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diff --git a/old/63269-0.txt b/old/63269-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bb524b1..0000000 --- a/old/63269-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9825 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ocean Tramps, by H. de Vere Stacpoole - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Ocean Tramps - -Author: H. de Vere Stacpoole - -Release Date: September 22, 2020 [EBook #63269] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OCEAN TRAMPS *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - - - - - - - - - -OCEAN TRAMPS - - - - - The beauty of a flower. - The beauty of a tune. - The beauty of the hour - When dusk embraces June: - Of all the beauties earthly - The soul of man may clip, - On earth there is no beauty - Like the beauty of a ship. - - - - -OCEAN TRAMPS - -By H. de VERE STACPOOLE - -Author of “The Blue Lagoon,” “The Pearl Fishers,” -“The Children of the Sea,” Etc., Etc. - - -LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO. - -PATERNOSTER ROW—1924 - - - - -FOREWORD - - -I met Billy Harman on Circular Wharf, Sydney, so many years ago that I -think he must be dead. He is the chief person in the first six stories -of this book, which have appeared illustrated in an English, an -American and a Canadian magazine, in all of which the illustrator -depicted Billy as a young, rather good-looking man. That he was not. -Billy, when I met him, was well over forty, big and scrubby-bearded, a -shell-back with a touch of the Longshoreman, blue far-seeing eyes, -the eyes of a child—and an innocence none the less delightful because -streaked with guile. - -Only the sea could have produced Billy, and the Islands and the -Beaches and the life which the Pacific makes possible for an Ocean -Tramp. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - I. Bud and Billy - II. Mandelbaum - III. The Way of a Maid with a Man - IV. Sunk Without Trace - V. A Deal with “Plain Sailin’ Jim” - VI. Pearls of Great Price! - VII. Beaten on the Post - VIII. A Case in Point - IX. The Other One - X. Iron Law - XI. The Story of Billy Broke - XII. The Making of a Millionaire - XIII. Kiliwakee - XIV. Under the Flame Trees - XV. The Abbott Mystery - - - - -OCEAN TRAMPS - - - - -I—BUD AND BILLY - - - I - -The moon was rising over Papaleete, over the Pacific Ocean and the bay -where the anchor lights were spilling their amber on the water, over -the palm trees and flame trees and the fragrant town from which, now -clear, now sheltered by the sea wind, came the voices of girls singing -to the tune of Hawaiian guitars. - -Mixed with the breathing of the tepid wind in the trees, the voices of -the girls and the tune of the guitars, came the murmur and sigh of the -beach, the last note wanted, the last touch, to a scene of absolutely -absurd and impossible loveliness, amidst which, by the water’s edge, -casting a thirty-foot shadow on the hard white sand, Mr. Harman was -walking, blind to the Eden around him. - -Billy was on the beach in more senses than one. He was down and out, -without friends, without food, without drinks, and almost without -tobacco, starving in the midst of plenty, for in Papaleete, if you are -a cadger, you may live for ever on the fat of the land, and not only -live, but love, drink, smoke, dream under tree shadows and bathe in a -sea warm with perpetual summer. - -But that was not Billy’s way. This gig, four-square, blue-eyed man out -of San Francisco could do anything but cadge. It wasn’t a question of -morals, it was more a question of simplicity. - -Billy’s morals had mostly been forgotten by Nature, or maybe they had -been extracted by San Franciscans and shore-along toughs from -Valparaiso up, anyhow and however that may be, the resulting vacuum -seemed to have filled itself up with simplicity, not stupidity, just -simplicity. The simplicity of a child that allowed him to go into the -most desperate and questionable deals in ward politics and doubtful -sea practice, wide-eyed, blue-eyed, and reproaching others for their -moral lapses with the unchanging formula: “It don’t pay.” - -“Crooked dealing don’t pay,” said Mr. Harman after some crooked deal -had failed—never before. - -Yet somehow, in some extraordinary way, Billy was lovable, there was -nothing mean about him, and that was maybe why he couldn’t cadge, and -he had behind those blue eyes and that honest-dog looking, tanned -face, a power of cool, uncalculating daring that might have landed him -anywhere if he had come on a decent jumping-off place. - -As he turned back along the beach, the moonlight struck a figure -coming towards him. It was Davis. Fate or some strange chance had -thrown Davis and Harman together on the same beach at the same time, -and though there was a world of difference between their faces, forms, -characters and dispositions, they were alike in this—they couldn’t -cadge. - -Davis was a lean slip of a man with a chin tuft and a terrific past -about which he was quite open. Never satisfied or driven by the craze -of adventure, he had overrun two or three fortunes and had beached at -Papaleete from a B.P. boat which had picked him up from a trading -station down somewhere in the Paumotus, and was glad to get rid of him -on the terms of a twenty-dollar loan. The captain laughed when Davis -had entered the loan in a pocket-book, but it would be returned with -interest some time or another if the borrower lived. That was Davis. - -The one remarkable thing about this plain-looking man with the chin -tuft and the flat cheek-bones was his quietude, nothing hurried or -flurried him. That was perhaps the secret behind his shooting. He was -more than a good shot with a revolver. He was inevitable. - -“That’s done,” said Davis, coming up with the other. “Penhill and -Jarvis are highballing it at the club, and their Kanakas are playing -hopscotch with the hula-hula girls. What’s the matter with you? Don’t -go saying you’ve got cold feet.” - -“It’s not my feet,” said Mr. Harman, “but I’ve never run off with a -ship before and that’s the fact, it’s not like sinkin’ her or pilin’ -her. I’ve done most things, but I’ve never run off with a ship before, -that’s a fact. I’ve never——” - -“Oh, close up!” said Davis. “Didn’t I tell you that Penhill can’t move -against us, once I get his ship out, his feet are cut off. I’m the one -man living that he’s afraid of, because I’m the one man living that -can put him in quod without hurting myself. This thing isn’t running -off with a ship. It’s Providence.” - -“How do you get at that?” asked Billy doubtfully. - -“Well, look at it,” said Davis. “In he comes with the _Araya_, sees -me, remembers the trick he played me, tries to pal up, gets a snub on -the nose, puts it in his pocket, and then goes on the jag, him and -Jarvis, leaving his schooner with a parcel of damn fool Kanakas in -charge and me layin’ about dangerous. Kanakas, why they’re worse than -that! Island boys that’ll take any white man’s bidding s’long as he -feeds them with fried bananas. It’s lovely, that’s what it is, -lovely——” Linking his arm in that of Harman, he was walking him -along the sand towards a boat beached and left almost high and dry by -the ebbing tide. To the right lay the lights of the town, and almost -on the beach sand the long amber glow of the lit club. Harman, walking -between the beauty of Papaleete by night and the glory of the moon -upon the sea, showed no sign of haste to reach the boat. - -What bothered him was, not so much the turpitude of the business, as -the seeming futility and madness of it, for even in those days before -wireless talked it was next to impossible to steal a ship and make -good. Every port in the world is a compound eye for scrutiny, the -character of a ship is inquired into as carefully as her health. -Harman knew the whole business. There is a cable from Papaleete to -Suva, and from Suva to ’Frisco and beyond, and to-morrow morning -Penhill had only to speak and the description of the _Araya_ and the -two vanished beachcombers would be in the hands of the San Francisco -authorities before noon; before night all American seaboard ports -would be closed to the _Araya_, and by next day at noon, the British -Board of Trade would seal Australia and Hong Kong. Chinese ports would -be notified in “due course.” - -With every bolthole blocked, the _Araya_ might still live free for -years pottering among the less-known islands, they might even pile her -on some rock and make their escape in the boats, but what would be the -use of all that? No, the whole thing would have been futile and -ridiculous but for the one thing that made it possible—Penhill. -Penhill daren’t prosecute. The schooner was his, and he was the only -man who could move, and he was tied. Davis said so. Davis had given -details which made the matter clear to Harman, yet still he hesitated. - -They had reached the boat. It was the _Araya’s_, left confidingly on a -beach where no man ever stole boats; there were canoes to be had in -plenty, but Davis preferred the boat, he had reasons. - -Harman, resting his hand on the gunnel, looked about him for a moment -at the deserted beach, still undecided. - -His dunnage left at the house of a native woman where he had lodged -was unprocurable, he owed a bill. As he stood considering this and -other matters, from the groves by the beach diffusing itself through -the night, came the voice of a native singing a love song, tender, -plaintive, old as Papaleete and focussing in itself all the softness -and beauty that the active soul of Billy Harman had learnt to hate. - -He seized the gunnel of the boat and assisted by Davis, shoved her -off. - -Out on the moonlit water, the town showed up fairylike, its lights -twinkling amidst the moving foliage. Away on Huahine, rising steeply -like a wall of velvety blackness to the stars, the lights of tiny -villages showed like fireflies come to rest; fronting and beneath all -this mystery and loveliness showed the definite amber glow of the club -where Penhill and Jarvis were drinking themselves blind. That was -Papaleete. - -No port authorities, no harbour police, no sign of life but the anchor -lights of a brigantine and a bêche-de-mer boat—that also was -Papaleete. On board the _Araya_ the anchor watch was snoring; kicked -awake and rubbing its eyes, it jumped to the voice of white authority. -The returned boat was a certificate that the new white fellow mas’rs -were representatives of white fellow mas’r Penhill and Penhill’s -character was an antidote to loving inquiries. - -“They’re a sprightly lot,” said Harman as the main boom swung to -starboard and the great sail filled, tugging at the sheet. “Monkeys to -jump an’ no tongues to ask questions.” - -“That’s Penhill,” said Davis, “he’s milled them into brute beasts, not -that they wanted much milling, but there you are, he done his best and -I reckon we’re profiting by it.” - - - II - -Four days later they had cut Capricorn, discovered the sailing -qualities of the _Araya_, and taken stock of ship and cargo. There was -also Penhill’s gold watch and eighteen hundred dollars of ship’s -money. Davis calculated it all up and said he reckoned that the -account between him and Penhill was clear. - -He said he reckoned that Penhill had deserved what he got and Harman -concurred. - -They sat in judgment on Penhill and brought him in guilty. Harman -almost felt virtuous. - -“I reckon he’ll learn it don’t pay to run crooked,” said he. “I’ve -took notice that them sort of chaps always gets scragged in the end. -What’s this you said he did you out of?” - -“Seventy dollars, and left me on the beach,” replied Davis. - -“Same as we’ve done him,” said Harman. “No, it don’t pay. It don’t pay -no-how.” - -South at first, then due west they made past St. Felix and heading for -Caldera on the Chili coast. But Caldera was not Davis’ objective. -Buenodiaz, with its land-locked harbour, its lazy ways, its pretty -women and negligent Port authorities, was his idea, and smoking -Penhill’s cigars under a blazing sun whilst the _Araya_ snored along -through a Reckitts’-blue sea, he expounded matters to Billy Harman. - -“Sell her on the hoof,” said Davis, “innards, outwards, hump, tail and -all, that’s my idea. There are ten cent mail boats that’ll take us -anywhere up or down the coast, Valparaiso for choice, once we’ve got -the dollars in our pockets; there’s big things to be done in Chili -with a few dollars by fellows that know the ropes.” - -Mr. Harman concurred. - -“I’ve been done there myself,” said he, “by chaps that hadn’t cents in -their pockets, let alone dollars. Skinned alive I was of every buck to -my name in a faro joint at Cubra, and me winning all the time. Hadn’t -got half-way down the street to my ship with a pocket full of silver -dollars when I put my hand in my pocket and found nothing but stones, -filled me up they had with pebbles off the beach, playin’ guitars all -the time and smokin’ cigarettes and pretendin’ to hasty-manyana. - -“Well, I’m not against landin’ this hooker on them, but I tell you, -Bud, it’s my experience, before we comes to close grips with them -we’ll be wantin’ to fix our skins on with seccotine.” - -“You leave them to me,” said Bud Davis. - -“I’ve known the insides and outsides of Chinks,” went on the other, -“and I’ve had dealin’s with Greeks up Susun way, oyster boat -Levantines will take your back teeth whiles you’re tellin’ them you -don’t want buyin’ their dud pearls, but these chaps are in their own -class. Jim Satan, that’s what they are, and there’s not a ’Frisco Jew -sellin’ dollar watches can walk round the brim of their sombreros.” - -“You leave them to me,” said Bud, and the _Araya_ snored on. - -On and on with a gentle roll over the wind-speckled blue of the -endless swell, lifting nothing but ocean, and over ocean vast dawns -that turned to torrid noons and died in sunsets like the blaze of -burning worlds; till one morning the cry of the Kanaka look-out -answered the cry of a great gull flying with them and there before -them stood the coast boiling where the sun was breaking above it and -stretching to north and south of the sun blaze, solid, remote, in -delicately pencilled hills dying from sight in the blue distance. -Davis, who knew the coast, altered the helm. They were forty miles or -so to the north of their right position, and it was not till afternoon -that the harbour of Buenodiaz lay before them with the flame trees -showing amidst the flat-topped houses and the blue water lapping the -deserted mole. The quay by the mole was deserted and La Plazza, the -public square, distinctly to be seen from the sea, lifted slightly as -it was by the upward trend of the ground, was empty. Through the glass -the houses showed, their green shutters tightly shut and not a soul on -the verandas. - -It was almost as though some Pelée had erupted and covered the place -with the lava of pure desolation clear as glass. - -“Taking their siestas,” said Davis. “Keep her as she goes. I know this -harbour and it’s all good holding ground, beyond that buoy.” - -Harman at the wheel nodded, and Davis went forward to superintend the -fellows getting the anchor ready while the _Araya_, her canvas -quivering to the last of the dying breeze, stole in past an old rusty -torpedo boat, past a grain ship that seemed dead, on and on, dropping -her anchor at least two cable lengths from the mole. - -The rattle of the anchor chain made Buenodiaz open one eye. A boat -slipped out from the mole. It was the Port Doctor. - -Buenodiaz flings its slops into the street and its smells are -traditional, but it has a holy horror of imported diseases and its -Port Doctor never sleeps—even in siesta time. - -With the Doctor came the Customs, smelling of garlic, with whom Davis -conversed in the language of the natives, while Harman attended to the -liquor and cigars. - -The cargo of the _Araya_ was copra and turtle shell. Davis had figured -and figured over the business, and reckoned he’d take four thousand -dollars for the lot. - -“Ain’t like cotton,” said he, “don’t know what it’s worth, but I’ll -put it at four thousand and not a cent under, at four thousand we -shan’t be losers.” - -“Well, I reckon we wouldn’t be losers at four cents,” said Harman, -“seein’ how we got it, and how about the hooker?” - -“Five thousand,” said Davis, “and that’s not half her worth. Nine -thousand the lot and I’ll throw the chronometer in.” - -“Have you fixed what to do with the Kanakas?” asked the other. -“There’s eight of them and they’ve all mouths.” - -“There’s never a Kanaka yet could talk Spanish,” said Davis, “and I -don’t propose to learn them, but I’ll give them fifty dollars -apiece—maybe—if I make good. But there’s time enough to think of -that when we have the dollars.” - -It was the second day after their arrival at Buenodiaz, the sun was -setting and the sound of the band playing on La Plazza came across the -water; mixed with the faint strains of the band came the sounds of a -guitar from one of the ships in the anchorage, and in lapses of the -breeze from the sea the scent of the town stole to them, a bouquet -co-mingled from drains, flowers, garlic, earth and harbour compounds. - -Harman was in one of his meditative fits. - -“That chap you brought aboard to-day,” said he, “the big one with the -whiskers, was he Alonez or was it the little ’un?” - -“The big one,” said Davis. “He’s the chap that’ll take the cargo off -us and the little one will take the ship—I haven’t said a word of the -price, haven’t said I was particularly wanting to sell, but I’ve given -them a smell of the toasted cheese, and if I know anything of -anything, they’re setting on their hind legs now in some café -smoothing their whiskers and making ready to pounce. They’re partners, -they own all that block of stores on the Calle San Pedro, and the -little one does the shipping business. He’s Portuguese, pure. -Pereira’s his name. I’m going up to his house to-night to talk -business.” - -“Well,” said Harman, “if he’s going to buy, he’s got the -specifications, he’s been over her from the truck to the lazarette, -and I thought he’d be pullin’ the nails out of her to see what they -were like. When are you goin’?” - -“Eight,” replied Davis, and at eight o’clock, amidst the usual -illuminations and fireworks with which Buenodiaz bedecks herself on -most nights, he went, leaving Harman to keep ship. He returned at -twelve o’clock and found Harman in his bunk snoring. At breakfast next -morning he told of his visit. He had done no business in particular -beyond mentioning the outside price that he could take for the _Araya_ -should he care to sell her. Mrs. Pereira and her daughter had been -there and the girl was a peach. - -Harman absorbed this news without interest, merely reminding the other -that they weren’t “dealin’ in fruit,” but as two more days added -themselves together producing nothing but church processions, brass -bands and fireworks, Mr. Harman fell out of tune with himself and the -world and the ways of this “dam garlic factory.” Davis was acting -strangely, nearly always ashore and never returning till midnight. He -said the deal was going through, but that it took time, that they -weren’t selling a mustang, that he wouldn’t be hustled and that -Harman, if he didn’t like waiting, had better go and stick his head in -the harbour. - -Harman closed up, but that night he accompanied Davis ashore, and -instead of playing roulette at the little gambling shop in La Plazza, -he hung around the Pereiras’ house in Assumption Street listening and -watching in the moonlight. He heard the tune of a guitar and a girl’s -voice singing La Paloma, then came a great silence that lasted an hour -and a half, and then came Davis. Hidden in a dark corner, Billy saw -that he was not alone. A girl was with him, come out to bid him -good-night. She was short, dark and lovely, but the look of adoration -on her face as she turned it up for a kiss, left Harman quite cold. - -Down by-lanes and cut-throat alleys he made his way running, got to -the mole before the other and was rowed off in the same boat. On board -he invited the other down below and down below he exploded. - -“I ain’t wantin’ to interfere with any man’s diversions,” said Mr. -Harman. “I ain’t no prude, women is women, and business is business, -do you get what I’m meanin’? I saw you. I ain’t accusin’ you of -nuthin’—but bein’ a fool. Us with a stole ship on our backs and -Penhill feelin’ for us and you playin’ the goat with Pereira’s -daughter. What kind of deal do you expect to make and a woman hangin’ -on to it with her teeth. You needn’t go denyin’ of it. I saw you.” - -The male and female run through all things, even partnerships, and in -the Harman-Davis syndicate it was Harman who wore the skirts. Davis -could not get a word in till the other had worked himself free of his -indignation and the subject. Then said Davis: “If you’ll shut your -beastly head, I’ll maybe be able to stuff some sense into it. What -were you talking about, selling the schooner? It’s sold.” - -“Well,” said Harman, “that’s news, and what’s the price, may I ask?” - -“Five thousand, and five thousand for the trade, ten thousand dollars, -the whole sum to be paid on Friday next.” - -“Have you a bit of writin’?” asked Harman, who possessed the French -peasant’s instincts for stamped paper. - -“I’ve got their cheque,” said Davis, “post dated for next Friday, but -I’m not bothering about the money, for the ship and cargo, it doesn’t -matter a hill of beans to me whether they pay ten thousand dollars or -five. I’ve struck a bigger thing than that. What would you say to half -a million dollars?” - -“I don’t know,” replied the ingenuous Harman. “I only know chaps -generally begin to make asses of themselves when they talk about -millions of dollars. It’s my opinion no man ever came out of the big -end of the horn with the million dollars in his hand he’d gone in to -fetch at the little. Most of the million-dollar men I’ve heard of have -started as newsies with their toes stickin’ through their boots—but -go on, what was you sayin’?” - -“I’m saying I’ve a big thing in sight,” replied the exasperated Davis, -“and I’d be a lot surer of it if I felt I hadn’t such a fool partner. -It’s this, I’m right into the cockles of the heart of that family, and -I’ve got the news through my left ear that there’s trouble in -Santiago, that Diaz is going to skip and that a million dollars in -gold bars are coming down to the coast. Diaz is taking his movables -with him, and he’s gutted the Treasury unknown to the chaps that are -moving to shoot him out. He’s about sick of the presidency and wants -to get away and lead a quiet life.” - -“I see,” said Harman. “That’s plain enough, but where do we stand?” - -“Well,” said Davis, “there’s a million dollars’ worth of gold bars -moving down to the coast here and there’s us just come in. Don’t it -look like Providence? Don’t it look like as if there’s going to be a -conjunction?” - -“It do,” said Mr. Harman meditatively, “but I’m dashed if I see how -we’re to conjunct on the evidence you’ve handed in—but you’ve got -more up your sleeve—pull it out.” - -“It’s not much,” said Davis, “only the girl. She’s going to keep us -wise. I told her I might be able to do a deal with Diaz if I knew -where and when he was shipping off the boodle, and she’s going to let -me know. The Pereiras are all in the business same as -furniture-removing chaps, they’re doing the move for Diaz, and he’s -using one of their ships. D’you see? See where we come in, nothing to -do but watch and wait with the girl for our eyes and ears—then -pounce—How? I don’t know, but we’ll do it.” - -“That girl,” said Mr. Harman after a moment’s silence, “she seems -pretty gone on you.” - -Davis laughed. - -“Ain’t you gone on her?” - -Davis laughed again. Then he opened a locker and helped himself to a -drink. - -Harman’s morals, as I have hinted before, were the least conspicuous -part of his mental make-up, but he was not without sentiment of a -sort. At sing-songs he had been known to sniff over “The Blind Boy,” a -favourite song of his, and though his ideal of female beauty leant -towards sloe-black eyes and apple-red cheeks (shiny or not didn’t -matter), beauty in distress appealed to him. - -The cold-blooded blackguardliness of Davis almost shocked him for a -moment—making a girl love him like that just to use her as a spy on -her family! The upright man in the soul of Billy Harman, the upright -man who had never yet managed somehow to get on his feet, humped his -back and tried to rise, but he had half a million dollars on top of -him. He moved in his chair uneasily, and refilled his pipe. But all he -said was: “Tell us about them gold bars.” - -Davis told. A peon runner had come in that afternoon with a chit for -Pereira saying that the mules, eight in number, bearing the stuff, -would reach Buenodiaz by night-time of the following day. - -“The stuff will be shipped to-morrow night, then?” said Harman. - -“Well, you don’t think they’d go leaving it on the beach,” replied -Davis. - -“Didn’t you get out of her what ship they were taking it off on?” -asked Harman. - -“No,” said Davis, “I didn’t, she don’t know herself, but she’s going -to find out.” - -“Bud,” said Harman, “give us the straight tip, I’m not wantin’ to prod -into your ‘amoors,’ but how far have you nobbled her into this -business?” - -“Well, as you ask me, I’ll tell you,” replied Bud. “She’s fell into it -head first, and up to the heels of her boots, given me the whole show -and location all but the name of the hooker which she don’t know yet.” - -“You mean to say she’s workin’ for you to collar the stuff?” - -“Yep.” - -“But where does she come in?” - -“She’s coming with us if we can pull off the deal.” - -“Oh, Lord!” said Harman. “A petticut—I knew there must be some fly in -the ’intment—it was too good to be true. A million dollars rollin’ -round waitin’ to be took and a petticut—I’ve never known one that -didn’t mess a job it was wrapped up in.” - -“It’s a million to one it don’t come off,” said Davis, removing his -boots before turning in, “but there’s just one chance, and that’s -her.” - -Next morning Mr. Harman did not go ashore. He spent his time fishing -over the side, fishing and smoking and dreaming of all sorts of -different ways of spending dollars. Now he was rolling round ’Frisco -in a carriage, and a boiled shirt with a diamond solitaire in it, -calling at the Palatial for drinks. Now he was in the train of quality -eastward bound for N’York, smoking a big cigar. He did not delude -himself that the deal would come off, but that didn’t matter a bit. -The essence of dreams is unreality. There was a chance. - -Davis went ashore about eleven o’clock, and did not return till two in -the afternoon. When he came back he was a different man. He seemed -younger and brighter, and even better dressed, though he had not -changed his clothes. Harman, watching him row up to the ship, noticed -the difference in him even before he came on board. - -He swept him down to the cabin, and before letting him speak, poured -out drinks. - -“I see it in your mug,” said Harman. “Here, swaller that before -handin’ out the news. Cock yourself on the bunk side. Well, what’s the -odds now?” - -“Twenty to one on,” said Davis, “or a hundred—it’s all the same. It’s -as good as done. Bo, we got it.” - -“Don’t say!” said Billy. - -“Got it, saddle and bridle an’ pedigree and all. She’s given it all in -and to-night’s the night.” - -“Give us the yarn,” said the other. - -“There’s nothing to it; simple as shop-lifting. The stuff will be down -at the coast here about dark; it will be taken off soon as it arrives -and shipped on board the _Douro_. She’s lying over there, and I’ll -point her out to you when we go up. Then, when the stuff is aboard, -she’ll put out, but not till sun up. They don’t like navigating those -outlying reefs in the dark, moon or no.” - -“Yes,” said Harman. - -“Well,” said Davis, “our little game is to wait till the stuff is -aboard, row off, take the Douro, and push out with her. You and me and -eight Kanakas ought to do it, there’s no guardship, and the fellows on -the _Douro_ won’t put up much of a fight. You see, they’re not on the -fighting lay; it’s the steal softly business with them, and I reckon -they’ll cave at the first shout.” - -“Where does the girl come in?” asked Billy, after a moment’s pause. - -“There’s a place called Coimbra seven mile south down the coast,” said -Davis, fetching a chart from the locker. “Here it is. That point. I’ve -only to put out a blue light and she’ll put off in a boat. Pereira’s -brother lives down at Coimbra, and she’s going to-night to stay with -him. She’ll be on the watch out from one on to sunrise, and she’ll -easy get taken out in one of the night fishermen’s boats.” - -To all of which Mr. Harman replied, “Damn petticuts!” He was biting -his nails. He was no feminist. That is to say, he had an inborn -conviction that women tended to spoil shows other than tea parties and -such like. Why couldn’t this rotten girl have kept out of the -business? What did she want coming along for? Seeing that she was -letting down her people for the love of Davis, it seemed pretty -evident that she was coming along also for the love of him, but Harman -was not in the mood to consider things from the girl’s point of view. - -However, there was no use complaining. With the chance of a million -dollars for nothing, one must expect a few thorns, so he kept his head -closed whilst Davis, taking him on deck, drew a lightning sketch of -the plan of campaign. - -First they had to shift the _Araya’s_ moorings so as to get closer to -the _Douro_, then they had to put the Kanakas wise, and more -especially Taute the cook and leader, then they had just to lay low, -wait for midnight, and pounce. - -“Righto,” said Mr. Harman, “and if we’re shiftin’ moorin’s, let’s -shift now.” - -They did, not drawing too noticeably near the _Douro_, but near enough -to keep watch on her. Near enough to count the sun-blisters on her -side with a glass. She was of smaller tonnage than the _Araya_ and -ketch-rigged. She had never been a beauty, and she wasn’t one now; she -had no charms to mellow with age. - -Night had fallen on Buenodiaz, and the band on La Plazza had ceased -braying. Eleven o’clock was striking. Cathedral and churches tinkling -and tankling and clanging the hour; a drunken crew had just put off -for the grain ship lying farther out, and silence was falling on the -scene, when, whizz-bang, off went the fireworks. - -“Damn the place!” cried Harman, whose nerves were on edge. “It’s -clangin’ and prayin’ and stinkin’ all day and closes down only to go -off in your face—some saint’s day or ’nuther, I expect.” - -Davis said nothing. He was watching the blue and pink of bursting -rockets and the fiery, fuzzy worms reflecting themselves in the -harbour. - -They had seen several boats stealthily approaching the _Douro_. -Everything seemed going to time and the wind was steady. - -An hour passed during which Buenodiaz, forgetting saints and -frivolity, fell asleep, leaving the world to the keeping of the moon. - -Convents, churches and cathedral were chiming midnight when the -Kanakas, having crowded into the boat of the _Araya_, Davis and Harman -got into the stem sheets and pushed off. - -As they drew close, the _Douro_, with her anchor light burning, showed -no sign of life, bow to the sea on a taut anchor chain, she rode the -flooding tide, she seemed nodding to them as she pitched gently to the -heave of the swell, and as they rubbed up alongside and Harman grasped -the rail, he saw that the deck was clear. - -“Down below, every man Jack of them,” he whispered back at Davis. “I -can hear ’em snoring. Foc’s’le hatch first.” - -He led the way to the foc’s’le hatch and closed it gently, turning at -a stroke the foc’s’le into a prison. Then they came to the saloon -hatch, stood and listened. - -Not a sound. - -“They’re all in the foc’s’le,” whispered Harman. “Just like Spaniards, -ain’t it? No time to waste, we’ve gotta see the stuff’s here; give’s -your matches.” He stepped down, followed by the other, reached the -saloon, and struck a light. - -Yes, the stuff was there, a sight enough to turn a stronger head than -Harman’s, boxes and boxes on the floor and on the couch, evidently -just brought on board and disposed of in a hurry, and all marked with -the magic name: Juan Diaz. - -Harman tried to lift one of them. It was not large, yet he could -scarcely stir it. Then with eyes aflame and hammering hearts, they -made up the companion way, closed the hatch, and, while Davis got the -canvas on her, Harman stood by to knock the shackle off the anchor -chain. - -As town and mole and harbour dropped astern, the _Douro_ close-hauled -and steered by Davis, Harman standing by the steersman, saw the helm -going over and found they were heading north. - -“And how about pickin’ up that girl?” asked Billy, “Coimbra don’t lay -this way.” - -“Oh, I reckon she’ll wait,” replied Davis. - -“You’re givin’ her the good-bye?” - -“Seems so,” said Davis. - -Hannan chuckled. Then he lit a cigar. If girls chose to fall in love -and trust chaps like Davis, it wasn’t his affair. - -At sunrise he slipped down to see after some food. Davis heard him -hammering down below, and knew that he was sampling the gold, he -smiled with the full knowledge that it was there and that Billy -couldn’t get away with it, when up from the saloon dashed Billy. - -Like a man demented, he rushed forward, opened the foc’s’le hatch and -shouted down it to the imprisoned Spaniards. - -“Come up, you blighters,” cried Mr. Harman. Then he dived down, found -emptiness and returned on deck. - -He held on to the rail as he faced Davis. - -“Ten thousand dollars’ worth of trade and ship,” said Harman, “that’s -what we’ve given them for a stinkin’ ketch and a couple o’ hundred -weight of sand. Sand an’ pebbles that’s what’s in them boxes. You and -your girls! No, you can’t put back, they’d jug us for stealin’ this -bum boat. Take your gruel and swaller it! Why, bless your livin’ -innocence, the whole of that garlic factory was in it, it’s my belief, -from the Port Doctor up, and they’ll be havin’ fireworks to-night to -celebrate.” - -Billy paused, spat into the sea. - -“No,” said he, turning his remarks to the universe in general. “It -don’t pay. Runnin’ crooked don’t pay—nohow.” - - - - -II—MANDELBAUM - - -What would you do were you to find yourself on a stolen sixty-ton -ketch off the middle coast of Chile with a crew of Kanakas, less than -ten days’ provisions on board, no money to speak of, and a healthy and -lively dread of touching at a Chile port? - -That was the exact position of Mr. William Harman and his friend, Bud -Davis, one bright morning on board the ketch _Douro_ and thirty miles -nor’-west of Buenodiaz—about. - -The _Douro_ was heading west-nor’-west, the morning was perfect, the -Pacific calm, and Billy, seated on the hatch cover, was expressing the -opinion that running straight was the best course to adopt in a world -where reefs were frequent and sharks abundant. - -“No,” said he, “runnin’ crooked don’t pay, nohow. There ain’t enough -softies about to make it pay, ain’t enough mugs about, as I’ve told -you more’n once. Happy I was on Papaleete beach and then you comes -along that night and says, ‘Let’s take Penhill’s ship,’ says you. -‘There she lays, the _Araya_, sixty-ton schooner, and he drinkin’ -himself blind at the club and he can’t touch us,’ says you, ‘for he’s -mortal afraid of what I know about him. It’s as safe as cheeses,’ says -you, and off we put and out we took her—safe as cheeses, seein’ -Penhill couldn’t touch us, weren’t we?” - -“Oh, close up,” said Davis. - -“I ain’t rubbin’ it in, I’m just tellin’ you. Nobody couldn’t touch -us, and bold we put into Buenodiaz, reckonin’ to sell her on the hoof, -cargo and all, and she worth ten thousand dollars if she was worth a -bean, and then what happens? Pereira offers to buy her, cargo and all, -and while you were dickerin’ with him, his daughter hands you that -yarn about the _Douro_ havin’ a million dollars in bar gold on board -of her, and what does we do?” Mr. Harman’s voice rose a tone or two. -“We leaves ten thousand dollars’ worth of ship and cargo and rows over -to this old tub, boards her, lifts the hook, cracks on sail and puts -out to find nothin’ in them boxes but sand an’ pebbles—half a ton of -beach, that’s what them darned turkey bustards had landed on us in -swop for a schooner and cargo worth ten thousand dollars if she was -piled, let alone ridin’ at her moorings in Buenodiaz harbour.” - -“Well,” said Davis, “you needn’t shout it. You were in it as well as -me. I guess we were both fools, but we haven’t come off -empty-handed—we’ve got a ship under our feet, though we’re in a bad -way, I’ll admit. Can’t you see the game that’s been played on us? This -hooker is worth four thousand dollars any day in the week; they’ve let -us run off with her, they set her as a trap for us, but they’ll want -her back. If we put into any Chile port, we’ll be nabbed and put to -work in the salt mines while these blighters will get their ship -back.” - -“Sure,” said Harman, “but we ain’t goin’ to.” - -“How d’ye mean?” - -“We ain’t goin’ to put into no Chile port.” Davis sighed, rose, went -below and fetched up the top of one of the gold-boxes, then with a -stump of pencil he drew a rough map of South America, indicating the -appalling coast-line of Chile while the ingenuous Harman looked on -open-mouthed and open-eyed. - -“There you are,” said the map-maker, “a hundred thousand miles long -and nothing but seaboard and there we are—nothing but the Horn to the -south and Bolivia to the north, and the Bolivians are hand in fist -with the Chilians, and, moreover, there’s sure to be gunboats out to -look for us. That’s why I’m holding on west. We’ve got to get to sea -and trust in Providence.” - -“Well,” said the disgusted Harman, “I reckon if Providence is our -stand-by and if it made Chile same’s your map shows her, we’re done -for. There ain’t no sense in it; no, sir, there ain’t no sense in a -country all foreshore stringed out like that, with scarce room for a -bathin’ machine, and them yellow-bellied Bolivians at one end of it -and the Horn at the other. It ain’t playin’ it fair on a man, it ain’t -more nor less than a trap, that’s what I call it, it ain’t more nor -less than——” - -“Oh, shut up,” said Davis, “wasting your wind. We’re in it and we’ve -got to get out. Now I’ve just given you our position: we’re running -near due west into open sea, with only ten days’ grub, nothing to -strike but Easter Island and the mail line from ’Frisco to Montevideo. -We’ve the chance to pick up grub from a ship; failing that, either -we’ll eat the Kanakas or the Kanakas will eat us. I’m not being funny. -How do you take it? Shall us hold on or push down to Valparaiso and -take our gruel?” - -“What did you say those mines were?” asked Harman. - -“Which mines?” - -“Those mines the Chile blighters put chaps like us to work in.” - -“Salt mines.” - -Mr. Harman meditated for a moment. “Well,” said he at last, “I reckon -I’ll take my chance on the Kanakas.” - -The _Douro_ had nothing about her of any use for navigation but the -rudder and the compass in the binnacle and the tell-tale compass fixed -in the roof of the saloon. Pereira, when he had baited her as a trap -for the unfortunates to run away with, had left nothing of value. He -and the beauties working with him reckoned to get her back, no doubt, -as Davis had indicated, but they knew that the fox sometimes manages -to escape, carrying the trap with him, so they left nothing to grieve -about except the hull, sticks, strings, canvas, bunk bedding and a few -tin plates and cooking implements. - -So she was sailing pretty blind with nothing to smell at but the North -Pole, to use Davis’ words as he spat over the side at the leaping blue -sea, while Harman, leaning beside him on the rail, concurred. - -The one bright spot in the whole position was the seventeen hundred -dollars or so of the _Araya’s_ ship money still safe in Davis’ pocket. - -It proved its worth some six days later when, close on the San -Francisco-Montevideo mail line, they flagged a big freighter and got -provisions enough to last them for a month, then, “more feeling than -feet under them,” to use Harman’s expression, they pushed along, -protected by the gods of Marco Polo, and the early navigators, -untrusting in a compass that might be untrustable through blazing days -and nights of stars, smoking—they had got tobacco from the -freighter—yarning, lazing and putting their faith in luck. - -“Anyhow,” said the philosophic Harman, “we ain’t got no dam -chronometer to be slippin’ cogs or goin’ wrong, nor no glass to be -floppin’ about and frightenin’ a chap’s gizzard out of him with -indications of cyclones and such, nor no charts to be thumbin’, nor no -sextan’ to be squintin’ at the sun with. I tell you, Bud, I ain’t -never felt freer than this. I reckon it’s the same with money. Come to -think of it, money’s no catch, when all’s said and done with, what -between banks bustin’ and sharks laying for a chap, not to speak of -women and sich, and sore heads an’ brown tongues in the morning. Money -buys trouble, that’s all I’ve ever seen of it, and it’s the same all -through.” - -“Well, that wasn’t your song on the beach at Papaleete,” said Davis, -“and seems to me you weren’t backward in making a grab for that gold -at Buenodiaz.” - -“Maybe I wasn’t,” replied the other, and the conversation wilted while -on the tepid wind from the dark-blue sea came the sound of the bow -wash answered by the lazy creak of block and cordage. - -No longer steering west, but northward towards the line, the _Douro_ -brought them nights of more velvety darkness and more tremendous -stars, seas more impossibly blue, till, one dawn that looked like a -flock of red flamingoes escaping across an horizon of boiling gold, -Bud, on the look-out, cried “Land!” and the great sun leaping up -astern stripped the curtain away with a laugh and showed them coco-nut -trees beyond a broken sea, and beyond the coco-nut trees a misty blue -stillness incredibly wonderful and beautiful, till, in a flash, -vagueness vanishing, a great lagoon blazed out, with the gulls -circling above it, gold and rose and marble-flake white. - -Before this miracle Harman stood unimpressed. - -“We’d have been right into that darned thing in another hour if the -sun hadn’t lifted,” said he, “unless maybe the noise of the reef would -have fended us off—hark to it!” - -They could hear it coming up against the wind, a long, low rumble like -the sound of a far-off train, and now, as the _Douro_ drew in, they -could see the foam spouting as the flood tide raced through the -passage broad before them, and showing the vast harbour of the lagoon. - -“The opening seems all right,” said Davis. - -“Deep enough to float a battleship,” replied the other, “and no sign -of rocks in it. Shove her in.” - -The _Douro_ did not require any shoving. Driven by the wind and tide -she came through the break like a gull, and as the great lagoon spread -before them they could see the whole vast inner beach with one sweep -of the eye. - -It was an oval-shaped atoll, a pond, maybe, four miles from rim to rim -at its broadest part, heavy here and there with groves of palm and -jack-fruit trees, and showing a village of grass-roofed houses by the -trees on the northern beach, where, on the blinding white sands, -canoes were lying, and from which a boat was just putting off. - -“They’ve sighted us,” said Davis. - -“Seems so,” replied Harman, running forward to superintend the fellows -who were getting the anchor ready, while the _Douro_, shaking the wind -out of her sails, lost way, and the hook fell in ten-fathom water, the -rumble of the chain coming back in faintest echoes from the painted -shore. - -The boat drew on. It was manned by Kanakas naked as Noah, and steered -by a white man. A huge man with a broad and red and bulbous face, who -came on board leg over rail without a word of greeting, gazed around -him with a pair of protruding light-blue eyes, and, then, finding his -voice, addressed Harman: - -“Where the blazes have _you_ blown in from?” asked the stranger. - -“Gentlemen,” said Clayton, for Clayton was his name, and they were all -down below sampling a bottle of rum wangled by the genius of Harman -out of the purser of the freighter, “Gentlemen, I’m not divin’ into -your business. A ship in ballast without charts or chronometer, not -knowing where she is, and not willin’ to say where she comes from, may -be on the square and may be not.” - -“We ain’t,” said Harman bluntly. - -“That bein’ so,” said Clayton, quite unmoved, “we can deal without -circumlocuting round the show, and get to the point, which is this: -I’m wantin’ your ship.” - -“Spread yourself,” said Davis, “and tip the bottle.” - -Clayton obeyed. - -“I’m willin’ to buy her of you,” said he, “lock, stock, barrel and -Kanakas, no questions asked, no questions answered, only terms.” - -“What’s your terms?” asked Harman. - -Clayton raised his head. The wind had shifted, and, blowing through -the open port, it brought with it a faint, awful, subtle, utterly -indescribable perfume. Far above the vulgar world of stenches, almost -psychic, it floated around them, while Harman spat and Davis -considered the stranger attentively and anew. - -“Oysters,” said Davis. - -“Rotting on the outer beach,” said Clayton. “That’s my meaning and my -terms. Gentlemen, if you ain’t plum’ fools, the smell of them oysters -will be as a leadin’ light to bring you a fortune as big as my own.” - -“Open the can,” said Harman. - -“Which I will,” replied the other. “I’m straight’s a gun barrel I am, -and I don’t want to beat round no bushes, and it’s just this way, -gents. The hull of this lagoon is a virgin oyster patch full of virgin -oysters, pearl breedin’ and sound, with no foot-and-mouth disease to -them. Oloong-Javal is the Kanaka name of the atoll, and it’s on no -charts. No, sir, it’s a sealed lagoon, and I struck it two years ago -runnin’ from Sydney to Valparaiso, master of the _Sea Hawk_, with a -Chink crew and a cargo of chow truck, put in here for water, spotted -the oyster shop, and kept my head shut. Found orders at Valparaiso to -ballast and get on to Callao, but I didn’t go to no Callao. I cut -loose, fired the mate as a drunk and incapable, which he was, laid out -the ship’s money on diving dresses and a pump, hawked back here, -landed the equipment, and started in on the pearling.” - -“And the Chinks?” asked Harman. - -“Comin’ to them, they curled up and died of eating the lagoon fish in -the poisonous season, couldn’t keep them off it—you know what Chinks -are—and as for the hooker, why sinkin’ gets rid of a lot of trouble, -and I took her outside the reef and drilled her.” - -“Well, you are a one,” said Harman, shocked, yet intrigued, and -vaguely admiring. - -“I don’t say that I’m not,” replied Clayton. “I reckon we’re all in -the same boat, and plain speaking is best among gentlemen, but cuttin’ -all that, let’s get down to tin-tacks. I’ve been working a year and I -haven’t skinned more than a patch of the beds. All the same, I’ve made -my pile, and I want to enjoy it, I want to have my fun, and if you’re -willing I’ll swap the location and the mining rights for this hooker -and her crew. I want to get home, and home’s Kisai Island, up north in -the Marshalls—and that’s what’s waitin’ for me and has been waitin’ -for me three years.” - -He took a photograph from his pocket and handed it to the others. It -was the photo of a Kanaka girl under a palm tree on a blazing beach. - -“Oh, Lord, a petticut!” said Harman in a doleful voice at this sight -of ill omen. “A petticut!” - -“There ain’t no petticoat about her,” said Clayton—as indeed there -was not—“unless the missionaries have been gettin’ at her with their -tomfoolery. Oti is her name, and there she sits waitin’ for me, which -if she isn’t and has gone and got spliced, I reckon I’ll bust her -husband. Well, gents, which is it to be for you, floatin’ round loose -in this cockroach trap or a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of pearls -to be took for the working?” - -“And how are we to get away supposing we stick here and pearl?” asked -Davis. - -“That’s not for me to say,” replied Clayton. “Something will blow -along most likely and take you off, or you can rig up a canoe and make -for the Paumotus. I’m just offerin’ the deal, which many a man would -jump at, more especial as this old ketch of yours seems to smell of -lost property. I ain’t insinuating. I’m only hintin’.” - -Davis swallowed the suggestion without sign of taking offence, then he -said: “I’ll step on deck with my friend Harman and have a word with -him. I won’t be more’n five minutes.” - -On deck, Harman suddenly clapped himself on the head. “We’ve left that -ballyhoo alone with the rum-bottle,” said he. - -“Never mind,” said Davis, “we’re better dry. Now get your nose down to -this business while I turn the handle. First of all we want to get rid -of the ship; second, we want pearls, not for personal adornment, so to -speak, but for profit; third, I believe the chap’s yarn, and, fourth, -I vote we close on his offer. What you say?” - -“I’m with you on the pearls,” said Harman, “and I’m ready to close on -two conditions, and the first is that the beds haven’t been stripped.” - -“We’ll easily prove that,” said Davis. “I’ve done pearling and I know -the business.” - -“Second is,” continued Harman, “that havin’ hived the stuff, we’ll be -able to get away with it.” - -“Maybe what more you’ll be wanting is a mail