The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More(6)

        ‘I want them to let him go!’ cried the boy, still cradling the head in his arms. ‘Tell them to let him go!’

        ‘You realize he could be killed any moment,’ the manager said to the boy’s father.

        ‘Leave him alone,’ the father said.

        ‘Rubbish,’ the manager said. ‘Go in and grab him. But be quick. And be careful.’

        ‘No,’ the father said.

        ‘What do you mean, no?’ said the manager. ‘These things are lethal! Don’t you understand that?’

        ‘Yes,’ the father said.

        ‘Then for heaven’s sake, man, get him away!’ cried the manager. ‘There’s going to be a very nasty accident if you don’t.’

        ‘Who owns it?’ the father said. ‘Who owns the turtle?’

        ‘We do,’ the manager said. ‘The hotel has bought it.’

        ‘Then do me a favour,’ the father said. ‘Let me buy it from you.’

        The manager looked at the father, but said nothing.

        ‘You don’t know my son,’ the father said, speaking quietly. ‘He’ll go crazy if it’s taken up to the hotel and slaughtered. He’ll become hysterical.’

        ‘Just pull him away,’ the manager said. ‘And be quick about it.’

        ‘He loves animals,’ the father said. ‘He really loves them. He communicates with them.’

        The crowd was silent, trying to hear what was being said. Nobody moved away. They stood as though hypnotized.

        ‘If we let it go,’ the manager said, ‘they’ll only catch it again.’

        ‘Perhaps they will,’ the father said. ‘But those things can swim.’

        ‘I know they can swim,’ the manager said. ‘They’ll catch him all the same. This is a valuable item, you must realize that. The shell alone is worth a lot of money.’

        ‘I don’t care about the cost,’ the father said. ‘Don’t worry about that. I want to buy it.’

        The boy was still kneeling in the sand beside the turtle, caressing its head.

        The manager took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and started wiping his fingers. He was not keen to let the turtle go. He probably had the dinner menu already planned. On the other hand, he didn’t want another gruesome accident on his private beach this season. Mr Wasserman and the coconut, he told himself, had been quite enough for one year, thank you very much.

        The father said, ‘I would deem it a great personal favour, Mr Edwards, if you would let me buy it. And I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll make quite sure of that.’

        The manager’s eyebrows went up just a fraction of an inch. He had got the point. He was being offered a bribe. That was a different matter. For a few seconds he went on wiping his hands with the handkerchief. Then he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Well, I suppose if it will make your boy feel any better …’

        ‘Thank you,’ the father said.

        ‘Oh, thank you!’ the mother cried. ‘Thank you so very much!’

        ‘Willy,’ the manager said, beckoning to the fisherman.

        The fisherman came forward. He looked thoroughly confused. ‘I never seen anything like this before in my whole life,’ he said. ‘This old turtle was the fiercest I ever caught! He fought like a devil when we brought him in! It took all six of us to land him! That boy’s crazy!’

        ‘Yes, I know,’ the manager said. ‘But now I want you to let him go.’

        ‘Let him go!’ the fisherman cried, aghast. ‘You mustn’t ever let this one go, Mr Edwards! He’s broke the record! He’s the biggest turtle ever been caught on this island! Easy the biggest! And what about our money?’