TREVOR PENDLETON, EMPLOYMENT POACHER
Mr. St. Clair awoke the next morning with the peculiar expectation that that morning would precede a day of great reckoning. This expectation terrified him as the St. Clair family is not one generally predisposed to days of any kind of reckoning, to say nothing of days of great reckoning. This expectation was also reinforced in his taking the morning paper up into the offices of Roger & Roger Mining Co. where, in skimming the pages thereof, encountered a curious advertisement in the classified section that read wanted: engineer, overseer, machinist of mining equipment in PULAU EMAS; pay: exceptional; if interested, inquire at the offices of Trevor Pendleton, where followed an address that no doubt indicated the offices of Trevor Pendleton.
Mr. St. Clairs eyes lingered here for but a moment when he turned the page decisively, as if to convince himself that the matter was settled, and his interest dormant. But his secret mind burnt at a mean rate, and many questions began to form which he could not suppress. The foremost question in his mind he directed, aloud, to a man sitting at the neighboring drawing table.
Jerry, said Mr. St. Clair, Where is Pulau Emas?
Eh? said Jerry, a mustachioed, red-nosed fellow with a boisterous demeanor. Jerry looked up from his work at Mr. St. Clair with some bemusement, before looking back at his work; and failing in focusing thereupon, looked back at Jerry again, Whats that, Allie?
Pulau Emas, I, erm, read about it in the paper, said Alistair, quickly amending the context of the unknown place.
They wrote about the place and didnt even mention where it is? said Jerry, now turning back to his work.
Indeed not, well, it was more an in-passing mention, replied Alistair, I thought you might have heard of it.
Hm! Well, said Jerry, scratching his chin and twirling his mustache in what he must have thought was a dashing play at thoughtfulness, I cant say Ive ever heard of such a place as Pulau Emas. Hows it spelt?
Alistair spelt it out for him, although before he had finished spelling it Jerry was shaking his head. No! No, never heard of it. Who knows what God-forsaken corner of the world its in?
Rather than be disappointed at this turn of events, Mr. St. Clair found his mind preoccupied with a raging curiosity. Pulau Emas! Where could it be? An unknown territory, as of thousands of nameless places, which now sat, comely and beckoning, on a distant shore. And the harbormaster at the crowded filthy business-less harbor, that harbor which serviced the city of his whole being, shouted out last calls; and the sketch which sat in front of him came into focus once more.
At noon, he resolved to take his lunch at some distance from the office, and cautioned that he might be late in coming back afterwards, which his manager regarded with a dour look. He left the offices of Roger & Roger Mining Co. with a barely concealed spring to his step.
He made his way for the address indicated in the job posting, which was not very far. He worried that there might be a crowd of people gathered to apply for the job, like him inspired to come calling during lunch hours on a work day. Dear reader, it should be apparent to us that this fear was unfounded, and that our dear Mr. St. Clair is sufficiently out of touch to believe that anyone should come calling during the short lunch hour (which they may not even have) to apply for a job half a world away. Such as it was, he shortly reached the office of Trevor Pendleton, and found it, to his surprised delight, to be completely devoid of fellow applicants.
The office was small and cramped, and the lobby he entered was dimly lit and had an inconvenient air to it. At the far end of the room sat a wooden desk, behind which was perched a leathery old fellow whose years might have been more economically counted in scores. With the slightest apprehension, Mr. St. Clair moved to engage the desk.
Good afternoon! he greeted the old man. The old man looked at him with an expression that said he was clearly put-off to be attending visitors, and asked him what he was in for.
I am inquiring about a job posting, said Mr. St. Clair. The old man nodded and said that he might see Mr. Pendleton now, and indicated a door adjacent to the desk with a long, bony finger.
The door was very old and wooden, and painted on the door in clear golden letters was TREVOR PENDLETON, EMPLOYMENT POACHER. If Mr. St. Clair was apprehensive before, he was positively bewildered now. Slowly, cautiously, he approached the door, opened it, and went through.
The office was even smaller and more stifling than the lobby was. It was crammed close with furniture, bookshelves, and bureaus, which threatened vigorously to collapse upon one another at the slightest provocation. The bookshelves were overstuffed with almanacs, atlases, maps, and encyclopedias. Stacked high on every flat surface in the room was papers and binders bound with string, and small journals and booklets sprawled among messes of old notes. The most curious object of all was a proud, large globe, which stood in the windowsill at the far end of the room. Between Mr. St. Clair and the globe was a short, narrow desk, and a chair, where a balding man sat low writing furiously on a sheet of paper.