boat to ’Frisco and a -brass band to play us off. Isn’t Luck good enough to trust in? And -look at the luck that’s brought us here. What you want flying in the -face of it for?” - -“Well, maybe you’re right,” said the other. “The luck’s all right if -it holds; question is, will it? I don’t like that petticut flyin’ up -in our face; it’s part of the deal, seems to me, since he’s droppin’ -this place mainly to get to her, and I’ve never seen a deal yet that -wasn’t crabbed if a woman put as much as the tip of her nose into it. -I ain’t superstitious. I’m only sayin’ what I know, and all I’m saying -is that it’s rum him talking of——” - -“Oh, shut up,” said the other, “you’re worse than any old woman. I’m -into this business whether or no, and you can stay out if you want. -How’s it to be?” - -Harman raised his head and sniffed the air tainted with the oysters -rotting on the coral. Then he turned to the cabin hatch. “Come on,” -said he, and they went below to close the bargain. - - * * * * * - -Clayton’s house was grass-thatched like the others and situated close -to the groves on the right of the village; it had three rooms and a -veranda, and mats and native-made chairs constituted the chief -furniture. Beyond the house, farther on the right, was the shed where -a few trade goods, mostly boxes of tobacco and rolls of print, were -stored. - -“That’s all there’s left of the stuff I brought with me,” said he; -“it’ll carry you on, and I make you a present of it. The Kanakas -aren’t used to high wages. A chap will dive all day for the fun of it -and half a stick of tobacco, but you can do most of the diving -yourselves and save on the business. There are the diving suits, two -of them. Good as when I got them, and the pump’s in the boat there; -she’s in that canoe house, it’s a Clarkson, in good order. Say, boys, -you’ve no reason to sneeze over this deal. Here’s an island, a living -larder, pigs and fowl and taro and fish and fruit for nix, a pearl -lagoon not half worked, diving suits and pump and a bit of trade, and -all for that frousty old brown boat of yours. Was you ever on your -feet before?” - -“Well, maybe,” said Davis, “we’ve no call to complain if the beds are -all right. Let’s put out and look at them.” - -They took the _Douro’s_ boat and rowed out, Clayton steering and -piloting them. - -The beds ran north, acres of them, and one of the Kanakas Clayton had -taken with them dived now and then and brought up a pair of shells as -a sample. - -Big molluscs they were, weighing maybe eight hundred to the ton, of -the white shell like the Tahiti oysters. - -Davis, who knew something of the business, reckoned that the shell -alone was worth five hundred dollars a ton, but he said nothing as the -boat, impelled by the sculls, passed through the crystal water. - -Every lagoon would be a pearl lagoon but for the fact that the oyster -of all sea creatures is the most difficult to suit with a breeding -ground. The tides must not be too swift, the floor must be exactly -right. - -Javal Lagoon was ideal, a bar of reef delaying the floor current and -the coral showing the long coach-whip fucus loved by the pearl-seeker. -Davis declared himself satisfied, and they rowed back to inspect the -mounds of shell and oysters rotting on the beach which were to be -thrown in as part of the goodwill of the business. - -That night after supper, Clayton showed his pearls. A few of them. He -had four tin cash-boxes, and he opened one and disclosed his treasures -lying between layers of cotton-wool. You have seen chocolate creams in -boxes—that was the sight that greeted the eyes of Harman and Davis, -only the chocolate creams were pearls. Some were the size of marrowfat -peas and some were the size of butter beans, very large, but not of -very good shape, some were pure white, some gold and some rose. - -“Don’t show us no more, or I guess we’ll be robbin’ you,” said Harman. - -Next morning the pearl-man began his preparations for departure, the -water-casks of the _Douro_ were filled, chickens caught and cooped, a -live pig embarked and the groves raided for nuts, bananas and -bread-fruit. - -“It’s well he’s leavin’ us the trees,” said Harman. - -The diving suits were got out and Clayton showed them how they were -used, also the trick of filling the net bag with oysters in the -swiftest way and without tangling the air-tube. The beds were shallow -enough to be worked without diving gear, but a man in a diving dress -will raise five times as many pairs of shells as a man without in a -given time, Clayton explained this. He left nothing wanting in the way -of explanations and advice, and next morning, having filled up with -provisions and water, he put out, taking the ebb, the _Douro_ heeling -to a five-knot breeze and followed past the break by a clanging escort -of gulls. - -Then Harman and Davis found themselves alone, all alone, masters of a -treasure that would have turned the head of Tiffany, and of a hundred -and fifty Kanakas, men, women, and children, a tribe captained and led -by one Hoka, a frizzy-headed buck whose only dress and adornment was a -gee string and the handle of a china utensil slung round his neck as a -pendant. - -The rotted oysters on the coral were useless, they had been worked -over by Clayton. That was the first surprise, the next was the price -of labour. Two sticks of tobacco a day was the price of native labour, -not half a stick as reported by Clayton. - -Trade tobacco just then worked out at two cents a stick, so the pay -was not exorbitant; it was the smallness of the stock in hand that -bothered our syndicate. But Hoka was adamant. He did not know ten -words of English, but he knew enough to enforce his claims, and the -syndicate had to give in. - -“I knew there’d be flies in the ’intment somewhere,” said Harman, “but -this is a bluebottle. We haven’t tobacco enough to work this lagoon a -month, and what’s to happen then?” - -“No use bothering a month ahead,” replied Davis. “If worst comes to -the worst, we’ll just have to do the diving ourselves. Get into your -harness and down with you, to see how it works.” - -Harman did, and an appalling rush of bubbles followed his descent, the -suit was faulty. Tropical weather does not improve diving suits, and -Harman was just got up in time. - -“Never again,” said he when his window was unscrewed, and he had done -cursing Clayton, Clayton’s belongings, his family, his relatives and -his ancestors. - -“Stick her on the beach; darn divin’ suits, let’s take to the water -natural.” - -They did, following the practice of the Kanakas, and at the end of the -week, when the shells were rotted out, six days’ takings showed three -large pearls perfect in every point and worth maybe fifteen hundred -dollars, five small pearls varying in value from ten to forty dollars -according to Davis’ calculations, several baroques of small and -uncertain value and a spoonful of seeds. - -“Call it two thousand dollars,” said Davis, when they had put the -takings away in some cotton-wool, left by Clayton, and a small -soap-box. “Call it two thousand and we’ve had twenty Kanakas diving -for a week at two sticks a day, that makes two hundred and eighty -sticks at two cents a stick.” - -“Well, it’s cheap enough,” said Harman. “Wonder what the unions would -say to us and them chaps that’s always spoutin’ about the wages of the -workin’ classes—not that I’m against fair wages. I reckon if that guy -Clayton had left us enough tobacco, I wouldn’t mind raisin’ the wage -bill to eight dollars a week, but we haven’t got it—haven’t got -enough to last a month as it’s runnin’ now.” - -He spoke the truth. Less than a month left them cleared out, and the -Kanakas struck to a man and ceased to dive, spending their time -fishing, lazing in the sun and smoking—but their chief amusement was -watching the white men at work. - -There is no penitentiary equal to a pearl lagoon, once it seizes you, -and no galley slaves under the whip ever worked harder than Harman and -Bud Davis, stripped to the skin, brown as cobnuts with sun and water, -long-haired, dishevelled, diving like otters, and bringing up not more -than a hundred pair of shells a day. - -The boat had to be anchored over a certain spot, and as the work went -on the anchorage had to be shifted; at the end of the day the oysters -had to be brought ashore and laid out on the coral to rot. Then, too -tired, almost, to smoke, the Pearl Syndicate would stretch itself -under the stars to dream of fortune and the various ways of spending -money. - -The imaginative Harman had quite definite views on that -business—diamonds and dollar Henry Clays, champagne and palatial -bars, standing drinks to all and sundry and a high time generally, -that was his idea. Davis, darker and more secretive, had higher -ambitions roughly formulated in the words, “More money.” Dollars breed -dollars, and great wealth was enough for him. He would spend his money -on making more, sure in his mind that if he once got his foot again in -’Frisco with a pocketful of money, he would find his way out through -the big end of the horn. - -And so they went on till at the end of four months, taking stock of -their possessions, they found themselves forty thousand dollars up, to -use Davis’ words. - -Taken by the hands of the Kanakas in the first month and by their own -hands in the three succeeding months, they had safely hived -forty-seven white and perfect pearls, two golden pearls, one -defective, some red pearls not worth more than a shilling a grain, -and, king of the collection, a great black pearl pear-shaped and -perfect and equal to any Mexican in lustre and value. There were also -some baroques of extraordinary shapes and a quantity of seeds. - -Of the forty-seven white pearls, four were of very large size. Davis -had no scales, but he reckoned that these four and the black were -worth all the rest put together. - -The general stock-taking brought an end to their luck, and for weeks -after the take was a joke, to use Davis’ expression. It is always so -in pearling; a man may make a small fortune out of a fishery in a few -months, but the take is never consistent, and if he strikes it rich at -first, it is ten to one he will have to pay for his luck. - -One morning, just as the sun was freeing himself from the reef and the -last of the gulls departing for their deep-sea fishing grounds, -Harman, who had been to draw water from the well, suddenly dropped the -bucket he was carrying, shaded his eyes and gave a shout that brought -Davis from the house. - -Davis looked to where the other was pointing, and there far off to the -north and lit by the newly-risen sun stood a sail. - -They had been praying for a ship for the last fortnight, speculating -on the chances of anything picking them up before they died of hope -deferred and loneliness and a diet of fish and vegetable truck, yet -now, before that sail hard on the blue and evidently making towards -them, they scarcely felt surprised, and were too troubled to be filled -with joy; for it suddenly occurred to them that pearls were -pearls—that is to say, wealth in its most liftable form. - -“Say, Bud,” cried Harman, “we’ve got to hide them divin’ dresses. If -these chaps ain’t on the straight and they sniff pearls, we’ll be -robbed sure and shoved in the lagoon. I never thought of that before. -We’re sure marks for every tough till we’ve cashed in and banked the -money.” - -“You aren’t far wrong,” replied Davis, still contemplating the sail. -“Yes, she’s making for here, and she’s all a hundred and fifty tons. -Inside two hours she’ll be off the reef and we’ve no time to waste.” - -Most of the island Kanakas had gone fishing the night before to the -other side of the atoll, so there were only a few old women and -children about to mark the actions of the Pearl Syndicate. - -First they dealt with the boat that held the pump, sinking it by the -inner beach in four-fathom water at a point where the trees came down -right across the sands. - -Then, carrying the diving suits, they dumped them in a fish-pool off -the outer beach. Having done this, they divided the pearls, making two -parcels of them, and surprisingly small parcels they were considering -their value. - -“Now,” said Harman, when all was done, “we’re shipwrecked chaps blown -ashore, we don’t know nothing about pearls, and we reckon the house -and go-down were built by some trader the Kanakas has murdered. How’s -that for a yarn to sling them; but what’s the name of our ship?” - -“The _Mary Ann Smithers_,” replied Davis promptly, “from Tampico to -’Frisco, cargo of hides and wool, badly battered off the Horn, old -man’s name Sellers, and driven out of our course by the big gale a -month ago. There wasn’t any gale a month ago, but it’s a million to -one they were a thousand miles off then, so how are they to know?” - -“You were second officer,” said Harman. - -“No, I was bo’sun; second officers are supposed to be in the know of -the navigation and all such. I was just bo’sun, plain Jim Davis.” - -“Well, they won’t dispute you’re plain enough,” said Harman. “But you -ain’t the cut of a bo’sun, not to my mind, cable length nearer you are -to the look of a Methodis’ preacher or a card sharp—no need to get -riled—be a bo’sun and be darned, be anythin’ you like. I’m an A.B. -hopsacker, British born and—here they are.” The fore canvas of the -schooner was just showing at the break. - - * * * * * - -She came in laying the water behind her as though she had a hundred -square miles of harbour to manœuvre in, then the wind shivered out of -her canvas and almost on the splash of the anchor a boat was dropped. - -Harman and Davis watched it as it came ashore, noted the stroke of the -broad-backed Kanaka rowers and the sun helmet of the white man in the -stern and his face under the helmet as he stepped clear of the water -on to the beach. - -Mandelbaum was the name of the newcomer, a dark, small man with a face -expressionless as a wedge of ice. He wore glasses. - -As he stepped on to the sand he looked about him in seeming -astonishment, first at Harman, then at Davis, then at the house, then -at the beach. - -“Who the devil are you?” asked he. - -“Same to yourself,” replied Harman, “we’re derelicks. Hooker bust -herself on the reef in a big blow more’n a month ago. Who are you?” - -“My name is Mandelbaum,” replied the other. - -“Well, come up on the verandy and have a drink,” said the hospitable -Harman, “and we can have a clack before goin’ aboard. You the captain -of that hooker?” - -“I am,” said Mandelbaum. - -“Then I reckon you won’t mind givin’ us a lift. We’re not above -workin’ for our grub—set down till I get some drinkin’ nuts.” - -There was a long seat under the veranda, the house door was at the -westward end of the house and the seat ran from the door to the -eastern end. It was long enough for, maybe, ten people to sit on -comfortably, and the three sat down on the seat. Harman having fetched -the nuts, Mandelbaum threw his right leg over his left knee and -turning comfortably and in a lazy manner towards the others, said: - -“Where’s Clayton?” - -“I beg your pardon,” said Harman. - -Davis said nothing. His mouth fell open, and before he could shut it -Mandelbaum got in again. - -“Don’t go to the trouble of trying any monkey tricks, there’s half a -dozen fellows with Winchesters on that schooner. Your bluff is called. -Where’s Clayton, my partner? He and a year’s taking of pearls ought to -be here. I bring the schooner back with more trade goods and he’s -gone, and I find you two scowbarkers in his house and serving -strangers with your damn drinking nuts.” A venomous tang was coming -into the steady voice, and a long slick Navy revolver came out of his -left-hand coat pocket into his right hand, with the nozzle resting on -his right knee. - -“Where’s Clayton, dead—but where, where have you planted him, and -where have you cached the pearls?” - -“Cached the pearls?” suddenly cried Harman, finding his voice and -taking in the whole situation. Then he began to laugh. He laughed as -though he were watching Charlie Chaplin or something equally funny. He -was. The picture of Clayton stood before him. Clayton making off with -his partner’s share of the pearls, and handing the island and the -fishing rights to him and Davis in return for the ketch, the picture -of Davis and himself working like galley slaves, doing four months’ -hard labour for the sake of Mandelbaum, for well he knew Mandelbaum -would make them stump up to the last baroque. - -Then he sat with his chin on his fists, spitting on the ground, while -Davis explained and Harman soliloquised sometimes quite out aloud: -“No, it ain’t no use; straight’s the only word in the dictionary. No -darn use at all, ain’t enough mugs—and a petticut on top of all——” - - * * * * * - -“Well, what’s the ‘ultermatum’?” asked Harman, a day later, as he -stood by a native canoe on the beach. - -“It’s either stick here and work for two dollars a day or get out for -the Paumotus,” replied Davis, coming up from a last interview with -Mandelbaum. “Which will we do, stick here and work for Mandelbaum for -two dollars a day sure money, house, grub and everything found, or put -out for the Paumotus in this blessed canoe which his royal highness -says we can have in exchange for the ship’s money he’s robbed us of? -Which is it to be, the society of Mandelbaum or the Paumotus, which is -hell, sharks, tide races, contr’y winds and starvation, maybe?” - -“The Paumotus,” said Harman without a moment’s hesitation. - - - - -III—THE WAY OF A MAID WITH A MAN - - -Have you ever tried to manage a South Sea canoe, a thing not much -wider than a skiff, with mast and sail out of all proportion to the -beam, yet made possible because of the outrigger? - -The outrigger, a long skate-shaped piece of wood, is supposed to -stabilize the affair; it is always fixed to port and is connected to -the canoe proper in two chief ways, either by a pole fore and aft or -by a central bridge of six curved lengths of wood to which the mast -stays are fixed; there are subsidiary forms with three outrigger -poles, with two outrigger poles and a bridge, but it was in a canoe of -the pure bridge type that Bud Davis and William Harman found -themselves afloat in the Pacific, making west with an unreliable -compass, a dozen and a half drinking nuts, a breaker of water and food -for a fortnight. - -They had been shot out of a pearl lagoon by the rightful owner and -robbed of two double handfuls of pearls which they had collected in -his absence. Given the offer of a canoe to go to the devil in or -honest work at two dollars a day with board and lodging free, they had -chosen the canoe. - -They could work; they had worked like beavers for months and months -collecting those pearls, but they weren’t going to work for wages. - -“No, sir,” said Harman, “I ain’t come down to that yet. Billy Harman’s -done signin’ on to be sweated like a gun-mule and hove in the harbour -when he’s old bones; the beach is good enough for him if it comes to -bed-rock.” - -It had certainly come to bed-rock now this glorious morning, two days -out and steering into the face of the purple west, the great sun -behind them just risen and leaning his chin on the sea line. - -Harman was at the steering paddle, Davis forward. They had breakfasted -on cold water and bananas, and Billy was explaining to Davis exactly -the sort of fools they had been, not in refusing work and good grub -and pay, but in having failed to scrag Mandelbaum, the pearl man. - -“Oh, shut up,” said Davis, “you’re always going back on things, and -you haven’t it in you to scrag a chicken, anyhow; always serving out -that parson’s dope about it not paying to run crooked.” - -“Nor it don’t,” said the moralist. “There ain’t enough mugs in the -world, as I’ve told you more than twice. I don’t say there ain’t -enough, but they’re too spread about—now if you could get them all -congeriated into one place, I wouldn’t be behind you in waltzing in -with a clear conscience an’ takin’ their hides—but there ain’t such a -place—— ’Nother thing that queers the pitch is the way sharps let on -to be mugs. Look at Clayton.” - -“What about Clayton?” - -“Well, look at him. In we sails to that pearl shop and there we finds -him on the beach. Looked like the king of the mugs, didn’t he, with -his big, round face and them blue-gooseberry eyes. ‘Here’s a sealed -lagoon for you,’ says he, ‘I’m done with it; got all the pearls I want -and am only wishful to get away; take it for nix, I only want your -ship in exchange, and we fall to the deal and off he goes.’ - -“We didn’t know he’d sailed off with all his pardner’s pearls, did we? -And when his pardner, Mandelbaum, turns up and collars our takin’s, -and kicks us out in this durned canoe after we’d been workin’ months -and months, our pitch wasn’t queered—was it? And all by a sharp got -up to look like a sucker and be d——d to him. Well, I hopes he’ll fry -in blazes if he ain’t drowned before he cashes them pearls. I ain’t -given to cursin’, but I could curse a hole in this dished canoe when I -thinks of the hand we give him by fallin’ into his trap and the trick -he served us by settin’ it.” - -“MIND!” yelled Davis. - -Harman, in his mental upset, had neglected his steering, and the canoe -paying off before the wind nearly flogged the mast out as Davis let go -the sheet. - -There are two sure ways of capsizing a South Sea canoe—letting the -outrigger run under too deep and letting it tip into the air. They -nearly upset her both ways before matters were righted, then pursuing -again the path of the flying fish, the little canoe retook the wind, -tepid and sea-scented and blowing out of the blue north-west. - -An hour after sunrise next morning Davis, on the look-out, saw a -golden point in the sky away to the south of west. It was the cloud -turban of Motul. A moment later Harman saw it too. - -“Lord! it’s a high island,” cried he. “I thought there was nuthin’ but -low islands in these parts. Where have we been driftin’ to?” - -“I don’t know,” replied Davis. “Mind your steering, it’s land, that’s -all I want.” - -“Oh, I ain’t grumblin’,” said Harman. He got her a point closer to the -wind and steered, keeping the far-off speck on the port bow. The -breeze freshened and the stays of the mast, fastened to the outrigger -grating, twanged while the spray came inboard now and then in dashes -from the humps of the swell, yet not a white cap was to be seen in all -the vast expanse of water, the great sea running with a heave in the -line of Humboldt’s current from south to north, but without a foam -gout to break the ruffled blue. - -At noon Motul had lost its turban of cloud, but now it stood, a great -lumping island moulded out of mountains, scarred with gulleys down -which burst forests and rainbow falls, for Motul was green with the -recent rains and its perfume met them ten miles across the sea. - -There seemed no encircling reef, just a line of reef here and there, -beyond which lay topaz and aquamarine sheets of water bathing the feet -of the great black cliffs of Motul. - -“Ain’t a place I’d choose for a lee shore,” said Billy, “but this -canoe don’t draw more than a piedish, and I reckon we can get her in -most anywhere across the reefs. Question is where do them cliffs -break?” - -They kept a bit more to the south, and there sure enough was the big -break where the cliffs seem smashed with an axe and where the deep -water comes in, piercing the land so that you might anchor a -battleship so close that the wild cliff-hanging convolvulus could -brush its truck and fighting tops. - -“We can’t make it before dark,” said Billy. - -“Don’t matter,” said Davis. - -It didn’t; although the moon had not risen, the stars lit Motul and -the great dark harbour that pierces the land like a sword. - -The breeze had almost fallen dead as they came in, nothing but the sea -spoke, breaking on the rocks and lipping up the cliffs, where screw -pines clung and the great datura trumpets blew in the silver light. - -Then as they stole across the water of the harbour, the dying breeze -laying glittering fans before them, they saw, right ahead on the shore -where the dark cliffs drew away, lights twinkling and dancing like -fireflies, lights standing and moveless, lights crawling like -glowworms. It was Amaho, the chief village of Motul, and the lights -were the lights of the houses, the fish spearers, the lovers and the -wayfarers of the chief town of Paradise. - -For Motul is Paradise in all things that relate to the senses of -sight, smell, taste, hearing and touch, and its people are part of -their environment. Here there are no ugly women and few old people, -here bathing is perpetual as summer, and summer is never oppressive. -Here everything grows that is of any use in the tropics. - -The pineapples of Motul are as white inside as sawn deal, yet you can -almost eat them with a spoon, and their flavour beats that of the -Brazilian pineapple, the English hothouse and the pine of Bourbon; -they have fig bananas with a delicate golden stripe unobtainable -elsewhere, and passion fruit with a vanilla flavour only to be found -at Motul. - -Also there are girls. - -Harman and his companion, faced with the lights of the town, -determined not to land till morning. They dropped their stone killick -in six-fathom water, ate the last of their bananas, turned on their -sides and fell asleep to be awakened by the dawn, a dawn of many -colours standing against the far horizon on a carpet of rose and fire. -Then, all of a sudden, tripping across the sea, she pulled up a -curtain and the sun hit Amaho, the bay, the beach, and the anchored -canoes, including the stranger canoe that had arrived during the -night. - -“Look,” said Harman, “they’ve spotted us.” He pointed to the beach, -where a crowd was gathering, a crowd with faces all turned seaward. -Children were running along the sands, calling their elders out of -houses to come and look, and now heads of swimmers began to dot the -water and girls with flowers in their dark hair came towards the -canoe, swimming with the effortless ease of fish; girls, young men, -and boys, the whole population of Amaho seemed to have taken to the -sea, and with them Davis held converse in broken _bêche de mer_, while -Harman gloomily considered the “skirts.” - -I think Harman’s dislike of womenfolk had less to do with misogyny -pure and simple than with a feeling, born from experience, that women -tend to crab deals and interfere with the progress of prosperity, just -as it is coming along to you by devious, not to say crooked paths. - -There was nothing in the way of any possible deal looming before them -this morning. All the same, the ingenuous Harman did not relax or -unbend in the least before this vision of friendly mermaids, one of -whom was boldly now grasping the starboard gunnel with a wet hand -while another, to port, was engaged in putting a leg over the -outrigger. - -“They’re a friendly lot,” said Davis over his shoulder to the other. -“Ain’t much to be done here as far as I can see, no shell nor turtle, -and they’re too lazy to make copra, but it’s a good place to rest in -and refit.” - -“It’ll be a good place to drown in if that piece don’t get off the -outrigger,” said Harman. - -“Well, what’s your opinion, shall we shove her in?” - -“Aye, shove her in,” said Harman, and, getting up the anchor, they -took to the paddles, making for the beach with an escort of swimmers -ahead, to port, to starboard and astern. - -It was the girl on the outrigger that did the business, a wild-eyed, -elfish-looking, yet beautiful individual, divorced from the humdrum -civilized scheme of things as Pan or Puck. She only wanted horns and a -little fur trimming or a small addition of wings to have done for -either. - -As it was, she nearly did for Mr. Harman. In some miraculous way an -affinity exhibited itself between these two, an attraction drew one -towards the other, so that at the end of a week if you had seen Billy -anywhere about by himself, sitting on the beach or lying in the shade -of the trees, you would ten to one have found Kinie—that was her -name—not far off. - -She had attached herself like a dog to the man, and Billy after a -while, and towards the end of the first week, found himself drifting -far from his old moorings. - -He and Davis had built themselves a house in forty-eight hours and -food was on every hand; they had no cares or worries, no taxes, -eternal summer and the best fishing south of California, bathing, -boating, yet they were not happy; at least, Davis was not. - -Civilization, like savagery, breeds hunters, and your hunter is not -happy when he is idle; there was nothing to be shot at here in the way -of money, so Davis was not happy. Harman, dead to the beauty around -him, might have shared the discontent of the other, only for Kinie. -She gave him something to think about. - -Drowsing one day under a bread-fruit tree, a squashy fruit like a -custard apple fell on his head, and, looking up, he saw Kinie among -the leaves looking down at him. Next moment she was gone. Bread-fruit -trees don’t grow apples like that; she must have carried it there to -drop it on him, a fact which, having bored itself into Mr. Harman’s -intelligence, produced a certain complacency. He had been in her -thoughts. - -An hour or two later, sitting by the edge of the beach, she came and -sat near him, dumb and stringing coloured pieces of coral -together—anything coloured seemed to fascinate her—and there they -sat, saying nothing, but seemingly content till Davis hove in sight -and Kinie, gathering up her treasures, scampered off. - -“You and that gal seem mighty thick,” said Davis. “Blest if you aren’t -a contradiction, always grumbling about petticoats and saying they -bring you bad luck, and set you ashore—and look at you.” - -“I give you to understand, Bud Davis, I won’t be called no names, not -by no man,” replied the other. “It ain’t my fault if the girl comes -round and there ain’t no harm in her comin’.” - -“Well, you’ve picked the prettiest of the lot, anyhow,” said Davis. -“Don’t go telling me, girls are girls and men are men; but we’ll leave -it there. It’s no affair of mine. _I’m_ not grumbling.” - -On he walked, leaving the outraged Harman on the sands, speechless -because unable to explain, unable to explain even to himself the -something between himself and the wildly beautiful, charming, yet -not-quite-there Kinie. - -The fascination he exercised upon her would have been even more -difficult to explain. Davis was younger and better-looking. Davis had -made advances to her which Harman had never done, yet she avoided -Davis, never dropped custard apples on his head or sat by him -stringing bits of coral or followed him at a distance through the -woods. - -Nor did she ever try to steal Davis’ pocket-handkerchief. - -Harman possessed a blazing parti-coloured bandana handkerchief. It was -silk, and had cost him half a dollar at Mixon’s at the foot of Third -Street, which adjoins Long Wharf. It was his main possession. He used -it not as handkerchiefs are used, but as an adjunct to conversation as -your old French marquis used his snuff-box. Stumped for words or in -perplexity, out would come the handkerchief to be mopped across his -brow. - -Kinie from the first had been fascinated by this handkerchief. She -wanted it. One day he lost it, and an hour later she flashed across -his vision with it bound around her head. He chased her, recaptured -it, reduced her to sulks for twenty-four hours, and a few days later -she boldly tried to steal it again. Then she seemed to forget all -about it; but do women ever forget? - -One morning some two months after they had landed, Davis, coming out -of the house, found the beach in turmoil. Girls were shading their -eyes towards the sea, and young fellows getting canoes in order for -launching, while children raced along the sands screaming the news or -stood fascinated like the girls, and, like them, gazing far to sea. - -A ship had been sighted, and there she was on the far-rippled blue, -the tepid wind blowing her to life and growth, the sun lighting her -sails and turning them to a single triangular pearl. - -Nothing could be more beautiful than the far ship on the far sea with -the near sea all broken to flashing sapphire, the whole picture framed -between the verdurous cliffs of the harbour entrance and lit by the -entrancing light of morning. - -But Davis had no eye for the beauty of the picture, he turned, ran -back to the house, and fetched out Harman. - -“Fore and aft rig, maybe eighty or a hundred ton, maybe a bit less,” -said Harman, “makin’ dead for the beach. Say, Bud, we been fools. -Here’s a ship and never a plan to meet her with, nor a story to tell -her.” - -“Well, what’s the odds?” said Davis. “We’re shipwrecked, or, if you -like it better, we skipped from a whaler. What are you bothering -about? We’ve nothing to hide, only the _Douro_, and we’ve got rid of -her. You’ve never thought of that, B. H. You’ve always been going on -about Clayton getting the better of us by skipping off with those -pearls in exchange for the _Douro_; hasn’t it ever got into your thick -head that since we as good as stole the hooker, he did us a good turn -by taking her? There’s not a port he could bring her into without -being had, and I’ll bet my back teeth he’s jugged by this, him and his -pearls.” - -“If he is,” said Harman, “I’ll never say a word against the law -again.” - -Then they hung silent and the ship grew. The wind held steady, then it -faded, great smoke-blue spaces showing on the sea; then it freshened, -blowing from a new quarter, and the stranger, shifting her helm, payed -off on the starboard tack. She showed now to be ketch-rigged. - -“I’ve always been agin’ the law,” went on Mr. Harman, “but if the law -puts that blighter in chokee, I’ll take the first lawyer I meet by the -fist. I will so. I’ll say to him, you’re a man an’ brother, law or no -law.” - -“Oh hang the law!” cried Davis, whose face had turned purple, and -whose eyes were straining at the ship. “Look at her. Can’t you see -what she is? She’s the _Douro_!” - -Harman’s hand flew up to shade his eyes. He stood for twenty seconds, -then he gave a whoop and made as if to run to the sea edge, where the -canoes were preparing to put out. - -Davis caught him by the arm and pulled him back. - -“Who are you holdin’?” cried Harman. “Let me get at the blighter! -Leave me loose or I’ll give you the bashin’ I have in me fist for him. -Leave me loose, you——” - -But Davis, undaunted and deaf to all protests, drove him steadily back -amongst the trees and then made him sit down to hear reason. - -“That chap would wipe the deck with you,” said Davis. “There’s more -ways of killing a dog than by kicking him. What we’ve got to do is lay -low and wait our chance, get him ashore off his ship, and leave the -rest to me.” - -“Well, if I can get my fists on him, that’s all _I_ want,” said -Harman. “I don’t want more than that.” - -“I do,” replied the other. “I want those pearls. Now skip down to the -house and fetch up all the grub you can find. We’ve got to keep hid -till things develop. That’s our strong point: him not knowing we’re -here.” - -“And do you mean to say the Kanakas won’t tell him?” asked Harman. - -“Well, suppose they do, suppose they say there are two white men on -the island, how’s he to know it’s us? The Kanakas don’t know our names -or where we’ve come from. Now, skip!” - -Harman went off, and returned laden. They made their camp under a tree -by a spring, covering the food over with bread-fruit leaves to keep -the robber crabs from getting at it, then they settled themselves down -to watch and listen. - -They heard the anchor go down, and Harman, who climbed the tree to a -point where a view of the harbour could be glimpsed between the -leaves, reported that the _Douro_ was at anchor two cable-lengths from -the shore and swinging to the tide, that the canoes were all round -her, and that a chap in white was leaning over her rail. - -“Looks like Clayton,” said he. “Now he’s left the rail, and they’re -swinging out a boat. He’s comin’ ashore. Now he’s in the boat. Yes, -that’s him sure enough; know him anywhere by the way he carries -himself, crawled over into the boat like a cat, he did. Yes, it’s him; -I can see his face now, all but his b’iled gooseberry eyes. Comin’ -ashore, are you? Well, I’ll be there to meet you.” - -He came swarming down only to be received into the arms of Davis, that -is to say, Reason. - -“Coming on for night I don’t say no,” said Davis; “we may be able to -take the ship and get out with her, but there’s no use in a free fight -on the beach in the broad light of day with all his boat crew to back -him. I’ve got an idea—it’s coming into my head bit by bit—and it’s -this, the crew know us.” - -“Well, they ought to, since we captained them once,” said Harman. “But -what about it?” - -“Just this, you know what Kanakas are. If we can knock Clayton on the -head sudden to-night and get off without too much fuss, we’ve only got -to step on board and drop the anchor-chain and put out. The Kanakas -won’t object. Seeing us come on board again, and taking over the ship, -they’ll think it’s all in the day’s work and done by arrangement with -Clayton.” - -“That ain’t a bad idea if we can do it,” said Harman; “we’ll have to -scrag him so that he don’t squeal, and do it without fittin’ him out -for a mortuary. I ain’t a particular man, but I’ve an objection to -corpses.” - -“Oh, rot!” said Davis. “You’ve got to stow that bilge if you want to -make out in this business. You’ll be going about next with flowers in -your hair like those Kanaka girls. I ain’t going to hit to kill. If I -get the chance of hitting at all. I’m going to put him to sleep, -that’s all; if he never wakes up the world will be none the wiser nor -the worse. Hullo! What’s that?” - -It was Kinie, her face showed peeping at them through the branches -which her little brown hands were holding back. - -“Scat!” cried Harman, shaken out of all other considerations but the -thought that she had discovered their whereabouts and might give them -away. “Off with you, and back to the village—and if you let a word -out of you——” - -Before he could finish the branches swayed, and Kinie was gone. - -“After her!” cried Davis. “Get hold of her and tell her to spy on the -chap, and give us news of what’s going on. Hump yourself!” - -Harman, getting on his feet, started off in pursuit, and Davis found -himself alone. He could hear the wash of the beach and the far-off -voices of the village, and as he sat, putting things together in his -mind, the main question that kept recurring was whether Clayton would -put out after taking on fruit and water, or whether he would stay. - -After that came the question of the pearls. It was six months now -since the day he sailed from the atoll, and he was still tinkering -about amongst the lesser islands; what had he done with the pearls? He -had evidently been to no port of importance where he might have sold -them, and if there was reason in anything, there was reason in the -supposition that they were on board the _Douro_. - -Davis chuckled to himself at the thought. The thing was so simple. -Once Clayton was put out of count nothing could be easier than to row -off, seize the ketch and put out with her—the Kanaka crew knew both -him and his companion. Davis chuckled at the thought that these same -Kanakas had been through the same process before when he and Harman -had “nicked” the _Araya_. - -“And I bet you,” he said to himself as he lay listening to the sounds -of the beach and village, “I bet you they don’t know they’ve been as -good as stolen twice, or that me and Billy aren’t part owners in the -show, turning up now and then to take command, and give the other -chaps a rest.” He chuckled at the thought, and then Harman came back -through the trees, having interviewed Kinie. - -The wayward one had shown surprising grip of the situation and -readiness to assist. Yes, she would watch the white man with the red -face, and find out whether he was taking water on board that day, and -if not how long he was likely to stay; promising this she had run off. - -“And she’ll do it,” said Harman. - -They had some food and smoked and drowsed in the warm, dark hot-house -atmosphere of the woods, now silent as death with noon. - -Then somewhere about two o’clock the branches parted and the charming, -sprite-like face of the girl looked in upon their slumbers. - -She had brought news. The big canoe was not taking water that day nor -fruit. It might stay many days, also the big man had been bidden to a -banquet by the village, and the feast was to take place on the edge of -dark. They were preparing the palm toddy now and killing chickens and -two pigs. Listen! She held up a finger and they could hear the far-off -clucking of chickens being chased only to be choked. The pigs, clubbed -senseless, had uttered no complaint. - -Then the branches swayed, and she was gone. - -“This is good,” said Davis. “That chap is sure to get drunk on the -palm toddy, and so we’ll be saved the bother of knocking him out.” - -“Seems like Providence, don’t it?” said Mr. Harman. “If you tell me -there ain’t such a thing, I tell you that there is—flat. Look at us, -brought here and landed as careful as baskets of eggs, and look at -Clayton sent after us to be skinned, ain’t that Providence?” - -“Oh, close up!” said Davis. “You get arguing when a chap ought to be -thinking. Wait till he is skinned before you talk of Providence. We -haven’t got the hide yet.” - -“No, but we will,” replied the other, settling himself for a snooze. - -Towards dark, awakened by Davis, he went off through the trees to -prospect. - -Then blackness came as if turned on with a switch, blackness that -gradually died to starlight as the eyes grew accustomed to the change. -Starlight that filled the woods with the eeriest forms made of foliage -and shadow, while here and there stars and constellations hung -themselves amidst the branches—the Cross in a tamarisk tree and -Canopus on the top bough of a screw pine. - -To Davis, watching and meditating, suddenly appeared Harman, -breathless. - -“We’re dished,” cried the latter, “dished lovely! The _Douro_ crowd -are ashore down to the ship’s cat, and they’re all stuffin’ themselves -and fillin’ up with the drink.” - -Davis whistled. - -“Haven’t they left an anchor watch on her?” - -“Devil a one!” said Harman. “She’s watching herself. Well, what do you -say to that?” - -Davis said nothing for a moment. - -It was impossible to take the ketch away without the crew. Of course, -he and Harman could have taken her out, but he knew better than ever -to dream of facing the Pacific in a vessel of that tonnage with only -another pair of hands to help him. He had been through the experience -years ago; he knew what it was for two men to take on a ten-men’s job. -No, the canoe was better than that, infinitely. - -“Billy,” said he suddenly, “buck up! We aren’t done. Can’t you see, -the chap is so certain sure there’s no one here to harm or meddle with -him, he’s let all his crew come ashore? Well, as sure as he’s done -that, he’s left the pearls on board.” - -Harman fell to the idea at once. - -“You mean us to skip in the canoe with them?” - -“Yep,” said the other. - -Harman considered for a bit in silence, while the sounds of the -festival on the beach came on the new-risen wind from the sea. - -He had sworn never to enter a canoe again, the prospect was hateful; -yet there was one bright spot in it, a spot as big as a sun—Clayton’s -face on waking next morning to find the pearls gone! - -He sprang to his feet. - -“Kim on,” said he, “we’ve gotta get water, grub, and nuts aboard her. -The breaker’s lying back of the house. I’ll attend to the water; you -can bring this stuff down and c’llect all you can from the -houses—b’nanas and such-like. Hump yourself!” - -Their canoe lay on the beach to the right of the village; it was fit -and seaworthy for the very good reason that the native boys had been -using it for sailing and fishing, and when Davis came on to the beach -he found Harman stowing the water-breaker, the only figure visible, -for the whole village was congregated where the great feast was going -on in the break amidst the trees. - -They were running no risks. They wanted food for a fortnight, and they -took it—took it from the deserted houses and from the trees where the -pandanus drupes hung in the starlight and the great banana clusters -stood like golden candelabra waiting to be lit. - -Then they pushed off, and the harbour took them and the night, against -which stood the _Douro_, swinging to the outgoing tide on a taut -anchor-chain. - -The ladder was down, and as they came alongside, Harman, who was to -commit the burglary, clutched it, sprang on deck, and lowering the -anchor-light vanished with it down the cabin companion-way. - -Davis, with his hand on the ladder and rocked by the almost -imperceptible swell, contemplated the night and the far beach. He -could see the glow of the fire amidst the trees, and now, just as the -moon rose above the sea-line, sending its silver across the harbour, -his keen eye caught a form moving amongst the beached canoes. - -A moment later something ruffled the water. A canoe had put off. He -saw the flash of a paddle, and for a second the idea that Clayton had -sensed danger and was on the pounce crossed his mind, only to be -instantly dismissed. It was Kinie. He knew it instinctively and at -once. Kinie, who never drank palm toddy and who looked as though her -food were mushrooms and moonbeams, had discovered their canoe gone. -Very likely had been watching them getting it away and was coming out -to prospect. - -At that moment the light reappeared on deck, and Harman at the rail. - -“Bud,” cried Harman, “she’s bustin’ with trade, cabin full, and I’ll -bet the hold’s full to the hatches! That blighter must have been -peddlin’ his pearls for trade goods, but I’ve got the balance, a dozen -big ’uns. I broke his locker open and there they were. Got ’em in me -pocket. Steady the blistered canoe whiles I get in.” - -He dropped into the canoe, and they pushed off. Then he sighted Kinie, -who was coming up fast, so close now that the water drops showed -flashing from her paddle. - -“It’s that girl,” said Davis, “confound her! We only wanted this to -kibosh us. I swear by the big horn spoon I’ll flatten her out with a -paddle if she squeals or gives the show away! I will, b’ gosh!” - -But Kinie showed no signs of any desire to give the show away. She -manœuvred her canoe so that it came gently beside theirs, stem towards -stern, so that her outrigger did not prevent her from clasping their -gunnel. Kinie had come to say good-bye. She had watched them -provisioning without knowing exactly why they were doing so, then they -had put off, and she had recognized that they were leaving for good. - -Seeing them hanging on to the ship, she had taken heart and put off -herself, and now, patting Harman on the shoulder with her little hand, -she was looking at him with the eyes of a dog, while he, slipping one -huge arm round her, was patting her back and telling her to be a good -girl and to get back to the shore quick. - -“_Aroya manu_, Kinie. We’re off—we’re goin’ away. See you again -maybe, soon. There, don’t be holdin’ me. Well, you’re askin’ for it.” - -“Oh, close up or you’ll be capsizing the canoe,” cried Davis. “Shove -her off—Now paddle for all you’re worth. Mind! the outrigger is -lifting.” - -The canoes parted and the moonlit waving water came between them like -a river, then, driven by tide and paddle, they passed the shadows of -the cliffs at the harbour mouth, and Harman, looking back, saw the -glow of the festival fire like a topaz beyond the silver-satin of the -harbour water, and against the glow the canoe of Kinie making for the -shore. - -Outside they ran up the sail while astern Motul, with its hills and -dark forests, lay like a cloud on the water, visible all night, -dwindling to a speck in the dawn, destroyed utterly by the sun as he -rose beyond it, flooding the sea with fire. - -“Well, here’s another blessed day,” said Harman, as he took his trick -with the steering paddle, “and that chap will be wakin’ just now with -a palm-toddy head on him to find we’ve done him, but he won’t never -know it’s us, worse luck. Anyhow, he’ll have his headache. There ain’t -nothin’ to beat a palm-toddy head unless maybe samshu, but, samshu or -palm toddy, drink don’t pay, nor Bourbon, nor Champagne—it don’t pay. -I’m not sayin’ if a chap could get drunk and stay drunk I wouldn’t be -the first to jine in, but it’s the wakin’ up—— Oh, _d——n_ -petticuts!” - -He had put his hand in his pocket for the handkerchief, at that moment -flaunting itself on Motul beach around the brows of its proud -possessor. - -“Mind your steering!” cried Davis. “What ails you? Mind your paddle or -we’ll be over.” - -“Me handkerchief’s gone,” cried the distracted Harman. “She’s took it. -Twice she nicked it from me before, and I ought to ha’ known—she’ll -have flung them away, for it’s only the rag she wanted—buzzed them -into the harbour most like. They were tied in the corner of it and -she’d ha’ thought them stones—ten thousand dollars’ worth of——” - -“Pearls!” cried Davis, “you aren’t talking of the pearls!” - -Towards sunset, steering into the golden remote and unknown west, the -dejected Harman, breaking an all-day silence, perked up a bit and -became almost cheerfully philosophic. - -“The only good p’int about all this business,” said he, “the one -bright p’int——” - -“Oh, shut up,” said Davis, “you and your p’ints.” - - - - -IV—SUNK WITHOUT TRACE - - - I - -The mat sail flapped against the mast and then hung loose while the -chuckle of bow and outrigger died away. Harman, turning his face to -the east, all gone watery with the dawn, leant forward and gave his -sleeping companion a prod with the steering paddle. - -Cruising in a South Sea island canoe tries the temper as well as the -judgment, and two days of this business had considerably shortened the -temper of Billy Harman. - -For two days and two nights, fed on bananas and island truck, and led -by the pointing of an indifferent compass, they had pursued the west, -chased by the light of gorgeous dawns, broiled by midday suns, raising -nothing but endless horizons and consuming sunsets. - -“Wind’s gone!” cried Harman. “Flat calm and looks like stayin’ put.” - -Davis roused, supported himself with a hand on the outrigger gratings, -and blinked at the dawn; then he yawned, then he began to get command -of speech. - -“Whach you want digging me in the ribs like that for?” said Davis. -“You and your flat calms! Where’s the hurry? Are you afraid it’ll run -away? Blest if you aren’t the——” - -“No use quarrellin’,” cut in the other; “fightin’s a mug’s game, and -words won’t bring no wind. Pass us a drinkin’ nut.” - -Davis passed the nut, and then, while the other refreshed himself, -leant with his elbow on the grating and his eyes fixed lazily on the -east. - -Morning bank there was none, nor colour, nothing but a great crystal -window showing infinite distance and taking suddenly a reflection of -fire and a sill of gold: gold that moved and ran north and south and -then leapt boiling across the swell as the sun burst up, hitting -Harman in the back and Davis in the face and turning the lingering -moon to a grey cinder above the azure of the west and the morning sea. - -Away to the south, across the sunlit swell, a ship showed becalmed and -painting the water with the reflection of her canvas, and, wonder of -wonders, a mile from her and more to the north stood another ship, -also held in the grip of the calm, and seeming the duplicate of the -first in rig, tonnage, and design. - -They were whalers, two of the last of the old whaling fleet, cruising -maybe in company or brought together by chance. - -Harman was the first to sight them; then Davis turned, and, leaning -comfortably on the outrigger gratings, looked. - -“Whalemen,” said Harman. “Look at ’em, stump topmasts, tryin’-out -works and all! Look at ’em—damned pair of slush tubs!” - -Davis said nothing; he spat into the water and continued to look while -Harman went on. - -“There you are, grumblin’ last night there were no ships about, and -them things only waitin’ to show themselves, castin’ the canoe in the -teeth o’ Providence, sayin’ you wanted planks under your feet to walk -on. Planks, b’gosh! If one of them sight us we’ll be planked! I’ve -been there and I know.” - -“Oh, they won’t bother about us,” said Davis. - -“Oh, won’t they?” said Harman. “Shows what you know of whalemen. If -them chaps sighted the twelve ’postles driftin’ in a canoe, let alone -us, they’d yank ’em on board and set ’em to work. Hands is what -they’re always cravin’ for, and our only chance is they’ll take us for -Kanakas, goin’ by the cut of the canoe.” - -“Oh, they won’t bother about us,” said Davis; “and if they do, you -ain’t a bad imitation of a Kanaka; but it’s cursed luck all the same. -Planks, yes, I want the feel of a plank under my foot, and the feel -that there isn’t only ten days’ grub and water between us and -perdition—curse them!” - -“Now you’ve done it!” cried Harman. “Look! They’re comin’!” - -Sure enough, as though the last words of Davis had struck life into -the far-off vessels, the decks of both ships suddenly boiled with -ant-like figures, boats were dropped, and in a flash were making -across the sea, two fleets of four boats each, and rowing as if in a -race. - -But they were not making for the canoe. Due north they headed over the -glassy swell, while Davis, standing erect and holding on to the mast, -watched with shaded eyes. - -“Whales,” said he. “Whales they’re after, not us. Look at them!” - -“I can’t see no whales,” said Harman. - -“No, but they can,” said Davis. “Look! They’re heading west now, -they’re on to them.” - -A clap of thunder came over the sea and foam spurted amidst the -distant boats. Then two of the boats detached themselves from the -rest, skimming through the water without sail or oar, the flash of the -foam at their bows clear to be seen. - -“They’ve got their fish,” cried Harman. “Look, he’s going round to the -north’ard, and here’s the breeze!” - -Up from the south-east it was coming, spreading in great waves like -fields of barley. The whale-ships had caught it and were trimming -their yards in pursuit of the boats, and now, the mat sail of the -canoe filling out and cracking against the mast, Harman seized the -steering paddle and headed her due north. - -“Where are you steering for?” shouted Davis. - -“North,” replied the other. “You don’t want to be runnin’ into them -ships, do you?” - -Davis crawled aft, seized the paddle, and pushed the other forward. - -“Cuss the ships!” said he. “They’ve got their own business to attend -to, and I’m not going to put her off her course, not for Jim Satan! -You don’t mind the ships—they’re busy.” - -He was right. - -A Swenfoyn gun had put a speedy end to the whale, and as the canoe -drew along not half a mile away from the nearest ship it was being -hauled alongside her and the tackles were out. But the remainder of -the fleet of boats not busy in this work seemed engaged in some affair -of their own which was not whale fishing; they were all surging -together, oars were being tossed in the air and the far-away sound of -shouting came across the water. - -“Fightin’!” said Harman, “that’s what they’re at. They’re both -claimin’ the fish. I know their monkey tricks. Look at them!” - -But Davis was not listening to him, his quick eye had caught something -floating ahead; altering the course a point he called to Harman to let -go the sheet, then, leaning over, he grabbed the floating mass in both -hands, yelling to the other to balance the canoe. - -“Get out on the gratings and hold her down,” cried Davis, “our -fortune’s made. Fish! No, you fool, it’s ambergris, what comes from -whales’ innards, and is worth hundreds of pounds. Lord send they don’t -see us!” - -“Mind!” yelled Harman. - -The gunnel lipped the water despite his weight and the outrigger rose -a foot as Davis strove, then with a mighty effort he brought it -tumbling on board, the water pouring off it, and there it lay between -his feet a huge, knobby, putty-coloured mass, with octopus -sucker-prongs sticking in it like tiger claws, and a two-fathom strip -of pale green seaweed twined about it as if for ornament. Harman, -without a word, crawled back across the outrigger grating and trimmed -the sail while Davis, without a word, resumed the steering paddle. - -He did not mind about altering his course now; he put her dead before -the wind while Harman, half kneeling on the stub of the forward -outrigger pole, and with his hand on a stay, reported progress. - -“No, they ain’t seen us,” said Harman; “they’re all crowdin’ back on -the ships and the fightin’s over. There’s never no good in fightin’, -as I said to you this mornin’—not unless you get the other chap’s -back to you and belt him on the head sudden. Now if those ballyhoos -had quit arguin’ who’d harpooned first and kept their eyes skinned -they’d a’ got ambergris instead of sore heads. How much ’s that stuff -worth, do you reckon, Bud?” - -“Mean to say you don’t know and you been on a whale-ship?” - -“Never heard tell of the stuff before nor sighted it,” replied the -other. “Whalemen don’t take stock of nothing but blubber—where does -it come from, d’ye think?” - -“Out of the whale,” said Davis, “and it’s worth twenty dollars an -ounce.” - -Harman laughed. When Bud had worked upon him sufficiently to make him -see the truth he first took a look to make sure the whale-ships were -showing only their topsails above the horizon, then he sat down to -calculate the amount of their fortune. - - - II - -Ambergris, though used in the production of scent, has no smell or -only the faintest trace of odour when warmed; it is the ugliest stuff -in the world, and as valuable as gold. Harman’s bother was that he did -not know the weight of the lump. He reckoned, going by comparison with -pigs of small ballast, that it might be half a hundred-weight, but the -table of weights and measures barred him. He could not tell the number -of ounces in a half hundred-weight. - -“Well, it don’t much matter,” said he at last. “If you’re not lyin’ -and it’s worth twenty dollars an ounce, then it’s worth twenty times -its weight in dollars, and that’s good enough for us. Twenty bags of -dollars as heavy as that lump of muck is good enough for Billy Harman. -Say, it beats Jonah, don’t it? when you look at that stuff, which -isn’t more nor less than good dinners by the hundred and bottles of -fizz and girls by the raft-load. And to think of an old whale coughin’ -it up; makes a chap b’lieve in the Scriptures, don’t it, seein’ what -it is and seein’ where it come from, and seein’ how Providence shoved -it right into our hands.” - -“We haven’t cashed it yet,” said Davis. - -“No, but we will,” replied the other. “I feel it in my bones. I’ve got -a hunch the luck ain’t runnin’ streaky this time. Somethin’ else is -comin’ along; you wait and see.” - -He was right. Next morning, an hour after sunrise, a stain of smoke -showed on the south-eastern horizon. - -Steamers in those days were fewer in the Pacific even than now, but -this was a steamer right enough. - -“She’s coming dead for us,” said Davis, as the hull showed clear now -of smoke. “Brail up the sail and stand by to signal her—what you make -her out to be?” - -“Mail boat,” said Harman. “Sydney-bound, I’ll bet a dollar. You’ll be -hearin’ the passengers linin’ up and cheerin’ when we’re took aboard, -and then it’ll be drinks and cigars and the best of good livin’ till -we touch Circular Wharf. But I ain’t goin’ in for hard drinks, not -till we cash in this ambergris, and not then, only may be a bottle of -fizz to wet the luck. No, sir, seein’ Providence has dealt with us -handsome, Billy’s goin’ to do likewise with her. Providence don’t hold -with the jag, which ain’t more nor less than buyin’ headaches, and -di’mond studs for bar tenders and sich. Providence is dead against the -drink, and don’t you forget that.” - -“Why, you were talking only last night of buying a saloon in ’Frisco,” -said Davis. - -“That ain’t buyin’ drink,” countered Mr. Harman. “Nor swallerin’ it, -which is what I’m arguin’ against—— Look at her how she’s liftin’.” - -They said no more, watching the oncoming boat, now showing her bridge -canvas distinct from her hull. Then suddenly Davis spoke. - -“That’s no mail boat,” said Davis, “not big enough, stove-pipe funnel, -and look at that canvas. She’s not even a B.P. boat—some old tub -carrying copra or trade.” - -“Not she,” said Harman. “Steam don’t pay in the copra business, -bunkers have to be too big, seein’ there’s no coalin’ stations much in -the islands.” - -“We’ll soon see,” said Davis, and they did. - -The stranger came shearing along, showing up now as a five or six -hundred ton squat cargo boat, riding high and evidently in ballast, -with a rust-red stove-pipe funnel and a general air of neglect that -shouted across the sea. - -Then the thud of the engines ceased, a yoop of her siren cut the air -like a whiplash, and a string of bunting blew out. - -Harman waved his shirt, and as the stranger came gliding on to them he -got ready to catch the rope that a fellow was preparing to cast from -the bow. - -As they came alongside, lifting and falling with the swell, a big -red-faced man, leaning over the bridge rail, began shouting -directions, whilst Davis, seizing the ladder which had been dropped, -climbed on deck, leaving Harman to manage the canoe. - -The _Oskosh_ was the name of the hooker, and Billy Schumways was the -name of her master and owner. He was the big man on the bridge; seven -days out from Arafata Lagoon with a crew of Chinks and a Savage Island -bo’sun, makin’ down for Fuanatafi in a hurry. All of which he roared -at Davis from the bridge and at Harman from over the bridge side. - -“Claw on and kim up,” cried Captain Schumways to the hesitating -Harman. “Cut that canoe adrift and come on deck, and don’t be wastin’ -my time, or I’ll ring the injins on. What’s that you’re sayin’? -Ambergris, what’s ambergris? Ain’t got no time to be muckin’ -about—there, bring it if you want to.” He paused whilst Harman, -having fastened a rope flung by Davis round the precious ambergris, -came on deck guiding it up. Then, when they were both over the rail, -Schumways, ringing the engines full speed ahead, came down from the -bridge. - -“Where’d you get that muck?” asked Captain Schumways, after they’d -given their names and a yarn about having been drifted off an island -when fishing. “Picked it up, did you? Well, you can shove it in the -scupper if you’re set on keepin’ it, and now follow me down and I’ll -show you your quarters. I’m sufferin’ for extra help in the -engine-room and I reckon you’ve got to work your passage.” - -He led the way to the saloon hatch and down to the saloon. - -The _Oskosh_ had been a Farsite Enfield boat running from ’Frisco to -Seattle. Cargo, Klondyke diggers and, lastly, contraband had reduced -her from respectability and cleanliness to her present state. The -saloon was a wreck and ruin, the panelling split, the fittings gone, -bunks filled with raffle and oddments, the table covered with old -oil-cloth showing the marks of coffee cups, and over all a dank -throat-catching atmosphere of decay, cockroaches and dirty bunk -bedding. - -Schumways inhabited the cabin aft. He pointed out two bunks to port -and starboard. - -“Them’s yours,” said he, “and there’s beddin’ and to spare. You’ll -mess here, bein’ whites, and you’ll take your orders from me and -Sellers; when you’ve cleared out them bunks and got your beddin’ in -come along up and I’ll show you your job.” - -He left them and went on deck, and Bud Davis sat down on the edge of a -bunk. - -“Say, Billy,” said Bud, “how about those passengers lining up and -cheering? How about those soft drinks you were talking of?—or would -you sooner have a highball?—and we’re to take our orders from him and -Sellers. What I’m proposing to do is go up right now, catch him by the -hoofs, and dump him over side, scrag Sellers, whoever he is, and take -the ship. That’s how I’m feeling.” - -“Ain’t no use,” said Harman. “Fightin’s a mug’s game. That chap’s a -sure enough tough and we haven’t no guns. Lay low is the word, more -especial as this packet is contraband and we’ve only to wait to get -’em by the short hairs. Contraband—look at her, guns or opium, with -blackbirdin’ maybe thrown in, that’s all there is to her.” - -Davis assented. These two old Pacific hands had an eye from which no -ship could hide her character for sea-unworthiness or -disrespectability; Schumways matched his ship, and Sellers, when he -turned up, would be sure to match Schumways; the crew were Chinks, and -the case was plain. Not that it bothered Bud or Billy; their one -thought as they worked clearing the bunks and settling the bedding was -the ambergris. - -Schumways knew nothing of ambergris or its value—that fact was quite -plain—but it would never do to leave it lying in the scupper, and -Harman having poked his head up through the hatch and found a clear -deck, they got it down, stowed it in a spare bunk occupied by a filthy -rug, a suit of oilskins and a paraffin tin, covering it with the rug. - -Then they came on deck, and the captain of the _Oskosh_, coming down -from the bridge, introduced them to the engine-room and Sellers, a -wire-drawn Yankee, six feet two, who introduced them to the engines -and the stokehold. - -“Chinks are firin’ her now,” said Sellers, “but you’ll hold yourself -ready to take a hand at the shovellin’ if wanted. I’ll larn you how to -shoot the stuff; that’s a pressure gauge—you’ll get to know it before -you’ve done—and that’s an ile can—you’ll get to know her too.” He -led the way down a passage four foot broad to a transverse passage -eight foot broad, where, under a swinging oil lamp, Chinks, naked to -the waist, were firing up. He opened the door of a long blazing tunnel -and seized a shovel, the coal came down a chute right on to the floor, -and taking a shovelful he demonstrated. - -“Stokin’s not shootin’ coal into a fu’nace, it’s knowin’ where to -shoot it. Every fu’nace has hungry places: there’s one, that dull -patch up there, and there’s the food for it.” A shovelful of coal went -flying into the gehenna right on to the dull patch, and, dropping the -shovel, he seized an eight-foot bar of steel. “M’r’over, it’s not all -shovellin’, it’s rakin’. Here’s your rake and how to use it. Then -you’ve got to tend the ashlift, and when you’ve larnt not to stick -your head in the fire when she’s pitchin’ hard you’ll be a stoker; -ain’t nothin’ to it but the work an’ the will.” - -“But see here, cully,” said Mr. Harman. “We ain’t signed on for -stokin’ in this packet; engine-room fiddlin’ is stretchin’ a point -with A.B.’s, but stokin’s outside the regulations. Clear, and by Board -o’ Trade rules——” - -“That’s them on board the _Oskosh_,” said Sellers, producing a -revolver, which he exhibited lying flat in the palm of his huge hand -as though he were showing a curiosity. “Six rules an’ regulations, -soft-nosed—and don’t you forget it, son!” - -Through days of blazing azure and nights of phosphorescent seas the -_Oskosh_ plugged steadily along on her course. She was square-rigged -on the foremast, and used sail-power to assist the engines when the -wind held, and always and ever, despite her dirt, her disorder, and -the general slovenliness of her handling, she kept a bright eye out -for strangers. When Schumways was not on the bridge using the -binoculars, they were in the hands of the Savage Island bo’sun—a fact -noted by Billy and Bud when those unfortunates had time to note -anything in the midst of their multitudinous occupations. - -They were not always put to stoking in this horrible ship, where -things went anyhow and work was doubled for want of method. They would -be oiling in the engine-room under command of Sellers when, maybe, the -voice of Schumways would come ordering “them roustabouts” up to handle -the sails: sail-handling, greasing, emptying slush tubs, helping in -engine-room repairs, “lendin’ a hand in the stoke’old”—it was a mixed -meal of work that did not please the appetites of Billy or Bud. Yet -they had to swallow it. Kicking was no use. Harman tried it, and was -kicked by Sellers, and took the injury and insult without retaliating. -Fighting was a mug’s game, but deep in his soul Billy Harman -formulated an oath of revenge, swearing that somehow, somewhere, and -somewhen he would be even with the _Oskoshites_ to the ultimate limit -of their back teeth and the last short hairs of their persons. - -He communicated this darkly to his fellow-sufferer, who laughed. - -They were seated at breakfast feasting on the leavings of Schumways -and Sellers and Davis told him to close up. - -“You give me the mullygrubs with your talk,” said Davis. “Whenever you -open your fool-mouth something happens wrong way about. This was a -passenger packet, wasn’t it, and we were to sit in the saloon bein’ -admired by the passengers, weren’t we? And was it Fourth Street or -Fifth Street you were goin’ to open that whisky joint? And fighting is -a mug’s game, according to you, whereas if we’d wiped the engine-room -floor with Sellers first day instead of knuckling down to him we’d -have stood on this ship as men, instead of being a hog-driven pair of -roustabouts begging for scraps and emptying slush tubs. Too late now; -they’ve got the better of us and know our make, which is putty, owing -to you. Even with them! Why, I’ll bet twenty dollars to a nickel if -you try any of your home-made tricks they’ll be even with us. Talking -is all you’re good for—fighting’s a mug’s game!” - -“So it is,” replied Mr. Harman. “Fool fightin’s no use; hittin’ out -and gettin’ belted’s one thing, but stragety’s another, and that’s -what I’m after, and if I don’t get my knife in these chaps’ ribs -behind their backs and unknownst to them, you can take me home and -bury me—and it won’t be long either!” - -He was right. - -That very evening they lifted Fuanatafi, their destination, a purple -cloud in the sunset glow and a cloud of ebony by night as they lay off -and on, listening to the far sound of the breakers till dawn revealed -the great island in all its splendour and isolation; for Fuanatafi, -like Nauru, has no harbour, just a landing beach to westward where -boats can put in, razor-backed reefs keep ships a mile from the shore -and make the place pretty useless for trade. - -As the light broke full on the island Billy Harman, who had come on -deck and was standing with Davis by the lee rail, saw away to -southward another island with a peak-like summit, and to westward of -that two small islets circled with moving clouds—gulls. - -“Why, Lord bless my soul,” said he, “I’ve been here before, six years -ago it was, and we took off a raft of turtle-shell for six cases of -gin. Christopher Island was the other name they give it, and it’s head -centre for all sorts of black doin’s. That island to suthard is -Levisca, and it’s been blackbirded till there ain’t scarcely no -Kanakas left on it. Now, I wonder what Schumways is landin’ here.” - -As if in answer to his question two Chinks came aft carrying a long -deal box between them, which they dumped close by the foremast. - -The main hatch was open, and they could see more boxes being brought -up, six in all, and each one, as it came on deck, was carried forward, -the whole being stacked in one pile and covered with a tarpaulin. The -engines ceased their dead-slow tramp: then came an order from the -bridge and the roar and rasp of the anchor chain filled the morning -air, echoing across the water and lifting the reef gulls in clanging -spirals. - -Schumways dropped down from the bridge and Sellers rose from the -engine-room, wiping his hands with a piece of cotton waste; he had put -on his coat and wore an old panama on his head ready for shore. Then -at an order from Schumways the starboard quarter-boat was lowered, -Harman and Davis were ordered into it, and the Captain of the _Oskosh_ -and his engineer took their places in the stern sheets. - -Nothing could be more lovely than the morning light on the streets of -blue water between the reefs or the view of the great island washed by -the calm, ponded sea and waiting for the approaching boat, loveliness -that left no trace, however, on the minds of Bud and Billy labouring -at the oars, or of Schumways and Sellers smoking in the stern. - -As they ran the boat’s nose on to the beach, out from the groves to -right and left stepped a dozen Kanakas armed with spears. Casting -their spears on the sand, they trod on them whilst Sellers and his -companion, walking up the beach with hands outstretched, greeted the -chief man, bright with palm oil, absolutely naked, and adorned simply -with half a willow-pattern soup plate worn as a pendant. - -The Kanakas and the two whites seemed old friends, and the whole lot, -after a moment’s chatter, disappeared into the groves, leaving Bud and -Billy on the beach by the stranded boat. - -“They’re off to the village,” said Harman. “Wonder what they’re up -to? Bargainin’ most like over them guns.” - -“What guns?” asked Davis. - -“Them cases we left on deck, them’s guns, or my name’s not Billy -Harman. There’s six guns in each of them cases, that’s thirty-six for -the lot, and I expect Schumways will be askin’ old Catch-em-alive-o -ten pound apiece for them in coin or shell—maybe in bêche-de-mer, for -that’s as good as bank notes. That’s three hundred and sixty pounds -and the durned things didn’t cost him sixty. I’ll bet——” He turned. -Someone came breaking through the trees; it was Sellers. - -“Hike off back to the ship and bring them cases,” cried Sellers, “the -ones we’ve left on deck. If you can’t bring the whole six, bring four, -and you can go back for the other two. Now then, you lazy sweeps, -grease yourselves and get goin’.” - -“Blast him!” said Davis as they pushed off across the inner lagoon -towards the reef break leading to the outer reef channels sparkling -blue in the sun. - -“No use swearin’,” said Hannan, “it don’t cut no ice—— Bud, I’ve got -them.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Davis. - -“Got ’em all in the fryin’ pan, b’gosh. It’s only jumped into my head -this minute. Told you I’d get even with them at last, and now I’ve as -good as done it.” - -“What’s your plan?” asked Bud. - -“You never mind,” replied Billy, “you do as I’m askin’ you and I’ll -show you. Lay into your strokes now, and that’s all you have to do at -the present minit.” - -He seemed delighted with himself as he rowed, chuckling and chortling -as though he already had the _Oskoshites_ down and out. Bud, who knew -Billy’s mentality from long practice and use, was not so elated. He -knew that Harman, amongst his other mental qualities, was likely to go -blind of one eye when seeing red or when ambition was at fever heat, -and Billy was undoubtedly seeing red. Full of the thirst for revenge -at having been made to work, at having been kicked and spoken to with -contumely, he was fit for anything just now. - -“What is it that’s in your mind, Billy?” asked the other as they drew -up to the _Oskosh_. - -“You wait and see,” said Harman; “say nuthin’ and follow my lead -prompt and we’ve got them on a split stick.” - -The Chinks stood by the ladder as Harman went up it, leaving Davis to -mind the boat; then on deck he gave the Kanaka bo’sun his orders, and, -while the cases were being got into the boat, stepped below. - -He came up in a few minutes and helped with the last case, then, -dropping into the boat beside Davis, he pushed off and they began -rowing towards the shore. - -“Go slow,” said Harman, “and don’t pull hard. The breeze is backin’ -into the north and I’ll have the mast up in a minute, then we can run -for Levisca. We could row there quick enough, but it’s easier to sail. -After we’ve taken on grub and water there we can push farther south.” - -“What the blue blazes are you talking of?” said Davis. “You mean -running away in this boat?” - -“Yep,” replied Harman. - -“But, you fool, they’ll up steam and be after us before we’ve got -half-way there.” - -“Not they,” replied the strategist, “you wait an’ see. You keep your -eye on the old _Oskosh_ and you’ll see somethin’ funny in a minute.” - -He ceased rowing, so did Davis, and the boat rocked on the swell, -then, as he got the mast stepped and the sail shaken out, Davis, whose -eyes were fixed on the far-off ship, gave an exclamation of surprise. - -“Why, she’s lying awfully low in the water.” - -“Yes,” said Harman quite simply. “I’ve opened the sea-cocks.” - -“You’ve _what_?” cried the other. - -“Opened the sea-cocks when I went below. The Chinks haven’t twigged -yet that she’s sinkin’, she’s goin’ peaceful as a dyin’ Christian. -Look”—a column of steam was rising from the funnel of the sinking -ship—“they’ve twigged it now, but they don’t know what’s sinkin’ her, -and if they did they haven’t enough sense to know what to do. B’sides, -it’s too late. Look, they’re gettin’ out the boats; now help me to -dump these durned cases and bring the sheet aft.” - -Davis did as he was told, then as the boat lay over, making a long -board for Levisca, he suddenly leant forward towards Harman, his face -injected with blood. - -“You’ve done it, haven’t you?” shouted Davis. - -“Yes, b’gosh I have,” said Harman complacently, his eyes fixed on the -_Oskosh_ sinking by the head and with her stem high in the air. - -“Wouldn’t tell me your plans, would you? So full of hitting Schumways -you had no thought of anything else, weren’t you? Well, you sainted -fool, what about that ambergris?” - -“What ambergris? Oh, Lord! the ambergris,” said the wretched Harman, -suddenly remembering. “We’ve left it behind!” - -“You’ve left it, you mean. What would it have cost to have taken two -Chinks down and fetched it up and stowed it in the boat? Not a -nickel—and it was worth twenty thousand dollars.” - -Harman said nothing. The _Oskosh_ was making her last plunge and the -over-loaded boats were making for shore, then his face slowly -brightened as the face of Sellers and the face of Schumways rose -before him—the two men who had forcibly introduced him to work. “It -was worth it,” said he; “if it was five hundred dollars an ounce, it -was worth it.” - -“What was worth it?” asked Davis. - -“Losin’ that ambergris,” replied Mr. Harman. - - - - -V—A DEAL WITH “PLAIN SAILIN’ JIM” - - -He was the only blot on the scenery, also he was fishing, fishing from -a rock washed by water forty feet deep in which the coloured bream -passed like jewels through a world of crystal. - -Matadore Island clings to its old Spanish name, though it is French, -lying west of Vavitu in the great French sea territory born of the -League of Nations that stretches now from the Marquesas to Rapa and -from Bellinghausen to Gambier. - -It is a tiny island, too small for trade, horned with dangerous reefs, -but beautiful with the green of Jack-fruit tree and coco palm, the -blue of sea and the white of foam and coral. - -Gulls make their home on the reefs, laughing gulls and cormorants and -great predatory gulls, sailing to seaward in the dawn and clanging -home at night after a sweep of hundreds of miles to where the swimmer -rocks show white manes, or the Skagways their teeth. The gulls were -jeering now as the fisherman hauled in his line, coiled it on the -coral and stood up, shading his eyes. - -Away over the sparkling blue to s’uth’ard stood something that was -either the fin of a sail-fish or the sail of a boat, something sharp -and triangular, clear now to the sight and now half gone as the -sea-dazzle affected the eyes of the gazer. - -He was a tall, thin man, bronzed to the colour of a cobnut, tattooed -on the left hand in such a way that he seemed to wear a mitt, and his -face as he stood straining his eyes seaward was the face of Uncle Sam, -goatee beard and all. - -As he watched, the jaws of this individual worked slowly and -methodically like the jaws of a cow chewing the cud, then as the -boat’s hull showed close in and making for the clear passage through -the reefs, he flung up his arms, turned, and came scrambling down over -the coral to the salt white beach, towards which the boat was coming -now, the sail furled, and oars out and straight for destruction on a -rock in the fairway. There were only two men in her. - -“Sta’board your helm, you —— fools!” yelled Uncle Sam. “Cayn’t you -see the sunk reef before your noses? _Sta_’board—that’s right.” Then -a tone lower: “B——y tailors!” - -He rushed out as the boat came barging on to the beach and seized the -starboard gunnel, whilst the bow oar, tumbling over, seized the port, -and the stern oar, taking to the water, clapped on; then, having -dragged her nose well above tide-mark, they turned one to another for -speech. - -“Well, I’ve been here three months and maybe more,” said the tall man, -as they sat on the coral by the beach watching the boat and the -strutting gulls and half-a-dozen stray Kanakas who had come down to -take a peep at the strangers. “Wrecked?—nuthin’—did a bunk from a -hooker that shoved in here for water an’ nuts, and here I’ve stuck, -snug as Moses in the bulrushes, nuthin’ to pay for board an’ bunk, no -use for a n’umbrella, place crawlin’ with girls, and every pa’m tree a -pub, if you know how to make pa’m toddy—name’s Keller, and what might -your’n be?” - -“Mine’s Harman,” said the bigger and broader of the strangers, “and -this is Bud Davis. Reckon we’ve run more’n three hundred miles in that -boat, steerin’ by our noses and blind as ballyhoos—and as to where -we’ve come from—well, that’s a matter of——” - -“Oh, I ain’t askin’ no questions!” cut in the tall man. “It’s nuthin’ -to me if you stole your boat or had her give you, or whether you come -from Noumea or the Noo Jerusalem. I’m ‘Plain Sailin’ Jim,’ I am, -straight with them that’s straight with me, hungerin’ for the sight of -a white mug, and fed up with chocolate biscuits. ‘Plain Sailin’ Jim,’ -that’s me, and smilin’ I am to welcome gentlemen like yourselves to -this virgin home of palm toddy and polygamy.” - -“What sort of truck is that?” asked the ingenuous Harman. - -But Keller did not hear him, he had risen to chase some Kanaka -children away from the boat; then, hitching up his trousers, he led -the way through the trees to the grass-thatched village where the -little houses stood bowered with yellow cassi and blue-blazing -convolvulus, and where at the door of the biggest and newest house his -chief wife sat preparing kava in a bowl of stone. - -They dined off baked pig, taro, palm salad, and palm toddy in a -twilight through which rays from the thatch pierced like golden -needles, and as they ate they could see through the door space the -village with its tree-ferns and thatched houses, the children playing -in the sun, and the men lazing in the shade. - -“Ain’t no use for work and ain’t no use for fightin’,” said Keller, -referring to the men of the village. “Chawin’ bananas and fishin’ is -all they’re good for, bone-lazy lot. I’ll larn them!” - -Two or three of his wives served the dinner and prepared the palm -toddy; then, after the dishes had been removed, Keller, the toddy -mounting to his head, beat another wife who had dared to poke a hole -in the wall to peep at the strangers, kicked a dog that got in his -way, raised Cain all down the street with a four-foot length of -bamboo, and fell like a log dead asleep under the shade of a -Jack-fruit tree. - -“There ain’t no flies on old man Keller,” said Billy Harman to Bud -Davis, as they walked next morning in the sun on the beach. “I tell -you I like that chap.” - -“Meaning Keller?” - -“Yep.” - -“Jumping Moses!—and what do you like about him?” asked the astonished -Davis. - -“Well,” said Harman, “takin’ him by and large, he seems to me a -trustable chap—goin’ by what he says. It’s straight out and have done -with it when he’s talkin’, same as when he’s kickin’ a Kanaka. I likes -him because there ain’t nothin’ hidden about him—look at all them -wives of his and he ownin’ up to them without a wink. ‘“Plain Sailin’ -Jim,” that’s my name,’ says he, ‘straight with them that’s straight -and crooked with them that’s crooked.’ You heard him—and that’s his -label or I’m a digger Injin. No, there ain’t no flies on Keller.” - -“Yes, I heard him,” said Davis, “and taking him by and large I’d label -him the king of the yeggmen, hot from yeggtown. No, sir, you don’t -take in Bud Davis with artificial flies and that chap may ‘Plain -Sailin’ Jim’ himself to the last holoo of the last trumpet, but he -won’t put the hood on chaps that have eyes in their heads, nor noses -to sniff a rotten character.” - -“There you go,” said Harman, “startin’ out after your own ideas and -chasin’ them till they look like a man. Think bad of a chap and he’ll -look bad—that’s my motto, and I’m not goin’ to think bad of Keller.” - -But Davis had lost interest in Keller. Something out at sea had caught -his eye, and taking Harman by the arm, he pointed over the dead calm -water. - -“Look there,” said he. - -Harman, shading his eyes, looked in the direction indicated. - -“It ain’t the pa’m toddy, is it?” asked Harman. - -“No,” said the other, “it’s a craft of some sort or another; what do -you make of her?” - -“Nuthin’, she ain’t nacheral—looks like a cross between Noah’s ark -an’ a floatin’ hayrick rigged with a double set of masts and a—— -Why, Lord bless my soul if she ain’t a junk, a junk and a schooner -lashed together, that’s what she is, derelick and driftin’.” - -“Sure,” said Davis, his mind jumping at once to the truth. “Call -Keller—run and roust him out. Here he comes. Keller, hi, Keller! Ship -drifting out beyond the reefs. Look sharp!” He had no need to give -directions. Like a vulture scenting a carcass, Keller came swooping, -shaded his eyes and stood. - -“It’s a junk and schooner,” said Harman. - -“_Bêche-de-mer_ boat or opium smuggler,” said Keller, “and they’re -both abandoned and driftin’. There’s pickin’s here, boys. After me!” -He raced down to the beach, followed by the others, to where the boat -was hauled up, they pushed her out and, Keller steering, made through -the fairway, past the submerged rock towards the open sea. - -Not a breath of wind stirred the swell to break the shimmering -reflections of the spars and sails of the locked ships. Stem to stern -they lay, the junk spars locked in the rigging of the schooner, the -two great eyes painted on the Chinaman’s bows staring straight at the -oncoming boat. Round and about the deserted ships fins moved and grey -forms glided in the green—sharks. On the smooth water, the letters on -the counter repainted the name of the schooner, _Haliotis_. - -Keller gave the order to lay in the oars, and they came duddering -along the schooner’s side, Harman standing up. He seized one of the -stanchions of the rail and was about to hoist himself on deck when -Keller bade him stop. - -“A minit,” said Keller, “who’s to tell it’s not a trap. Claw on and -listen.” - -The cry of a far-off gull on the reefs came, and the creak and grind -of the ships’ sides as the swell lifted them. No other sound but the -occasional click of the rudder chain as the rudder of the schooner -shifted with the heave and fall of the hull. - -Then, sure of themselves, with the cry of predatory animals, they -tumbled on board, fastened up and scattered, Bud and Billy over the -decks of the schooner, Keller, led by some vulturous instinct, on to -the junk. - -“Here’s a stiff,” shouted Harman as Davis followed him forward towards -a bundle lying by the galley. “Lord, _ain’t_ he a stiff? Head split -with a hatchet. Here’s two more.” He pointed to a foot protruding from -the galley, where lay a Chink and a white man, both very stiff indeed. - -Then, turning and quite unconcerned, they came racing aft and down -through the companion-way to the little cabin. - -Here everything was quiet and trim; on the table under the swinging -lamp lay a soap dish and shaving brush and razor. Someone had been -shaving himself before the little mirror on the after bulkhead when -whatever happened had begun to happen. In the after cabin, presumably -the captain’s, the bunk bedding showed just as the sleeper had left it -when he turned out. Then they set to and rooted round, the instinct -for plunder so strong on them that they forgot Keller, the stiffs, the -tragedy and the very place where they were. - -They found a gold watch and chain which Harman put in his pocket, and -a gold ring and fountain pen which Davis promptly annexed, they found -the log, which, being written in Spanish, was useless to them, and the -ship’s money, a big chamois leather chinking bag of Australian -sovereigns. This glorious find recalled Keller. - -“Bud,” said Billy, “this h’ain’t nothing to do with _him_; hide them, -swaller them; here, give me your handkerchief and take half, tie them -up tight so’s they won’t chink. I’ll keep my lot in the bag. He won’t -guess nothin’, he’ll think the chows have cleared the place—ain’t -nothin’ more to take, is there? Then come ’long and have a squint at -the lazarette.” - -The lazarette was full of food, all sorts of canned things; then, -hearing Keller’s voice above, up they came demure as cats out of a -dairy to find the long man waving his arms like a windmill. His goatee -beard was sticking out like a brush and his eyes flaming. - -“Dope!” cried Keller. “Boys, our fortunes is made. Canton opium, blue -label tins and worth two thousand dollars if it’s worth a jitney. Kim -along down and howk them out.” He led the way on to the junk’s deck -and below to the awful interior smelling of opium, joss sticks, stale -fish and shark oil; there on the floor in the dismal twilight lay the -tins arranged by Keller in a heap. - -“I reckon,” said Keller, “the schooner either went for the chows or -the chows for the schooner. Maybe they all killed each other, or maybe -the chaps that were left took fright seein’ a cruiser or fancyin’ -one—reckon that was the way, for there ain’t no boats left, but the -dinghy. Well, it’s all a durn sea mystery, and I’ve seen queerer—but -there’s the dope, come along and hoist it.” - -They brought the tins up and over to the schooner’s deck, got a -tarpaulin and tied them up in it, and then, and not till then, took -stock of their position. The drift of the current had left the island -a good way to the south, but there it lay green, lovely and inviting, -the glassy swell pearling round the coral. - -Keller, turning from the opium tins to this picture, gazed for a -moment, his jaws working in contemplation. Then he turned to the -others. - -“Boys,” said Keller, “it’s either go back or stick. I’m for sticking, -if there’s water and grub enough on board. You see, if we take this -dope back ashore, we won’t never be able to realise on it; any ship -takin’ us off will say, ‘What’s in that bundle?’ and there won’t be no -use sayin’ it’s bibles. Whereas if we can make a port in this hooker -we can claim salvage, and leavin’ that alone we can ten to one get rid -of the dope.” - -“There’s grub enough,” said Davis, “to judge by the lazarette, and -there’s pretty sure to be enough water—two minutes will tell, but -first, let’s get those stiffs overboard. No use putting sinkers to -them, the sharks will finish them before they’ve sunk a fathom.” - -Twenty minutes later the decision was come to and the boat got on -board. - -They had found water and food enough for months, it only wanted a -breeze to break the ships apart, and Keller reckoned that the three of -them would be able to manage the schooner. Davis was a fair navigator, -the charts and compass had not been damaged or removed, and with -Matadore for a point of departure they ought to be able to reach the -Fijis. So it was settled. - -Harman, leaning on the rail when the decision was come to, fancied -that he could hear a whisper from the beach of the far-away island, -the whisper of the swell breaking on the coral where the wives of -Keller were no doubt congregated, abandoned—chucked away for the -prospect of a fistful of dollars. - -The drift of the current was so strong that before sunset Matadore had -all but vanished, washed away in the blue that stretched from infinity -to infinity, terrific in its calm. - -The Pacific slept, and the slumber of this giant when sleep takes it -in deadly earnest is more trying to the imagination than its fury and -storm, an effect produced perhaps by the heave of the endless swell -flooding up from nowhere passing to nowhere, through space and time. - -But the crew of the _Haliotis_ were not imaginative men, and they had -other calls upon their consideration. It was at the first meal on -board that the junk began to whisper of its presence. Harman had -brewed some tea, and they were seated round the table in the saloon -when Davis, looking up from his plate to the open skylight, sniffed -the air. - -“That junk whiffs,” said Davis. - -It was enough. Harman for a moment turned his head as though he was -straining to listen, and Keller glanced towards the door, then they -went on with their food, but the mischief was done and from that on -the junk was with them. - -It was not so much the badness of the smell as the faintness and the -Chinese nature of it that produced the psychological effect—it was a -scent, a perfume of which shark liver oil was the vehicle and the -occupants joss-sticks, opium and the musk of Chinks. It haunted their -sleep that night and was only dispelled when next morning Keller, who -had gone on deck, came shouting down the hatch that the wind was -coming. - -They had taken the sails off the junk the night before, finding a -hatchet—it was stained with something that was not red paint—they -hacked off the entangling spar, then, the wind coming, fortunately, on -the junk’s side, the sails of the _Haliotis_ trembled, the main boom -lashed out to port and Davis springing to the wheel turned the spokes. - -For a moment the Chinaman seemed to cling to its departing companion, -wallowed, slobbered, groaned, and with a last roll dunched in ten feet -of the starboard rail, then it drew away as the great sail pressure of -the _Haliotis_ heeled the schooner to port. - -“We’re free,” shouted Harman. - -“Hr—good riddance!” cried Keller, raising his fist as if to strike at -the departing one, now well astern, and spitting into the water as if -to get the taste of her from his mouth. - -Then, as Davis steered and the foam fled astern, the wind, taking the -high poop of the junk, slewed her round bow towards them, and showing -the great staring, malignant eyes. It was actually as if she had -turned to watch them. - -“Look at her!” cried Billy, “turnin’ her snout to watch us; she’ll -follow us now sure as certain, we won’t have no luck now, we’ll be had -somehow or ’nuther, and maybe over that dope! Bud, where was your -brains you didn’t think of holin’ and sinkin’ her? Why, if it ain’t -anything else we can be had for leavin’ her a-floatin’ derelick and a -danger to navigation.” - -“Oh, shut up,” said Davis, “you and your derelicts.” - -The _Haliotis_ was a schooner of some hundred and twenty tons, and -three men can work a schooner of a hundred and twenty tons across big -tracts of ocean if they have fine weather, if they have no fear, if -they don’t bother to keep a look-out or attend to the hundred and -twenty little duties of ordinary ship life. Harman, Bud and Keller -filled this bill admirably. The wind changing and blowing from the -sou’-east, they ran before it, ran with no man at the wheel, wheel -lashed, head sheets taut, mainboom guyed to port, and never a mishap. - -They ought to have gone to the bottom, you say; they ought, but they -didn’t. The wind changed instead, for the Paumotus, though far to the -eastward, still reached them with their disturbing spell breeding -unaccountable influence on wind and weather. - -Harman had counted up the sovereigns in the chamois leather bag—there -were a hundred and twelve. In a private conference with Davis below, -Keller taking the deck and the wheel, he settled up with Davis. - -“Better split the money now,” said Harman, “hundred and twelve I’ve -got, what’s your?” - -“Ninety,” said Davis promptly. - -Harman was shocked. He’d reckoned that Davis’s share was bigger than -his own or he wouldn’t have been so eager to settle up. - -“Count ’em,” said he. - -Davis produced the knotted handkerchief and counted the contents. -There were only ninety unless he had subtracted and hidden some, as -seemed probable, for at the rough division when they had split the -coins into two supposedly equal shares, Davis’s had seemed the bigger. - -Harman, pretty sure of this, felt sore; certain of coming out equal in -the deal he had run straight. However, he settled up without a murmur -and pocketed the bag in a hurry, hearing Keller’s voice calling for -Davis to take the wheel. - -Though it was a Spanish ship, to judge by the log, not a single -Spanish or French coin was included in the ship’s money, indicating -that her trade had been British; papers other than the log there were -none; perhaps the skipper had them on his person when the Chinks had -killed him and hove him to the sharks—no one could tell, and the -Harman syndicate didn’t bother. - -They had other things to think of. One morning when all three were on -deck, Keller having come up to relieve Harman at the wheel, the -latter, who had been turning things over in his mind, gave it as his -opinion that the position might be pretty rocky if on striking the -Fijis “one of them d——d British brass-bound Port Authority chaps” -were to turn rusty on the business. “Suppose we run for Suva,” said -he, “and suppose they say we don’t believe your yarn? That’s what’s -got into my head. Would anyone believe it? I ask you that, would -anyone believe it?” - -The others, suddenly struck by this point of view, ruminated for a -moment. No. The thing was true enough, but it didn’t sound true. They -had lifted the hatch during the calm and found the cargo to be copra. -What was a copra schooner doing seized on to a Chinaman, everyone dead -and all the rest of it? Stranger happenings had occurred at sea, ships -found derelict with not a soul on board, yet in perfect order—but -that was no explanation or support for a yarn that seemed too tough -for an alligator to swallow. - -Then there was the opium—suspicion meant search, and those cans of -opium would not help them any; on top of all there was the money in -the pockets of Bud and Billy, money that even Keller knew nothing -about, but sure to be found on search. - -“We ain’t nothing to show,” said Harman. “We should have kept one of -them Chinks for evidence.” - -“And how’d we have kept him?” said Davis, “put him in your bunk -maybe—Why haven’t you more sense?” - -“I’ve got it, boys,” said Keller, turning suddenly from the lee rail -where he had been leaning. “Suva—nothin’. Opalu’s our port of call, -ain’t more than four hundred miles to the north if our reckonin’s -right. Big German island where the pearl chaps come for doing business -and the Chinks and Malays fr’m as far as Java and beyond there. _Rao -Laut’s_ the name the Malays give it. Faked pearls and poached pearls -and dope, it’s