We put in at Jamaica on one of those weirdly bright but inclement days. The weather couldn't quite make up its mind if it wanted to leave well enough alone or bomb the Wooster noggin with that species of plump little raindrop that is more like a young water balloon than anything else. I was bobbing about the streets, picking up souvenirs and admiring some white straw hats with colorful flora and fauna on the hatbands, when I perceived the first plop. A virtual deluge of plops ensued that had Bertram hastily purchasing a parrot-band hat and dashing for sanctuary under the porte cochere of the Hotel Azalea.
The thoughtful architect of this elegant hostel had put a welcoming bar in the lobby, and it was to this same bar that I repaired to wait out the aerial attack. Scarcely had I set my foot to the brass rail and entered my vote for a stiffish brandy-and-soda, than an elderly Jamaican fellow came up to me beaming from every pore, and exclaiming.
"Mr. Wooster! Mr. Wooster, sir!"” he cried. He was an ebony gentleman, dressed to the nines, his linen suit outshone only by the sparkling gold tooth that decorated his spacious smile.
I was at an utter loss!
"Mr. Wooster! You don't remember me, but I met you ‘way back in de days at de British Empire Exhibition at Wembley!"
The British Empire Exhibish! Dreadful memories came rushing back of the awful tortures I suffered there, being dragged along with old Biffy on a sort of educational walking tour given by Sir Roderick Glossop. Then it all clicked, and I greeted the fellow with a glad eye!
"Why, you were the bartender in that excellent Planters Bar!" I exclaimed. "I never thanked you enough for your services on that occasion."”
"How can you say dat you never thank me enough? Why, sir, you give me a five pound note for de tip!" he pointed out.
A fiver! Recalling my sentiments on that occasion, it was worth every farthing! Still, I mean to say, no wonder this chappie remembered Bertram.
"I took dat five pound note," the old fellow continued, "to a bookie de very next day, and I bet it on a pony called Thirsty Lad. I don't know why, it was just a hunch. And Thirsty Lad went off at twenty-to-one. Dat was some good pony, Mr. Wooster! He romped home and de bookie paid me one hundred pounds!
"Not really!" I responded, on hearing this incredible tale.
"Yes! And you won't believe what I did wit dat hundred!"
"Surely you didn't have another go?"
"Yes! I took dat hundred pounds back to de bookie and I put it on de nose of a filly called Funny Face. I don't know why I did it," he told me, pausing to light a longish green cigar, "but I had a hunch. And dat Funny Face came in for me at sixteen-to-one, Mr. Wooster, and de bookie give up sixteen hundred pounds!"
"What a lad! Why I've never heard anything like it in all my puff!"”
"Yes I did! And den I sent a hundred of dose pounds to my dear widowed Mamma. Because I always remember," he related, touching the sentimental note, "dat Mamma, she give me de precious gift of Life! But you won't believe what I did wit de other fifteen hundred! I bet it on a horse called Benefactor at ten-to-one! De bookie had to call some udder bookies to lay off de bet, but I bet it!"
"No, I say, dash it! You're not going to tell me that Benefactor brought home the bacon?"
"No, sir! Benefactor blew up in de stretch! I was busted flat! Can you believe it?
Emotionally drained by this epic, I gulped the b. and s. and called for another. Then I recalled the redeeming moral factor of the bit he sent to Mamma.
"Well, at least Mamma was a hundred quid to the good."
"Yes! And you won't believe it, but Mamma was so happy about dat hundred pounds, dat she went out and bought herself a red dress and she painted up de town. She was so happy, laughin' and singin' and shimmyin' around in dat new red dress, dat de ol' gentleman who owned dis hotel dat you're sittin in now," he said, waving the green cigar about him in a generous gesture, to indicate our surroundings. "De ol' gentleman who owned dis joint fell for Mamma like a ton o' bricks! Dey was married by de time I got back to de islands, and was happy like a pair o' lovebirds until de ol' gentleman passed on."
"Well, I'll be swished!"
"Dat's right! And before Mamma went on to Glory herself, and left me dis hotel dat you're sittin' in," he continued, "Mamma called me to her bedside and she said, 'Jimmy, if you ever see dat fella wit de funny face again, tell him dat Azalea Jones wants to buy him a drink!' So you see, Mr. Wooster, your money ain't no good here!"
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