Thursday, July 10, 2003


Chap 14, part 4

And now, I must tell about Toma. He is 19 years old, stands well over six fet, and is handsomely proportioned. He is about the color of honey and has live, intelligent eyes. His English is pretty good; so good that I was surprised. He never has been far from his native island.

He seemed to take an instant liking to me. When we got better acquainted he wanted to know my name. He like "Jim" all right, but the sharp syllables of "Whittaker" apparently were not so pleasing to him. So Toma rechristened me "Jim America."

After we had finished our cocoanuts on the afternoon his men had picked me up, Toma wanted to know what else I wanted. I replied jokingly that a good, American cigarette would just about fix me up. I had hardly finished speaking before he bounded out of the hut and was heading for the palm woods in an easy lope. In a short while he was back, holding out his hand to me. In it lay a package of American cigarettes. I was thunderstruck.

"Much obliged, Aladdin," I said.

Then he told me, "My name Toma."

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