The man looked up to survey the newcomer, who took it in kind to survey the man. He looked to be hard upon 50 years of age, and had the lean and narrow countenance of a man that worked constantly at a job that demanded the utmost in keenness and precision.
How can I help you? said the man after few long moments.
Im here about the job, said Mr. St. Clair slowly, The one in Pulau Emas. Although he had not forgotten the name of the island, his slow pace of speech gave the man who surveyed him the impression that he had, momentarily.
Ah, yes, of course; come in, please, and have a seat, said Mr. Pendleton with a tinny voice that suited him perfectly.
Mr. St. Clair entered the office and closed the door behind him, sitting down in the overstuffed armchair that sat in front of Mr. Pendletons desk. As he did this, Mr. Pendleton made quite a show of making a few quick scratches and scribbles on the paper he was attending, before folding it up, stowing it away in a binder, and setting that binder on a nearby shelf. He then pulled another stack of bound papers off of the shelf and set it heavily on his desk where, unbinding it, he began to leaf through the papers.
Pulau Emas, Pulau Emas, P, P, P said Mr. Pendleton as he shuffled through the papers, Ah, here it is. Pulau Emas! You are familiar, I take it, yes?
Uh, no, Im afraid not, said Mr. St. Clair as Mr. Pendleton glanced inquiringly at it.
Do you know where Pulau Emas is? asked Mr. Pendleton, one eyebrow raised.
No, I dont, said Mr. St. Clair with an attendant sinking feeling in his heart, as he felt his prospects wilting.
No matter, said Mr. Pendleton dismissively, as he began gathering an assortment of papers together, Although you should know that the Company is interested in acquiring someone to occupy this position for the long haul.
With a flourish Mr. Pendleton produced the globe behind him on the desk in front of him, between him and Mr. St. Clair. He spun it around until East Asia was facing Mr. St. Clair, and pointed at a very, very small island near Sumatra.
That, said Mr. Pendleton dramatically, is Pulau Emas.
The Orient said Mr. St. Clair aloud, in spite of himself.
Well, said Mr. Pendleton, taking up the globe and depositing it behind him once again, Not quite the Orient, but close enough. As I hear it there are enough Orientals there to pass for the Orient, however! Mr. Pendleton chuckled at this as he resumed the sorting of some paperwork.
I assume, said Mr. Pendleton as he took up one paper and glanced at it more closely, That you know the job specification?
Mining equipment engineering, is that correct? As Im currently employed as an engineer with Roger & Roger, I can assure you that Im equal to the task.
Yes, indeed, however the position will also have you overseeing larger mining operations.
Ah, said Mr. St. Clair, I have no experience in management.
Mr. Pendleton gave Mr. St. Clair a long, thoughtful look. Living in Pulau Emas will give you plenty of experience in management.
To this, Mr. St. Clair said nothing but inclined his head.
Well then! said Mr. Pendleton, I can have you off this Saturday, and some four or five months hence, you will be in Pulau Emas. I only need you to sign here and, er whats your name?
S Smith, said Mr. St. Clair, Alistair Smith.
Very good, Mr. Smith. Any family you are taking with you: wife, children ?
Mr. St. Clair hesitated for a few moments. None. Im a bachelor.
Ah, me too, said Mr. Pendleton with a sympathetic chuckle, All right, when you reach Pulau Emas, give this letter to the local Postmaster, and he will help set you straight. And I will be at the docks on Saturday to introduce you to the captain of the vessel youll be journeying on.
Mr. St. Clair nodded. Is that all? I must say Im eager to get under way.
Are you? Thats good! Very fortunate. You had better be, because its quite a commitment.
The conversation didnt end there, as Mr. Pendleton continued to talk for some time about the details of the voyage and the job, however as Mr. St. Clair walked back to the offices of Roger & Roger Mining Co., the only thing that stuck in his mind was the letter in his jacket pocket, the one that he must give to the Postmaster in Pulau Emas. That felt to him so much like a ticket to another world that all other things flit from his mind: that he should imagine the coming Saturday morning, him proclaiming too loudly that he was going out for lunch, and retrieving a stash of bags and things which he had hidden away, and identifying himself as Mr. Smith to the ships captain, and being away then for so long that she came to know the truth; he imagined that she did not cry, though she did, and he shut her from his mind forevermore.
