DESSALINES' PRAYER
he had been obliged to refer the matter to Mr. Mallock, the head of a firm which had found the sinews for more than one filibustering enterprise. Mallock, like the Jew, was a man of utter financial honesty. Although continually involved in illegal ventures he had the reputation all through the West Indies, Central and South America, of a man whose word was inviolate. Mallock was respected in Colombia, feared in Santo Domingo, dreaded in Venezuela, and trusted everywhere. He had been candid with Rosenthal.
"I can get you two men to fill these billets," he had said. "One is an old rascal, the other a young rascal; both are sneeringly fearless and both are good seamen and navigators. I think that they will play fair with you, but I will not guarantee them. I have specified in their contracts that they are not to leave the vessel until after you have met the Crête and landed your troops; it will be your lookout to see that they are not tampered with. My advice would be that if one of them goes ashore—breaks his agreement—to go ahead without him and take your chances on handling the thing yourself. You certainly are competent to do that."
Rosenthal had smiled; his heavy mustache had drawn up and outward, baring a diamond-shaped expanse of yellow teeth.
"I shall try to do better than that, Mr. Mallock. If one of these fellows, whom I shall have watched, attempts to go ashore he will do so on his face with a hole through the top of his head." Again the smile.
"That is a good plan, too," Mallock had replied. "You know your business, Brother Rosenthal; the Cuban and Venezuelan affairs have given you a good schooling
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