all the same to them—they’d buy the huffs an’ horns -off Satan and sell ’em as goat’s. There’s nothin’ you couldn’t sell -them but bibles, and there’s nothin’ you could sell them they can’t -pass on through some ring or another. I tell you it’s a place, must -have been plum crazy not to have thought of it before.” - -“And suppose they ask questions?” said Billy. - -“They never ask questions at Rao Laut,” said Keller. “If there happens -to be a doctor there, he comes aboard to see you haven’t smallpox. If -there isn’t, he doesn’t.” - -Keller was right, the big German island was the spot of spots for -them. They wanted no seaboard ports, no big island ports where English -was talked and questions were sure to be asked. Salving a derelict in -the Pacific means months and maybe years waiting for your salvage -money, especially if she is a foreigner, that is to say anything that -hails from anywhere that is not the British Empire or America. They -did not want to wait months or years, their lives were spent in the -grip of events, and in even a month it was hard to say where any one -of them might be from Hull to Hakodate. No, they did not reckon on -salvage money, and they did not want inquiries. They would have piled -her on the Bishop, that great rock right in their track and south of -Laut, only for the dope. It was impossible to bring those tins into -any port in an open boat. - -At Laut it would be easy to get the stuff landed in one of the canoes -or sampans always plying in the bay—the only question was a buyer, -and Keller said he would easily find that. - -The first they knew of the island was a perfume of cassi coming -through a dawn that having lazily snuffed out a star or two, simply -leapt on the sea; a crimson and old gold dawn trailed with a smoke -cloud like the fume of joss-sticks, cloud that broke to form flying -flamingoes that were shot to pieces by sunrays from a sun bursting up -into a world of stainless azure. - -The island lay right before them, a high island with broken reefs to -east and west and clear water all to the south, where beyond the -anchorage and the beach lay the town wherein the four copra traders of -Laut carried on their trade and the Japanese and Chinese pearl -merchants and the Australian and Californian turtle shell buyers -foregathered at the so-called club kept by Hans Reichtbaum. - -In the bay were two schooners, a brigantine and some small craft at -moorings, and somewhere about nine o’clock the _Haliotis_, moving like -a swan across the breeze-ruffled blue, dropped her anchor in twenty -fathoms, a far faint echo from the woods following the rasp of her -chain. - -That was all the welcome Rao Laut gave her when Reichtbaum, in -pyjamas, shading his eyes on the club veranda, watched her swing to -her moorings and returned to his breakfast wondering what sort of -customers the newcomers would turn out. - -It was their second night at Laut, and Bud and Billy leaning on the -after rail of the _Haliotis_ were contemplating the lights on shore. A -tepid wind from the sea fanned their cheeks and against the wind the -island breathed at them like a bouquet. - -In two days they had taken the measure of the place and plumbed its -resources, and the brain of Keller working swiftly and true to form -had rejected all possible avenues for opium trade but one—Reichtbaum. - -At the first sight of the German, Keller’s instinct had told him that -here was his man. - -Keller had no money to spend on drinks at the club, and it was -Harman’s torture that, with his pocket bulging with gold, he could not -lay out a cent, but Reichtbaum had stood drinks yesterday, scenting -business from a few words dropped by Keller. - -This evening at sundown Keller had gone alone, taking a single can of -opium with him and rowing himself ashore in the dinghy. Bud and Billy -were waiting for his return. They saw the lights of the club and the -lights of the village winking and blinking, as the intervening foliage -stirred in the wind, then on the starlit water they saw a streak like -the trail of a water-rat. It was the dinghy. - -Keller came on board triumphant and without the tin. Not a word would -he say till they were down below, then, taking his seat at the saloon -table, he let himself go. - -“Look at me,” said he, “sober, ain’t I? Fit to thread a needle or say -‘J’rus’lem artichoke,’ don’t you think? And he fired the stuff at me, -rum an’ gum and coloured drinks and fizz at the last, but I wasn’t -havin’ any, bisness is bisness, I says, and I ain’t playin’ a lone -hand, I’ve pardners to think of, ‘Plain Sailin’ Jim’s’ my name, and if -you don’t pay two hundred dollars a tin I’ll plain sail off an’ dump -the stuff out.” - -“Two hundred dollars!” said the others in admiration. “You had the -cheek to ask him that?” - -“That’s so,” replied Keller, “and I got it.” He produced notes for two -hundred dollars and spread them on the table. - -“He opened the stuff and sampled it and planked the money down, and -two hundred dollars he’ll pay for every can, and there’s fourteen of -them left, that’s three thousand dollars for the lot. We’ve only to -take them ashore to get the money. Well now, seems to me since that’s -fixed, we have to think what to do with the schooner. We don’t want to -sit here in this b’nighted hole twiddlin’ our thumbs and waitin’ to be -took off, more especial as I don’t trust Reichtbaum any too much, and -it seems to me our plan is to stick to the hooker and take her right -to a Dutch port and sell the cargo, copra prices are rangin’ high——” - -“Steady on,” suddenly cut in Harman. “Why, you said yourself we -couldn’t take her to any port, seein’ we have no papers but what’s -made out in Spanish, and no crew.” - -“Just so,” said Keller. “It was the crew that was botherin’ me more -than the papers, but how about a crew of Kanakas now we have the money -to pay for them?” - -Davis hit the table with his fist. “By Gosh, there’s something in -that,” said he. - -“M’r’over,” said Keller, “I can get six chaps for five dollars ahead -advance. There’s more’n half a dozen schooner Kanakas kickin’ their -heels on the beach waitin’ for a job. I can get them on board -to-morrow, and all the fruit and water we want for ten dollars to the -chaps that bring it on board. Then, you see, a copra schooner comin’ -into a Dutch port manned by Kanakas there won’t be no bother. Dutchmen -don’t know Spanish, nor they won’t care, we’re in from the islands, -and we’ve left our Spanish chaps sick at Laut—if there’s any -questions, which there won’t be.” - -“When can we be off?” asked Harman. - -“To-morrow afternoon, if we’re slick about gettin’ the water and -bananas on board,” said Keller. “Then when we’re all ready for sailin’ -we’ll take the dope cans to Reichtbaum and get the money. We won’t do -that till last thing, for fear he’d play us some trick or another. I’m -none too sure of Germans.” - -Next morning at six the work began, Davis and Harman going ashore to -hire the Kanakas and see about the water and provisions, Keller -remaining on board to clear up the ship and get the fo’c’sle in order. - -Boat-loads of fruit were brought off, the newly hired Kanakas helping, -enough bananas to feed them for a month, taro, bread-fruit and a dozen -fowl in a crate, price three dollars. The water casks were filled, and -by four o’clock, with the promise of a steady wind off shore, the -_Haliotis_, with canvas raised, was ready to sail and the crew on -board. - -Keller had brought up the opium tins in their tarpaulin wrapper. - -“Be sure and count over the dollars,” said he to Davis, as the cans -were lowered into the dinghy, “and don’t take no drinks from him—if -he gets you on the booze, we’re done.” - -“Him and his booze,” said Harman, as they shoved off. “Same as if -we’re childer——. Lay into it, Bud.” - -The nose of the dinghy grounded on the soft sand, some native boys -helped to run her up, and getting the cans out, they started up the -beach towards the club. - -It was a heavy load, but they managed the journey without stopping; -Reichtbaum was waiting for them on the veranda and, lending a hand, -they brought the treasure through the bar into a private room at the -back, a room furnished with native made chairs and tables, a roll-top -desk and a portrait of the German Emperor on the wall opposite the -window. - -“So,” said Reichtbaum, “that is accomplished. And now, gentlemen, what -will you have to drink?” - -“Highball for me,” said Harman, “if it’s all the same to you. What’s -yours, Bud?” - -“Same as yours,” said Davis, wiping his mouth with the back of his -hand, and then these worthies sat whilst Reichtbaum went into the bar -and returned with a syphon of soda and a whisky bottle and then went -out again and returned with three glasses, and then fishing a -cigar-box from a shelf, handed out cigars. - -The syphon whizzed and the fumes of tobacco rose. - -Two highballs vanished, and nearly half an hour of precious time sped -with conversation, ranging from the German Emperor to the morals of -the ladies of Laut. - -Then Davis turned to reality. “S’pose we get on with this business of -the dope,” said he. “Three thousand dollars it was, Mr. Keller was -saying—and we ought to be going.” - -He rose from his chair. - -“To be sure,” said Reichtbaum, rising also. “Three thousand dollars -vas agreed. Now for der dope.” - -He took a clasp-knife from his pocket, knelt down and cut the rope -binding the tarpaulin, rooted it open, put in his hand and produced a -tin of bully beef. He flung the tarpaulin wide and tins tumbled out on -the floor, canned tomatoes mostly—there was a large stock of them on -the _Haliotis_. Bud and Billy, petrified with amazement as Reichtbaum -himself, stood without a word, till Harman found speech. - -“Boys, we’re done,” cried Harman. “Fried and dished by Keller.” He -turned, made for the door and rushed through the bar on to the -veranda. - -The _Haliotis_ with swelled sails and steered by “Plain Sailin’ Jim” -and his new Kanaka crew was not only at sea, but far at sea; she had -dropped her anchor chain most likely directly they had vanished into -the club, or maybe even she had taken the anchor in, Keller cynically -sure that falling to drinks, they would hear nothing of the winch. - -“Well, it might have been worse,” said Bud that night as they sat -smoking on the beach. “He’s got the dope and the cargo and the ship -and the crew, but we ain’t destitute. We’ve got the sovereigns. But -what gets me is the fact that he’ll net all of ten thousand dollars -when he’s sold off that copra and the opium, to say nothing of the -hull. Maybe twenty thousand. Oh, he’ll do it and strand those poor -devils of Kanakas Lord knows where.” - -Harman took out the watch belonging to the captain of the _Haliotis_ -from his pocket, and looked at it gloomily. Then as a child comforts -itself with its toys, he took the chamois leather bag of sovereigns -from his pocket and began to count over the coins. - -“I’m not botherin’ about that,” said he, “what gets me, is the fac’ -that he’s run crooked with us.” - -Davis, looking at the coins and remembering the watch and fountain -pen, to say nothing of the coins in his own pocket, smiled darkly. He -was about to remark that if Keller had run crooked with them, they had -run pretty crooked with Keller, but knowing the mentality of his -companion, he saved his breath and lit his pipe. - -“That’s what gets me,” said Billy, serious as a deacon and evidently -brooding over the sins of the other and shovelling the sovereigns back -into the bag, “it ain’t the dope he’s diddled us out of, nor the -schooner, which I hopes he’ll bust on a rock, him and his Kanakas, -it’s the fac’ that he’s took me in, in my opinions. I reckoned that -chap was a white man, I’d a trusted that man with my second last -dollar and wouldn’t have wanted to tie no string to it, neither. -Outspoken and free he was with his conversation and hidin’ and holin’ -in his ways—’nough to make a chap bank for the rest of his natural on -hearses an’ deaf mutes. That’s how I’m feelin’. No, sir, it ain’t the -dope he’s diddled us out of, nor the——” - -“Oh, shut up,” said Davis, and turning on his side and lighting his -pipe, he led the conversation towards the club, the excellence of its -whisky and the morals of the ladies of Laut. - - - - -VI—PEARLS OF GREAT PRICE! - - -Mambaya is a French island. - -Fancy a white French gunboat in a blue, blue bay, surf creaming on a -new moon beach, and a coloured town tufted with flame trees and gum -trees and rocketing palms. Purple mountains in the dazzling azure and -a perfume of red earth and roses mixed with the perfume of the sea. - -Paumotuan pearl getters haunt Mambaya, brown-skinned men who have been -diving half a year or have captured in half a day the wherewithal for -a spree, and on the beach when a ship comes in you will find the -Chinese pearl buyers waiting for the pearl men, cigar coloured girls -with liquid brown eyes, the keeper of the roulette table in Mossena -Street and Fouqui, the seller of oranges, pines, bananas and custard -fruit. - -But Mambaya does not exist entirely on pearls. The island is rich in -produce and it is a beauty spot. Great white yachts drop in and -anchor, steamers bring tourists, and on this same lovely beach where -they used to boil local missionaries in the old days, you can hear the -band playing at night in the Place Canrobert, where the two hotels are -situated and where at marble-topped tables the tourists are taking -their coffee and liqueurs. - -From the island of Laut away down south where the bad men live, came -one day to the beach of Mambaya two men of the sea, ragged and tanned, -with their pockets stuffed with gold and hungering for pleasure—Bud -Davis and Billy Harman, no less. - -A big Moonbeam copra boat had given them the lift for the sum of four -pounds each, paid in bright Australian sovereigns, but she could not -supply them with clothes. However, a Jew who came on board as soon as -the anchor was dropped, saved them the indignity of being fired off -the beach by the French authorities, and, landing in spotless white -ducks, they strung for the nearest bar, swallowed two highballs, lit -two cigars and came out wiping their mouths with the backs of their -hands. - -“By golly,” said Billy, “ain’t this prime, Bud? Look at the place, why -it’s half as big as ’Frisco, innocent lookin’ as Mary Ann and only -sufferin’ to be scooped or painted red.” - -They were in the Place Canrobert where the flame trees grow, where the -Kanaka children play naked in the sun and the shops expose faked -Island headdresses and curios, imitation jewellery from Paris, canned -salmon and Paris hats. The natives of Mambaya are well-to-do and spend -their money freely; they are paid in dollars, not trade goods, and -have a lively fancy and catholic taste. - -“If you’re starting on the painting business,” said Bud, “then give me -notice and I’ll take myself off to the woods till you’re done, but -I’ll warn you this is no place for painters and decorators. It’s a -French Island and you’ll end your jag with a month in the cells or -road-making.” - -“What you wants is a tub and a prayer book,” said the other, taking -his seat at a table in front of the Café Continental and calling for -lime juice. - -“Who was talkin’ of jags, and can’t a chap use a figure of speech -without your jumpin’ down his throat? No, sir, scoopin’ is my idea. -Here we are with our pockets full and our teeth sharp, and if we don’t -pull off a coup in this smilin’ town where the folks are only standin’ -about waitin’ to be took in, why we’d better take to knittin’ for a -livin’, that’s my opinion.” - -A pretty native girl, all chocolate and foulard, passed, trailing her -eyes over the pair at the table; she wore bangles on her arms and was -carrying a basket of fruit. - -“There you are,” said Harman, “if the native ‘Marys’ can dress like -that, what price the top folk? I tell you the place is rotten with -money only waitin’ to be took. Question is, how?” - -Davis did not answer for a moment, he was watching an opulent looking -American tourist in white drill who had just left the Island -headdress shop across the way. The tourist opened a white umbrella -with a green inside and passed away towards the sea. - -“No-how,” said Davis, “unless you set to work and open a shop or -something, you can’t skin a town like this same as a pearl lagoon. If -you want money here, you’ll have to work blame hard for it buying and -selling against chaps that are bred to the business better than -you—that’s civilisation.” - -“Dam civilisation!” said Harman. - -“Unless,” continued Davis, “you can fake up some swindle or -another——” - -“Nothin’——” said Harman, “I’m agin that sort of game as you ought to -know, seein’ you know me. No, sir, I don’t want no first class ticket -to Noumea. Straight as a gun barrel is what I want to run, but I’ve no -objections to putting a few slugs in the gun. It’s just crawlin’ into -my head that a syndicate is what we want.” - -“And what the devil do you want a syndicate for?” asked Davis. - -“Well, it’s this way,” said Billy. “A matter of ten years or so ago in -the ’Frisco elections, I was in with Haffernan, Slungshot Haffernan, -the chap that was tried for the killin’ of Duffy Stevens at San -Leandro which he did, but got off owin’ to an alibi. Well, I’m tellin’ -you. My job was fillin’ the ’lectors with gin an’ gettin’ them to the -polls before they’d lost the use of their pins and swearin’ false -evidence and such on, which wasn’t what a chap would do only in -’lection times. - -“Well, a month or so after, Haffernan he got up a syndicate to run a -guano island he’d got the location of and which wasn’t there, and I -put fifty dollars into it and fifty other mugs did ditto and Haff -pouched the coin and turned it over to his wife and went bankrupt or -somethin’, anyhow he had the coin and we were left blowin’ our -fingers. Now you listen to me. How about that pearl island Mandelbaum -kicked us off? We’ve got the location. How about sellin’ it to a -syndicate?” - -“Where’s your syndicate?” - -“I don’t know,” said Billy, “but it seems to me it’s to be found for -lookin’ in a place like this where you see chaps like that guy with -the white umbrella. I saw his Siamese twin on the beach when we landed -with a diamond the size of a decanter stopper in his shirt front and -that Jew chap that sold us the clothes told me there’s no end of -Americans come here rotten with money, to say nothing of Britishers.” - -“Well,” said Davis, “even supposing you get your syndicate, what about -Mandelbaum? He’s got a lease of the island and would hoof you and your -syndicate into the sea if you showed a nose in the lagoon.” - -“He said he had a lease,” replied Harman, “but he never showed a line -of writin’ and I believe he was a liar, but I wasn’t proposin’ to go -there, only to sell the location; if he hoofs the syndicate into the -sea, why, it’s their look-out. If they ain’t fools they’ll hoof him in -first, lease or no lease, and collar the pearls he’s been takin’.” - -“What I like about you is your consistency,” said Davis. - -“What’s that?” asked Harman. - -“The way you stick to your guns. You’re always preaching that it’s -best to run straight and then you turn up an idea like that. Nice -straight sort of business, isn’t it?” - -“As straight as a gun barrel,” said Harman enthusiastically. “You -can’t be had no how, not by all the lawyers from here to Oskosh. -Y’see, if chaps are mugs enough to pay coin down for a location you’re -free to take their coin. That’s good United States law. I had it from -Lawyer Burstall when we got stung over the Haffernan business. He’s a -toughs’ lawyer, long thin chap, not enough fat on him to grease the -hinges of a pair of scissors, and cute enough to skin Jim Satan if he -got a fair grip of his tail.” - -“Maybe,” said Davis, “anyhow before you start in on any of your games, -we’ve got to get lodgings. I’m not going to fling my coin away on one -of these hotel sharps and we’ve got to get some dunnage to show up -with. That Jew chap told me where we could get rooms cheap, last house -end of town on right-hand side and with a big tree fern in the -garden.” - -Living is cheap in Mambaya, where people mostly subsist on coco-nut -milk and fried bananas, where you can get a hundred eggs for half a -dollar and a chicken for a quarter. If you are an æsthete you can -almost live on the scenery alone, on the sun, on the unutterably blue -sky that roofs you between the rains. But Billy and his companion had -little use for scenery, and after a week of lounging on the beach, -wandering about the town and watching the natives surf bathing off -Cape Huane, life began to pall on them. - -They were not fools enough to drink, and if they had been, the bar of -the Café Continental, white-painted, cold, correct, served by a -white-coated bar tender who could talk nothing but Bêche-de-mer -French, would have choked them off. There was not the ghost of a sign -of a syndicate to be developed, nor of trade of any sort to be done. - -They visited the roulette shop, where the keeper of the table allowed -them to win some forty dollars which they promptly departed with, -never to return. - -“We’ve skinned the cream off that,” said Davis next morning as they -lay smoking and kicking their heels on the sand, “and there’s not -another pan of milk about. You see, we’re handicapped not talking -French. Like cats in a larder with muzzles on—that’s about the size -of it.” - -Harman assented. He took from his pocket the bag that held his money, -nearly a hundred bright brass-yellow Australian sovereigns. They were -on a secluded part of the beach with no one within eye-shot, and he -amused himself by counting the coins and stacking them in little piles -on the sand. - -Then he swept the coins back into the bag and sat up as Davis pointed -seaward to where, rounding Cape Huane, came a white-painted steamer, -the mail boat for Papeete and beyond. - -The whoop of her siren lashed the sleepy air and brought echoes from -the woods and a quarter of a minute later a far-off whoop from the -echoes in the hills, then down from the town and groves the beach -began to stream with people. Kanaka children racing for the sea edge -and fruit sellers with their baskets, girls fluttering foulard to the -breeze and Kanaka bucks, naked but for a loin-cloth; then came white -folk, Aaronson, the Jew, and the keeper of the Hôtel Continental, -officials and a stray Chinaman or two. - -Neither Bud nor Billy stirred a limb till the rasp of the anchor chain -came over the water, then getting up, they strolled down to the -water’s edge and stood, hands in pockets, watching the shore boats -putting out, boats laden with fruit, and canoes with naked Kanaka -children ready to dive for coppers. - -Then the ship’s boat came ashore with mails and passengers. - -“Ain’t much sign of a syndicate here, neither,” said Harman, as he -stood criticising the latter, mostly male tourists of the heavy -globe-trotting type and American women with blue veils and guide -books. “It’s the old mail-boat crowd that’s been savin’ up for a -holiday for the last seven year an’s got so in the habit of savin’, -it’s forgot how to spend. I know them. Been on a mail boat once; -haven’t you ever been on a mail boat, Bud? Then you don’t know nothin’ -about nothin’. Half the crew is stewards and half the officers is -dancin’ masters to judge by the side of them, and the blessed cargo is -duds like them things landin’ now.” - -He turned on his heel and led the way back towards the town. - -As they drew along towards it, one of the passengers, a young, smart -and natty individual carrying an imitation crocodile-skin handbag, -overtook them, and Harman, greatly exercised in his mind by the bag, -struck up a conversation. - -“Air you goin’ to reside in this town, stranger?” asked Mr. Harman. - -“Eight hours,” replied the stranger, “boat starts at eight p.m. -Smart’s my name, and smart’s my nature, and not being Methuselah, I -find time an object in life. What, may I ask, is the population of -this town, air there any opportunities on this island and what’s the -condition, in your experience, of the luxury trades—may I ask?” - -“Dunno,” said Harman, “ain’t been here long enough to find out.” - -“I got landed to prospect,” went on the other, “I’m trading—trading -in pearls. O.K. pearls. Wiseman and Philips is our house and our -turnover is a million dollars in a year. Yes, sir, one million -dollars. From Athabasca to Mexico City the females of forty-two states -and two territories cough up one million dollars a year for personal -adornment, and Wiseman and Philips does the adorning. I’m travelling -the islands now. Well, here’s a hotel—and good day to you, -gentlemen.” - -He dived into the Continental and Harman and Davis walked on. - -“Well,” said the intrigued Harman, “it sorter makes one feel alive, -comin’ in touch with chaps like that—notice the bag he was carryin’, -looked as if the hide’d been taken off a cow that’d been skeered to -death. I’ve seen them sort of bags before on passenger ships, and they -always belonged to nobs. That was a sure enough panama he was wearin’, -and did you notice the di’mond ring on his finger?” - -“He’s a damn fish-scale jewellery drummer,” said Davis, “out to sell -dud pearls and save five dollars a week out of his travelling -allowance, notice he never offered to stand drinks? The earth’s -crawling with the likes of him, selling servant girls everything from -dud watches to dummy gramophones.” - -But Harman was not listening, the million-dollar turnover, the -imitation crocodile skin bag and the sure enough panama hat had seized -on his imagination. - -It suddenly seemed to him that he had missed his chance, that here was -the nucleus of the syndicate he wanted, a sharp, sure-enough American -with a big company behind him and lots of money to burn. He said so, -and Davis laughed. - -“Now get it into your head you won’t do more than waste your time with -chaps like those,” said he. “Of course, they’ve got the money, but -even if you could get to their offices and deal with them instead of -their two-cent drummer, where’d you be? Do you mean to say you’d have -any chance with these sharps, trying to sell a dud proposition to -them? Why, when they’d took out your back teeth to see if there was -any gold in them and stripped you to your pants, you wouldn’t have -done with them, you’d be stuck for an atlas of the world, or maybe a -piano organ on the instalment plan, givin’ them sixty per cent. on the -takings and a mortgage on the monkey. You get me? Sometimes you’re -sharp enough, but once your wits get loose, it’s away with you. This -chap isn’t any use—forget him.” - -But Harman scarcely heard. - -If they had turned on their tracks they might have seen Smart, who, -after a drink at the bar of the hotel, had started out to visit the -shops, more especially those likely to push the sale of O.K. pearls -and North Pole diamonds—a side line. - -At half-past four that afternoon Harman—Davis having gone -fishing—found himself in the Continental bar. The place was empty, -and Billy was in the act of paying and taking his departure when in -came Smart. - -“Hullo,” said Harman. “Have a drink?” - -They drank. Highballs first of all, and then, at the suggestion of -Billy, who paid for drinks the whole of that afternoon, hopscotches, -which are compounded of Bourbon, crushed ice, lemon peel, _parfait -amour_ and a crystallised cherry. - -At the second hopscotch the tongue of Smart was loosened and his words -began to flow. - -“Well, I reckon there’s not much to the town,” said Smart, “but it’s -an oleograph for scenery and pictooresqueness; with a pier for landing -and a bathing beach where all that fishermen’s truck and those canoes -are, it would beat a good many places on the islands that don’t think -five cents of themselves. I’ve been pushing the name of Wiseman and -Philips into the ears of all and sundry that has got ears to hear -with, but all such places as these is only seeds by the way. Chicago -is our main crop an’ Noo York, after that Pittsburg, and we’re feeling -for London, England. - -“We’ve agents in Paris and Madrid that aren’t asleep, and Wiseman says -before he dies he’ll put a rope of pearls round Mother Earth, and a -North Pole di’mond tiara on her old head. Yes, sir. (Third hopscotch.) -That’s what Wiseman says in his office and my hearing, and Philips, he -helps run the luxury and fake leather sundry department, he said he’d -fit her out with O de Nile coloured croc leather boots and a vanity -bag of stamped lizard skin if the sales went on jumping as they were -going, which was more like Klondike stuffed with the Arabian nights -than any sales proposition he had ever heard, seen, dreamt or read of. -Sales! (_hic_) as sure as there’s two cherries in this glass I’m -holding, my orders booked in Chicago for pearls ending Christmas Day -last was over one hundred thousand dollars. One hundred thousand -dollars. But you haven’t seen our projuce.” - -He bent, picked up his bag, fumbled in it and produced a box and from -the box a gorgeous pearl necklace. - -“Feel of those,” said Smart, “weigh them, look at ’em, look at the -grading, look at the style, look at the lustre and brilliancy. Could -Tiffany beat them for twenty thousand dollars? No, sir, he couldn’t; -they leave him way behind.” - -The dazzled Harman weighed the rope in his hand and returned it. - -“Don’t be showin’ them sort of things in bars,” said he, as the other -closed the box with a hiccup and replaced it in the bag, “but now -you’ve showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” - -“Pull ’em out,” said the other, picking up his hat, which he had -dropped in stooping. - -“They ain’t here,” said Harman, “it’s only the knowledge of them I’ve -got. Stranger, ’s sure as I’m lightin’ this cigar, I know a lagoon in -an island down south where you can dredge up pearls same as them by -the fist full.” - -“It must be a dam’ funny lagoon,” said the other, with a cynical -laugh. - -Harman agreed. It was the funniest place he’d ever struck, he told the -story of it at length and at large, and how Mandelbaum had kicked him -and Davis off the atoll and how it only wanted a few bright chaps to -hire a schooner and go down and do the same to Mandelbaum and take his -pearls. He assured Smart that he—Harman—was his best friend, and -wrote the latitude and longitude of the pearl island down on the back -of a glossy business card of the drummer’s, but it did not much -matter, as he wrote it all wrong. - -Then, all of a sudden, he was out of the bar and walking with Smart -among palm trees. Then he was in the native village which lies at the -back of the town, and they were drinking kava at the house of old -Nadub, the kava seller, who was once a cannibal and boasted of the -fact—kava after hopscotches!—and Smart was seated with his arm round -the waist of Maiala, Nadub’s daughter, and they were both smoking the -same cigar alternately and laughing. Nadub was laughing, the whole -world was laughing. - -Then Mr. Harman found himself home, trying to explain to Davis that he -had sold the pearl location to Smart, who was going to marry Nadub’s -daughter, also the beauty of true love, and the fact that he could not -unlace his boots. - -“A nice object _you_ made of yourself last night,” said Davis next -morning, standing by the mat bed where Harman was stretched, a jar of -water beside him. “You and that two-cent drummer! What were you up to, -anyway?” - -Harman took a pull at the jar, put his hand under his pillow and made -sure that his money was safe, and then lay back. - -“Up to—where?” asked Harman, feebly. - -“Where? Why, back in the native town. You left that chap there, and -the purser of the mail boat had to beat the place for him and get four -roustabouts ashore to frog-march him to the ship.” - -“I dunno,” said Harman, “I got along with him in a bar, and we sat -havin’ drinks, them drinks they serve at the Continental—Lord, Bud, I -never want to see another cherry again, nor sniff another drop of -Bourbon. I’m on the water-wagon for good and all. It ain’t worth it; -I’m feelin’ worse than a Methodis’ parson. I’m no boozer, but if I do -strike the jagg by accident, my proper feelin’s pay me out. It’s not a -headache, it’s the feelin’ as if a chapel minister was sittin’ on my -chest, and I’d never get him off. Give’s my pants.” - -He rose, dressed, and went out. Down on the beach the sea breeze -refreshed Mr. Harman, and life began to take a rosier colour. He sat -on the sand, and taking the chamois leather bag from his pocket, -counted the coins in it. - -The fun of the day before had cost him ten pounds! - -Ten pounds—fifty dollars—for what? Three or four drinks, it did not -seem more, and a tongue like an old brown shoe. He moralised on these -matters for a while, and then returning the coins to the bag and the -bag to his pocket, he rose up and strolled back through the town, -buying a drinking nut from the old woman at the corner of the Place -Canrobert and refreshing himself with its contents. - -Then he wandered in the groves near the native village, and two hours -later, Davis, seated under the trees of the Place Canrobert and -reading a San Francisco paper, which the purser of the mail boat had -left behind in the bar of the Continental, saw Harman approaching. - -Harman had evidently got the chapel minister off his chest, his chin -was up, and his eyes bright. He sat down beside the other, laughed, -slapped himself on the right knee and expectorated. - -“What’s up?” said Davis. - -“Nothin’,” said Harman. “Nothin’ I can tell you about at the minute. -Say, Bud, ain’t you feelin’ it’s time we took the hook up and pushed? -Ain’t nothin’ more to be done here, seems to me, and I’ve got a plan.” - -“What’s your plan?” asked Davis. - -“Well, it’s more’n a plan. I’ve been thinkin’ quick and come to the -conclusion that we’ve got to get out of here, pronto, get me? More’n -that, we’ve got to make for Rarotambu, that’s the German island -between here and Papeete.” - -“Why the deuce d’you want to go there?” asked Davis. - -“There’s money waitin’ for us there,” replied Harman, “and I don’t -want to touch at no French island.” - -Davis put his paper behind him and filled a pipe. He knew that when -Harman had one of his mysterious fits on, there was sure to be -something behind it, some rotten scheme or another too precious to be -disclosed till ripe. But he was willing enough to leave Mambaya and -made no objections. - -“How are you going to get down to Rarotambu,” he asked, “s’posing we -decide to go?” - -“I’ve worked out that,” said Harman. “You know that copra schooner -that’s been filling up in the bay? She’s off to ’Frisco, touching at -Papeete, leavin’ to-night. Wayzegoose, he’s her skipper, I met him ten -minutes ago when I was workin’ out my plans, and he’ll turn aside for -us and drop us at Rarotambu for two hundred dollars, passage money.” - -“Not me,” said Davis. “Him and his old cockroach trap, why, I’d get a -passage on the mail boat for a hundred dollars.” - -“Maybe,” said Harman, “but I don’t want no mail boats nor no Papeetes, -neither. What are you kickin’ at? I’ll pay.” - -“Well, I’ll come along if you’re set on it,” said Bud, “but I’m hanged -if I see your drift. What’s the hurry, anyhow?” - -“Never you mind that,” replied Harman, “there’s hurry enough if you -knew. There’s a cable from here to Papeete, ain’t there?” - -“Yep.” - -“Well never you mind the hurry till we’re clear of this place. Put -your trust in your Uncle Billy, and he’ll pull you through. You’ve -laughed at me before for messin’ deals, said I’d no sort of headpiece -to work a traverse by myself, didn’t you? Well, wait and you’ll see, -and if it’s not ‘God bless you, Billy, and give us a share of the -luck’ when we get to Rarotambu, my name’s not Harman.” - -“Maybe,” said Davis, “and maybe not. I’m not likely to forget that -ambergris you fooled me out of with your plans, nor the dozen times -you’ve let me down one way or another, but I tell you this, Billy -Harman, it’s six cuts with a rope’s end over your sternpost I’ll hand -you if you yank me out of this place on any wild goose chase.” - -“I’ll take ’em,” chuckled Harman. “Joyful, but there ain’t no geese in -this proposition, nothin’ but good German money, and when you’re down -on your knees thankin’ me, you’ll remember your words.” - -“Oh, get on,” said Davis, and taking the newspaper again, he began to -read, Harman making over for the Continental and a gin and bitters. - -The _Manahangi_ was a schooner of two hundred tons, built in 1874 for -the sandal wood trade and looking her age. Wayzegoose fitted his ship. -His scarecrow figure appeared at the port rail as the boat containing -Billy and Bud came alongside and he dropped the ladder himself for -them. - -They had scarcely touched the deck when the Kanakas clapped on to the -winch, the anchor chain was hove short, the sails set and then, as the -anchor came home, the _Manahangi_, in the gorgeous light of late -afternoon, leant over to the breeze, the blue water widened to the -shore and the old schooner, ageworn but tight as a cobnut, lifted to -the swell of the Pacific. - -Harman at the after rail gazed on the island scenery as it fell -astern, heaved a sigh of relief and turned to Davis. - -“Well, there ain’t no cables can catch us now,” said he. “We’re out -and clear with money left in our pockets and twenty thousand dollars -to pick up right in front of us like corn before chickens.” - -Wayzegoose, having got his ship out, went down below for a drink, -leaving the deck to the Kanaka bo’sun and the fellow at the wheel, and -finding themselves practically alone, Harman lifted up his voice and -chortled. - -“I’ll tell you now,” he said, “I’ll tell you, now we’re out—that chap -was robbed by the Kanakas. You remember sayin’ that he was shoutin’ he -was robbed as they was frog-marchin’ him to the ship—he spoke the -truth.” - -“Did you rob him, then?” asked Davis suspiciously. - -“Now I’ll tell you. Him and me was sittin’ drinkin’ at that bar most -of the afternoon when out he pulls pearls from that bag of his, pearls -maybe worth thirty thousand dollars.” - -“Where the blazes did he get them from?” asked Davis. - -“Out of that bag, I’m tellin’ you, and right in front of the Kanaka -bar-tender. ‘Put them things away,’ I says, ‘and don’t be showin’ them -in bars,’ but not he, he was too full of Bourbon and buck to listen -and then when I left him after, in the native town, they must have -robbed him. _For_,” said Mr. Harman, “between you and me and the -mizzen mast, them pearls are in my pocket now. - -“No, sir, I didn’t pinch them, but that piece Maiala did, as sure as -Moses wasn’t Aaron, for this morning I met her carryin’ stuff for old -Nadub to make his drinks with and there round her neck was the pearls. -Stole. - -“I follows her home and with sign langwidge and showin’ the dollars, I -made them hand over them pearls, forty dollars I paid for twenty -thousand dollars worth of stuff and what do you think of that?” - -Billy put his hand in his pocket and produced a handkerchief carefully -knotted, and from the handkerchief, a gorgeous pearl necklace. - -Davis looked at it, took it in his hands and looked at it again. - -“Why you double damned idiot,” cried Davis, “you mean to say you’ve -yanked me off in this swill tub because you’ve give forty dollars for -a dud necklace, and you’re afraid of the police?—Smart—why that -chap’s pearls weren’t worth forty dollars the whole bag full. Ten -dollars a hundred-weight’s what the factories charge—I told you he -was a dud and his stuff junk—and look at you, look at you!” - -“You’ll be takin’ off your shirt next,” said Harman, “you’re talkin’ -through the hole in your hat. Them pearls is genuine and if they -ain’t, I’ll eat them.” - -But Davis, turning over the things, had come upon something that -Harman had overlooked, a teeny-weeny docket near the hasp, on which -could be made out some figures— - - $4.50 - -“Four dollars fifty,” said Davis, and Harman looked. - -There was no mistaking the figures on the ticket. - -“And what was it you gave for them to that girl, thinking they’d been -stolen?” asked Davis. - -“Damn petticuts!” cried the other, taking in everything all at once. - -“Six cuts of a rope’s end it was to be,” said Davis, “but a boat -stretcher will do.” He put the trash in his pocket and seized a boat -stretcher that was lying on the deck, and Wayzegoose coming on deck -and wiping his mouth, saw Harman bent double and meekly receiving six -strokes of the birch from Davis without a murmur. - -And thinking that what he saw was an optical illusion due to gin, he -held off from the bottle for the rest of that cruise. - -So Billy did some good in his life for once in a way, even though he -managed to do it by accident. - - - - -VII—BEATEN ON THE POST - - - I - -Captain Brent came down to the Karolin as she was lying by Circular -Wharf, on some business connected with some gadget or another he was -trying to sell on commission. Some patent dodge in connection with a -main sheet buffer, I think it was—anyhow, Dolbrush, the owner and -master of the _Karolin_, though an old friend, refused to speculate; -the thing to his mind “wasn’t no use to him,” and he said so without -offence to the salesman. - -Brent really carried on this sort of business more for amusement than -profit; he had retired from the sea with enough to live on, and it -gave him something to do of a morning, pottering round the wharves, -boarding ships and boring master mariners, mostly known to him, with -plans and specifications of all sorts of labour and life saving -devices—he worked for Harvey and Matheson—which they might use or -recommend to owners. - -He had been, in his time, the finest schooner captain that ever sailed -out of Sydney Harbour, a vast man, weather-beaten and -indestructible-looking as the Solander Rock, slow of speech but full -of knowledge, and, once started on a story, unstoppable unless by an -earthquake. He had been partner with Slane, Buck Slane of the -Paramatta business; he was Slane’s Boswell, and start him on any -subject he was pretty sure to fetch up on Slane. He and Slane had made -three or four fortunes between them and lost them. - -Putting the main sheet buffer in his pocket, so to speak, he accepted -a cigar, and the conversation moved to other matters till it struck -Chinks—Chinks and their ways, clean and unclean, and their -extraordinary methods of money-making; sham pearls, faked birds—— - -“There’s nothing the Almighty’s ever made that a Chink won’t make -money out of,” said Dolbrush. “Give ’m a worked-out mine or an old -tomato tin and he’ll do _something_ with it—and as for gratitude——” - -“I’ll tell you something about that,” cut in Brent. “I’ve been to -school with them, there’s nothing about them you can tell me right -from Chow coffins to imitation chutney. Why me and Slane hit up -against them in our first traverse and that was forty years ago. -Sixty-one I was yesterday and I was twenty-one when I fell in with -Buck. It don’t seem more than yesterday. We’d put in to ’Frisco Bay -and were lying at Long Wharf, foot of Third and Fourth Streets. Buck -was Irish, as you’ll remember, a fine strapping chap in those days, -with blue eyes and black hair, and we’d come from Liverpool round the -Horn and we didn’t want to see the ocean again for a fortnight, I tell -you. Buck had skipped from Tralee or somewhere or another, and he had -forty pounds in his pocket, maybe he’d got it from robbing a bank or -something, I never asked, but there it was, and no sooner was the old -hooker tied up than he proposed we’d skip, him and me, and try our -luck ashore. I hadn’t a magg, but he said he had enough for both, that -was Buck all over, and we skipped, never bothering about our dunnage. - -“Buck had an uncle in ’Frisco, well to do and a big man in Ward -politics. O’Brien was his name if I remember right, and he was -reckoned to be worth over a hundred thousand pounds, so Buck said, but -he fixed to let him lie, not being a cadger; and we got a room with a -widow woman who kept lodgers in Tallis Street and set out to beat up -the town and see the sights. There were sights to be seen in ’Frisco, -those days, more especial round the dock sides, and the place was all -traps, the crimps were getting from fifty to seventy dollars a head -for able seamen, and most of the bars and such places were hand in -fist with them, but we steered clear of all that, not being given to -drink, and got home early and sober with our money safe and our heads -straight. - -“We’d come to the conclusion that ’Frisco was a bit too crowded for -us, and we fixed to try for the Islands. Those days there was money -out there. Why, in those days the guano deposits hadn’t been spotted -on Sophia Island, and there it was lying, a fortune shouting to be -took; copra was beginning to bud, and blackbirding was having the -time of its life; China was eating all the sharks’ fins and _bêche de -mer_ she could stuff, and then you had the shell lagoons, shell and -pearl. ’Frisco was crazy over them, and we heard yarns of chaps turned -millionaires in a night by striking an atoll and ripping the floor -out. They were true yarns. In those days the Admiralty charts and the -Pacific Directory were years behind the times, and there were islands -being struck time and again that had never been heard of before. - -“We tried round the wharves for a likely ship, but from Long Wharf to -Meiggs’ there was nothing but grain carriers cleaning their bilges and -Oregon timber schooners unloading pine. - -“One day, Buck, who’d been out up town by himself, came home halooing. -‘Mate,’ says he, ‘our fortunes are made.’ Then he gave his yarn. He’d -been poking round by China Town when, coming along a street—Alta -Street it was—he saw a bunch of Chinks at a corner, two young chaps -and an old father Abraham of a Chink with horn spectacles on him. They -were standing on the loaf when Buck sighted them, talking, and then -they began quarrelling, and the two young chaps set on father Abraham -and began pulling him about and kicking him, till Buck sent them -flying and rescued the old chap, who was near done in. Then he helped -him home. Fong Yen was his name, and he had a little hole of a bird -shop just inside China Town by a Chow restaurant. He was real bad, -knocked about by those brutes, and full of gratitude; he offered Buck -his pick of the birds, but Buck was no bird fancier. Then says Fong: -‘I’ll give you something better than birds,’ and he goes to a drawer -in a lacquer box and hunts about and finds a bit of paper. ‘It was -given me by my son,’ says he, ‘to keep. He was killed in the riots -down at the docks last month; you have been as good as a son to me, -take it, it’s a fortune.’ Then he explained. It was the latitude and -longitude of a virgin shell island written down by his son who’d been -a sailor on one of the Chinese _bêche de mer_ boats. The boat was -wrecked and all hands lost with the exception of this chap, who had -kept the secret and had been saving up money to go and skin the island -when he was killed. Poor old Fong couldn’t work the thing himself; he -had no relations, and to give or sell that paper to any of the China -Town lot would simply be getting his throat cut, maybe, to keep his -head shut on the matter and get the purchase money back. He was quite -straight with Buck on this, and told him he was giving him something -that was no use to himself now his son was dead, but if Buck chose to -give him a few dollars to buy opium with, he wouldn’t be above taking -it. Buck takes out his roll and peels off two ten-dollar bills and -promises him a pull out of the profits. - -“Buck showed me the paper. There was nothing on it but the latitude -and longitude of the place and a spot that looked to me like a blood -mark. We got hold of a chart from a ship master we’d chummed in with -and found the position north-east of Clermont Tonnerre in the Low -Archipelago. I said to Buck, ‘It’s all very well—but how are we going -to get there? It’s about as much use to us as to the Chink. S’pose we -pull some guy in to put up the dollars for a ship, do you think he -won’t want the profits? If I know anything of ’Frisco, he’ll want our -skins as well. That old Chink was on the right side of the fence, he -knew ’Frisco and knew he hadn’t a dog’s chance of getting a cent out -of it.’ Buck hears me out, then he says, ‘Do you suppose,’ he says, -‘that when I paid out good money for this thing I had no idea how to -work it, do you suppose I have no man to back me?’ - -“‘Who’s your man?’ says I. - -“‘My uncle,’ says he. - -“I’d clean forgot the rich uncle. Then I began to see that Buck wasn’t -such a fool as I thought him. I knew the way the Irish stick together, -and old Pat O’Brien being one of the biggest bugs in the town I began -to see the light, as the parsons say, and Buck asking me to go with -him that night and lay for the old chap, I agreed. - - - II - -“Pat lived on Nobs Hill, and we fixed nine o’clock as the time to call -on him, reckoning he’d be in then and maybe in a good humour after his -dinner. We easy found the place, for everyone knew Pat, but the size -of it put us off, till Buck took courage at last and pushed the bell. - -“A darkie in a white shirt front opened and showed us across a big -hall into a room all hung with pictures, and there we sat shuffling -our feet till the door opened again and in come Pat, a little old, -bald-headed chap in slippers with the butt of a cigar stuck up in the -corner of his mouth, more like Mr. Jiggs in the comic papers than -anyone else I’ve seen. - -“He never said a word whilst Buck gave his credentials. Then: - -“‘You’re Mary’s son,’ said he. ‘You’ve got her eyes. How long have you -been in this town?’ - -“‘A fortnight,’ says the other. - -“‘Why didn’t you call before?’ asks Pat. - -“‘Didn’t like to,’ said Buck. ‘I was hard up and I didn’t want to -cadge on you.’ - -“‘Why did you call to-night?’ he asks. - -“Buck tells him and shows the paper. Pat ordered in cigars—we weren’t -having drinks—then he put on a pair of old spectacles and looks at -the paper back and front. - -“Buck puts him wise on the business, and when the old man had tumbled -to it, he asked Buck right out whether he was crazy to think that a -Chink would give away an oyster shell let alone a shell lagoon, but -when he heard the facts of the matter, and how Buck had risked being -knifed to save Fong being kicked to death, he came round a bit in his -opinions. - -“‘Maybe I’m wrong,’ he says, ‘and here’s a spot of blood on the paper. -You haven’t noticed that, have you? Looks as if the thing had been -through the wars. Well, leave it with me for the night to sleep on and -call again in the morning, and now let’s talk about the old country.’ - -“Then the old man sticks the paper in a drawer and begins to put Buck -through his paces. Pat hadn’t been in Tralee for forty years, but -there wasn’t a street he’d forgotten or a name, and he took Buck -through that town by the scruff of his neck, cross-questioning him -about the shops and the people and the places, and as he sat there -with his old monkey face screwed up and his eyes like steel gimlets -boring holes in us, I began to understand how he’d come to be a -millionaire; then he got on family matters, and by the end of the talk -he’d come to understand that Buck was his nephew all right and we lit, -promising to call on him in the morning. - -“‘Our fortunes are made,’ says Buck. - -“‘Wait a bit,’ says I. - -“Next morning we were on the doorstep to the tick and the darkie -showed us in. - -“‘Well, boys,’ says Pat, coming into the room dressed to go out, with -a plug hat stuck on the back of his head and the butt of another cigar -in the corner of his mouth. ‘Well, boys,’ says he, ‘you’re up to time -and I’m waiting to meet you on this proposition; it’s not that I want -to be into it,’ he says, ‘but for the sake of me sister Mary—God rest -her soul—I’m going to give you a chance in life. I’m a bit in the -shipping way myself, and I’ve got a schooner lying off Tiburon waiting -for cargo, and I’ll give you the use of her to run down to the -Islands, and,’ says he, ‘if you get the better of that Chink I’ll give -you the schooner for keeps.’ - -“‘What do you mean by getting the better of him?’ asks Buck. - -“‘Well,’ says Pat, ‘it’s in my mind, thinking things over, that he’s -maybe got the better of you. Maybe I’m wrong—but there it is, and how -do you like the proposition?’ - -“We liked it all right, but he hadn’t finished and goes on: - -“‘Whilst you’re on the job,’ he says, ‘you can take a cargo for me -down to Malakā to Sanderson, a chap I deal with, and bring back a -cargo of copra; you won’t want any cargo space for pearls, and Malakā -is on your way there or back.’ - -“We didn’t mind that and said so. - -“I’d told Pat I was pretty well up in navigation, and we all starts -out together to look at the schooner, taking the ferry boat over to -Tiburon and Pat giving us his ideas as we went. - -“Us two would be the afterguard, with five or six Kanakas for crew. - -“The _Greyhound_ was the name of the schooner, and she was lying a bit -out from the wharf, and Pat has the hellnation of a fight with a -waterman as to the fare for rowing us off and back, beats him down -from two dollars to one dollar fifty, and asked Buck to pay as he -hadn’t any change. - -“I was thinking it was easy to see how Pat had become a millionaire -till we stepped on the deck of the Greyhound, and then I had no time -to think of anything but the dirt. It wasn’t dirt you could sweep off -her, it was ground in, if you get me; all the deck-bears and -holystones from here to Hoboken wouldn’t have made those decks look -respectable; it was like a woman with a bad complexion, even skinning -would be no use. - -“‘She’s been in the oil business,’ says Pat. - -“‘I can smell it,’ says I, and we goes below after prodding the sticks -and taking notice of the condition of the standing rigging. Down below -it was dirtier, and the smell rose up like a fist and punched us in -the nose. I don’t know if you’ve ever been below decks in one of them -old Island schooners fitted with Honolulu cockroaches, and the -effulgences of generations of buck Kanakas and Chinks, to say nothing -of mixed cargoes—sort of dark brown smell—but we weren’t out to -grumble, and Pat having showed us over, we all went ashore and put -back for ’Frisco, Buck paying the fare. - -“We parted from Pat on the landing stage, and next morning the -_Greyhound_ was brought over to Long Wharf for her cargo. It took a -fortnight getting the stuff aboard and hiring the Kanakas. Pat gave us -a diving dress and pump that could be rigged in any boat; he borrowed -them, or got them somewhere cheap, and then he gave us his blessing -and twenty dollars for ship’s money, and we signed on, me as master, -Buck as mate—seeing I was the navigator at a dollar a month, nominal -pay—and six Kanakas as hands. - -“Day before we started we were sitting in the cabin going over the -list of stores when a long, thin chap by name of Gadgett came on -board. He was a ship’s chandler and when he found no orders he opened -out about Pat, not knowing he was Buck’s uncle, asking us what screws -we were getting and didn’t we know the _Greyhound_ was condemned, or -ought to be, but that she was certain to be insured for twice her -value, and then he lit. - -“When he’d gone I said to Buck: ‘Look here,’ I said, ‘I’m not -grumbling, but it seems to me your uncle doesn’t stand to lose over -this game. He’s got a captain and first officer for nothing. He’s dead -certain we’re on a mug’s game, and he’s used our cupidity after pearls -so’s to make us work for him, and he not paying us a jitney.’ - -“‘How do you make that out?’ he asks. - -“‘Well,’ I said, ‘look at him. I reckon, without disrespect to you, -that if there was an incorporated society of mean men he’d be the -President. Did he even pay you back those dollars he borrowed from -you? Not he. Well, now, do you think if he had any idea we were going -to pull this thing off he wouldn’t have asked for a share? Course he -would. He didn’t ask, even on the off chance, for if he had we might -have asked for our screws as master and mate. Another thing. It’s on -the charter that we can call at Malakā on the way out or back; if he -had any idea of us touching this pearl island it’s my opinion he’d -have bound us to call there on the way out.’ - -“‘Why?’ asks Buck. - -“‘Because,’ I says, ‘this cargo of stuff we’ve got aboard is a darned -sight more perishable than the cargo of copra we’re to bring home; if -we strike that island we’ll be there months and months diving and -rotting oysters with this stuff lying aboard with the rats and the -roaches and weevils working over it. Do you see? If he had the -faintest idea we had a million to one chance he’d have bound us to -call at Malakā on the out trip. No, he’s just took us for a pair of -chump fools and is working us as such.’ - -“‘Well, if he has I’ll be even with him,’ says Buck. - -“‘Another thing,’ I went on, ‘do you remember he said he’d give you -the schooner if you got the better of that Chink? Those words jumped -out of him that first morning, showing how little he thought of the -business. He never repeated them; afraid of putting us off. Buck, I’m -not saying anything against your relations, but this old chap gives me -the shivers, him with a million of money in the Bank of California and -you with nothing, and him using you. It’s not me I’m thinking of, but -you, Buck.’ - -“‘Never mind me,’ says Buck.” - - - III - -Dolbrush produced drinks and Brent, having refreshed himself and lit a -new cigar, proceeded. - -“Well, I was telling you—next morning we howked out and by noon that -day we were clear of the bar, taking the sea with the Farallones on -the starboard beam and all plain sail set. The _Greyhound_ was no -tortoise, and for all her dirt she was a dry ship, but that day when -we came to tackle the first of the ship’s stores we’d have swapped her -for a mud barge and penitentiary rations. Pat must have got the lot as -a present, I should think, to take it away. I never did see such junk; -it wasn’t what you might call bad, but it was faded, if you get me; -not so much stinkin’ as without smell to it—or taste. - -“‘All shipowners are bad, and Pat’s a shipowner,’ I says, ‘but there’s -no doubt he’s given you a chance in life for the sake of his sister -Mary—God rest her soul—the chance of getting ptomaine poisoning if -you don’t die first of jaw disease breaking your teeth over this damn -bread.’ - -“‘I’ll be even with him yet,’ says Buck. - -“We did some fishing, for we had tackle on board, and that helped us -along over the line, and one morning twenty-seven days out from -’Frisco we raised an outlier of the Marqueses. Coming along a week -later we raised the spot where pearl island ought to have been—we’d -labelled it Pearl Island before sighting it, and that was maybe -unlucky—anyhow, there was no island to meet us at noon that day and -no sign of one inside or outside the horizon. - -“‘That Chink sold you a pup,’ says I to Buck. - -“‘Maybe it’s your navigation is at fault,’ says he. - -“‘Maybe,’ says I, wishing to let him down gentle, but feeling pretty -sure the navigator wasn’t born that could find that island. - -“We stood a bit more to the south with a Kanaka in the crosstrees -under a reward of ten dollars if he spotted land that day, and towards -evening the wind dropped to a dead calm and we lay drifting all that -night, the wind coming again at sun up and breezing strong from the -south west. - -“We put her before it, both of us pretty sick at thinking how Pat was -right and how he’d landed us and used us for his purpose. We weren’t -mean enough dogs to think of spoiling the cargo or piling the -schooner; we just took our gruel, fixing to lay for him with our -tongues when we got back, and as for the Chink, well. Buck said he’d -skin that Chink if he had to bust up China Town single-handed to do -it. - -“He was talking like that and it was getting along for eight bells, -noon, when the Kanaka look-out signals land, and there it was right -ahead, but nothing to be seen only a white thumb-mark in the sky from -the mirror blaze of a lagoon. - -“Then the heads of cocoanut trees poked up all in a row, and I turns -to Buck and we gripped hands. - -“‘It’s a hundred and more miles out,’ said I, ‘but I reckon it’s not -the island that’s out but me and my navigation; that old Chink was no -liar. It’s the Island. Must be, for there’s nothing on the chart for -five hundred miles all round here.’ - -“Well, we’ll see,” said Buck. - -“We held on steady, and then the reef began to show, and coming along -presently we could hear the boom of it. We couldn’t see a break in it, -and getting up close we shifted our helm a bit and came running along -the north side, the gulls chasing and shouting at us, the reef foam -dashing away only a hundred yards to starboard, and the wind that was -filling our sails bending the cocoanut trees. - -“I felt like shouting. We could see the lagoon, flat as a -looking-glass over beyond the reef that was racing by us; then we came -on the break, and putting out a bit we came in close hauled with no -tumble at the opening seeing it was slack water. - -“It was a fairish big lagoon, maybe four miles by six or so, and since -the Almighty put the world together you’d have said we were the first -men into it. It had that look. Not a sign of a native house; nothing -but gulls. It was fifty-fathom water at the break—made deep by the -scouring of the tides; then it shoaled up to twenty and ten, and we -dropped the hook in seven-fathom water close on to the northern beach. -Not a sign of an oyster. The floor just there was like a coloured -carpet with coral, and the water was so clear that every coloured fish -that passed had a black fish going along with it—which was its -shadow. - -“We dropped the boat and pulled off, and we hadn’t got two cable -lengths to the west of where the _Greyhound_ was lying when we struck -the beds, acres of them. - -“I’ve seen the Sooloo fisheries and the Australian, but I reckon the -Pearl Island oysters could have given them points as to size. -Somewhere about six hundred pairs to the ton they ran, and that’s a -big oyster. - -“‘Well,’ said Buck, ‘here we are and here we stick. We’ve anchored on -top of a fortune and if it takes ten years we’ll hive it.’ That was -all very well saying, but we’d got the question of grub to consider, -but we soon found we needn’t worry about that; there was fish and -turtle and _béche de mer_ and cocoanuts, bread-fruit on the south side -and taro, to say nothing of oysters. Having fixed that matter, we set -to work. Those Kanakas hadn’t signed on for diving after oysters, but -stick a Kanaka in the water and it’s all he wants; besides, we gave -them extra pay in the way of stick tobacco, axing open a lot of old -Pat’s tobacco cases, sure of being able to pay him out of the pearl -money; then we worked like grigs in vinegar, and at the end of the -first week’s work we hadn’t found one pearl. The way we did was to put -each day’s takings out on the beach in the sun; the sun opened them -better than an oyster knife. - -“‘Well, this is bright,’ says Buck one day as we were going over the -heap. ‘Luck’s clean against us,’ he says, and no sooner had he spoke -the words, a whopper of a pearl ’s big as a pistol bullet jumped into -his fist out of an oyster he was handling. It wasn’t a big oyster -neither. My, that pearl was a beauty; it turned the scale at forty -grains I reckon, and it wasn’t the last. - -“We were six to seven months on that job, and I never want to strike -another pearl lagoon. Me and Slane had at last to do most of the -diving, for the Kanakas got sick of it. We looked like Guy Fawkes. -When we sailed into that lagoon we were spry young chaps clean-shaved -and decently dressed; when it had done with us we were bearded men, -men black with the sun and salt water and ragged as Billy be Dam. I -tell you we were spectacles. Satan never fixed up such a factory as a -pearl lagoon when you have to work it short-handed and on the secret. -You can’t stop, not if you only get a pearl in a thousand oysters, you -can’t stop. It’s always the one pearl more that does you. It’s like -the gambling rooms. Till one day I says to Buck: ‘I’m done.’ - -“‘I was only waiting for you to say it,’ said Buck. ‘I’ve been done -this last week only I wouldn’t give in.’ - -“We’d got together two hundred and thirty-two pearls and some -seeds—the king of the lot was a roseleaf pink pearl; there were two -golden pearls that were a perfect match pair, half a dozen blacks, a -few yellow that weren’t no use, and the balance white. We’d been -looking up prices before we started and got some tips from a man who -was in the know, and we reckoned our haul was thirty or forty thousand -dollars. You see it was virgin ground, and the things had time to grow -to size without being disturbed. - -“I ought to have told you the diving dress was no use. Pat had got it -from some old junk shop or another, and the pump was as bad, but the -water being shallow it didn’t matter much, though if the thing had -been in order we’d have got the job through a couple of months -earlier. - - - IV - -“We lit from that place never wanting to see an oyster again, and -leaving tons of shell on the beach worth, maybe, five to six hundred -dollars a ton. We didn’t want it. We laid our course for Malakā and -raised it ten days later, a big brute of a copra island with Sanderson -in pyjamas on the beach and a schooner loading up in the lagoon. He -didn’t want Pat’s cargo, said it was four months overdue, and he had -cleared the last of his copra and had enough trade to carry on with. -We didn’t mind, seeing our contract was to call there out or back with -no time limit specified, and we were mighty glad Pat had been done in -the eye, seeing how he’d served us. There was nothing to do but cart -the stuff back to ’Frisco, and dropping Malakā, we made a straight run -of it, raising the Farallones in twenty-eight days and laying the old -hooker off Tiburon without a spar lost or a scratch on her. - -“I said to Buck: ‘What are you going to give that Chink? You promised -him a suck of the orange, didn’t you?’ - -“‘I’m going to give him a thousand dollars,’ said Buck, ‘when I’ve -cashed the pearls and settled with Pat. I’m a man of my word, and -there’s no luck in breaking a promise.’ - -“I was with him there. - -“We landed with the stuff in a handkerchief and made straight for -Patrick O’Brien’s business office. We’d cleaned ourselves a bit, but -we still looked pretty much scarecrows, but when we’d shown that -handkerchief of pearls to the old man he didn’t bother about our -looks. - -“I told him how, through my bad navigation, we’d missed the island at -first, and then struck it by chance. - -“‘Well,’ says Pat, ‘you’re the only men in ’Frisco that’s ever got the -better of a Chink so far as to get something out of him for nothing, -for twenty dollars is nothing against that hatful of pearls. The -schooner is yours, Buck, and from what I hear of the cargo you can -dump it in the harbour or sell it for junk.’ - -“Then when we’d cleaned ourselves and got some decent clothes, he took -us off to the Palatial and gave us a big dinner. Now that chap was the -meanest guy in small things you could find in California, yet he’d -lost a cargo and a schooner and instead of cutting up rough he seemed -to enjoy it. Buck being his nephew, I suppose he was proud of being -done by him and seeing him successful. - -“The next day, having cashed in half the pearls. Buck says to me: -‘Come on,’ he says, ‘and we’ll settle up with father Abraham.’ - -“Off we starts and gets to the place, and there was the bird shop sure -enough beside a Chow restaurant, but there was no father Abraham. - -“A young Chink was in charge, and when Buck asks for Fong Yen he said -there was no such person. Then he seemed to remember, and said that -Fong had sold the shop and gone back to China. - -“‘Why, that’s him inside there,’ said Buck, and makes a dive into the -shop, but there was no one there. Fong must have done a bunk through a -back door or something—anyhow he was gone. - -“Then all of a sudden there comes up a big master mariner looking man -along the street, drops anchor before the bird shop and calls out -asking for Ming Lu. The young Chink came out and asks what he wants, -saying there was no such person as Ming Lu. - -“‘Say, brother,’ says Buck, jumping at the truth, ‘was Ming Lu, by any -chance, an old gendarme in spectacles?’ - -“‘He was,’ says the crab, and then he spun his story. He’d been -walking along Alta Street three months ago when he saw three Chinks at -a corner, an old boob in spectacles and two young ones. As he came up -with them they started quarrelling, pulling the old chap about and -kicking him cruel, and Blake, that was the guy’s name, started in like -a whole-souled American to save the antiquity from ruin. - -“He helped Ming back to his bird shop, and the old chap near drowned -him in gratitude, and gave him a chart of a pearl island his son, that -had been murdered in a tong dust-up the month before, had discovered -when a sailor in one of the Chinese _bêche de mer_ boats, that had -been wrecked, with all hands lost but his precious son. - -“Blake gave him ten dollars to buy opium with, and being a schooner -owner, lost three months hunting for that island which wasn’t there. - -“It was the same island that had been wished on us—Buck pulled out -his chart and they compared—exactly the same, spot of blood and all. -The things must have been lithographed by the dozen and Lord knows how -many mugs had fallen to the gratitude trap; which no one but a Chink -could ever have invented, if you think over the inwards and outwards -of it. - -“Then Buck told out loud so that Fong, if he was listening, could -hear, how we had fallen on a pearl island, by chance, and how, -thinking it was bad navigation that had made us out in our reckonings, -he was bringing a thousand dollars to Fong as a present out of the -takings according to promise. Then he pulls out his roll and gives the -thousand dollars to Blake as a make up. The young Chink ran in at the -sight of this, and, as we walked off arm in arm for drinks, I heard -sounds from the upper room of that bird shop as if Fong was holdin’ on -to something and trying not to be sick. - -“Then as we were having drinks the question came up in Buck’s head as -to whether he was entitled to that schooner seeing that Fong had -managed to get the better of him at the go off. He put it to Blake, -and Blake, who was a great chap for backing horses when ashore, says: -‘Go off be damned,’ he says. ‘It’s the finish that matters. You did -him on the post,’ he says—and we concluded to leave it at that.” - - - - -VIII—A CASE IN POINT - - - I - -There is good fishing to be had round Sydney way, yellow-tail and -schnapper and green backed sea bream; jew-fish and mullet and -trevalli. You can fish at low tide in the pools or you can fish from a -boat, beaching her for the night in one of the coves and camping out -under the stars, with the scent of the gums mingling with the scent of -the sea, and the song of the waves for lullaby. - -Over Dead Man’s Cove and its beach of hard sand the cliff stands bluff -and humped like a crouching lion, and there one night the year before -last old Captain Brent and I were kicking our heels and smoking after -supper and passing in review the day’s work and the tribes of the sea. - -Brent was a keen fisherman, and there were few waters he did not know, -and few fish he hadn’t taken one time or another. He had always -travelled with his eyes open, and his natural history was first hand -and his views fresh as originality itself. He said crabs could think, -instancing certain hermit crabs that always chose protective-coloured -shells, and that not only did sword-fish fight duels—I knew that, for -I had seen it myself—but that there were tribal wars carried on in -the sea, international struggles so to speak, between the nations of -the fishes. - -“If fish didn’t kill fish,” said the Captain, “the sea would be solid -with mackerel inside two years, to say nothing of herring. Haven’t you -ever thought of what keeps them down? It’s the Almighty, of course, -but how does He work it? Lots of folk think He works it by making the -fish eat the fish just because they are hungry. That’s one of His -ways, but another is just war for war’s sake, or for the sake of the -grouch one tribe keeps up against another. You see, it’s a bit -unfortunate, seeing that if the herring once got above a certain -number all the eating in the world wouldn’t stop them from turning the -sea solid with herring, so the Almighty has fixed His killing machine -with two blades, one that kills for the sake of food and the other for -the sake of killing. - -“It’s the same with the tribes of men, I reckon, only with them -there’s only one blade left, since they don’t kill each other nowadays -for the sake of food. - -“There’s something in one tribe that makes for war against another -tribe. You may boil them but you won’t get it out of them. I’ve seen -it. You’d have seen it too if you’d traded among the Islands in the -old days, selling Winchesters to the natives to prosecute their wars -with, and I’ll give you a case in point. - -“I’ve told you how me and Slane pulled off that pearling job, but I -never told you what we did with the money. Most chaps would have bust -it, we just stuck it in the bank and, after a run to the Yosemite, -back we come to ’Frisco on the look out for more larks. We weren’t set -on money for the sake of money so much as for the fun of getting it, -for I tell you as a mortal truth there’s no hunting to beat the -hunting of a dollar, more especial when you’ve got a herd of twenty or -thirty thousand of them with their tails up and you after them. We’d -had enough of pearling, we had no taste for blackbirding and we were -turning copra over in our minds when, sitting having our luncheon one -day in Martin’s restaurant, a slab-sided Yank, six foot and over and -thin as a Jackstaff, comes along up to us. - -“‘You’re Mr. Slane?’ says he. - -“‘That’s me,’ says Buck. - -“‘I’ve heard tell of you,’ says the chap, ‘and I’ve got a -double-barrelled proposition to put before you. May I take a seat at -your table? Scudder’s my name, and Martin will tell you I’m a straight -man.’ - -“Down he sits. We’d finished feeding and so had he; the place was -pretty empty and no one by to hear, and he begins. - -“‘First barrel of the prop,’ he says, ‘is a dodge for killing fish. -You know how they fish out in the Islands? Well, they do a good deal -of spearin’ and hookin’ and sometimes they poison the fish pools with -soap, but the king way is dynamite.’ He pulls a stick of something out -of his pocket and goes on. ‘Here’s a stick of dynamite. You can fire -it by electricity or you can shove a match on one end and light it and -throw the durned thing into the water. It goes bang and a minute after -every fish in that vicinity come to the surface stunned dead. That’s -so, but the bother is the stuff goes off sometimes premature and the -Kanakas are always losing hands and legs and things, which don’t make -for its popularity. Being out there last year at Taleka Island I set -my invention trap working to hit a device. I’ve always took notice -that a man who fills a want fills his pockets, and a patent safety -explosive fish killer is a want with a capital “W” right from ’Frisco -to Guam. Well, here it is,’ he says, and out of his other pocket he -takes the great-grandfather of a Mills bomb, same as the Allies have -been pasting the Germans with. It wasn’t bigger than a tangerine -orange and rough made, but it had all the essentials. You didn’t pull -a pin out, it was just two caps of metal screwed together. The thing -was dead as mutton when it was lightly screwed, but screwed tight it -exposed its horns and was live as Satan. Just one turn of the wrist -tightened it up and then if you flung it against anything, even water, -it would go bang. It was a working model, and he showed us the whole -thing and the cost of manufacture. His factory was a back bedroom in -Polk Street, but he reckoned with a shed and a lathe and a couple of -Chink artisans to help he could turn out fifty Scudder Fish -Crackers—that’s the name he gave them—a day. He said the Bassingtons -had a share in the patent and would give him the material for nothing -so as to have the thing tried out. He wanted five hundred dollars to -start his factory, then he wanted us to give him an order for two -thousand crackers at fifty cents each. - -“‘You don’t want no more cargo than that,’ said he, ‘once the Kanakas -get the hang of this thing they’ll trade you their back teeth for -them; you see it’s new. It’s like millinery. If I could invent a new -sort of hat and start a store in Market Street every woman from here -to St. Jo would be on it in a cluster. You could scrape them off with -a spoon. Kanakas are just the same as women, for two thousand of them -crackers you can fill up to your hatches in copra. - -“‘Well, now,’ he goes on, ‘on top of that I’ll make you a present of -three thousand dollars, if you’ll take the proposition up. Sru, the -chief chap at Taleka, wants Winchester rifles and ammunition and he’s -got the money in gold coin to pay for them. He wants six thousand -dollars’ worth and I can get the lot from Bassingtons for three -thousand dollars, boxed and laded on board your ship. The crackers -won’t take no room for stowage and the guns and cartridges won’t eat -half your cargo space, so you can take some cheap trade goods that’ll -give you a deck cargo of turtle shell and _bêche de mer_. Get me? You -make money on the crackers, you make money on the guns and you make a -bit out of the shell. It’s a golden goose layin’ eggs at both ends and -the middle, and I’ll give you a writing promising to pay the five -hundred dollars for the factory in one year with twenty per cent, for -the loan.’ - -“I could see Slane was sniffing at it so I didn’t interfere, and the -upshot was we made an appointment with Scudder to meet us next day and -take a boat out in the harbour to test a couple of his crackers. We -did, and he was no liar, the things went off like guns and dead fish -were still coming up when a police boat nailed us and rushed us ashore -and we had to pay ten dollars fine for illegal behaviour. That’s what -the Yanks called it—anyhow the dead fish settled the business and -Slane took up the proposition and put his hand in his pocket and -fetched out the money to start the factory and gave Scudder his order -for two thousand crackers. - -“Slane hadn’t disposed of the _Greyhound_. We ran her into dock and -had the barnacles scraped off her, gave her some new spars and a new -mainsail and finished up with a lick of paint. It took six weeks and -by that time Scudder had finished his job and had the crackers ready -boxed and all and the Bassington company were waiting to deliver the -Winchesters and ammunition. We took the old hooker over to Long Wharf -for the stowing and the stuff came down in boxes marked eggs and -crockery ware. - -“They were pretty sharp after gun-runners in those days, but Scudder -fixed everything somehow so that none of the cases were opened. We got -the cracker boxes on first and then stowed the guns and cartridges -over that, and on top of the guns some trade goods, stick tobacco and -rolls of print and such, six Chinks we took for a crew and a Kanaka by -name of Taute who could speak the patter of most of the Islands, and -off we started. - - - II - -“Taleka is an outlier of the New Hebrides, a long run from ’Frisco, -but we never bothered about time in those days. We never bothered -about anything much. We hadn’t been out a week when I said one night -to Slane, ‘Buck,’ said I, ‘s’pose one of those crackers took it into -its head to go off, being screwed too tight?’ ‘If it did,’ said Buck, -‘the whole two thousand would go bang and the cartridges would follow -soot; if one of them crackers fructified before its time next minute -you’d be sitting on a cloud playing a harp, or helping stoke Gehenna, -don’t make any mistake about that.’ We left it so. We never bothered -about anything those days as long as the grub was up to time and not -spoiled in the cooking. - -“We touched at Honolulu and had a look round and then we let out, -passing Howland and the Ellices, raising Taleka forty-five days out -from ’Frisco. - -“It’s a big brute of a high island and away to s’uth’ard of it you can -see Mauriri, another big island forty-five or fifty miles away. - -“There’s no reef round Taleka, but there are reefs enough to north and -west and a big line of rock to s’uth’ard that doesn’t show in calm -weather, only now and again when the swell gets too steep and then -you’ll see an acre of foam show up all at once. Rotten coast, all but -the east side, where a bay runs in between the cliffs and you get a -beach of hard sand. - -“We dropped anchor in twenty-five fathoms close to the beach. There -were canoes on the beach, but not a sign of a native; the cliffs ran -up to the sky either side, with the trees growing smaller and smaller, -and out from near the top of the cliff to starboard a waterfall came -dancing down like the tail of a white horse and that was all; there -was no wind scarcely ever there and the water between the cliffs was -like a black lake. I tell you that place was enough to give you the -jim-jams, more especial when you knew that you were being watched all -the time by hundreds of black devils ready to do you in. - -“We fired a gun and the echoes blazed out like a big battle going on -and then fizzled off among the hills where you’d think chaps were -pot-shotting each other. Then the silence went on just as if it hadn’t -been broken, and Slane, who’d got a pretty short temper when he was -crossed, spat into the harbour and swore at Sru. - -“Then he ordered up a case of guns and a box of ammunition, and he and -me and Taute rowed ashore with them, beaching the boat and dumping the -guns and ammunition on the sand. - -“We took the guns out of the case and laid them out side by side same -as if they’d been in a shop window, then we opened the ammunition box -and exposed the cartridges. - -“It was a sight no murder-loving Kanaka could stand and presently out -from a valley a bit up beyond the anchorage comes a chap with the -biggest belly I’ve ever seen on one man. He had slits in his ears and -a tobacco pipe stuck through one of the slits, nothing on him but a -gee string and eyes that looked like gimlet holes into hell. I never -did see such a chap before or since. It was Sru himself, and he was -followed by half a hundred of his tribe, every man armed with an old -Snider or a spear, or sometimes both. - -“I saw Taute shivering as he looked at Sru, then he bucked up and took -heart, seeing that Sru wasn’t armed and was coming for guns, not -fighting. - -“Then the palaver began, the Kanakas squatting before the gun cases -and Slane showing them the Winchesters whilst Taute did the talking. -Scudder had been there all right the year before and had measured up -Sru and his wants and his paying capacity to a T. He had the gold, -brass-yellow Australian sovereigns and British sovereigns got from God -knows where, but sovereigns right enough with Victoria’s head on them, -for he showed us a fistful, and it was only a question of whether Sru -would pay six thousand dollars for our cargo. He wanted to make it -four, then he gave in, and we put back in the boat to have the stuff -broken out of the hold. - -“Knowing the sort of chap Sru was we ought to have made him bring the -money on board before a single case was landed, but we were young to -the trade and too straight to think another chap crooked, so we -didn’t. We let the canoes come alongside and there we hung watching -naked Kanakas all shiny with sweat handing overboard the boxes, six -guns to a box, to say nothing of the cartridge cases. - -“We put off with the last case and then we sat waiting on the beach -for our money. - -“The Kanakas with the last of the cases turned up into the valley, and -when they were gone you couldn’t hear a sound in that place but the -noise of the waterfall up among the trees and now and then the sea -moving on the beach. - -“The water came into that bay as I’ve never seen it come anywhere -else. It would be a flat calm, and then, for no reason at all, it -would heave up and sigh on the sand and fall quiet again like the -bosom of a pious woman in a church. - -“There we sat waiting for our money and watching the _Greyhound_ as -she swung to her moorings with a Chink fishing over the rail. - -“‘What do you think of Sru,’ says Buck at last. - -“‘Well, I don’t think he’s a beauty,’ I says, and then talk fizzled -out and there we sat waiting for our money and chucking stones in the -water. - -“I’ve told you there were canoes on the beach when we came in, but -after the guns had been brought ashore the canoes had been taken round -the bend of the bay, and as we sat there waiting for our money there -was no one on that flat beach but our two selves and the Chink who’d -helped us to row ashore, the boat was beached close to us and only -waiting to be shoved off. - -“I says to Buck, ‘Say, Buck,’ I says, ‘suppose old Johnny Sru takes it -into his woolly head to stick to the dollars as well as the guns, what -are you going to do then?’ - -“‘Don’t be supposing things,’ says Buck. ‘Sru’s no beauty, maybe, but -he’s a gentleman. All savages are gentlemen if you treat them square.’ - -“‘Where did you get that dope from?’ I asks him. - -“‘Oh,’ he says, ‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘one place or another, but -mainly from books.’ - -“‘Well,’ I says, ‘I’m not much given to book reading, but I hope -you’re right, anyway.’ - -“No sooner were the words out of my mouth than the Chink by the boat -gives a yell. I looked up and saw a big rock skipping down hill to -meet us. It wasn’t as big as a church, but it seemed to me, looking -up, there was many a Methodist chapel smaller; shows you how the eyes -magnify things when a chap’s frightened, for it wasn’t more than ten -ton all told judging by its size when it hit the target. - -“It missed us by six foot and hit the Chink. We couldn’t get him out -from under it seeing he was flattened as flat as a sheet of paper and -we hadn’t more than got the boat pushed off when down came another and -hit the place where we’d been sitting waiting for our money and -talking of all savages being gentlemen if you treated them square. - -“The chaps above have got the range, but they weren’t wasting -ammunition, for as soon as we lit the firing ceased. - -“I never did see a chap in a bigger temper than Buck. He went white, -and when an Irishman goes white, look out for what’s coming. - -“We got aboard and got the boat in, and then we took our seats on the -hatch combing and had Taute along for a council of war. - -“Taute had chummed up with Sru’s men and a couple of the Marys whilst -the unloading was going on, and he’d found out that Sru wanted the -guns for an attack on Mauriri, the big island to the s’uth’ard. - -“Tiaki was the chief man on Mauriri, and he and Sru had been at it for -years, the two islands hitting each other whenever they could, sinking -fishing canoes and so on, but never a big battle. They were too evenly -matched and knew it. But those Winchesters would make all the -difference, so Taute said and we didn’t doubt him. - -“Buck, when he’d sucked this in, sits biting his nails. The sun had -set by now and the stars were thick overhead and it came to the -question of getting out against the breeze and tide or sticking till -the morning when the land wind would give us a lift. Taute gave it as -his opinion we’d be safe enough for the night. Sru didn’t want our -ship, and the Kanakas had got it into their thick heads that when a -ship was raided and the crew murdered in those parts, somehow or -another, a British cruiser would turn up maybe months later and make -trouble, which was the truth. So we let the anchor lie in the mud and -we sat down to supper that night as calm as if we weren’t sitting on a -hive of hornets that any minute might let out with their stings. - -“Middle of supper, Buck hits the table a welt with his fist. - -“‘I’ve got the blighter,’ says he. - -“‘Who?’ says I. - -“‘Sru,’ says he. ‘I’ve got him by the short hairs and if I don’t make -him squeal, my name’s not Buck Slane.’ - -“I didn’t see his meaning, and said so, telling him straight out that -we’d better take our gruel and let Sru alone, that we’d been fools to -let him have the stuff without the cash brought on to the beach and -that we’d only get broken heads by trying to fight him. - -“‘I ain’t going to fight him,’ says Buck. - -“‘Who is, then?’ says I. - -“‘Tiaki,’ says Buck. - -“‘That chap over at Mauriri?’ I questions. - -“‘The same,’ says him. - -“‘But look here,’ I says, ‘how in the nation are you going to ginger -him up to fight Sru seeing that he’s been holding off for years and -seeing that Sru has got those Winchesters? What would he fight him -with?’ - -“‘Fish crackers,’ says Buck. - -“That hit me on the head like an apple. I’d got the durned things so -connected with fish in my mind that I’d clean forgot to think that -they could be used against humans, more especial by Kanakas used to -throwing spears and things all their lives. Then Buck opens up his -plan which was simple enough. It would take Tiaki’s men eight or ten -hours paddling in their canoes to reach Taleka. If they started at -four o’clock in the afternoon they’d make the island by two next -morning, then, crawling up that valley they could fall on Sru’s -village and bomb it to pieces before daybreak. Bloodthirsty, wasn’t -it? But Buck was out for blood, the Irish was raised in him and he -didn’t care a cent what happened or what he paid so long as Sru got -his gruel. - -“‘But look here,’ I said, ‘it’s all very well talking, but Winchesters -are Winchesters. Do you propose to start Tiaki on this stunt and not -tell him what he’s up against?’ - -“‘Oh, Lord, no,’ says Buck. ‘Hope I’m a gentleman—besides, that’s -what will make him fight. When he knows Sru has got the arms to attack -him, he’ll do the attacking first, unless he’s a fool.’ - -“‘All right,’ says I, and we left it at that. - - - III - -“We slept on deck that night for fear of an attack, me keeping first -watch, but nothing came, and just at daybreak we put out, towing her -till we caught the land wind and then cracking on all sail for -Mauriri. - -“We were making ten knots and all that morning Mauriri bloomed up -against us, getting bigger and bigger till the foam on the big -half-moon reef that lies to northward showed up. There’s a break in -the middle of that reef and good anchorage once you’re through, and we -pushed right in, dropping our anchor in twenty-fathom water close to -the beach. - -“Mauriri is a lot more open-faced than Taleka, and the chief village -is close to the beach, not hid up a valley. - -“It was a white beach, but near black with Kanakas when we dropped the -anchor, and there were canoe houses, but not a canoe put off. The -crowd ashore didn’t look unfriendly, but they seemed standing on one -foot, so to speak, not knowing how to take us or whether we meant -fighting or trade. - -“Buck ordered the boat to be lowered and whilst the Chinks were -getting it over I got him by the arm and took him to the after rail -and tried to punch sense into his head. - -“‘Look here,’ I says, ‘what’s the good of revenge? it’s -unchristianlike and it’s not business, anyway. Forget Sru and trade -those crackers for copra, if they’ve got any here, if they haven’t, -put out along for some other island.’ - -“‘He killed my Chink’ says Buck. ‘Blow copra, I want his blood, and -I’m going to have it, if it costs me my last nickel.’ - -“‘All right, all right,’ I says, ‘come along,’ and off we put with -Taute to do the talking and a box of stick tobacco to help Tiaki -swallow the crackers. - -“It was easy to pick him out from the crowd on the beach, he was over -six foot, with the half of an old willow pattern plate on his chest -dangling from a necklace of sharks’ teeth, he had an underlip like an -apron, one eye gone in some gouging match or another, and he stood two -foot in front of the rest as if he wasn’t ashamed of himself. - -“Taute started the talk whilst Buck opened the tobacco case, and as I -watched Tiaki’s face as the yarn went on, I thought to myself, God -help Sru. - -“Then, when the palaver was over, Taute showed him one of the crackers -we’d brought with us and how it worked, explaining we’d got a cargo of -them and how he could do Sru in. - -“There was a dog walking on the beach twenty yards off, and Tiaki -cocking his eye at it took aim and let fly with the cracker, and there -wasn’t any dog left after the thing had burst, only a hole in the -sand. - -“You could have heard them shouting at Taleka. Those chaps ran about -clean bughouse, and Buck, he stood by mighty pleased with himself till -all of a sudden Tiaki quiets them and gives an order and the crowd -broke and made a run for the canoe houses. - - - IV - -“‘What’s up now?’ says Buck. He wasn’t long waiting to know. Four big -war canoes pushed out full of men, and making straight for the -Greyhound, and Taute, who was talking to Tiaki turns and tells us we -were prisoners. Tiaki, for all his underlip, was no fool, and when -Taute had done translating what he had to say to us his meaning leapt -up at us like luminous paint. - -“You see Tiaki had always been used to look on traders as hard -bargainers who’d ask a tooth for a tenpenny nail, and here we were, us -two, blowing in and offering him a cargo of ammunition for nothing, so -long as he’d go and bomb Sru with it. It seemed too good to be true, -and he suspected a trap. Said so, right out. He was going to hold us -till the business was over and everything turned out satisfactory. - -“I had to swallow twice to keep that news down. A moment before we’d -been free men, and there we were now like rats in a barrel, but there -was no use kicking, so we sat down on the sand and watched the canoe -men swarming over the _Greyhound_ and breaking out the cargo. They -didn’t touch the Chinks nor loot the ship, just went for the cracker -cases, bringing them off load after load and dumping them on the sand. - -“Tiaki has a case opened and takes out a cracker; he’d tumbled to the -mechanism, and there he stood with the thing in his hand explaining it -to the population, talking away and flinging out his arms towards -Taleka, evidently gingering them up for the attack on Sru. Then he -gives an order sharp as the crack of a whip, and all the Marys and -children and old chaps scattered off back to the village, and over a -hundred of the fighting men took their seats on the beach in a big -circle, whilst crackers were handed round to them and they examined -the hang of the things, each man for himself. - -“They were a fine lot, but differently coloured, some as dark as -bar-chocolate and some the colour of coffee with milk in it, and as -they sat there the women and children and old men came down from the -village bringing bundles of mat baskets with them, and down they -squatted by the edge of the trees going over the baskets and mending -them and putting them in order. - -“‘What are they up to?’ says Buck. - -“‘Can’t you see?’ says I. ‘They’re going to carry the crackers in -those baskets. They mean business right enough. Lord! Buck,’ I says, -‘I wish we were out of this; look at the fix we’re in. If them chaps -are beaten by Sru, we’ll be done in as sure as paint—makes me sick, -sitting here, and there’s our boat right before us. S’pose we make a -dash right now, shove her off and get on board——’ - -“‘Not a bit of use,’ says Buck. ‘They’d let after us in the canoes -before we’d pushed off—we’ve just got to stick and see it out. I’m -sorry,’ he says; ‘it’s my fault; you were right, and if I ever get out -of this I’ll steer clear of mixing up in other folks’ quarrels. I -wouldn’t have done it only for the Chink.’ - -“‘Oh, it don’t matter,’ I says; ‘we’re in it and there’s no use in -kicking.’ - -“I called Taute, who was standing watching the basket work and -jabbering with Tiaki, and asked him for news and what he thought they -were going to do with us in case things went wrong. He went to Tiaki -and had a jabber, and came back to us looking pretty grey about the -gills. - -“Tiaki was going to attack Sru right away, starting that night and -reaching Taleka next morning early; with the current the big war -canoes would do the journey in seven hours. He couldn’t make a night -attack because of the difficulty of getting in, but he reckoned to -reach the bay just at daybreak. Then came the news that we were to go -with them and lead the attack. Tiaki said as we had sold Sru the guns -to attack Tiaki, it was only fair that we should lead Tiaki’s men -against the guns, besides, he wanted to make sure we weren’t leading -him into a trap; besides, he had often noticed white men feared -nothing and were splendid fighters. He also said if we failed him -facing the guns of Sru we’d have fish crackers flung at our backs. - -“You see the way that durn cargo served us; the guns in front of us, -the crackers at our back—we couldn’t say anything—couldn’t do -anything but curse Scudder and the day we met him, and sit there -watching the preparations. Women were bringing down provisions for the -canoes, and the baskets were ready and being distributed. They weren’t -so much baskets as bags such as the natives use for carting every sort -of thing in; each fighting man had one, and then the crackers were -handed round about twenty to a man. They’d place them between their -legs in the canoes as they paddled; every man had a spear as well, and -as they stood there getting on for sundown, each man with his basket -of bombs and a spear, I’d have been proud to lead them only I was so -frightened. - - - V - -“Now the funniest thing happened. - -“All that crowd of fighting men full up of pride and devilment began -shouting and chanting a war song. That was all right as far as it -went, but after it was over a chocolate-coloured son of a gun began -making a speech, shouting and pointing towards Taleka as if to say -what he wouldn’t do to Sru. - -“Then a coffee-coloured devil cut in and seemed to carry on the -argument. - -“Taute said the chocolate men and the coffee grinders were two -different races, though joined in the one tribe, and they were arguing -which was the bravest. - -“Other chaps cut in, and then all of a sudden they began running -about, and before you could say ‘knife’ they split, the chocolate men -on one side, the coffee crowd on the other, with Tiaki running about -half bughouse, trying to keep order, and the row growing bigger all -the time till suddenly a coffee man remembered his bag of bombs and -fetches out a cracker, gives it a twist, and lets fly at the chocolate -man opposite him, sending his head to glory. - -“Did you ever see schoolboys snowballing each other? All over the -sands they were, one chap chasing another, stooping to pick crackers -from their bags and screw them tight and then letting fly, heads and -arms and legs being blown away—not that we stopped to watch; we were -running for the boat. Next moment we had her off, and we didn’t wait -to pick up the anchor when we got aboard; we dropped the chain and -shoved, leaving Sru to come over to shovel up the remains, and pleased -to think that the Winchesters he’d diddled out of us wouldn’t be much -use to him since the crackers had spoiled his target. - -“I expect there wasn’t a dozen fighting men on that island left whole -and sound, but that’s neither here or there. I was just telling you it -as a case in point. There’s something in one tribe that makes for war -against another tribe even if they’ve been living happily together for -years. It shows clearer in savages than civilised folk, but it’s in -both and it’s got to be reckoned with by anyone who wants to do away -with war for good and all.” - -He tapped his pipe out, and we sat watching the Pacific coming -creaming in on the sands and round the rocks, the Pacific, that storm -centre or Lake of Peace for the whole world, according to the way men -may arrange their tribal differences and call upon intellect to -balance instinct. - - - - -IX—THE OTHER ONE - - - I - -Sydney is one of the finest towns in the world and it has the finest -harbour, unless you call San Francisco Bay a harbour, it has the most -hospitable people and a gaiety and push all its own, also, in the -matter of temperature, when it chooses it can beat any other town -except maybe Calcutta. - -“A hot shop,” said Brent. He was seated at a bar adorned with coloured -bottles, and a girl with peroxide of hydrogen tinted hair had just -handed him a lemon squash with a hummock of ice in it. - -“You aren’t looking yourself, Captain,” said the girl. - -“No, my dear, I aren’t,” replied Brent, “not if I look as I feel.” He -relapsed into gloom and I offered him a cigarette which he refused. - -“I’m going to a funeral,” he explained. - -“Sorry,” said I. “Not a near relation, I hope?” - -“Well, it might be a relation, by the way I feel, but I’ve none. When -a man gets to my age he leaves a lot of things astern.” He sighed, -finished the last half of his drink in one mighty gulp, wiped his -mouth and got off his chair. - -“Walk down with me a bit of the way,” said he. - -We left the bar and entered the blaze of the street. It was eleven -o’clock in the morning. - -“It ought to be raining,” said the Captain as we wended our way along -King Street towards the wharves. “Happy is the corpse that the rain -rains on, is the old saying, and she’s a corpse if ever there was one, -but rain or shine, if there’s happiness for such things as corpses, -she’s happy—she’s done her duty.” - -“What did she die of?” I asked, by way of making conversation. - -“Old age,” replied Brent. He had a black tie on, but his garb was -otherwise unchanged, his mourning was chiefly expressed by his voice -and manner, and as we drew closer to the whiff of the harbour and the -scent of shipping he took off his panama and mopped his bald head now -and then with a huge red handkerchief. - -That handkerchief was always the signal of worry or perplexity with -Brent, and now, right on the wharves and feeling for his state of -mind, I halted to say good-bye. - -“Wouldn’t you care to see her?” he asked. - -“No thanks,” I replied. “I ought to meet a man at twelve and it’s -after eleven now—and——” - -“He’ll wait,” replied the Captain. “It’s only a step from here and -she’s _worth_ seeing. Kim on.” - -He took me by the arm and led me along, reluctantly enough, towards -some mean-looking buildings, the relics of old days; under the -bowsprit of a full rigged ship, over hawsers, and then on to a decayed -slip of a wharf beside which an old schooner lay moored. - -“That’s her,” said Brent. - -On her counter in letters almost vanished stood the word _Greyhound_. - -“The _Greyhound_,” said I, “is this the old schooner you and Slane -owned?” - -“The same,” said Brent. “She’s to be towed to the breakers’ yard eight -bells—noon, they gave me word so that I might have a last look at -her.” - -So this was the funeral he was to attend. He mopped his face with the -red handkerchief, contemplated the deck beneath him, heaved a sigh and -then, “Come down,” said he. “I’ve told Jimmy Scott to leave me -something in the cabin.” - -He dropped on to the deck and I followed him. There was no watchman to -guard the corpse. I looked at the standing rigging all gone to ruin -and the sticks that had survived many a gale, the grimy decks that -once had been white, then I dropped down to the cabin after Brent. - -The ports were open and water shimmers from the harbour water danced -on the maple panelling, the upholstery had been eaten by rats or -roaches and a faint smell filled the place like the ghost of the odour -of corruption, but there was a bottle of whisky on the table, a couple -of glasses and a syphon. - -“If I hadn’t met you, I’d ’a brought someone else,” said Brent, taking -his seat before the funeral refreshments, “but there’s not many I’d -have sooner had than you to give her a send off. You remember I told -you, Buck had her from Pat O’Brien who didn’t know her qualities, no -one did in those days; why, a chap by name of Gadgett come aboard -first day we had her and said she ought to be condemned, said she -wasn’t seaworthy and that’s many years ago.” He took the cork from the -bottle and poured “Many years ago and now I’m having my last drink and -smoke here where Buck and me have often sat, and him in the cemetery. -Well, here’s to you, Buck—and here’s to her.” We drank and lit up. - -“Well, she’s had her day,” said I, trying to say something cheerful. -“It’s like a wife that has done her duty——” - -The Captain snorted. - -“Wives,” said he, “a ship’s all the wife I’ve ever had and I don’t -want no other, it’s all the wife a sailor-man wants and if she’s -decently found and run, she never lets him down. I told that to Buck -once. I told him the _Greyhound_ was his lawful wife and he’d come a -mucker if he took another. He wouldn’t believe me, but he found it -out. You’ve never seen him. He died only four years ago and he hadn’t -lost a tooth, he hadn’t got a grey hair on his head, six foot he stood -and he’d only to look at a girl and she’d follow him, but he wasn’t -given that way after his marriage.” - -“Oh, he got married, did he?” said I. “I always fancied from what you -told me of him that he was a single man.—Did she die?” - -“I expect she’s dead by this,” said the Captain. “No knowing, but if -she ain’t she ought to be. We fell in with her, me and Slane, the year -after that dust up with Sru I told you of. We’d lost money on that -job, but we’d pulled up over a deal in silver that had come our way -through Pat O’Brien and Buck had thirty thousand dollars in the Bank -of California, and I’d got near ten in my pocket. I didn’t trust -banks. For all that money we lived quiet, not being given to drink, -and we were fitting the _Greyhound_ out for a new job, when one night -at a sociable we met in with Mrs. Slade. That was the name she gave -herself, a fine, fresh-faced young woman, not thirty, with eyes like -Cape mulberries, they had that red look in the black of them, and a -laundry of her own they said was bringing in five hundred a week -profit. She harpooned Buck. Clean through the gizzard. You’ve seen a -chicken running about with a woman after it till she catches it and -wrings its neck, that was Buck. He was no more good after she’d got -the irons into him. - -“One night I had it out with him. I said: ‘The Lord Almighty has given -you a ship to tend and take care of, she’s been true to you and -brought you in the dollars, and look at the way you’re usin’ her, why, -we ought to have had her out of dock by this and the cargo half on -board her, she over there at Oakland and you foolandering after a -widow woman.’ - -“‘She’s a girl,’ says he. - -“‘Well, woman or girl don’t matter,’ I says, ‘you ain’t the age for -marrying, nor the sort of chap to make good at the game.’ We went at -it hammer and tongs, me trying to pump sense into him like a chap -trying to pump up a burst bicycle tyre, but at last, somehow or -another, I began to get the better of the business and bring him to -reason and by two in the morning I’d brought him to own he was a damn -fool and marriage a mug’s game. I went to bed happy, and next day he -turned up at noon with a flower in his coat and looking as if he’d -gone queer in his head. - -“What’s the matter with you?” I says. - -“‘I’ve just been married,’ says he. - - - II - -“That’s the sort of chap a woman had made of him. I’ve heard it said a -woman is the making of a chap, it’s true, if she’s a good woman she’ll -make a man of a fool, and if she’s bad she’ll make a fool of any man, -seems to me. Jinny Slade was bad. I’ve got instincts about things and -maybe that’s what made me so down on the business from the first—them -mulberry eyes of hers rose my bristles, somehow or another, but now -she’d fixed him there was no use talking. - -“They took up housekeeping in Francis Street over the laundry, and not -wishing to mix up in their hymeneal bliss, I didn’t see much of Buck -for a month or more. The _Greyhound_ was out of dock and I brought her -over to her moorings at Tiburon, and I’d sit here just as I’m sitting -now, time and again, thinking of old times and the fool Buck was -making of himself, for we’d lost the cargo a trader had promised us -and our business was going to smash. - -“One day I was leaning on the rail fishing with a hand line for want -of something better to do when a guy comes along in a boat—Newall was -his name—he’d known us for a couple of years, casual, and he’d just -put off from an Oregon boat that lay anchored a bit out. - -“‘How’s Buck?’ says he, resting on his oars. - -“‘Buck’s married,’ I says. ‘Married this month and more.’ - -“‘Well, I wish him luck,’ says Newall, ‘and who’s the lady?’” - -I tells him. - -“‘Holy Mike,’ he says. ‘Jinny Slade—what made him do it?’ - -“I told him I didn’t know unless it was the devil, and then I asked -what he knew about the party. - -“‘Well,’ says Newall, ‘I’m a cautious man and I’m not going to lay -myself open to no law court actions for deffination of character. I’m -not going to say nothing about the woman except that she oughta been -flung into the bay two years ago with a sinker tied to her middle, and -then you wouldn’t have saved her first husband which she poisoned as -sure as my name’s Dan Newall, no, nor the men she ruined in that -gambling joint she run in Caird Street with a loaded r’lette wheel -that’d stay put wherever you wanted by the pressin’ of a button under -the table, run by a Chink it was with her money. - -“‘In with the crimps she was, and if I had a dollar for every -sailor-man she’s helped to shanghai I’d buy a fishin’ boat and make my -fortune out of catchin’ the crabs that are feedin’ on the corpses of -the men that’s drowned themselves because of her. - -“‘Laundry,’ he says, ‘a laundry s’big as from here to Porte Costa, -with every Chink in California workin’ overtime for a month wouldn’t -wash the edges of her repitation—and Buck’s married her; strewth, but -he’s got himself up to the eyes. What sort of blinkers were you -wearin’ to let him do it?’ - -“‘I don’t know,’ I says, ‘alligator hide I should think was the sort -he was wearing, anyhow. Question is what am I to do now?’ - -“‘Take a gun and shoot him,’ says Newall, ‘if you want to be kind to -him.—Has she got any money out of him?’ - -“‘I don’t know,’ I says. - -“‘Been married to him a month,’ he goes on. ‘She’ll have every jitney -by this—well, if you’re set on trying to do somethin’ for him, get -the last of his money from him if he’s got any and hide it in a hole -for him before she kicks him out plucked naked.’” - -Off he rowed, and pulling up my line I left the _Greyhound_ to the -Kanaka watchman and took the ferry over to ’Frisco. - -The laundry was banging away, the Chinks all hard at work, Mrs. Slade -wasn’t home, over at St. Jo for the day, so the forewoman said, but -Buck was in and upstairs, and up I went. - -They’d got a fine sitting-room on the first floor with plush-covered -chairs and brand new old-fashioned looking furniture and a bowl of -goldfish in the window and pictures in big gold frames on the walls. - -Buck was sitting in an easy chair reading a paper and smoking a cigar. - -“Hullo,” he says, “here’s a coincidence, for I was just coming over to -Tiburon to see you.” - -“Oh, were you?” says I. “Wits jump sometimes and here I am on the same -job. How’s the world using you, Buck?” - -I tried to be as light-hearted as I could, but it was hard work. Buck -had gone off in looks, and it was plain to see things weren’t going -easy with him, you can always tell when a chap has something on his -mind, and whilst he was getting out drinks I sat putting my thoughts -together and only waiting to begin. I’d fixed to do a big grab, and -get ten thousand dollars out of him as a loan to hide away for him -against the time he got the kick out, plucked naked, as Newall had -said. - -He pours the whisky. - -“Buck,” I says, taking the glass. “I’ve come to ask a favour of you. I -want a loan.” - -“How much?” asks Buck. - -“Well,” I said, “I’ve ten thousand dollars of my own, as you know, and -I’ve been offered a big opportunity of making a hundred thousand. Safe -as houses. I want ten thousand to put with mine, I wouldn’t ask you to -risk yours if I wasn’t risking mine.” - -“What’s the spec.?” he asks. - -“Can’t tell you that,” I said—“I’m under promise, but you know me and -I give you my word of honour your money is as safe as if it was in -your pocket—safer.” - -“Well, I’d do it if I could,” he says, “you know me and that I’m not -lying when I speak, but I can’t, haven’t got it.” - -“But, Buck,” I says, “why, only a month ago you had thirty thousand -dollars in the bank.” - -Buck nods and goes on. “I haven’t got it to put my hand on,” he says. -“My wife is keeping it for me. She says what with those New York banks -going bust last spring and one thing and another, banks aren’t safe -and she wants to invest it, she’s over at St. Jo to-day looking at -some property.” - -“Where’s she got the money?” I asks. - -“In that safe,” says he. - -Sure enough there was a big iron safe in the corner of the room half -hid by a screen. - -Seeing how the land lay, I said no more, and he changed the subject, -going back to what he was saying when I first came in, how that he had -been coming to see me that afternoon about a matter of business. - -He wouldn’t say what the business was, but he wanted my help and he -wanted it that night. He also wanted the boat of the _Greyhound_ -brought over to Long Wharf. - -“Just bring her over yourself,” said he. “No, we don’t want help, just -you and me will manage it, and bring the mast and sail and some grub, -never mind what I want her for, I’ll tell you later, it’s a paying -business, as you’ll find.” - -With that I took my leave of him and hiked off back to Tiburon, for -the day was getting on and I had none too much time to get things -together. - -I was bothered and that’s the truth; Buck had gone off, wasn’t the -same chap, and by his manner when he asked me to meet him with the -boat, I knew it wasn’t pleasure sailing he was after. I near scratched -the top off my head thinking what he could be wanting with that boat, -but it was beyond me and I gave it up. Taute was the name of the -Kanaka, same chap we had with us when we did that gun-running job down -at Taleka, and when I got back to the _Greyhound_ I set Taute to work, -getting some grub together and a new spar for a mast as the old one -was sprung. Then, getting along for evening, I rowed over to Long -Wharf. Long Wharf was pretty busy just then, what with wheat ships -cleaning up before towing to Berkley for cargo and Oregon timber ships -and such. There was a schooner lying there belonging to a chap I knew, -so I just tied up to her channel-plates and crossed over on to the -wharf where I sits on a bollard kicking my heels and waiting for Buck. - -Along he comes just on dark, and without a word he follows me across -the deck of the schooner into the boat. - -Tell you I felt queer. We’d sailed pretty close to the wind together -me and him, gun-running and what not, but this job seemed different, -sort of back-door business with the harbour police or the Fish Patrol -waiting to lay for us if we hitched up on it anywhere. I’d been used -to blue water doings and big things and it got my goat to feel we were -after something small and shady. It wasn’t small by any means, but, -anyhow, that’s how I felt. But I said nothing, taking the oars and -Buck taking his place in the stern sheets. Then we pushed off, Buck -steering and making as if he was layin’ a course for Oakland. A few -cable lengths out we took the wind and put up the mast, and, Buck -taking the sheet, off we set still laying as if we were bound for -Oakland. I’d sooner be out anywhere than in the lower bay after dark, -what between them dam screeching ferry boats and the motor launches -and such. Every monkey in ’Frisco with brass enough seems to have some -sort or another of a launch or yacht and to spend his natural trying -to run folks down. We were near cut into twice, seeing we had no -light, but after a while, getting off the main track and Buck shifting -his helm, we got along better. - -He was steering now laying straight for Angel Island. We passed Racoon -Straits and kept on, the breeze freshening hard and the boat laying -over to it. The sky was clear and a big moon was coming over the -hills. Wonderful fine the bay is a night like that, with all the -lights round showing yellow against the moon and ’Frisco showing up -against Oakland. - -However, we weren’t out to admire the view and we held on, at least -Buck did, till we were near level, as far as I could make out, with -Reeds and aiming for Red Rock, the wind holding well. We passed a -Stockton boat and an old brig coming down from Benicia or somewhere up -there. Then away ahead and coming along square as a haystack I sighted -a Chinese junk. Buck let go the sheet and, lighting a lantern he’d -brought with us, ran it up. - -“What are you doing that for?” I asked him. - -“Show you in a minute,” says Buck. “Give us the boat-hook.” - -I handed it along and he told me to have the oars handy and then we -sat whilst the junk came along at a six-knot clip, boosting the water -and the great eyes in the bow of her showing in the moonlight as if -they were staring at us, but not a soul to be seen or a light on deck. - -She snored along to starboard of us not more than ten yards away, -black as thunder against the moon, and she was showing us her stern -when something went splash over her side, followed by something else -as if two chaps had gone a dive, one after the other. - -On top of that and almost at once a Holmes light was thrown over and -went floating along, blazing and smoking and showing a man’s head -squatting beside it. - -“Man overboard,” I says. - -“Row,” says Buck. - -I turned my head as I rowed and saw the junk going along as if nothing -had happened, and then I saw the thing in the water wasn’t a man’s -head but a buoy. We closed with the buoy and Buck grabs it with the -boat-hook and brings it on board. It had a rope tied to it and he -hauls it in, hand over hand, till up came a bundle done round with -sacking. He hooks it over the gunnel and into the boat. - -“That’s done,” said he. - -“It is,” said I. - -I didn’t say a word more. We got the sail on her and put her on the -starboard tack, heading straight for Angel Island. - -Then we shoved through Racoon Straits. It was getting along for -morning now and I felt stiff and beat, with no heart in me or tongue -to tell Buck what I was thinking of him for dragging me into a -business like this, only praying we might get out of it without being -overhauled. - -We had Tiburon lights to starboard now and a bit to port the riding -light of the old _Greyhound_, when, all of a sudden, we see a light -running along towards us and heard the noise of a propeller like a -sewing machine in a hurry. - -“Police boat,” says Buck. - -My heart rose up and got jammed in my throat, and I hadn’t more than -swallowed it down when they were alongside of us, and there was Buck -sitting in the stern sheets with the bundle under his legs, and a chap -in the police boat playing a lantern on him. - -Then the chap laughed. - -“Oh, it’s only you, Buck,” says he. “What are you out for this time of -night?” - -“Smuggling opium,” says Buck. - -The chap laughed. He was Dennis, well known to us both, and he shut -his lantern and gave us the news that he was after some Chink -smugglers who had their quarters at Valego and, fearing their shop was -to be raided, were due to run some stuff into Tiburon that night -according to his information. - -“Well, we’ve just come down from San Quenton,” says Buck, “and I -didn’t sight anything, only a big junk that passed us, making as if -she was going to Oakland—Good luck to you.” - -Off they went and five minutes after we were tying up to the -_Greyhound_. - - - III - -We got the stuff on board, right down here where we are sitting now, -and he undoes the sacking and there stood six cans of Canton opium, -worth Lord knows what a can. - -I got the whisky out and had a big drink before I could get my hind -legs under me to go for him. - -“Well,” I said, “this is a nice night’s work. S’pose Dennis hadn’t -been in that police boat? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Don’t you -see you’ve been trading on your good name, for if Dennis hadn’t -believed in you, we’d both be in quad now with the shackles on us—And -look what you’ve done to the _Greyhound_.” - -“What have I done to her?” he fires. - -“Done to her,” I says. “Why, you’ve made her disrespectable, that’s -what you’ve done to her.” - -“Lord, is this the first shady job she’s been in?” says he. “Why, look -at those guns we run—what’s the difference?” - -“Guns aren’t dope,” I says, “and whites aren’t Chinks. You’ve been -hand in fist with Chinks over this, but there’s no use talking. It’s -done.” - -I knew it was the wife at the back of him. That was the cause of it -all, so I didn’t rub it in any more. I remembered Newall’s words about -her and the men she’d done in, and I saw as plain as paint that -laundry of hers was only a blind for the Lord knows what. I just had -another drink, and then I asked him what he was going to do with the -stuff now he had it on board. He said he was going to stick it in the -lazarette for a few days till things were quiet and then he’d get it -ashore, can by can, and he’d do it all himself and not ask me to help -him. - -Then we got the stuff into the lazarette and had a snooze, and -somewhere about noon next day he goes ashore, leaving me on board. - -I couldn’t eat nor sit still, couldn’t do anything but smoke and walk -the deck. I reckon when a man’s in trouble there’s nothing better than -tobacco, it gives him better advice than all the friends in the world. - -There I was with that stuff in the lazarette and who knew what moment -some gink or another would give the show away and the police would be -aboard. I wasn’t thinking of myself so much as Buck, and after him I -was thinking of his wife and wishing I had her aboard to drown her. - -But worry as much as I liked, I couldn’t see a way out; the only way -was to break him off from her and get him away, for this was only the -beginning of things and I knew it would end in perdition for him. -She’d managed to get some power over him with those mulberry eyes of -hers, and how to loose it was beyond me. - -I slept aboard that night and somewhere getting along for morning, I -sat up in my bunk with a plan full made in my head. I must have been -thinking it out in my sleep, or maybe it was the Almighty put it into -my mind, but it was a peach. Question was, could I work it? - -First thing I did was to make a dive for the lazarette and get those -opium tins out; getting them on deck I dumped them one by one, and -every splash I said to myself: “There goes a bit of that damn woman.” -It was just before sun up and there was nobody to see. - -“Now,” I says to myself, “the old _Greyhound’s_ a clean ship again and -Buck will be a clean man before dark if I have to break the laundry up -and her on top of it.” - -Getting on for breakfast time I sent Taute ashore for some things and -did the cooking myself, then, towards noon, I rowed ashore and took -the ferry for ’Frisco. - -I was as full of nerves as a barber’s cat. It wasn’t what I was going -to do that rattled me, but the knowing that if I didn’t pull it off, -Buck would be ruined for life. - -When I got to the laundry I couldn’t go in. I walked up and down the -street saying to myself: “Bill, you’ve gotta do it; no use hanging in -irons, you’ve got old Buck to think of. Make yourself think what -you’re going to say is true, now or never, in you go, give her the -harpoon.” - -In I goes. The head woman said they were upstairs, and up I went. - -They’d finished their dinner and Buck was smoking a cigar, the woman -was still at the table, peeling an apple. - -“Buck,” I says, “it’s up, the police are after you. I’ve run all the -way to tell you. Dennis has given me word and you’ve still time to -save yourself if you’re quick.” - -The woman gives a squeal and flings the apple on the table. - -“Great Scott!” says Buck. - -Then I turns on his wife and gives her the length of my tongue for -leading him into the business, and she ups and gives me the lie, -saying she had nothing to do with it, winking at him to back her, -which the fool did, but so half-hearted you could see he wasn’t -telling the truth. - -“Well,” I said, “it doesn’t matter, the question is now to get him out -of ’Frisco. Dennis has given me three hours to get the _Greyhound_ out -with him on board her and save him from the penitentiary. Has he any -money?” - -“I’ve got his money,” says she. “Buck, stir yourself,” she says. “I’ll -pack a bag for you and here’s the notes you give me to keep.” She goes -to the safe and unlocks it and takes out a bundle done up in brown -paper, and he stuffs it in his pocket, and she packs his bag and off I -drags him. - -Out in the street I told him to wait a minute, and ran back, and there -she was in the room locking the safe. - -“I ought to have told you,” said I, “they’re after you too; clear out -of ’Frisco, git by the next train or they’ll have you.” - -“Who’s give me away?” she cries. - -“The Chinks,” says I; and at that she let a yelp out of her, and falls -on the sofa in a dead faint. I opened the safe and there I sees a -parcel the identical of the one she’d given Buck, and I put it in my -pocket after a squint at the contents. Then I put her feet up, and lit -out to where Buck was waiting for me in the street, and catching him -by the arm I dragged him along down to the wharves where Taute was -waiting with the boat. We got over to the _Greyhound_, and then the -three of us set to work to get that schooner out of the bay, a six -men’s job, but we done it. - -All the time we were handling her and getting across the bar I was -thinking hard enough to split my head open. Outside I came to a -conclusion. - -“Buck,” I said, “you’re free of her now.” - -“Who?” says he. - -“Your wife,” says I. - -Then I told him all I’d done. I thought he’d have knifed me. He was -for putting back right away till I played my last card. I was only -working on suspicion but I was right. - -“Put your hand in your pocket,” I said, “and pull out that bundle of -notes your wife gave you. If the tally is right, I’ll go straight back -with you and apologise to her.” - -He pulls out the parcel and opens it. It was full of bits of newspaper -and old washing bills. Then I pulls out the other parcel I’d nicked -and there were his notes. - -Brent relit his pipe. - -“He never saw her again,” said Brent. “When we put back to ’Frisco, -the laundry was shut and she gone. He didn’t want to see her either. -The old _Greyhound_ was enough for him after his experience of -women—and now she’s going too.” - -We sat for a while in silence and tobacco smoke, then Brent looked up. -The coughing and churning of a tug came through the open skylight and -the hot hazy atmosphere of the cabin. - -“That’s them,” said Brent. - -We came on deck. Then we climbed on to the wharf whilst Scott’s men -went aboard, true undertakers’ assistants, callous, jovial, red-faced, -gin-breathing. We watched the tow rope passed and the mooring ropes -cast off, the tow rope tighten and the bowsprit of the _Greyhound_ -turning for the last time from land. We watched the smashed-up water -of the harbour streaming like a millrace under the bat-bat-bat of the -tug paddles and the stern of the Greyhound with the faded old -lettering turned towards a wharf for the last time. - -As the vision faded, Brent heaved a deep sigh, thinking maybe of his -partner and old times. - -“Well,” he said, turning away, “that’s the end of her. What gets me is -that the other one may be alive and kicking her heels and enjoying -herself—no knowing, it’s those sort that live longest, seems to me.” - - - - -X—IRON LAW or THE QUEEN OF UTIALI - - - I - -If you want to study psychology go to the wilds. The minds of -civilised men and women are so covered with embroidery that the true -texture is almost hidden; their faces have been used so long for masks -that form and expression cannot be relied on. Amongst savages you come -sometimes upon the strangest facts bearing upon the structure of mind, -facts that lose half their significance in the atmosphere of London, -yet which, all the same, are not unconnected with our processes of -reasoning and conduct. - -I was sitting with Brent in the house of Ibanez, the agent of the -Southern Islands Soap Syndicate, an institution that turns cocoanut -trees and native labour into soap, mats, margarine, dollars and -dividends, beats up the blue Pacific with the propellers of filthy -steamboats and has its offices in San Francisco, London and New York. -We were sitting, to speak more strictly, in the verandah, the southern -night lay before us and a million stars were lighting the sea. - -Tahori, a native boy, and one of Ibanez’s servants, had just brought -along a big tray with cigars and drinks and placed it on a table by -us. I noticed that he wore white cotton gloves. Brent had also noticed -the fact. - -“What’s wrong with that chap’s hands?” asked Brent. - -“Tahori’s?” replied our host. “Nothing—only he must not touch glass.” - -“Tabu?” - -“Yes. He only helps occasionally in household work when Mauri is away. -I got over the difficulty of his waiting upon me by giving him gloves -in case he accidentally touched a tumbler or bottle; even with the -gloves on he will not handle anything in the way of glass knowingly; -the cook puts the things on that tray, and when he takes it back to -the kitchen she will clear it.” - -“I thought all that was dying out,” said Brent. - -“So it is, but it still hangs about. Tahori is a South Island boy. I -don’t know why the tabu about glass came about, makes it awkward for -him as a servant.” - -“No one knows,” said Brent. “I’ve seen chaps that were under tabu -preventing them from eating oysters and others that daren’t touch the -skin of a shark or the wood of such and such a tree, no one knows -why.” - -“What do they suppose would happen to them if they broke the tabu?” I -asked. - -“They couldn’t,” said Brent. - -“Couldn’t?” - -“No, they couldn’t. I’m talking of the real old Islanders whose minds -haven’t been loosened up by missionaries and such, though I’m not so -sure it wouldn’t hold good for the present-day ones too, and I’m -saying that a chap like that couldn’t break his tabu not if he wanted -to, not if his life depended on it; beliefs are pretty strong things, -but this is something stronger even than a belief; maybe it’s the -mixture of a custom and a belief, and that makes it have such a hold -on the mind, but there it is—I’ve seen it.” - -“Seen a man unable to break his tabu?” - -“Seen the effects, anyhow, same as you might see the wreck of a ship -lying on a beach. I doubt if you’d see the same thing these days, -though there’s no telling; anyhow, it was away back in the early -nineties and I’d just come up from the Tongas to Tahiti, getting a -lift in the _Mason Gower_, she was an old trading schooner the -missionaries had collared and turned into a Bible ship, and I lent my -hand with the cooking to pay for my passage. - -“I’d had a quarrel with Slane and parted from him, taking my share of -the money we had in common, and I hadn’t seen him for six months and -more. I hadn’t prospered either, losing nearly every buck in a -blackbirding venture I ought never to have gone in for. - -“I hadn’t more than ten dollars in my belt when I landed at Papeete, -but I’d saved my dunnage and had some decent clothes and the luck to -fall in with Billy Heffernan at the club. Billy was one of the Sydney -boys; he wasn’t more than twenty-five, but he’d seen more of the world -than most and lost two fortunes which he’d made with his own hands. -That was the sort Billy was, and when I struck him at Papeete he was -recovering from his last bust-up and had got the money together for -another venture. - -“His first fortune had been made over Sing Yang opium, which isn’t -opium no more than Sam Shu is honest drink; then he’d done a deal in -shell and pulled it off and lost the money in copra, and now he was -after precious coral. - -“When I met him in the bar I said: ‘Hello, Heff—what are you after -down here,’ and he says, ‘Coral.’ - -“‘Well, you’ll find lots of it,’ says I, thinking he was joking, and -then I found it was precious coral he was talking of. You see there’s -about a hundred different sorts of coral. Coral’s made by worms. If -you go on any reef and knock a chunk off between tide marks you’ll -find your chunk has got worms hanging out of it. I’ve done it often in -different parts, and I’ve been surprised to find the difference in -those worms. Some are a foot long and as thin as a hair, and some are -an inch thick and as long as your finger; some are like snails and -some are like lobsters and prawns in shape; some are yellow and some -blue. Above tide marks you don’t find anything, just solid rock. Well, -there’s just as many different sorts of coral as there is worms, and -there’s only one sort of precious coral and it’s a pale pink, the -colour of a rose leaf, and that’s what Heffernan was after. He’d heard -of an island in the Paumotus which isn’t very far from Tahiti, and by -all accounts it was a good fishing ground for pink coral, and more -than that, it was said the Queen of the place—for it was run by a -woman—had a lot of the stuff for sale—Tawela was her name. - -“Ships keep clear of the Paumotus on account of the currents that run -every which way and the winds that aren’t dependable. Heff had his -information from a whaling captain who’d struck the place the year -before and had talk with the Kanakas. He was on the beach broken down -with drink, and gave the location for twenty dollars. He said he -didn’t think they were a dependable lot, but they had the stuff, and -if Heffernan didn’t mind taking risks he might make a fortune. Heff -asked the old chap why he hadn’t gone in for the business himself, and -he answered that he would have done so only he had no trade goods; -nothing but whale oil, and the Kanakas didn’t want that, they wanted -knives and tobacco and any sort of old guns and print calico and so -on. Heft didn’t know where to get any such things as these, and hadn’t -the money if he had known, nor a ship to lade them into, but next day, -by good luck, came blowing in the _Mary Waters_, owned and captained -by Matt Sellers, a Boston chap who’d come round to the Pacific in a -whaler out of Martha’s Vineyard, skipped at the Society Islands not -liking the society on board, and risen from roustabout to recruiter -and recruiter to captain and owner. He’d brought a mixed cargo from -’Frisco on spec to the Marquesas, couldn’t find a market and had come -on to Papeete, couldn’t find a market and came into the club for a -drink, fell into the arms, as you may say, of Heffernan, and that did -him. He hadn’t been talking half an hour with Heff when he sees -clearly that the hand of the Almighty was in the business, and that a -sure fortune was waiting for him if he’d only take the trouble to pick -it up. His trade goods were just the things wanted to buy the stuff, -and he only had to put out for the Paumotus to get it. That was the -way Heff mesmerised him. Then they had a talk as to the profits, and -Sellers agreed to give Heff twenty-five per cent. commission on the -deal. - -“I blew into the business, as I was saying, by meeting Heffernan a few -days later—day before the _Mary Waters_ was due to sail—and, seeing -no chance of doing much in Papeete, I joined in with them at second -officer’s pay, but without any duty, only to lend a hand if there -should be a dust-up. - -“Next day we started, steering a course almost due east. We weren’t -long in finding out we’d struck the Paumotus, tide rips everywhere and -reefs, then you’d see cocoanut trees growing out of the sea ahead and -presently you’d be skimming by a beach of coral not ten feet above the -sea level with cocoanut trees blowing in the wind and Kanaka children -shouting at you. Very low free board those atoll islands have, and -I’ve heard of ships being blown right over the beaches into the -lagoons. We passed a big island like that, and then, two days after, -we raised Utiali; that was the name of the island the whaler captain -had given to Heffernan with the latitude and longitude. It wasn’t down -in the South Pacific Directory. They’ve got it there now, but in those -days there was no mention of Utiali, though the whaler captains knew -it well enough, but a whaler captain would never bother to report an -island; if he’d struck the New Jerusalem he wouldn’t have done more -than log it as a place where you could take on milk and honey. Whales -was all they cared for, and blubber. - -“We came along up and found the place answering to all descriptions, -lagoon about a mile wide, break to the east, good show of cocoanut -trees and deep soundings all to north-east and south, with another -island not bigger than the palm of your hand to west running out from -a line of reef that joined with the beach of Utiali. - -“If the place had been painted blue with the name in red on it, it -couldn’t have been plainer. - -“We came along to the eastward till we saw the opening, and got -through without any bother just on the slack. - -“It was a pretty place to look at. I’ve never seen a stretch of water -that pleased me more than that lagoon; maybe it was the depth or -something to do with the water itself, but it was more forget-me-not -colour than sea blue, and where it was green in the shallows or the -ship shadow, that green was brighter and different from any green I’ve -ever seen. - -“Maybe that’s why precious coral grew there, since the water colours -were so clear and bright, the coral colours following suit would hit -on new ideas, so to speak, but however that may have been, there was -no denying the fact that Utiali was a garden, and the native houses on -shore seemed the gardeners’ cottages—had that sort of innocent look. - -“We dropped the hook close in shore on to a flower bed where you could -see the sea anemones and the walking shells as clear as if there -wasn’t more than two foot of water over them, and before the schooner -had settled to the first drag of the ebb that was beginning to set, -canoes began to come off with Kanakas in them. - - - II - -“They came along paddling under the counter, waving their paddles to -us, and then, having gone round us, like as if they were making a tour -of inspection, they tied up and came on board, led by a big Kanaka -Mary—a beauty to look at, with lovely eyes—Lord, I remember those -eyes—who gave herself a bang on the chest with her fist and said -‘Tawela.’ That was how she presented her visiting card. - -“We had a Kanaka with us who could talk most of the island tongues, -and we put him on to Tawela to extract information from her and it -came up in chunks. - -“Tawela, by her own accounts, was anxious to trade anything from -cocoanuts to her back teeth. She wanted guns and rum, which we hadn’t -got, but she said she’d try to make out with tobacco and beads. She -said she had plenty of pink coral, and would we come on shore and look -at it, also would we come to dinner and she would give us the time of -our lives. - -“Then she went off ashore, us promising to follow on in an hour or so. - -“I was talking to Sellers after she’d left, when Sellers says to me: -‘Look over there, what’s that?’ I looks where he was pointing and I -sees something black sticking from the water away out in the lagoon. -The tide was ebbing, as I’ve told you, and the thing, whatever it was, -had been uncovered by the ebb; it didn’t look like the top of a rock, -it didn’t look like anything you could put a name to unless maybe the -top of an old stake sticking from the water. ‘Go over and have a -look,’ says Sellers, ‘and find what it is.’ I took the boat which had -been lowered ready to take us ashore, and me and Heffernan pulls out. - -“‘It’s the mast of a ship,’ says Heff, who was steering, and no sooner -had he given it its name than I saw plain enough it couldn’t be -anything else. - -“It was, and as we brought the boat along careful, the ship bloomed up -at us, the fish playing round the standing rigging and a big green -turtle sinking from sight of us into her shadow. - -“She lay as trigg as if she was on the stocks, with scarcely a list -and her bow pointing to the break in the reef. Her anchor was in the -coral, and you could see the slack of the chain running to her bow. -She’d been a brig. The top masts had been hacked off for some reason -or another, and pieces of canvas, yards long some of them, showed -waving from her foreyard, and it was plain to be seen she’d been sunk -with the foresail on her and the canvas had got slashed by fish and -the wear of the tides bellying it this way and that till there was -nothing left but just them rags. - -“I’d never seen a ship murdered before and said so. - -“‘Yes,’ says Heffernan, ‘it’s plain enough, she’s been sunk at her -moorings; look at the way she’s lying, and look at that anchor chain. -Well, I never did think to see a sunk ship at anchor, but I’ve seen it -now.’ - -“‘It’s the chaps ashore that have done this,’ said I. - -“‘Sure,’ said Heffernan. ‘Done in the ship and done in the crew. We’ve -got to go careful.’ - -“We put back to the _Mary Waters_ and reported to Sellers. - -“‘Skunks!’ said Sellers. ‘Tawela’s Queen Bee of a proper hive. Well, -we must be careful, that’s all. Keep our guns handy and give word to -the Kanakas to be on the look-out.’ - -“The _Mary Waters_ had a Kanaka crew as I’ve said, and having given -the bo’sun the tip to be on the look-out for squalls, we got rowed -ashore, sending the boat back to the schooner. - -“Tawela’s house was the first of the line of houses that ran east and -west along the beach; it was the biggest, too, and there was only her -and her son at the dinner; the rest of the tribe had gone off in the -canoes right across the lagoon to the opposite shore to gather -shell-fish on the outer beach. Our Kanaka boy that acted as -interpreter got this news from Tawela, and it lightened our minds a -lot, for if any killing had been meant the tribe wouldn’t have gone -off like that. - -“It wasn’t a bad dinner, take it all round. Baked pig and oysters, and -sweet potatoes and so on, with a palm salad that Tawela never invented -herself, that I’ll lay a dollar, and said so. - -“‘Oh, she’s probably made the cook of that brig show her how to do -things white man style before she murdered him,’ says Sellers. - -“‘Damn her,’ says Heffernan, and there those two sat talking away, she -listening but not understanding; it was better than a pantomime. - -“Then the son gets up and brings in some palm toddy, best I ever -struck, and Sellers opens a box of cigars he’d brought with him, and -we all lit up, Tawela included. - -“I remember, as plain as if it was only ten minutes ago, sitting there -looking at the sunlight coming in through the door behind Sellers and -striking through the blue smoke of the cigars, and then the next thing -I remember is waking up with my hands tied and my feet roped together, -lying on my back in a shack with the morning light coming through the -cracks in the wall, Heffernan and Sellers beside me. - -“It was plain enough what had happened; we’d been doped. I heard -Sellers give a groan and called out to him, then Heffernan woke, and -there we lay admiring ourselves for the fools we’d been in falling -into that mug trap. We’d each landed with a revolver strapped to his -belt, but the revolvers were gone. - - - III - -“We hadn’t been lying there cursing ourselves more than half an hour -when, the sun having got over the reef, a chap comes in, catches -Sellers by the heels and drags him out just as if he’d been a dead -carcase. - -“‘Good-bye, boys,’ cries Sellers, as he’s dragged along the ground, -and good-bye it was, for a few minutes after we heard him scream. - -“He went on screaming for fifteen minutes, maybe more, and I was -fifteen years older when he let off and the silence came up again with -nothing but the sound of the reef and the jabbering of those cursed -Kanakas. - -“‘If I had a knife I’d stick it into myself,’ says Heffernan. ‘Lord! -what have they been doing to him?’ - -“I couldn’t answer, more than just by spitting, and there we lay -waiting our turn and watching the sun striking fuller on the lagoon -through the door space. - -“I could see the schooner lying there at anchor, but not a soul could -I see on board her; the crew were either down below or had been -murdered. As I was looking at her I heard Heffernan give a grunt, then -I saw that he was sitting up and that his hands were free. He’d been -working away, saying nothing, and he’d managed to get the cocoanut -fibre rope free of his wrists; a minute after, he’d got his feet -loose, and then he turned to me and it didn’t take more than five -minutes to make me a free man like himself. - -“That being done we set to work on the back wall of the shack, pulling -aside the wattles and tearing out the grass binding till we were free -at last and out into the thick growth, which was mostly mammee apple -and cassia mixed up with pandanus and cocoanut trees. - -“What made us bother to break free from the shack, Lord only knows. -There was no use getting free, seeing we were on an atoll and would be -hunted down like rats once Tawela and her crowd got wind that we were -loose; anyhow, we’d worked like niggers and just as if our lives had -depended on it, and now in the bushes we were crawling along on our -bellies to put as big a distance as we could between ourselves and -that crowd—as if it mattered! - -“We worked along, taking the line of bushes towards the reef opening, -and all the time to the left of us we could hear the breaking of the -swell on the outer beach, whilst to the right of us we could see bits -of the lagoon now and then through the branches. - -“The strangest feeling I’ve ever felt was being stuck like that -between the free sea and that locked-in lagoon. - -“Prison on one side, so to say, and an open road on the other. - -“Well, there we were, the sun getting higher in the sky, and the -Kanakas sure to be beating the bushes after us as soon as they found -we’d broke loose, but we didn’t say a word on the matter, only went on -crawling till we’d reached the last of the trees and thick stuff. From -there the coral ran naked to the break in the reef. - -“We hadn’t more than reached so far when the hellnation of a -hullabaloo broke out behind us, and we thought they’d found we’d -escaped, but that wasn’t so, as we discovered in a minute, for -chancing to look towards the opening, we saw the top canvas of a -schooner away beyond the northernmost pierhead. We reckoned she was -two or three mile off, and, crawling along the coral on our bellies -till we’d got a clear view of the sea, there she was, right enough, -making for the break, the light wind spilling and filling her canvas. -She hadn’t much more than steerage way. - -“Then we looked back. We couldn’t see the village because of the -trees, but we could see the _Mary Waters_ lying there at anchor out in -the lagoon, and canoes all about her and chaps swarming on board of -her. - -“‘See that,’ said Heffernan, ‘all that hullabaloo wasn’t about us. I -doubt if they’ve found we’ve escaped yet.’ - -“‘What are they doing round the schooner?’ says I. - -“‘Lord knows,’ says he, ‘but we’ll soon see.’ - -“We did. Those devils were used to the game of sinking ships and -slaughtering sailor men; they’d most likely got all the trade goods -they wanted off the schooner by this, and now we saw them passing a -tow rope from the bow to one of the canoes and we heard the noise of -the winch picking up the anchor chain. - -“‘They’re not going to sink her at her moorings,’ said Heffernan, ‘too -shallow. Look, they’re towing her to a deeper part of the lagoon.’ - -“That was so, and as we watched we saw she was getting deeper in the -water even as she was towed; they must have begun the job of sinking -her the minute the schooner was sighted, forgetting like fools that -the chaps coming up would have been sure to sight her spars, or maybe -risking even that rather than have the newcomers see the bloody work -that had been done on deck. - -“You can sink a ship quicker than clean her sometimes. Well, there it -was, and suddenly the old _Mary Waters_ gave a dive, and dipped her -bowsprit under. I saw her shiver like a dog, and then the stern went, -the main hatch cover blowing off from air pressure as soon as the -decks were awash. After that she went like a stone till there was -nothing left of her but a case or two floating about and a bit of -grating. - -“Then we crawled back among the trees and held a council of war, as -you might say, but we couldn’t fix on anything to do but lay still and -wait our chances. We reckoned the fellows in the schooner were sure to -come ashore armed, and we’d have time to warn them before they were -set on. Our worst chance was that the Kanakas might find us before the -schooner was in or the chaps come ashore, but there was no use -bothering about that, and there we lay waiting and listening till the -fore canvas of the schooner showed at the break, and in she came -riding the full flood, every sail drawing to the wind that was -freshening up. - -“When I saw her full view I nearly leapt out of my skin. She was the -_Greyhound_. Buck, as I found afterwards, had put into Papeete, heard -of our expedition and me being with it, and, the old whaling chap -offering to give him our port of destination for two bottles of -whisky, closed on the offer and lit after us. He was anxious to pick -up with me and make friends, and maybe he was anxious to have a hand -in the coral business as well, no knowing; anyhow, here he was bulling -along across the lagoon and evidently making to drop his anchor close -to the village. - -“‘Come on,’ I says to Heffernan, ‘follow me.’ We made back through the -thick stuff, taking the track we’d come by, and we hadn’t more’n -reached the sight of Tawela’s house through the trees when we heard -the anchor chain go. - -“I reckon the damn fool Kanakas had been so busy with the sinking of -the schooner and then the _Greyhound_ coming in, that they’d forgot to -look to see if we were still safely tied up. Anyhow, the whole crowd -were down on the beach to meet the boat that was coming off, and -making sure of that, I took a peep into Tawela’s house to see if there -was any clubs or spears handy for arming ourselves, and there I see -Tawela’s son hiding a long knife under some matting. We went in; he -was too scared to yell, and shoving him in a corner, we stripped up -the matting, and there were our revolvers, a couple of knives and half -a dozen short stabbing spears, all bloody with the blood of Sellers. - -“We kicked him out before us, and, with the guns in our hands, down we -marched to the beach. - - - IV - -“Buck Slane had landed, he and four of his men, and every man with a -Winchester. - -“Tawela and her crowd were round them, all friendly as pie and wagging -their tails, and so busy pretending to be innocent and God-fearing -Kanakas they didn’t notice us till we were almost on them; for a -moment I thought they were going to show fight, but when they saw the -guns in our hands they boiled down. - -“I clapped my gun to Tawela’s head, and called Buck to tie her hands -behind her—we hadn’t time to say good-day to each other, just -that—and Buck, tumbling to the truth of the matter, whips a big -pocket handkerchief from his pocket, and one of his men does the -binding. As he was binding her he says, ‘Look at her hands,’ and -there, sure enough, was blood dried on her hands, the blood of Sellers -calling out for revenge. - -“Then, whilst the crowd stood quiet, I gave Buck the facts in four -words. He made a signal with his arms to the schooner, and off comes -another boat with the mate and four more Kanakas, all armed. - -“Then Buck took command, and leaving Tawela with a chap and orders to -blow her brains out if she so much as sneezed, we drove that whole -crowd along the beach right to the break of the lagoon and left them -there with four gunmen covering them. Then we came back. - -“We searched round and found what was left of Sellers among the -bushes, then we set to. - -“‘They’re unfortunate heathens,’ says Buck, ‘but they’ve got to be -taught,’ and with that he set fire to Tawela’s house with his own -hands. We burnt every house, we smashed everything we could smash, and -we broke the canoes to flinders, fishing gear and spears and -everything went, so there was nothing left of that population but the -people. - -“That will learn them,’ says Buck. Then he collected his men, and -bundling Tawela into a boat with a parcel of pink coral we found in a -shack back of her house, we pushed off. Ridley, the mate, was for -shooting her—seeing the evidence on her hands—and slinging the body -in the lagoon, but Buck said he was going to give her a decent trial -when our minds were cool, and there was lots of time, anyway, after -we’d put out. Buck, ever since his business with Sru, had been against -doing things in a hurry, specially when it came to killing, so she was -had on board and given in charge of two of the Kanaka crew. Then we -got the hook up and out we put. - -“The Kanakas were still herded at the end near the break, and as we -passed through, knowing we’d got their Queen on board, they all set up -a shout, ‘Tawela, Tawela’ like the crying of sea gulls, and that was -the last we heard of them. - -“Then, with the ship on her course, and the Kanaka bo’sun in charge of -the deck, we got down to the cabin and started our court-martial. - -“She deserved hanging, there were no two words about that. And I -reckon it was more superstition about killing a woman than humanity, -but maybe I’m wrong; anyhow, Buck brought out his idea, which was to -take her to Sydney and have her tried there. - -“We’d been going at it for an hour or so, when the mate was called on -deck and comes back in a minute or two in a tearing rage. - -“‘That wild cat,’ says he, ‘has been asking for food and won’t eat -bully beef; says anything that comes out of a shell is tabu to her, -turtle or oysters or shell fish, and she reckons canned stuff is the -same since it’s in a tin shell. I expect she’s had lots of experience -in canned stuff seeing all the ships she’s wrecked. What’s to be done -with her?’ - -“‘Give her biscuits,’ says Buck, ‘and there’s lots of bananas on -board.’ - -“Off the mate goes and back he comes to the conference, but we could -fix up nothing that night, Buck still holding out for a proper trial -at Sydney, and we pointing out that English or American law would be -sure to let a woman escape. It stood like that till next morning, when -Buck, coming down to breakfast, says: ‘Boys, I’ve got an idea.’ - - - V - -“He’d struck an idea in the night of how to dispose of Tawela. Buck -had a fine knowledge of the Kanaka mind, and when he’d explained his -idea to us I allowed it was a peach, if what he said was true. - -“Have you ever heard tell of the Swatchway—the Scours some call it? -It’s an island, or more truly speaking a big lump of reef with half a -dozen cocoanut trees on it lying south of the Australs about four -hundred and fifty miles from the steamer track between Auckland and -Tahiti. It’s got reefs round it all spouting like whales, and ships’ -captains give it a big wide berth. - -“Well, Buck’s plan was to land Tawela on the Scours; there’s water -there according to the Pacific Directory, and Buck said he wasn’t -going to maroon her without grub. He’d give her six months’ -grub—canned. Bully beef and so on with biscuits in tins. If she -starved herself to death in the middle of plenty then it wouldn’t be -our fault. He said he’d come back in six months, and if she was alive -he’d take her back home, said she was only an ignorant Kanaka and he -reckoned six months’ punishment would fill the bill, and if she chose -to kill herself, why, then it would be Providence not us that did the -business. - -“Ridley, at first go off, flew out against this till Buck quieted him, -asking who was master of the schooner, and whether he wanted to be -logged for insubordination; the course was changed to sou’-sou’-west -and two days later we raised the Scours. - -“There were six cocoanut trees there, all bearing, so we cut them down -and brought the nuts on board, then we landed Tawela and her -provisions with a can opener, showing her how to use it. There was a -fresh water pond in the coral, so she couldn’t want for water, and -there we left her. - -“We made for Suva and sold that coral, not getting near the price we -thought to, and then we ran a cargo to Auckland. - -“I’d noticed for some time Buck wasn’t the man he used to be, and one -night it come out. ‘I’ve got something on my mind,’ he says, ‘it’s -that dam Kanaka. Can’t help thinking about her. My conscience is clear -enough,’ he says, ‘for she deserved her gruel, but I can’t help -thinking of her—wonder if she’s dead.’ - -“‘Oh, it’s ten to one she’s either broke her tabu or some ship has -taken her off by this,’ I says to ease him, for I saw that being a -good-hearted chap, and imaginative as most Irishmen are, the thing was -hitting him as it never hit me. - -“Buck shakes his head and falls back into himself and says no more, -and time goes on, till one day when we were on the run to Papeete with -a mixed cargo, seeing that the chap was making an old man of himself -over the business, I says, ‘S’pose we run down to the Scours now -instead of on the voyage back as you’d fixed, and see what’s become of -that woman?’ - -“His face lit up, but he pretended to hang off for a while; then he -falls in with the idea, and we shifted the helm, raising the place -four days later and dropping anchor outside the reefs four months and -eight days from the time we’d left it. - -“There wasn’t a sign to be seen of anyone on the island, so Buck tells -me to take a boat and look; he hadn’t the heart to go himself and said -so, plump, and off I put, leaving the boat’s crew with the boat on the -beach and tramping across the coral on the look-out for signs. - -“I found the canned stuff. There had evidently been a big wind and -blown the stuff about, and I found it here and there, but not one -empty can could I find or one that had been opened, then, in a dip of -the coral I found a skull, the black hair still sticking to it, and a -backbone and ribs—the birds make a skeleton of a corpse in no time on -a place like that; I reckon I could have found the whole skeleton if -I’d hunted, but I didn’t. I put back for the schooner and came on -board laughing. - -“‘Well,’ I said, ‘she’s done us. You and your talk of Kanakas not -breaking their tabu; why, half the tins are opened and empty, and -she’s gone, took off by some ship.’ - -“‘Thank God,’ says Buck. - -“That lie of mine lifted the black dog right off his back, and to his -dying day he never knew he’d killed that woman as sure as if he’d shot -her with a gun. He was as cheerful as a magpie all the rest of that -voyage, and so was I. You see I’d heard Sellers screaming whilst those -brutes were doing him in and Buck hadn’t. - -“That’s all I know about tabu, but it’s first-hand knowledge, personal -experience as you might say.” - -He ceased, and through the night came the voices of fish spearers from -the reef and the far rumble of the surf, and from the back premises -the voice of Tahori singing some old song of an Island world whose -brilliancy breaks sometimes to reveal the strangest phantoms from the -Past. - - - - -XI—THE STORY OF BILLY BROKE - - - I - -Do you know that fiction, without side-tracking interest, can often -teach a man what he will never learn in a class-room or from a -text-book? It can, and the lesson sticks, because the human mind is so -constituted that it will retain and assimilate a moral wrapped up in a -story, whereas the moral naked and unadorned would be forgotten in -fifteen minutes or rejected at once. - -I wonder how many men have been saved from selling old lamps for new -by the story of Aladdin! - -I, like hosts of other men, am a nervy and imaginative individual, and -the devil of the thing is that with us our imagination is our worst -enemy, keeps us awake at night counting up our losses instead of our -profits, fills us with fantastic fears of the future, and, should any -of us ever find ourselves in an incriminating position—which God -forbid—would, were we innocent, ten to one make us look or act like -criminals. - -Here is the story of a man who acted like an ass, a highly moral -married man whose imagination betrayed him, the story of Billy Broke -of Los Angeles, told me by Brent. - -Brent had a little fishing boat he kept at a slip near Circular Wharf -and he and I used often to go out fishing in Sydney Harbour. One day -we were out late, fishing off Farm Cove, so late that on our return a -huge moon was rising, flooding the harbour and city with its light. We -left the boat tied up in charge of the wharf keeper and tramped off -with our fish. Coming up along Halkin Street we saw something like a -bundle of old clothes lying in the moonlight right before us, and when -we got to it we found it was a dead Chink. - -It was a narrow street of tenement houses and not a soul to be seen. -There was a big Labour demonstration on that night, so I suppose the -inhabitants were all off demonstrating and that accounted for the -desolation of the place. - -Brent knelt down to inspect. Then he rose up: - -“Stabbed,” said he, “and as dead as mutton.” - -“What are we to do?” I asked. - -“Well,” said Brent, “we can’t be of any use to him, and we don’t want -to be mixed up in the business—come along.” - -He took me by the arm and led me off. He was a practical man and right -enough, I suppose, we could give no clue, the murderer, whoever he -might be, was well away, a thousand to one he was a brother Chink and -we knew all the bother there would be over the inquest,—still I felt -a qualm, but it was so slight I easily drowned it in a whisky and soda -at a bar we stopped at. Then I went home and went to bed and put out -the light, and with the darkness the moonlit street showed up before -my mind’s eye—and the Chink. - -“Suppose,” I thought, “suppose someone saw us leaving that street, -suppose by any chance we got connected with the business—what would -people say? Might they say we had committed the murder?” Absolute -nonsense, but there you are, my imagination had got away with me. I -couldn’t sleep, and next morning when I met Brent he asked me what was -wrong with me and I told him. He took me out for a sail in the harbour -where we spent the day cruising about, and after luncheon Brent -tackled me over the stupidity of “fancying things.” - -“What’s the use of fancying things?” said Brent, “ain’t there enough -troubles in the world without breeding them. Suppose you _were_ had -over that Chink, where’s the damage, you didn’t kill him—and you -ain’t going to be. Forget it. Lord o’ mercy, I’ve seen more guys -fooled by their fancies than I can remember the names of. Did I ever -tell you of Billy Broke? Brooke was the real name, only some fool of -an English ancestor or another left out one of the o’s, so the poor -chap was saddled with a nameplate only fit for a hoodoo. Nature not to -be behind in the business, fitted him with a set of nerves and an -imagination worse than yours and then turned him out into the cold -world to make his living. On top of everything he was pious beyond the -ordinary, bashful beyond believing and trusting in every man, which -isn’t a quality which makes for success in American business circles. - -“He’d gone bankrupt four or five times when the Almighty, thinking -maybe it was a shame that one of his creatures should be used like -that, married him to a common-sense woman with a bit of money and they -started a dry goods store in Los Angeles and would have done well -enough only for Billy’s nerves and imagination. - -“He wouldn’t speculate a bit in his business for fear of ruining -himself, an’ his fear of what was going to happen in the future took -all the pep and energy out of him. Worst of it was he would be boss of -the show and not leave things to his wife. I’m not meaning anything -personal, but chaps with high-geared nerves and X-ray imaginations -generally have a pretty good opinion of themselves in private. Billy -had, and the result was that he’d near brought the dry goods store to -bankruptcy when one day a wholesale firm in ’Frisco began to give -trouble over a bill that was owing and Billy determined to go and -interview them. - -“Mrs. B. wanted to go, but he wouldn’t let her, and the unfortunate -woman, knowing the fool he was, got in such a temper, she wouldn’t -even pack his grip. The hired girl did the packing. She was Irish and -given to mistakes, one of them dreamy, acushla sort of red-headed -Irishwomen with her heart on her sleeve and her head in the clouds, -regular at attending mass and smashing china and dependable to shove -anything that came handy into the pie she was making or the bag she -was packing. - -“The Irish girl did the packing and Billy with the grip in his hand -kissed the back of his wife’s neck, for she wouldn’t give him her -lips, and started off for the station. He got to ’Frisco without -losing himself and put up at the ‘Paris.’ - -“Now that day me and Slane were at Long Wharf, ’Frisco, on board the -_Greyhound_ ready to put out. We’d got five thousand dollars’ worth of -trade under the hatch, and we were bound for Nanuti in the Gilberts, -that’s to say right under the Line. - -“We were due out next morning at sun up, and that night, under a -blazing big moon we were sitting on deck having a smoke and talking -things over. Long Wharf was pretty quiet and you couldn’t more’n hear -the drunks and such yelling in Third and Fourth Streets. There was a -timber schooner outside of us and we could hear a fellow snoring in -her cabin and a big clock somewhere striking eleven. The strokes were -all equally loud, which showed there was no wind to speak of, and Buck -was wondering if we’d get enough in the morning to take us out when -along the wharfside comes running a chap, and, seeing us there on deck -in the moonlight and the sparks of our cigars, he comes bounding down -the gang plank and lands on the deck on his hands and knees without -losing grip of a parcel he was carrying. - -“‘Save me,’ cries the chap. ‘Get me out of ’Frisco, the police are -after me.’ Then he goes limp and Buck bends down and stirs him up. - -“‘Drunk,’ says Buck. - -“He was, and battered at that. His coat was torn up the back, he was -mud all over and his hat was gone, and yet, for all that, he looked to -have been respectable. You can’t batter the respectability out of a -man in five minutes, not even if you roll him in the gutter and fill -him with drink, this chap’s hands were clean where they weren’t dirty, -and I could see his nails had been attended to, his pants were muddy -and had a tear in them, but they weren’t frayed at the heels and the -cloth was good. - -“‘What are we going to do with him?’ I asks. - -“Buck scratches his head for a minute, then he says: - -“‘Get him below.’ - -“I was none too anxious for extra cargo of that sort, but I knew by -Buck’s voice he wasn’t in the humour for arguing, and, fearing that -maybe the police might come along and find the chap and hold us up -maybe next morning as witnesses of Lord knows what, I grabbed the guy -by the heels whilst Buck took the head and between us we slithered him -down below and shoved him in a spare bunk, putting his parcel beside -him. - -“We reckoned that maybe he’d have slept his liquor off before morning, -and we could give him a wash up and shove him ashore. - - - II - -“I got into my own bunk and slept like a dead policeman till Buck -dragged me out. - -“‘Tug’s along,’ says he, ‘and there’s a good wind, but I can’t wake -that blighter. He’s still in the arms of Bacchus and I’m just going to -take him along, Bacchus and all.’ - -“I came on deck and there was a little tinpot tug hauling the timber -schooner out so’s to free us, with the dawn breaking over the bay. - -“‘But Lord, Buck!’ I says. ‘What are you going to do with him if you -take him along, he’s no mascot by the look of him, and no sailor-man -neither. What are you going to do with him?’ - -“‘Save him from the police,’ says he, ‘and from liquor and make a man -of him or kill him, he’s no tough, by his face, just a softy that’s -got into bad hands maybe, or just run crooked because of the drink. -Curse the drink,’ says Buck, ‘I’ve seen its black work in my family -and that’s why I’ve always steered clear of it, and if it was only to -spite John Barleycorn I’d take a dozen guys like that, let alone one.’ - -“I didn’t argue. I had my hands full directing the crew, and I had it -in my mind that Buck was as keen of cheating the Penitentiary as he -was of spiting John Barleycorn. Like most Irishmen he had a mortal -hatred of policemen and prisons, and I don’t blame him, neither. - -“We were kept on deck till we were clear of the bar and running on a -sou’-west course, doing seven knots, with the sea piling up and more -wind coming, then I dropped below for a cup of coffee and a bite of -food, and looking at the chap in the bunk saw he was still snoring. - -“The parcel had dropped out of the bunk owing to the rolling in -crossing the bar, and the brown paper covering had got a bit loose and -I couldn’t for the life of me help poking round with my finger and -loosening it a bit more so’s to have a look at what might be inside. I -was thinking it might be banknotes or boodle of some sort, but what I -come on was a female’s silk petticoat. I was more shook up than if I’d -hit on a rattlesnake, and, calling Buck down, I says to him, ‘Buck, -this sleeping beauty of yours has been murdering a female.’ That’s how -the business struck me first. Why else should he have been running -away with the thing and the police after him? - -“Buck takes one squint, then he begins the Sherlock Holmes business, -looking for dagger marks and bloodstains, but there weren’t none, the -article looked pretty new, with nothing a Sherlock Holmes could lay -hold of but the letters J.B. worked in black thread very small on the -band of it, and no doubt the initials of the party owning the concern. -Buck puts the thing away in a locker and we sits down to breakfast, -arguing and talking all the time, the professor of somnology snoring -away in his bunk, the schooner getting further to sea and the sea -piling bigger behind her, with the wind rising to a tearing gale. - -“I was kept on deck all that morning, at the wheel most of the time, -for we were running before it and if she’d broached to we’d have gone -truck over keel to perdition. - -“Buck comes up at eight bells, saying the petticoat man had woke up -wanting to know where he was and asking to be taken to Los Angeles. I -didn’t bother about the chap, didn’t see him till next morning, when I -turned out to find the gale gone into a six-knot breeze and Buck and -him sitting at breakfast. - -“He’d washed and brushed and looked more like a human being, and he’d -given up wantin’ to be taken to Los Angeles and he’d settled down to -his gruel. - -“We were keen to have his story out of him and know what the crime -was, but we had no time for tale-telling with the damage on deck, for -we’d lost several spars in the blow, so we just left him to smoke and -think over his sins and didn’t tackle him till two days later, when he -told us the whole yarn right off, and without winking, so’s that we -couldn’t help believing him. - -“This is it, as far as I can remember, with nothing left out that -matters. - - - III - -“Billy Broke was his name and he’d left Los Angeles as I’ve told you -on a visit to ’Frisco to see a wholesale firm on some business. He put -up at the ‘Paris’ and went to his room to change his necktie and brush -his hair, and when he opened his grip to fetch out the tie and the -hairbrush, he come on a woman’s red silk petticoat rolled up and stuck -in anyhow. At first he thought it was his wife’s, but he couldn’t -remember ever seeing her in possession of such a garment, she being a -woman of quiet tastes and not given to violent colours. Then he -thought the thing must have been shoved in for fun by some joking -young chaps that had been on the train. The more he considered this, -the more he was sure of it, and down he sits to think things over. - -“First of all he says to himself that if the thing was shoved in by -them guys for fun it must have been stolen, then it came to him that -maybe they didn’t put it in for fun but to get rid of it as evidence -against them of some crime they’d committed. That made him sweat, but -he got a clutch on himself, telling himself it was only in magazine -stories things like that happened and that the chances were it -belonged to his wife. Then he told himself that no matter who it -belonged to or who put it there, he’d got to get rid of it. - -“He wouldn’t risk bringing it back home, not much, and he wouldn’t -risk keeping it an instant longer in his possession for fear of -detectives arriving whilst it was still in his possession, so down he -goes to the office and begs, borrows or steals a piece of brown paper -and a yard and a half of string and back he comes to his room and -wraps the evidence up and ties the string round it. - -“‘There,’ says Billy to himself, ‘that’s done. Now the only thing I’ve -got to do is take it out and lose it. Just throw it away. Some poor -woman will pick it up and grateful she’ll be for it.’ - -“He comes down and goes out with the parcel under his arm and then he -finds himself in the street. He’d thought to drop the parcel in the -street casually as he walked along, it seemed the easiest thing in the -world to do, but no sooner had he left the hotel with the parcel under -his arm than he felt that everyone was watching him. That wasn’t -stupidity either. Everyone was watching him. Everyone in every street -is watching everyone else, doing it unbeknown to themselves most of -the time, but doing it; it’s maybe a habit that has come down to us -from the time we were hunters, and our lives depended on our eyes, but -it’s there and if you fall down in any street half a dozen people will -see you fall who otherwise would never have known of your existence, -passing you without seeing you, consciously. - -“That truth hit Billy between the eyes. He felt if he were to drop -that parcel, not only would some guy see him drop it, but he’d know -he’d dropped it purposefully, so he walks along with it under his arm -trying to find an empty street, and somehow or another failing, till -he comes on a narrow lane, and ‘Here’s my chance,’ says he and dives -down it. Half way down, with no one in front or behind, he drops the -parcel and walks on, but he couldn’t help turning his head like a -fool, and there behind him, just come into the lane, was a man. The -parcel was between Billy and the man, and Billy in a flash saw that -the man would know he’d dropped it seeing Billy was walking away from -it, not towards it. So, having turned his head, he had to complete the -business and turn back and pick up the durned thing and walk on with -it. He was in Market Street now and beginning to set his teeth. There -was a good few people going and coming and they all seemed so busy and -full of themselves that Billy took heart, and, walking along close to -the houses, dropped the thing again. He didn’t turn his head this -time, but just walked on, stopping here and there to look in at the -shop windows and feeling he’d done the trick this time. He’d gone a -good way and was looking in at a jeweller’s thinking which of the -rings he’d buy for his wife if he had the money, when an old chap -comes panting up to him with the parcel. - -“‘I saw you drop it,’ says the old guy, and I ran after you with it, -but you walk so quick I couldn’t catch you.’ Then he has a fit of -coughing and Billy sees he’s nearly in rags and hands out a quarter -and takes the parcel. Billy was beginning to find out the truth that -if you want to lose a thing that’s of no value to you, you can’t, not -in a city anyhow, but he was only beginning, else he’d have quitted -the business right there and have knuckled under to that petticoat. - -“Instead of that what does he do but go on with his peregrinations and -his fool attempts to get rid of the thing, he makes it a present to a -beggar woman and when she’d seen what was in it, she runs after him -saying she’s taking no stolen goods and suggesting a dollar commission -for not showing it to the police. - -“Then getting along for four in the afternoon, Billy, feeling he’s -married to the thing, begins to celebrate his connubial state with -drinks. He wasn’t used to the stuff and he goes from saloon to saloon, -warming up as he went and making more attempts at divorce till he -strikes a bar tender notorious for his married unblessedness, offers -the thing as a present for the B.T.’s wife and gets kicked flying into -the street when a policeman picks him and his parcel up and starts -them off again on their ambulations. - -“The drink was working in him now strong—you see, he’d always been an -abstemious man and you never know what whisky will do with a guy like -that till it’s done with him. Billy cruises into another bar, planks -down a quarter, swallows a high ball, gets a clutch on himself and -starts on the king of all jags. He wasn’t trying to lose the parcel -now. He was proud of it. He remembered in one saloon undoing it and -showing the petticoat to an admiring audience. He remembered in -another saloon saying the thing was full of bonds and banknotes. Then -he was down in the dock area tumbling into gutters and singing songs. -Chaps tried to rob him of the thing and he fought them like a wild -cat. He’d begun the day with the parcel sticking to him, and he was -ending the day by sticking to the parcel and resisting all attempts on -it by armed force, so to speak. Then he believed he had a dust up with -some Chinks who tried to nab the thing and there seemed to be police -mixed up with it, for it ended with him running to escape policemen. -Then he couldn’t remember anything more, and we told him how he had -come running along the dockside till he struck the _Greyhound_ and -came bounding on board, as per invoice. - - - IV - -“That was the yarn Billy spun, and there he sat when he’d finished -asking us what he was to do. - -“‘Well, I says to him, ‘you’re asking that question a bit too late; to -begin with, you should never have trusted yourself alone in ’Frisco -with them nerves of yours. Second, you went the wrong way about -getting rid of the thing.’ - -“‘Oh, did I?’ said Billy. ‘And how would you have done—put yourself -in my position, and what would you have done to get rid of it?’ - -“That flummoxed me. - -“‘Well,’ I said, ‘to begin with, I wouldn’t have been such an ass as -to want to get rid of it.’ - -“‘S’posing you were,’ said he, ‘and I allow I was an ass to fancy all -them things, but supposing you were, will you tell me where I went -wrong? Wouldn’t you have done everything I did just as I did it? Of -course you would. I tell you I was fixed to that thing by bad luck and -I only got rid of it after it had done me in with the drink.’ - -“‘But you haven’t got rid of it,’ says Buck. - -“‘Whach you mean?’ asks Billy, his hair standing on end. - -“‘You brought it on board,’ says Buck, and he goes to the locker and -takes the parcel out. Billy looked at it, took it in his hands and -turned it over. - -“‘Then he says: ‘That does me.’ He says no more than that. The life -seemed to go out of him for a bit as if the hunch had come on him that -it wasn’t no use to fight any more. - -“‘I says to Buck: ‘Come on up on deck and leave him with the durned -thing,’ and up we went and there we saw a big freighter pounding along -and coming up from south’ard, ’Frisco bound and making to pass us -close. - -“‘There’s his chance,’ says Buck; ‘run down and fetch him up and we’ll -flag her to stop, it’s better than taking him off to hell or -Timbuctoo, seeing he’s a married man.’ - -“Down I went and up I brought him. There was a fair sea still running, -but nothing to make a bother about, and we could easy have got him off -in a boat. But do you think that chap would go, not he; he said he’d -sure be drowned if he put off in a boat in that sea, said the thing -was out to drown him if it could. Then he went below and got into his -bunk with his inamorata, and we let the freighter pass, and that was -his last chance of getting to Los Angeles for many a long day. - -“I was pretty sick with him, so was Buck. It wasn’t so much because he -was afraid of drowning as because he was afraid of being drowned by -that rotten parcel, but we weren’t so free of superstitions ourselves -as to be too hard on the poor chap, so we didn’t do more than make his -life a hell till he was ashamed of himself to the soles of his boots -and taking a hand in the working of the ship. We wanted to shy parcel -and petticoat overboard, but he wouldn’t let us. We’d shown him the -initials on the belt of the thing and he said they were his wife’s and -it was plain now that some mistake had been made in packing it among -his things by the servant maid he gave us the specification of. He -said he reckoned he’d keep it to bring back to her, so she might know -his story was true. - -“But it was many a day before he was likely to see Los Angeles again -and so we told him. - - - V - -“From the day we passed that freighter till the day we lifted Howland -Island, which lies nor’-west of Nanuti, we only sighted three ships -hull down and beyond signalling. - -“After passing Howland we passed a brig bound for Java and a freighter -from Rangoon bound for South American ports—Nothing for anywhere near -’Frisco. - -“Billy like a good many landsmen seemed to fancy that ships were all -over the sea close as plums in a pudding. He got to know different by -the time we reached Nanuti and, more than that, he got to know that -every ship wasn’t bound for ’Frisco. - -“‘Why,’ he says one day, ‘if I’ve got to wait for a ship back,’ he -says, ‘I’m thinking it’s an old man I’ll be before we sight one.’ - -“‘And you’re thinking right,’ says Buck. ‘You had your chance and you -missed it because the sea was a bit rough and your head was stuffed -with that blessed petticoat and the idea it was going to drown you. -You’ll just have to stick to the old _Greyhound_ till she fetches up -again at Long Wharf and that’s God knows when, for we don’t run by -time-table.’ - -“And that was the fact; we touched at Nanuti and discharged cargo and -took on copra. Then we came along down by the New Hebrides and shaving -New Caledonia put into Sydney and discharged and took a cargo along to -Auckland, and then from North Island we took a cargo down for Dunedin. -The only way to make money with ships is to know where to go for your -cargoes. Buck had some sort of instinct that way and he was backed -with friends in the shipping trade, but it wasn’t for eight months -from starting that he got the chance of a cargo to ’Frisco, and it -wasn’t till two months later that we passed the whistling buoy and saw -the tumble of the bar. - -“I looked at Billy that morning and I thought to myself that it was -worth it to him. He looked twice the man he was when he fetched on -board and, more than that, he could handle sails and steer and take an -observation as good as me or Buck, besides which Buck had treated him -well about payment and he’d have a good few dollars waiting for him -when we tied up at the wharf. - -“Which was that day. I’d business which kept me running about all the -day after and it wasn’t till the day after that Billy took heart and -come to me and asked me to go with him to Los Angeles so’s to break -him to his wife, so to speak. - -“I’d got to like the chap and I agreed. I won’t say that I wasn’t -anxious to see how he’d make out when he got back and what Mrs. Billy -would say to him, but however that may be, I packed a bag and Billy -shouldered his dunnage and off we started by the night train, getting -into Los Angeles next morning. - -“It wasn’t as big a place in those days as it is now. We left our -traps at the station and set off on foot to find Mrs. B., Billy back -in his old nervous state and almost afraid to ask questions as to how -his wife and the shop had been doing in his absence. The shop was on -Pine Tree Avenue, and half way along to it Billy’s nerves got so bad -we stopped at a restaurant for some breakfast, fixing it that I should -go off after the meal and hunt up Mrs. B. and find out what had become -of her. Billy could scarcely eat his food for talking of what might -have happened to her, fearing maybe she might have committed suicide -or gone bankrupt or starved to death or gone out of her mind at the -loss of him. The woman that ran the restaurant served us at table and -it came to me sudden to ask her did she know anything of a Mrs. Broke -of Pine Tree Avenue who had a dry goods store. - -“‘Burstall, you mean?’ said she. ‘She’s married again since Broke ran -off and left her. He was a little no good chap and skipped with all -the money they had, which wasn’t much, and she got a divorce against -him for illegally deserting her or incompatibility of temper or -something and ran the store herself and made it pay. Y’ see, he’d been -boss of the thing up to that, and near made it bankrupt, but once she -took charge, she made it pay. I’ve never seen Broke, I only came to -the town six months ago, but I’ve seen Burstall often. He’s a fine man -and between them they’re making that store hum.’ - -“I got Billy on his feet and out of that place and wanted to get him -to the station to see about the next train for ’Frisco, but he said he -wanted to see things for himself and make sure; so the funeral -procession started for Pine Tree Avenue. - -“‘That’s the place,’ said Billy, pointing to a big shop with J. -Burstall and Co. painted along the front in gold letters. ‘There’s my -old home—Well, I wish her happiness. - -“That seemed to me a pretty weak thing to do, and I says to him: -‘Ain’t you going to kick Burstall?’ - -“He didn’t hear me, he was so occupied looking at his old home, till a -big fellow in his shirt-sleeves comes out and begins looking at the -contents of the shop window to see how they showed. - -“Billy goes up to him. - -“‘You belong to this store?’ says Billy. - -“‘Yep,’ says the chap. - -“‘Then will you give Mrs. Broke, I mean Burstall, this parcel,’ says -Billy, ‘and ask her to see me about it, there’s been a big mistake.’ - -“‘No use troubling her,’ says the big chap. ‘I’m Burstall and running -this store. What’s this you’ve brought back—we don’t change no goods -once bought.’ - -“‘It’s a petticoat,’ says Billy. - -“‘Well, what’s wrong with it?’ asks the other, taking the goods. - -“‘What’s wrong with it!’ cries Billy, then he begins to laugh like a -crazy man, till I thought Burstall would have gone for the both of us. - -“‘Come on, Billy,’ I says, catching him by the arm, then I turns to -Burstall: ‘You big stiff,’ I says, for all my bristles were up at the -beefy look of the chap and the carried on. ‘You big stiff,’ I says, -‘for two pins,’ I says, ‘I’d kick you from here to Santa Barbara.’ - -“Burstall drops the parcel to go for me, when along comes a policeman, -and explanations begins; Burstall saying how we’d been trying to land -him some old goods we’d never bought in his shop and the policeman -asking us for our address. - -“‘We don’t belong here,’ I says. ‘We’ve come from ’Frisco.’ - -“‘Well,’ says the bull, ‘if I find you about town trying any more of -your dodges by noon to-day. I’ll run you in, sure as my name’s Bill -Adams. Pick up your parcel and off with you.’ - -“I picked the damned thing up and stuffed it in the side pocket of -Billy’s coat and led him off, the bull following us two or three -blocks to make sure we were moving. - -“We found a train was starting at the station, and I got Billy in, all -broke down. Getting towards ’Frisco he pulled himself together, he’d -been thinking a lot on the journey, and I got the surprise of my life -to find him cheerful all of a sudden. - -“‘Do you know what I’m thinking?’ says he. ‘I’m thinking this thing is -my mascot, and I’ve been trying to get rid of my luck all this time. -It got me free of that woman, for we never pulled together proper, it -got me in with you and Slane, and you’ve made a man of me. Every time -I tried to lose it, bad luck came to me, and look at the luck she’s -had since she lost it, married to that brute of a Burstall. It’s my -luck I’ve been trying to get rid of, and now I know, I’m going to do -big things.’ - -“I left him at the station, and met him a year later all broke down -and half in rags. - -“‘Why, Billy.’ I said, ‘what ails you?’ - -“‘I lost my mascot,’ says he. ‘I was getting on fine and making money -hand over fist when a damn landlady pinched it out of my wardrobe, -though I never could bring it home to her. It took all the heart out -of me and things went wrong all round.’ - -“I gave him a dollar and never saw him again,” finished Brent, “and -I’ve just told you about him to show you what nerves and fancies and -such like may bring a man to.—Now as to that dead Chink.” - -But I wasn’t bothering any more about the Chink, maybe because of the -fresh air of the harbour, maybe because of the awful warning contained -in the story of Billy Broke. - - - - -XII—THE MAKING OF A MILLIONAIRE - - - I - -I’ve told you, said Brent, that Slane had an old uncle in San -Francisco, Pat O’Brien, worth over two million dollars they said he -was and I don’t doubt them. Pat had landed in New York somewhere in -the ’fifties or ’sixties without a jitney, then he’d come along to -’Frisco; he hadn’t struck gold, he hadn’t struck oil, nor Luck in any -special way as far as we could make out, he’d just become a -millionaire, and one day when we were on the trip back to ’Frisco with -a full cargo, I said to Buck: “Look here, Buck,” I says, “you and me -has been trading together the last ten years. We’re up to every game -on the Pacific coast, we aren’t simple sailors no more than a mule is -all an ass. Well, we’ve got sixty thousand dollars between us put by, -but four years ago we had forty thousand. We make our money hard and -earn it slow, seems to me. Look at Pat, he’s none of our natural -advantages; the chap can’t more than read and write his name, he’s -only one brain and we’ve got two, but look at him, rolling in dollars. -How’s it done?” - -“Search me,” says Buck. “It’s the way they all do it. Seems to me it’s -the start. If you’re American-born you start selling newspapers, if -you’re only a blistered alien you land without a cent in your pocket, -whereas we’d got a few dollars, but there’s no going back.” - -We left it at that and got into ’Frisco next day and went to the -lodgings we had in Tallis Street. We’d always lived small considering -that we could have cut a bigger dash if we’d chosen, but the fact of -the matter is, living big for the likes of us would have meant soaking -in bars and all the trimmings that go with that. It’s God’s truth that -a plain sailor man who isn’t what the damn fools who run the world -call a “gentleman” is clean out of it in the big towns—unless he’s a -millionaire. So, not being able to sit on the top of the pyramid, we -just sat on the sand waiting for some big strike, and stuck to our -rooms in Tallis Street in a house kept by a Mrs. Murphy. - -Well, as I was saying, we went to our lodgings, and a couple of days -after, old Pat O’Brien, hearing we were back, called on us. Pat, -though he was near eighty, was an early bird, and though he was worth -two millions he always footed it about the town; he was the spit and -image of Mr. Jiggs in the comic papers, and as we were sitting at -breakfast in he came with a cigar butt stuck in the corner of his -mouth. - -“Lord love me,” says Pat. “Nine o’clock and you at breakfast. No,” he -says, “I won’t have no coffee, a glass of hot water is all I take till -one o’clock in the day, and then I have a porterhouse-steak and a pint -of claret, and that’s why I have all my teeth though I’m close on -eighty—and how’s the old Greyhound been doing this trip?” - -I’ve told you before how Buck got the Greyhound out of Pat at our -first go off, and he made it a habit always to call on us when we were -in from a trip to ask after her. He didn’t care a dump about her, he -just wanted to pick up Island news that might be useful to him in his -business—but we never pretended we knew that. - -“Doing fine,” says Buck. - -Then Pat sits down and borrows a match to light his cigar stump, and -in half an hour he’d got to know all he wanted; then, when we’d given -him a cigar to get rid of him, off he goes stumping down the stairs, -and a minute after, the window being open owing to the hot weather, we -heard him talking to Micky Murphy, the landlady’s little boy, who was -playing in the street. Couldn’t hear what he was saying at first till -a bit of a breeze came in and we heard him say to the child: “So Micky -is your name,” he says. “Well, come along, and bring your play toy -with you and I’ll buy you some candy.” - -I stuck my head out of the window, and there was the old chap and the -child hand-in-hand going off down the street towards the candy shop at -the corner. - -“Well,” I says, “Buck, we’ve misjudged him; he’s got a heart somewhere -and he’s not as mean as he advertises himself.” - -Buck was as much taken aback as myself. You see, we’d had a lot of -dealings with the old man and he’d always forgot his purse if a tram -fare was to be paid, and I’ve seen him pick up a match in the street -to light his cigar, which he was always letting go out to save -tobacco—and there he was going off to buy a child candy. - -But that was only the beginning of things, for two days later we had a -note from him asking us to dinner. - -He had only asked us to dinner once before, years ago, and that was -when he was shook out of himself by a deal we’d done over pearls, and -it was at a restaurant. This time he was asking us to his house. - -“What’s he after?” says Buck, turning the letter over. “Day before -yesterday he was giving Micky Murphy candy, and now he’s asking us to -dinner. He’ll bust himself with generosity if he doesn’t mind out. -Will you go?” - -“Sure,” said I, and we went. - -Pat was married, as perhaps I haven’t told you, and when the darkie -let us in, there was Mrs. Pat waiting to receive us in the big room -hung with pictures opening from the hall, and a minute after in come -Pat’s daughter Sadie with her hair frizzed out, and when Pat toddled -in after, if it wasn’t McMorrows Jiggs family to the life, call me a -nigger. - -We didn’t feel comfortable by no means, not being used to female -society done up in diamonds, but they were anxious to please, though I -could see plain enough that behind everything those two women looked -on us as plated goods, but Pat kept the ball rolling, chatting away, -and at dinner, after the champagne had gone round, the girl suddenly -turns to Buck, and, “Tell us about your last voyage, Mr. Slane?” says -she. - -“Oh,” says Buck, “there’s nothing much to tell; we went to Levua. -We’ve been there three trips; there’s several German traders we’re in -with and they give us a lot of business. We’re off there again in a -month.” - -“Is it a long way?” she questions. - -“Yes, it’s a good bit of a way,” he answers, “and it would be longer -only the _Greyhound_ is no tortoise.” - -“How interesting,” she says, “and I suppose you see plenty of other -islands on the way there and back. Are they as pretty as people say?” - -“Well,” says Buck, “as a matter of fact we stop nowhere but a place we -call Palm Island. We put in there for water and fruit; it’s not on the -charts and there’s no trade to be done there, but it’s pretty enough.” - -He describes the place, and then she tackles him on Levua again, and -the manners of the natives, and then Mrs. Pat cuts in and talks of the -opera and the theatres and such. - -Dinner over, we go to the drawing-room, where the women squall at the -piano for a bit, and then we go to Pat’s den for cigars. - -I remember Buck, who was livened up a bit with the champagne, asking -Pat how to become a millionaire. - -“Why,” says Pat, cocking his eye at the other, “you just pick a -million up and stick to it. It’s not the picking it up that’s the -bother, it’s the sticking to it,” he says. Then we went home thinking -that Pat had been joking with us. But he hadn’t. - - - II - -Levenstein was the name of the chief German trader at Levua. We had -big dealings with him amounting to a share in his business, and we -were going out this time with a cargo of trade goods and with some -agricultural stuff for a man by name of Marks who had started a -plantation on the north of the island. Our hands were pretty full, for -we were our own stevedores, not trusting the longshore Johnnies over -much, and one day, as we were on deck, the both of us, who should come -along the wharf but Pat. Pat looked down in the mouth and as if -something was troubling him. He gave us good-day and asked us how we -were doing, and then he told us his bother. Sadie wasn’t well, the -doctors thought she was going into a consumption. - -“There’s nothing but trouble in this world,” said Pat. “First I lost -my partner six months ago, then I lost a cargo which wasn’t full -insured by a mistake of a damn clerk, and now Sadie is took bad. Well, -good-day to you, boys, and better luck than is attending me.” - -“Now I wonder why he came along the wharf to tell us that,” says Buck. -“Blessed if I can make the old man out. His compasses are wrong, he -ain’t sailing true; he’s doing things he’s never done before. Maybe -he’s breaking up with old age and that’s what’s the matter with him.” - -“He seems to have taken a fancy to us anyhow,” I says, “and