Mr. St. Clair awoke the next morning with the peculiar expectation that that morning would precede a day of great reckoning. This expectation terrified him as the St. Clair family is not one generally predisposed to days of any kind of reckoning, to say nothing of days of great reckoning. This expectation was also reinforced in his taking the morning paper up into the offices of Roger & Roger Mining Co. where, in skimming the pages thereof, encountered a curious advertisement in the classified section that read wanted: engineer, overseer, machinist of mining equipment in PULAU EMAS; pay: exceptional; if interested, inquire at the offices of Trevor Pendleton, where followed an address that no doubt indicated the offices of Trevor Pendleton.
Mr. St. Clairs eyes lingered here for but a moment when he turned the page decisively, as if to convince himself that the matter was settled, and his interest dormant. But his secret mind burnt at a mean rate, and many questions began to form which he could not suppress. The foremost question in his mind he directed, aloud, to a man sitting at the neighboring drawing table.
Jerry, said Mr. St. Clair, Where is Pulau Emas?
Eh? said Jerry, a mustachioed, red-nosed fellow with a boisterous demeanor. Jerry looked up from his work at Mr. St. Clair with some bemusement, before looking back at his work; and failing in focusing thereupon, looked back at Jerry again, Whats that, Allie?
Pulau Emas, I, erm, read about it in the paper, said Alistair, quickly amending the context of the unknown place.
They wrote about the place and didnt even mention where it is? said Jerry, now turning back to his work.
Indeed not, well, it was more an in-passing mention, replied Alistair, I thought you might have heard of it.
Hm! Well, said Jerry, scratching his chin and twirling his mustache in what he must have thought was a dashing play at thoughtfulness, I cant say Ive ever heard of such a place as Pulau Emas. Hows it spelt?
Alistair spelt it out for him, although before he had finished spelling it Jerry was shaking his head. No! No, never heard of it. Who knows what God-forsaken corner of the world its in?
Rather than be disappointed at this turn of events, Mr. St. Clair found his mind preoccupied with a raging curiosity. Pulau Emas! Where could it be? An unknown territory, as of thousands of nameless places, which now sat, comely and beckoning, on a distant shore. And the harbormaster at the crowded filthy business-less harbor, that harbor which serviced the city of his whole being, shouted out last calls; and the sketch which sat in front of him came into focus once more.
At noon, he resolved to take his lunch at some distance from the office, and cautioned that he might be late in coming back afterwards, which his manager regarded with a dour look. He left the offices of Roger & Roger Mining Co. with a barely concealed spring to his step.
He made his way for the address indicated in the job posting, which was not very far. He worried that there might be a crowd of people gathered to apply for the job, like him inspired to come calling during lunch hours on a work day. Dear reader, it should be apparent to us that this fear was unfounded, and that our dear Mr. St. Clair is sufficiently out of touch to believe that anyone should come calling during the short lunch hour (which they may not even have) to apply for a job half a world away. Such as it was, he shortly reached the office of Trevor Pendleton, and found it, to his surprised delight, to be completely devoid of fellow applicants.
The office was small and cramped, and the lobby he entered was dimly lit and had an inconvenient air to it. At the far end of the room sat a wooden desk, behind which was perched a leathery old fellow whose years might have been more economically counted in scores. With the slightest apprehension, Mr. St. Clair moved to engage the desk.
Good afternoon! he greeted the old man. The old man looked at him with an expression that said he was clearly put-off to be attending visitors, and asked him what he was in for.
I am inquiring about a job posting, said Mr. St. Clair. The old man nodded and said that he might see Mr. Pendleton now, and indicated a door adjacent to the desk with a long, bony finger.
The door was very old and wooden, and painted on the door in clear golden letters was TREVOR PENDLETON, EMPLOYMENT POACHER. If Mr. St. Clair was apprehensive before, he was positively bewildered now. Slowly, cautiously, he approached the door, opened it, and went through.
The office was even smaller and more stifling than the lobby was. It was crammed close with furniture, bookshelves, and bureaus, which threatened vigorously to collapse upon one another at the slightest provocation. The bookshelves were overstuffed with almanacs, atlases, maps, and encyclopedias. Stacked high on every flat surface in the room was papers and binders bound with string, and small journals and booklets sprawled among messes of old notes. The most curious object of all was a proud, large globe, which stood in the windowsill at the far end of the room. Between Mr. St. Clair and the globe was a short, narrow desk, and a chair, where a balding man sat low writing furiously on a sheet of paper.
