's possible that the only Glory I'll see is hanging around a native's neck on a cord."
"You don't believe that, Chris. Any more than I do," Max said. He wiped his nose on the back of his arm. "It's not very likely this native picked up the only Glory in the whole damned Pacific."
"I'm the cautious type."
"Look, according to this native, he found these things in the lagoon when he was out diving for oysters.
"Supposing I told you where you can find hundreds, maybe more?" Max said.
Chris felt an irresistible surge of curiosity. "Well," she said cautiously, "I might tell you you're drunk. Nobody's seen one alive since 1838. Or do you mean you've found the graveyard where all good little Glories went to die?"
"Alive, my dear, alive."
"Hundreds or more?" Chris said. "Alive? Let's hear it, Max."
Max leaned back against the chair. "Got a cigarette?”
Chris handed him one and held out a match. She left the pack on the table.
"Did you ever hear of a place called Tongariva?" he asked.
"Vaguely," she answered. “I could probably find it on a map."
He took a deep drag on the cigarette. "It's a small island in the south Pacific. It makes a triangle like this." He traced a triangle in the dust on the table top. "Here's Pago Pago, here's Tahiti," he pointed. "And up here at the top is Tongariva."
“I get the picture," Chris said. "So what? You know as well as I do that shell's only been found around the Philippines."
"That's ancient history," Max said.
"I'm listening."
“I'm telling you," he said. "I was working on a freighter out of Valparaiso. This is about six months back. We hit a storm—it was March tenth, in fact. Well, anyhow, we got blown off course and the damned boiler blew up. We had to pull into Tongariva to make repairs." He stopped to fill the glass again. "Still interested?”
"Go on, Max," Chris said.
"Well, the island itself didn't amount to much. But we had some of the natives helping us on the ship for a couple of days. One of them had this shell on a cord around his neck. Like a hunk of jewelry. I thought it was a Glory, but I couldn't believe it till I got him to take it off and let me have a look at it."
Chris picked up the pack of matches and began turning it over slowly in her fingers. She was no longer looking at Max. In the back of her mind she was already calculating how best to present this to Jonathan.
"Sure as hell," Max said, "there it was. You should have seen it, Chris." His eyes mellowed. "A big one, at least five inches. A pink pearly lip, perfect smooth. And deep brown flecks and tan, with a rich warm gold." He was silent for a minute. "I've seen three in my time," he went on, "but this was the most beautiful."
"You're sure, Max?" Chris said.
"Damn it, of course I'm sure. I knew this business before you were born, kid," he said angrily, "and don't you forget it."
"Okay, okay. Take it easy."
He took another drink.
Chris stirred restlessly in her chair and shifted her feet. She wanted him to go on.
Max burped and then continued. “I could make a little talk-talk with the natives. This one had picked up some pidgin English at Tahiti, so between us we managed. He told me that in a kind of lagoon off the southwest of the island were lots of these beautiful creatures. He said, 'Hull lot, like stars in sky!"'
"You just saw the one?" Chris asked.
"Yeah, sure. But this guy had nothing to gain by lying to me, after all," Max said. "He's not up on the par value of shells."
That sounded reasonable. "Go on," Chris said.
"There's not much more," he said. "Except that I went for a look at this lagoon. It's there, all right. I cruised the shore. Kicked up sand and looked under, rocks. I didn't find any of the shells."
"But you didn't do any diving?" Chris said. She took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. She saw that her fingers were trembling and she knew she was more excited than she wanted Max to realize.
"No."
"So, in other words, if I go chasing off to Tongariva, it's possible that the only Glory I'll see is hanging around a native's neck on a cord."
"You don't believe that, Chris. Any more than I do," Max said. He wiped his nose on the back of his arm. "It's not very likely this native picked up the only Glory in the whole damned Pacific."
"I'm the cautious type."
"Look, according to this native, he found these things in the lagoon when he was out diving for oysters.
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