The man looked up to survey the newcomer, who took it in kind to survey the man. He looked to be hard upon 50 years of age, and had the lean and narrow countenance of a man that worked constantly at a job that demanded the utmost in keenness and precision.
How can I help you? said the man after few long moments.
Im here about the job, said Mr. St. Clair slowly, The one in Pulau Emas. Although he had not forgotten the name of the island, his slow pace of speech gave the man who surveyed him the impression that he had, momentarily.
Ah, yes, of course; come in, please, and have a seat, said Mr. Pendleton with a tinny voice that suited him perfectly.
Mr. St. Clair entered the office and closed the door behind him, sitting down in the overstuffed armchair that sat in front of Mr. Pendletons desk. As he did this, Mr. Pendleton made quite a show of making a few quick scratches and scribbles on the paper he was attending, before folding it up, stowing it away in a binder, and setting that binder on a nearby shelf. He then pulled another stack of bound papers off of the shelf and set it heavily on his desk where, unbinding it, he began to leaf through the papers.
Pulau Emas, Pulau Emas, P, P, P said Mr. Pendleton as he shuffled through the papers, Ah, here it is. Pulau Emas! You are familiar, I take it, yes?
Uh, no, Im afraid not, said Mr. St. Clair as Mr. Pendleton glanced inquiringly at it.
Do you know where Pulau Emas is? asked Mr. Pendleton, one eyebrow raised.
No, I dont, said Mr. St. Clair with an attendant sinking feeling in his heart, as he felt his prospects wilting.
No matter, said Mr. Pendleton dismissively, as he began gathering an assortment of papers together, Although you should know that the Company is interested in acquiring someone to occupy this position for the long haul.
With a flourish Mr. Pendleton produced the globe behind him on the desk in front of him, between him and Mr. St. Clair. He spun it around until East Asia was facing Mr. St. Clair, and pointed at a very, very small island near Sumatra.
That, said Mr. Pendleton dramatically, is Pulau Emas.
The Orient said Mr. St. Clair aloud, in spite of himself.
Well, said Mr. Pendleton, taking up the globe and depositing it behind him once again, Not quite the Orient, but close enough. As I hear it there are enough Orientals there to pass for the Orient, however! Mr. Pendleton chuckled at this as he resumed the sorting of some paperwork.
I assume, said Mr. Pendleton as he took up one paper and glanced at it more closely, That you know the job specification?
Mining equipment engineering, is that correct? As Im currently employed as an engineer with Roger & Roger, I can assure you that Im equal to the task.
Yes, indeed, however the position will also have you overseeing larger mining operations.
Ah, said Mr. St. Clair, I have no experience in management.
Mr. Pendleton gave Mr. St. Clair a long, thoughtful look. Living in Pulau Emas will give you plenty of experience in management.
To this, Mr. St. Clair said nothing but inclined his head.
Well then! said Mr. Pendleton, I can have you off this Saturday, and some four or five months hence, you will be in Pulau Emas. I only need you to sign here and, er whats your name?
S Smith, said Mr. St. Clair, Alistair Smith.
Very good, Mr. Smith. Any family you are taking with you: wife, children ?
Mr. St. Clair hesitated for a few moments. None. Im a bachelor.
Ah, me too, said Mr. Pendleton with a sympathetic chuckle, All right, when you reach Pulau Emas, give this letter to the local Postmaster, and he will help set you straight. And I will be at the docks on Saturday to introduce you to the captain of the vessel youll be journeying on.
Mr. St. Clair nodded. Is that all? I must say Im eager to get under way.
Are you? Thats good! Very fortunate. You had better be, because its quite a commitment.
The conversation didnt end there, as Mr. Pendleton continued to talk for some time about the details of the voyage and the job, however as Mr. St. Clair walked back to the offices of Roger & Roger Mining Co., the only thing that stuck in his mind was the letter in his jacket pocket, the one that he must give to the Postmaster in Pulau Emas. That felt to him so much like a ticket to another world that all other things flit from his mind: that he should imagine the coming Saturday morning, him proclaiming too loudly that he was going out for lunch, and retrieving a stash of bags and things which he had hidden away, and identifying himself as Mr. Smith to the ships captain, and being away then for so long that she came to know the truth; he imagined that she did not cry, though she did, and he shut her from his mind forevermore.