if he’s -breaking up let’s hope he won’t forget you in his will.” - -Then we went on with our work, thinking no more about him till two -days later up he turns again, comes down to the cabin of the -_Greyhound_, pulls out a big handkerchief, blows his nose and wipes -his eyes and starts his batteries. - -“Me child’s going to die,” says he. “Oh, it’s the cruel disease as has -caught hold of her; it’s only trotting now, but once it begins to -gallop Dr. Hennassy says he won’t give her a fortnight. Nothing will -save her, he says, but a long sea voyage away from excitement with the -good God’s ozone round her. Steamships is no good, and there’s nothing -in ’Frisco but Cape Horners and timber ships. Buck, you’re me nephew, -and by the same token you had the old _Greyhound_ out of me for next -to nothing, though I’m not worryin’ about that. Take her for a trip -and I’ll pay the expenses; she can take the old Kanaka mammy with her, -that brought her up, to look after her. If it’s ten thousand dollars -you can have it, but get her out into God’s good ozone, away off to -Honolulu and away round that way for a six months’ trip; fling your -cargo in the harbour,” he says, “and I’ll pay, for it’s me house is on -fire and me child is burnin’, and what do I care for money where her -life is concerned.” - -“Sure,” said Buck, “I’d take her jumping, but well you know I’m under -contract, and as for throwing the cargo in the harbour, barring what -the Port Authorities would say, it’s not mine to throw.” - -“Well,” says the old man, “take her along with you, cargo and all; -you’ve got an after cabin you don’t use with two bunks in it, that -will do for them. You two bunk here in the main cabin, don’t you? -Well, there you are, and I’ll pay you a thousand dollars for the -trip.” - -“Not a cent,” says Buck. “I don’t eat my relations when they’re in -trouble. If I take her she goes free—and, sure, how am I to refuse to -take her seeing what you say?” - -“That’s me brave boy,” says Pat, “the true son of me sister Mary, God -rest her soul.” - -Then when we’d done some more talk he goes off. - -“Well,” I says to Buck, “here’s a nice cargo.” - -I’ve told you Buck was married to a woman who had run away from him. -He’d never bothered to get divorced from her, fearing if he got -amongst lawyers, he’d be sure to be robbed, and feeling that, as he -didn’t ever want to get married again, buying a divorce would be like -a chap with no heart for music buying a concertina. - -“Well,” I says, rubbing it into him, “here’s a nice cargo. I’m no -marrying man, and you’re hitched, so what’s the good of her; a -thousand dollars won’t pay us for freightage, and if there’s a scratch -on her when we get back, there’ll be hell to pay with Pat. S’pose she -dies on us?” I says. - -“And what would she die of?” asks he. - -“Why, what but consumption?” says I. - -Buck laughed. - -“Consumption of victuals is all that’s wrong with her,” he says, and -then he says no more, but goes on deck leaving me harpooned. - -I’d taken in this consumption business as honest coin, and now, by -Buck’s manner and words, I saw that Pat had been lying to us. - -The skylight was open, and seeing Buck’s shadow across it, I called -him down and, “For the love of God,” I says, “don’t tell me that the -old man has been stuffing us. What’s his meaning?” - -“It’s a family affair,” says Buck, “and I’d sooner leave it at that -till we get to the end of it, but if you ask his meaning, why I’ll -tell you straight that Pat has only one meaning in everything he does, -and that’s robbery. He’s making to best me. I can’t see his game yet -or what he is playing for, I can only say the stake’s big or he -wouldn’t be pulling the girl into it.” - -“But where’s the meaning of it?” I says, “unless he’s sending the girl -to queer our pitch with Levenstein, and that wouldn’t be worth his -trouble; there’s not enough business doing at Levua to make it worth -his while, considering the big deals he’s always after.” - -“Well,” says Buck, “I don’t know what’s his game, but I’m going to -find out.” - - - III - -Day before we sailed, down came two trunks and a hat box, and the next -day down came the girl herself with the old Kanaka mammy and Pat. - -He stood on the wharfside and waved to us as we were tugged out, and -Sadie stood and waved back to him. She had a lot of good points that -girl, though straight dealing wasn’t one of them, and she didn’t seem -to mind, no more than if she was going on a picnic. She took the -tumble at the bar as if she was used to it, and she settled to the -life of the ship same as a man might have done. - -She was always wanting to know things—names of the ropes and all -such, and she hadn’t been a week on board before she began to poke her -nose into the navigating and charts. She used to cough sometimes at -first, but after a while she dropped all that, saying the sea air had -taken her cough away. - -Now you wouldn’t believe unless you’d been there, the down we took on -that piece before a week had gone. - -It wasn’t anything she said or anything she did, it was just the way -she carried on. She was civil and she gave no more trouble than -another might have done, but we weren’t her style, and she made us -feel it. Only a woman can make a strong and straight man feel like a -worm. It wasn’t even that she despised us for being below her class, -she didn’t; she never thought of us, and she made us feel we weren’t -men but just things—get me? - -“Buck,” I says to him one day, “if you could hollow that piece out, -stick her on a pivot and put a lid on her, she’d make an A 1 freezing -machine.” - -“She would,” said Buck, “and if you were to plate her with gold and -set her with diamonds, you couldn’t make a lady out of her.” - -“That’s so,” said I, “but all the same she’ll be an A 1 navigator -before she’s done with us.” - -One evening, somewhere north of Palmyra—we’d been blown a bit south -of our course—I was on deck. Buck was below and a Kanaka was at the -wheel, and a moon like a frying pan was rising up and lighting the -deck so’s you could count the dowels. I’d turned to have a look over -the after rail, and when I turned again there was Buck just come on -deck and an hour before his time. - -He came up and took me by the arm and walked me forward a bit. - -“I’ve found it out,” he says. - -“What?” I asks. - -“Why Pat O’Brien took Mrs. Murphy’s child off to buy it candy,” he -says. - -I thought he’d gone off his head for the moment. - -“I’ve been thinking and thinking ever since we left ’Frisco,” he goes -on, “thinking and thinking, and there it was under my nose all the -time.” - -“What?” I questions. - -“The reason of the whole of this business,” says he, “why Pat O’Brien, -the brother of my mother Mary—God rest her soul—parted with five -cents to buy a kid candy, why he asked us to dinner, why he pretended -that freezing mixture down below had consumption, why he shipped her -on board the _Greyhound_, and what it is she’s after. It’s all as -plain as day, and there’s more to it than that. Brent, we’re -millionaires.” - -“Look here,” I says, “like a good chap, will you take your mind off -the business and pull yourself together—you’ve been thinking too much -over this business; forget it.” - -Buck was a queer devil. You never knew how he’d take things. Seeing I -thought his head had gone wrong, instead of explaining like a sensible -chap, he cut the thing off short. - -“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m not. I’ll -say nothing more. We’ll see.” - -I left it at that, not wanting to stir up trouble in his head, and we -didn’t talk of the thing again—not for a long time, anyhow. - -But a change had come over Buck. He’d got to be as cheerful as a -cricket, and I’d see him sometimes at table sitting staring in front -of himself as if he was looking at the New Jerusalem, instead of the -bird’s-eye panelling of the after bulkhead; then, by his talk I could -tell his head was travelling on the same old track; when a man talks -of the building price of steam yachts you can tell how his mind is -running, same as when he talks of rents on Pacific Avenue and such -places. But I said nothing, just kept my head shut and let him talk, -and glad I was the morning we raised Levua. - -It’s a big island—if you’ve never been down that way—mountainous and -with no proper reef only to the west, for east the sea comes smack up -to the cliffs—but it’s pretty, what with the trees and all, and -there’s a big waterfall comes down on the south from the hills that’s -reckoned one of the sights of the island. - -Levenstein’s house was on the beach to the west; a run of reef, broken -here and there, kept the sea pretty smooth on the beach, and there was -ten fathoms close up to the sand. A lot of scouring goes on there with -the tides, and the fishings the best I’ve seen anywhere, just in that -bit of water. - -Old Pat O’Brien hadn’t asked to see a photograph of Levenstein, else -maybe he wouldn’t have been so keen on shipping Sadie off on her -travels; I’d forgot the fellow’s good looks, but when he boarded us -after we’d dropped the hook, I remembered the fact and I saw he’d -taken Sadie’s eye. - -Levenstein wasn’t unlike Kaiser Bill, only younger and better-looking; -he was the sort women like, and he could coo like a damn turtle dove -when he was in the mind, but he had the reputation of having whipped a -Kanaka to death. I’d just as soon have given a girl’s happiness to -that chap as I’d have given a rump steak to a tiger cat trustin’ in it -to honour it. No, sir, that build don’t make for happiness, not much, -and if Sadie had been my girl when I saw her setting her eyes on him -like that, I’d have put the _Greyhound_ to sea again, even if I’d had -to shove her over the reef to get out. - -But I wasn’t bothering about Sadie’s happiness; I reckoned a little -unhappiness mightn’t help to do her much harm by unsticking her glue a -bit, and I reckon Buck felt the same, so, having business in the trade -room and ashore enough to last us for days, we let things rip and -didn’t bother. - -Sadie and the old Mammy were given the overseer’s house on shore, and -the girl settled down to enjoy herself. She was awfully keen on -exploring the island and seeing the natives, and she and the old -Kanaka woman would make excursions, taking their grub with them, and -having picnics all over the place, and Levenstein would go with her -sometimes, and Marks, from the north of the island, would come over -sometimes, and it made my blood fair boil to see her carrying on with -those two Germans because she thought them gentlemen, and at the same -time cold-shouldering us as if we weren’t more than the dirt she -walked on. - -I said the same to Buck, and Buck he only says: “Leave her to me,” he -says, “she’s come out to get what she won’t get, but she’ll get what -she little expects if she marries uncle Lev,” says Buck. “Leave her to -me,” he says, “I’ll l’arn her before I’ve done with her,” he says. -“Damn her!” says he—which wasn’t the language to use about a girl, -but then Sadie wasn’t so much a girl as a china figure all prickles, -no use to hold or carry and not the ornament you’d care to stick on -your chimney-piece if you wanted to be happy in your home. - -One day Buck says to me: “Come on over to the north of the island,” he -says, “I want to have a talk to Marks.” - -“What about?” I asks. - -“The beauty of the scenery,” he replies. - -Off we started. Germans are some good, they can make roads—if I -haven’t told you Levua was a German island, I’ll tell you now. I’m -saying Germans can make roads, and if you doubt me, go and see the -twelve-mile coral road they’ve made round Nauru or what they’ve done -in German New Guinea, and the road to Marks’ plantation was as good as -those. - -Coming along for late afternoon we hit the place, and found Marks in. -Marks was like one of those Dutchmen you see in the comic papers, long -china pipe and all, but he was the most level-headed man in the -Islands, and I soon found that Buck had come to him for information -and not to talk about the beauty of the scenery. - -We had drinks and cigars, and presently Buck says to Marks, “Look -here,” he says, “you’re a man that knows everything about the West -Pacific, s’pose I found an island that wasn’t on the charts and didn’t -belong to anybody, which of the blessed nations would make a claim to -it; would it be the one whose territory was closest to it?” - -Marks leans back in his chair and lights his pipe again, then he says: -“If you find an unknown island, it would belong to England or Germany, -all depends on where it lies in the West Pacific.” - -“How’s that?” says Buck. “Why wouldn’t the French or Dutch have a look -in?” - -“It’s this way,” says Marks, “Germany in old days wasn’t a sea-going -nation much, and so the English and French and Dutch took up nearly -all the islands of the Pacific, leaving Germany in the cold till 1865, -when she began to want things and show that she could get them. She -took a big bite of New Guinea, then she came to an arrangement with -England that she and England would take all the lands and islands in -the West Pacific no one else had seized and divide them between them. -Get me?” - -“Yes,” says Buck. - -“The line starts from New Guinea,” says Marks, “then goes east, then -north to fifteen degrees north latitude, and 173 degrees, 30 seconds -east longitude; anything new found west of that would be German, -anything to the east, British.” - -“Show us the line on a map,” says Buck, and Marks gets up and fetches -down a map and draws the line with a pencil. - -Buck gives a great sigh and thanks him, and then we started off back -home with the rising moon to show us our way and a three hours’ tramp -before us. - -On the way I tried to get out of him what his meaning was in asking -those questions, but he wouldn’t tell. - -“You thought I was mad when I tried to tell you first,” he said, “and -now you’ll have to wait till I’ve landed the business, but I’ll tell -you one thing——” - -“What?” I asks. - -“Never mind,” he says, “shut heads are best where a word might spoil -everything.” - - - IV - -Three weeks at Levua got the cargo out and the cargo in, and the -morning came when we were due to start. Sadie and Levenstein had been -getting thicker and thicker; she was one of those girls that take the -bit between the teeth, and it didn’t knock us down with surprise when, -coming on board with her trunks, she said she’d been married that -morning to Mr. Levenstein by the native parson and that Levenstein was -going to follow her on to ’Frisco by the next boat he could catch. - -Did you ever hear of such a tomfool arrangement? For she could just as -well have waited till he got to ’Frisco, and then she’d have had time -to change her mind; that’s what Buck told her as we put out with -Levenstein waving to us from the shore. - -Buck rubbed it into her proper, he being a relative and all that, but -I doubt if he wasn’t as glad as myself to think of the face Pat would -pull when he found his daughter had married herself to a small island -trader and a German at that. She took his lip without saying a word, -and a day or two after she made inquiries as to when we should reach -Palm Island. - -“Oh, in a day or two,” says Buck. - -Now we weren’t due to touch at that place for fourteen days if the -wind held good, and when I got him alone a few minutes later I asked -him why he had told her that lie. - -“And what would you have had me say?” he asked. - -“Why, that we wouldn’t be there for a fortnight,” I answered. - -“Well,” said he, “that would have been as big a lie, for we aren’t -going to touch there at all. I’ve got extra water casks from that -cooper chap at Levua and an extra supply of bananas.” - -“What’s your reason?” I asks. - -“I’ll tell you when this deal is through,” he answers, and knowing it -was useless to ask any more, I didn’t. - -A few days later. Buck told us that we’d passed the location of the -island and that it wasn’t there; must have sunk in the sea, he said, -same as these small islands sometimes do. - -When he sprung this on us you might have thought by the way Sadie went -on she’d lost a relative; said that she wanted to see it more than the -New Jerusalem, owing to Buck’s description of it, and asked couldn’t -we poke round and make sure it was gone and that we weren’t being -deceived owing to some error of the compass. - -Buck says: “All right,” and we spent the better part of two days -fooling about pretending to look for that damn island and then we lit -for ’Frisco. - -No sooner had we got there and landed the cargo, Sadie included, than -Buck says to me one morning: “Clutch on here,” he says, “whilst I’m -away. I’m going to London.” - -“London, Ontario?” I asks. - -“No, London, England,” he says. - -“And what are you going there for?” I questions. - -“To see the Tower,” says he. - -Off he goes and in two months he returns. - - - V - -I was sitting at breakfast when he comes in, having arrived by the -early morning train. - -Down he sits and has a cup of coffee. - -“How’s Pat?” says he. - -“You’re even with Pat,” I says. “Levenstein got here a week ago and -Pat don’t like his new son-in-law. There’s been the devil to pay.” - -“I’m better even with him than that,” says Buck. “Brent, we’re -millionaires.” - -“Spit yer meaning out,” I says. - -“Do you remember,” says he, “my saying to you last time we touched at -Palm Island that the place seemed built of a sort of rock I’d never -seen before, and my bringing a chunk of it away in my pocket? Well, -what do you think that rock is but phosphate of lime.” - -“What’s that?” I queries. - -“Seagull guano mixed with the lime of coral,” he says, “the finest -fertiliser in the world and worth thirteen to fourteen dollars a ton. -How many tons would Palm Island weigh, do you think, and it’s most all -phosphate of lime?” - -I begins to sweat in the palms of my hands, but I says nothing and he -goes on: - -“Palm Island being a British possession, since an Irishman has -discovered it and it lies to eastward of the German British line, I -went to London, and I’ve got not only the fishing rights but the -mining rights for ninety-nine years. I didn’t say nothing about the -mining rights, said I wanted to start a cannery there since the -fishing was so good, and an old cockatoo in white whiskers did the -rest and dropped the mining rights in gratis like an extra strawberry. -Then, coming through N’ York I got a syndicate together that’ll buy -the proposition when they’ve inspected it. I’ll take a million or -nothing,” says he. - -“But, look here,” I says, “how in the nation did it all happen; how -did you know?” - -“Well,” says he, “it was this way. That chunk of rock I was telling -you of, I stuck in my sea chest, and unpacking when I got back I gave -it to little Micky Murphy who was in the room pretending to help me. -He used it for a play toy. - -“Now do you remember Pat O’Brien that morning he left us, talking to -Micky outside and taking him off to buy candy? Well, next day Mrs. -Murphy said to me that the old gentleman was very free with his money, -but she didn’t think he was quite right as he’d offered Micky a dollar -for the stone he was playing with. I didn’t think anything of it at -the time, but later on, you remember that night on board ship, the -thing hit me like a belt on the head. - -“Micky had told the old chap I’d given him the stone when I came back -from that trip and Pat had recognised it for what it was. The only -question that bothered him was where I’d picked it up. He knew I -traded regular with Levua, and when he found we stopped nowhere but -Levua and Palm Island he knew it was at one of those two places. -Phosphate of lime was to be found, enough maybe to double his fortune. -He sent the girl to prospect, and she’d have done me in only that -night I suddenly remembered a chap telling me about the phosphate -business and saying the stuff was like rock, striped in places; I’d -never thought of it till then, and what made me think of it was that -I’d been worrying a lot since I’d left ’Frisco over Pat and all his -doings. Seems to me the mind does a lot of thinking we don’t know of.” - -“Well,” I says, “when he sent the girl to prospect he didn’t bargain -she was going to prospect Levenstein.” - -“No,” says Buck, “seems to me we’ve got the double bulge on him.” - -But we hadn’t. - -Buck got a million for his phosphate rights and gave me a share, and, -as much will have more, we flew high and lost every buck in the Eagle -Consolidated Gold and Silver Mining Corporation, Inc. - -Pat met us the day after the burst and we asked him how the -Levensteins were doing. - -“Fine,” says he. “He asked me how to become a millionaire last night -and I told him it was quite easy, you only had to pick up a million -and stick to it, but mind you,” I said, “it’s not the picking it up’s -the bother, but the sticking to it. Now look at that Eagle -Consolidated business,” I says, “many’s the fine boy has put his money -in tripe stock like that, tumbling balmy after working for years like -a sensible man. You know the stock I mean,” he finishes. “The Eagle -Consolidated Gold and Silver Mining Corporation, Inc.” - -“Yes, I know,” says Buck. - -We didn’t want to have no last words or let the old boy rub it in any -more; we hiked off, Buck and me, resuming our way to the wharf and the -same old life we’d always been living but for the three months we’d -been million dollar men. - -“Pat seemed to have the joke on us,” said Brent, “but looking back on -those three months and the worries and dyspepsias and late hours that -make a millionaire’s life, I’m not so sure we hadn’t the bulge on him -over the whole transaction, specially considering that Levenstein went -bust, forged cheques and let him in for forty thousand or so to save -the name of the family. - -“That’s the last transaction we ever had with Pat,” finished Brent. -“He dropped calling on us to tell us how to become millionaires, -seeing we’d given instructions to Mrs. Murphy always to tell him we -were out.” - - - - -XIII—KILIWAKEE - - - I - -The longest answer to a short question I ever heard given was -delivered by Captain Tom Bowlby, master mariner, in the back parlour -of Jack Rounds’ saloon away back in 1903. - -Bowlby still lingers as a memory in Island bars; a large -mahogany-coloured man, Bristol born and owned by the Pacific; he had -seen sandalwood wane and copra wax, had known Bully Hayes and the -ruffian Pease and Colonel Steinberger; and as to the ocean of his -fancy, there was scarcely a sounding from the Kermadecs to French -Frigate Island he could not have given you. - -An illiterate man, maybe, as far as book reading goes, but a full man -by reason of experience and knowledge of Life—which is Literature in -the raw. - -“And so, usin’ a figure of speech, she’d stuck the blister on the -wrong chap,” said the Captain finishing a statement. - -“I beg your pardon, Cap’,” came a voice through the blue haze of -tobacco smoke, “but what was you meanin’ by a figure of speech?” - -The Cap’, re-loading his pipe, allowed his eyes to travel from the -window and its view of the blue bay and the Chinese shrimp boats to -the island headdresses and paddles on the wall and from thence to the -speaker. - -“What was I meanin’ by a figure of speech?—why, where was you born?” -He snorted, lit up, and accepted another drink and seemed to pass the -question by, but I saw his trouble. He couldn’t explain, couldn’t give -a clear definition off-hand of the term whose meaning he knew quite -well. Can you? - -“Well, I was just asking to know,” said the voice. - -Then, like a strong man armed, his vast experience of men and matters -came to the aid of Captain Tom: - -“And know you shall,” said he, “if it’s in my power to put you wise. -When you gets travelling about in Languige you bumps across big facts. -You wouldn’t think words was any use except to talk them, would you? -You wouldn’t think you could belt a chap over the head with a couple -of words strung together same as with a slung shot, would you? Well, -you can. You was askin’ me what a figure of speech is—well, it’s a -thing that can kill a man sure as a shot gun, and Jack Bone, a friend -of mine, seen it done. - -“Ever heard of Logan? He’d be before your time, but he’s well -remembered yet down Rapa way, a tall, soft-spoken chap, never drank, -blue-eyed chap as gentle as a woman and your own brother till he’d -skinned you and tanned your hide and sold it for sixpence. He had -offices in Sydney to start with and three or four schooners in the -trade, _bêche de mer_, turtle shell and copra, with side interests in -drinkin’ bars and such, till all of a sudden he went bust and had to -skip, leaving his partner to blow his brains out, and a wife he wasn’t -married to with six children to fend for. What bust him? Lord only -knows; it wasn’t his love of straight dealin’ anyhow. Then he came -right down on the beach, with his toes through his boots, till he -managed to pick a living somehow at Vavao and chummed in with a trader -by name of Cartwright, who’d chucked everything owing to a woman and -taken to the Islands and a native wife—one of them soft-shelled chaps -that can’t stand Luck, nohow, unless it’s with them. Logan got to be -sort of partner with Cartwright, who died six months after, and they -said Logan had poisoned him to scoop the business. Some said it was -the native wife who did the killing, being in love with Logan, who -took her on with the goodwill and fixtures. If she did, she got her -gruel, for he sold out to a German after he’d been there less than a -year, and skipped again. I reckon that chap must have been born with a -skippin’ rope in his fist by the way he went through life. They say -wickedness don’t prosper; well, in my experience it prospers well -enough up to a point; anyhow Logan after he left Vavao didn’t do bad, -by all accounts; he struck here and there, pearling in the Paumotus -and what not, and laying by money all the time, got half shares in a -schooner and bought the other chap out, took her blackbirding in the -Solomons, did a bit of opium smuggling, salved a derelict and brought -her right into ’Frisco, turned the coin into real estate at San -Lorenz, and sold out for double six months after; then he went -partners with a chap called Buck Johnstone in a saloon by the water -side close on to Rafferty’s landin’ stage, a regular Shanghai and dope -shop with ward politics thrown in, and a place in the wrecking ring, -and him going about ’Frisco with a half-dollar Henry Clay in his face -and a diamond as big as a decanter stopper for a scarf pin. - -“He didn’t drink, as I was saying, and that gave him the bulge on the -others. He had a bottle of his own behind the bar with coloured water -in it, and when asked to have a drink he’d fill up out of it, leaving -the others to poison themselves with whisky. - -“Then one night James Appleby blew into the bar. - - - II - -“Appleby was a chap with a fresh red face on him, a Britisher, hailing -from Devonshire and just in from the Islands. He’d been supercargo on -a schooner trading in the Marshalls or somewhere that’d got piled on a -reef by a drunken skipper and sea battered till there wasn’t a stick -of her standing and everyone drowned but Appleby and the Kanaka -bo’sun. He was keen to tell of his troubles and had a thirst on him, -and there he stood lowering the bilge Johnstone passed over to him and -trying to interest strangers in his family history and sea doings. -Logan was behind the bar with Johnstone, and Logan, listening to the -chap clacking with a half-drunk bummer, suddenly pricks his ears. Then -he comes round to the front of the bar and listens to his story, and -takes him by the arm and walks him out of the place on to the wharf -and sits him on a bollard, Appleby clacking away all the time and so -full of himself and his story, and so glad to have a chap listening to -him, and so mixed up with the whisky that he scarce noticed that he’d -left the bar. - -“Then, when he’d finished, he seen where he was, and was going back -for more drinks, but Logan stopped him. - -“‘One moment,’ says Logan, ‘what was that you were saying about pearls -to that chap I heard you talking to. Talking about a pearl island, you -were, and him sucking it in; don’t you know better than to give shows -like that away in bars to promiscuous strangers?’ - -“‘I didn’t give him the location,’ hiccups the other chap, ‘and I -don’t remember mentioning pearls in particular, but they’re there sure -enough and gold-tipped shell; say, I’m thirsty, let’s get back for -more drinks.’ - -“Now that chap hadn’t said a word about pearls, but he’d let out in -his talk to the bummer that down in the Southern Pacific they’d struck -an island not on the charts, and he had the location in his head and -wasn’t going to forget it, and more talk like that, till Logan, sober -and listening, made sure in his mind that the guy had struck -phosphates or pearls, and played his cards according. - -“‘One moment,’ says Logan. ‘You’ve landed fresh with that news in your -head and you’re in ’Frisco, lettin’ it out in the first bar you drop -into—ain’t you got more sense?’ - -“‘It’s not in my head,’ says the other, ‘it’s in my pocket.’ - -“‘What are you getting at?’ says Logan. - -“‘It’s wrote down,’ says Appleby. ‘Latitude and longitude on my -notebook, and the book’s in my pocket. Ain’t you got no understanding? -Keeping me here talking till I’m dry as an old boot. Come along back -to the bar.’ - -“Back they went, and Logan calls for two highballs, giving Johnstone -the wink, and he takes Appleby into the back parlour and Johnstone -served them the highballs with a cough drop in Appleby’s, and two -minutes after that guy was blind as Pharaoh on his back on the old -couch—doped. - - - III - -“There was a stairs leading down from that parlour to a landing stage, -and when they’d stripped the guy of his pocket-book and loose money, -they gave him a row off to a whaler that was due out with the morning -tide and got ten dollars for the carcase. Jack Bone was the boatman -they always used, and it was Jack Bone told most of the story I’m -telling you now. - -“Then they comes back and closes up the bar, and sits down to -investigate the notebook, and there, sure enough, was the indications, -the latitude and longitude, with notes such as ‘big bed to west of the -break in the reef,’ and so on. - -“‘That does it,’ says Johnstone; ‘we’re made men, sure; this beats -ward politics by a mile and a half,’ says he. ‘It’s only a question of -a schooner and hands to work her and diving dresses; we don’t want no -labour; see here what the blighter says, “native labour sufficient.” -Lord love me! what a swab, writing all that down; hadn’t he no memory -to carry it in?’ - -“He’d struck the truth. There’s some chaps never easy unless they’re -putting things on paper. I’ve seen chaps keeping diaries, sort of -logs, and putting down every time they’d scratched their heads or -sneezed, blame fools same as Appleby. - -“Well, Logan sits thinking things over, and says he: ‘We’re both in -this thing, though it’s my find. Still I’m not grumbling. What’s the -shares to be?’ - -“‘Half shares,’ says Johnstone, prompt. Logan does another think: - -“‘Right,’ says he, ‘and we each pays our shot in the fitting out of -the expedition.’ - -“‘I’m agreeable,’ says the other, with a grin on his face, which maybe -wouldn’t have been there if he’d known what was going on in Logan’s -mind. - -“Next morning they starts to work to look for a likely schooner; -Johnstone keeping the bar and Logan doing the prospecting. It wasn’t -an easy job, for they had to keep things secret. They knew enough of -the Law to be afraid of it, and though this island of Appleby’s was -uncharted, they weren’t going to lay no claims to it with the -Britishers popping up, maybe, or the French or the Yanks with priority -claims, and every dam liar from Vancouver to Panama swearing he’d done -the discovering of it first. No, their plan was to sneak out and grab -what they could, working double shifts and skimming the hull lagoon in -one big coop that’d take them maybe a year. Then when they’d got their -pearls and stored their shell, they reckoned to bring the pearls back -to ’Frisco, where Johnstone had the McGaffery syndicate behind him, -who’d help him to dispose of them, and after that he reckoned if -things went well, to go back and fetch the shell. Pearl shell runs -from three hundred to a thousand dollars a ton depending on quality, -and gold-tipped being second quality the stuff would be worth carting. - -“Well, Logan had luck and he managed to buy Pat Ginnell’s old -schooner, the _Heart of Ireland_, for two thousand dollars, Pat having -struck it rich in the fruit business and disposing of his sea -interests; they paid twelve hundred dollars for diving gear and a -thousand for trade goods to pay the workers, stick tobacco and all -such; then they had to provision her, reckoning the island would give -them all the fish and island truck they’d want, and, to cap the -business, they had to get a crew that wouldn’t talk, Kanakas or -Chinks—they shipped Chinks. Logan knew enough navigating to take her -there, and Johnstone was used to the sea, so they were their own -afterguard. - -“Then one day, when all was ready, Johnstone sold out his interest in -the saloon, and the next day, or maybe the day after, out they put. - - - IV - -“I’d forgot to say they took Bone with them. They’d used the chap so -much in the outfitting that they thought it was better to take him -along than leave him behind to talk, maybe; and they’d no sooner -cleared the Gate and left the Farallones behind them than the weather -set up its fist against them, and the old _Heart_ with a beam sea -showed them how she could roll; she could beat a barrel any day in the -week on that game; it was an old saying on the front that she could -beat Ginnell when he was drunk, and Bone said the rolling took it out -of them so that it was a sick and quarrelling ship right from the -start to the line. All but Logan. He never quarrelled with no one, he -wasn’t that sort; always smooth spoken and give and take, he held that -show together, smilin’ all the time. - -“Then ten degrees south of the line and somewhere between the Paumotus -and Bolivia they began to keep their eyes skinned for the island, -struck the spot given by Appleby and went right over it. - -“There wasn’t no island. - -“About noon it was on the day they ought to have hit the place, an’ -you can picture that flummoxed lot standin’ on the deck of the old -_Heart;_ thousands of dollars gone on a schooner and trade and all, -and then left. - -“The sails were drawing and they were still heading south, and -Johnstone up and spoke: - -“‘Appleby’s done us,’ says he, ‘and there’s no use in crying over -spilt milk. There’s nothing for it but to go back and sell off at a -loss. I’m done worse than you, seein’ I’ve sold the saloon. Tell you -what, I’ll give you fifteen hundred dollars for your share in the ship -and fixin’s; maybe I’ll lose when I come to realise,’ says he, ‘for -there’s no knowing what she and the truck will fetch when it comes to -auction.’ - -“He was one of them lightning calculators, and he reckoned to clear a -few hundred dollars on the deal. - -“Logan was likewise, and he thinks for a moment, and he says, ‘Make it -sixteen hundred and I’ll sell you my share in the dam show right out.’ - -“Done,” says Johnstone. - -“The words were scarce out of his mouth when the Chink stuck in the -crosstree cries out ‘Ki, hi.’ - -“The whole bundle of them was in the rigging next minute lookin’ -ahead, and then, right to s’uth’ard, there was a white stain on the -sky no bigger than a window. - -“Logan laughs. - -“‘That’s her,’ says he. - -“Then they see the pa’m tops like heads of pins, and they came down. - -“If that was the island, then Appleby’s position was near fifty miles -out, and again, if it was the island, Logan was done, seeing he’d sold -his interest in the show to Johnstone. Bone said he didn’t turn a -hair, just laughed like the good-natured chap he was, whiles they -cracked everything on and raised the place, coming into the lagoon -near sundown. - -“But Bone had begun to have his suspicions of Logan by the way he took -the business, and determined to keep his weather eye lifting. - -“It was a big atoll, near a mile broad at its narrowest and running -north and south, with the reef break to north just as given in -Appleby’s notebook. They ran her to the west a bit when they got in, -and dropped anchor near the beach, where there was a Kanaka village -with canoe houses and all, and the Kanakas watching them. They didn’t -bother about no Kanakas; it was out boat as soon as the killick had -took the coral, and hunt for oysters. And there they were, sure -enough, a bit more up by the western beach as Appleby had noted in his -book, square acres of them, virgin oysters if ever oysters were -virgins, and a dead sure fortune. - -“The chaps came back and went down below to have a clack, and -Johnstone turns generous, which he couldn’t well help, seeing that -Logan might turn on him and blow the gaff, and says he: ‘You’ve stood -out and sold your share in the venture, but I’m no shyster, and, if -you’re willing, you shall have quarter share in the takings and half a -share in the shell.’ - -“‘Right,’ says Logan. - -“‘You helping to work the beds,’ said Johnstone. - -“‘I’m with you,’ says the other. - -“Old Jack Bone, who was listening, cocked his ear at this. - -“It seemed to him more than ever that Logan was too much of a -Christian angel over the hull of this business. He knew the chap by -instinc’ to be a dam thief, or maybe worse, but he said nothing, and -then a noise brought them up on deck, and they found the island -Kanakas had all put off in canoes with fruit and live chickens and was -wanting to trade. - -“It was just after sundown, but that didn’t matter to them; they lit -up torches and the place was like a regatta round the old _Heart_. - -“Two of the chiefs came aboard and brought their goods with them and -squatted on their hams, Johnstone doing the bargaining, and, when the -bazaar was over, Johnstone turns to Logan, and says he: ‘Lord love -me,’ says he, ‘where did these chaps learn their business instinc’s? -Chicago I shud think. Where in the nation will we be when it comes to -paying them for the diving work? They’ll clear us out of goods before -a month is over, and that knocks the bottom out of the proposition. -It’s the Labour problem over again,’ says he, ‘and we’re up against -it.’ - -“‘We are,’ says Logan, ‘sure. These chaps aren’t Kanakas; they’re -Rockfellers, virgin ones, maybe, but just as hard shelled. I’ll have -to do a think.’ - -“The Chinks had all congregated down into the fo’c’sle to smoke their -opium pipes, and Logan, he lit a cigar and sat down on deck in the -light of the moon that had just risen up, and there he sits like an -image smoking and thinking whiles the others went below. - -“It was a tough proposition. - -“The Chinks were no use for diving. They’d been questioned on that -subject and risen against it to a man. The island Kanakas were the -only labour, and, taking the rate of exchange, the pearls would have -had to be as big as turnips to make the game pay. - -“But this scamp Logan wasn’t the chap to be bested by Kanakas, and -having done his think, he went below and turned in. - - - V - -“Next morning bright and early he tells Johnstone to get the diving -boat out, and he sends Bone ashore in the dinghy with word for the -natives to come out and see the fun. Bone could talk their lingo. He’d -been potting about forty years in these seas, before he’d taken up the -Shanghai job in ’Frisco, and he could talk most all the Island patter. -Off he goes, and then the Chinks get the diving boat out, pump and -all, and two sets of dresses, and they rowed her off and anchored her -convenient to the bed, and they hadn’t more’n got the anchor down when -the canoes came out, and Logan, talking to the Kanakas by means of -Bone, told them he was going down to walk about on the lagoon floor, -dry. - -“Then he gets into a dress and has the headpiece screwed on, and down -he goes, the Kanakas all hanging their heads over the canoe sides and -watching him. They see him walking about and picking up oysters and -making a grab at a passing fish’s tail and cutting all sorts of -antics, and there he stuck twenty minutes, and they laughing and -shouting, till the place sounded more like Coney Island than a -lonesome lagoon, God knows where, south of the line. - -“Then up he comes, having sent up half a dozen bags full of oysters, -and steps out of his diving gear—dry. - -“They felt him, to make sure he was dry, and then the row began. - -“The chief of the crowd, Maurini by name, wanted to go down and play -about, but Logan held off, asked him what he’d give to be let down, -and the chap offered half a dozen fowl. Logan closed, and the chap was -rigged up and got his instructions from Bone of what he was to do, and -how he wasn’t to let the air pipe be tangled, and so on, and how he -was to pick up oysters and send them up in the bag nets. Down the chap -goes, and gets the hang of the business in two minutes, after he’d -done a trip up or two and nearly strangled himself. After that the -whole of the other chaps were wild to have a hand in the business, and -Logan let them, asking no payment, only the oysters. - -“In a week’s time he had all the labour he wanted. Those Kanakas were -always ready for the fun, and when any of them tired off there was -always green hands to take their places; the work was nothing to them; -it was something new, and it never lost colour, not for six months. -Then the pumps began to suck and they’d had enough. Wouldn’t go down -unless under pay, and didn’t do the work half as well. - -“Meanwhile, Logan and Johnstone had built a house ashore and hived -half a hat full of pearls, and about this time the feeling came on -Bone strong that Logan was going to jump. He didn’t know how, but he -was sure in his mind that Logan was going to do Johnstone in for his -share, seeing the amount of stuff they’d collected. - -“He got Johnstone aside and warned him. - -“‘You look out,’ says he, ‘never you be alone with that chap when no -one’s looking, for it’s in my mind he’s going to scrag you.’ - -“Johnstone laughed. - -“‘There ain’t no harm in Logan,’ says he, ‘there’s not the kick of a -flea in him; you mind your business,’ says he, ‘and I’ll tend to mine. -Whach you want putting suspicions in chaps’ heads for?’ says he. - -“‘Well, I’ve said what I’ve said,’ says Bone, ‘and I’m not going to -say no more.’ - -“Then he goes off. - -“Meanwhile, those island bucks had got to fitting things together in -their minds, and they’d got to connecting pearls with sticks of -tobacco and trade goods, and they’d got to recognise Johnstone as boss -and owner of the pearls and goods. They’d named Johnstone ‘the fat -one’ and they’d labelled Logan ‘the one with teeth,’ and the -specifications fitted, for Johnstone weighed all two hundred and -fifty, and Logan was a dentist’s sign when the grin was on his face, -which was frequent. - -“And so things goes on, the Kanakas diving and bringing up shell and -the trade goods sinking till soon there was scarcely none left to pay -the divers, and level with that was the fac’ that they’d collared -enough pearls to satisfy reasonable chaps. - -“One day Bone comes back from the diving and there wasn’t any -Johnstone. - - - VI - -“He wasn’t in the house nor anywhere in sight, and Logan was sitting -mending a bag net by the door. - -“‘Where’s Johnstone?’ says Bone. - -“‘How the —— do I know?’ says Logan. He was a most civil spoken chap -as a rule, and as soon as he’d let that out of his head, Bone didn’t -look round no more for Johnstone. - -“He sat down and smoked a pipe, and fell to wondering when his turn -would come. He had one thing fixed in his head, and that was the fact -that if he let on to be suspicious old smiler would do him in. He’d be -wanted to help work the schooner back to ’Frisco, and it was quite on -the cards if he pretended to know nothing and suspec’ nothing he might -get off with his life, but he was in a stew. My hat! that chap was in -a stew. Living with a man-eating tiger at his elbow wouldn’t be worse, -and that night, when no Johnstone turned up, he could no more sleep -than a runnin’ dynamo driven by a ten thousand horse-power injin -stoked by Satan. - -“Logan said a wave must have taken Johnstone off the outer beach of -the reef, or he’d tumbled in and a shark had took him, and Bone -agreed. - -“Next day, however, when Bone was taking a walk away to the north of -the house, he saw a lot of big seagulls among the mammee apple bushes -that grew thick just there, and making his way through the thick stuff -and driving off the birds, he found old man Johnstone on his face with -his head bashed in and etceteras. - -“Bone was a man, notwithstandin’ the fact that he’d helped to Shanghai -poor sailor chaps, and when he seen Logan’s work he forgot his fright -of Logan, and swore he’d be even with him. - -“There wasn’t no law on that island, nor anyone to help him to hang -old toothy; so he fixed it in his mind to do him in, get him by -himself and bash him on the head same as he’d bashed Johnstone. - -“But Logan never gave him a chance, and the work went on till all the -trade goods were used up and there was no more to pay for the divers. - -“‘That’s the end,’ said Logan to Bone, ‘but it doesn’t matter; we’ve -pretty well skinned the lagoon, and we’ll push out day after to-morrow -when we get water and fruit aboard.’ - -“‘Where for?’ says Bone. - -“‘Sydney,’ says the other; ‘I’m not going back to ’Frisco, and seeing -Johnstone is drowned, the show is mine; he’s got no relatives. We’ll -make for Sydney, and to make you keep your head shut, I’ll give you -the old schooner for keeps; she’ll fetch you a good price in Sydney, -more than you’d make in ten dozen years long-shoring in ’Frisco. I -only want the pearls.’ - -“‘All right,’ says Bone, ‘I’ll keep my head shut and help you work -her,’ having in his mind to tell the whole story soon as he landed, -for he’d given up the notion of killing the other chap, not being able -to get him alone. But they never put out for Sydney, and here’s the -reason why. - -“There was a Kanaka on that island by name of Kiliwakee, a chap with a -head all frizzled out like a furze bush. He was a looney, though a -good enough workman, and he’d got no end of tobacco and fish scale -jewellery and such rubbish from Johnstone for his work, and now that -supplies had dried up he was pretty much down in the mouth; he’d got -to connect pearls and tobacco in his woolly head, and now the lagoon -was skinned and there were no more pearls, he saw there was to be no -more tobacco, nor jewellery, nor canned salmon. - -“Well, that night there was a big Kanaka pow-wow on the beach; the -chaps were sitting in a ring and talking and talking, and Bone, -catching sight of them, crawled through the bushes to listen. - -“He heard the chief chap talking. - -“He couldn’t make out at first what he was jabbering about; then at -last he got sense of what he was saying. - -“‘There’ll be no more good things,’ says he, ‘sticks of tobacco, nor -fish in cans, nor knives, nor print calico to make breeches of, nor -nothing, for,’ says he, using a figure of speech, ‘the man with the -teeth has killed the fat one and swallowed his pearls.’ - -“Then the meeting closed and the congressmen took their ways home, all -but Kiliwakee, the half-lunatic chap, who sits in the moonlight -wagging his fuzzy head, which was his way of thinking. - -“Then he fetches a knife out of his loin cloth and looks at it, then -he lays on his back and begins to strop it on his heel, same as a chap -strops a razor. - -“Bone said he’d never seen anything funnier than that chap lying in -the moonlight stropping away at that knife. It give him a shiver, too, -somehow. - -“Well, Kiliwakee sits up again and does another brood, feeling the -sharp edge of the knife. Then, with the knife between his teeth, he -makes off on all fours like a land crab, for the house. - -“Bone follows. - -“Kiliwakee listens at the house door and hears someone snoring -inside—Logan, no less; then he crawls through the door, and Bone -guessed that looney was after the pearls. If Bone had run he’d have -been in time to save Logan, but he didn’t. He just listened. He heard -a noise like a yelp. Then, five minutes after, out comes Kiliwakee. -He’d done Logan in and cut his stomach open, but he hadn’t found no -pearls, not knowing the chief chap had been usin’ a figure of speech. - -“Now you know what a figure of speech is, and don’t you forget it, and -if you want to know any more about it go and buy a grammar book. -Bone—Oh, he never got away with the schooner, nor the boodle neither. -A Chile gunboat looked into that lagoon next week and collared the -fishin’ rights and produce in the name of Chile, and told Bone to go -fight it in the courts if he wanted to put in a claim. Said the place -had been charted and claimed by Chile two years before, which was a -lie. - -“But Bone wasn’t up for fighting. Too much afraid of questions being -asked and the doing in of Logan put down to him by the Kanakas. - -“So he took a passage in the gunboat to Valdivia. He’d six big pearls -stolen from the takings and hid in the lining of his waistcoat, and he -sold them for two hundred dollars to a Jew, and that got him back to -’Frisco. - -“Thank you, I don’t mind; whisky with a dash, if it’s all the same to -you.” - - - - -XIV—UNDER THE FLAME TREES - - - I - -I was sitting in front of Thibaud’s Café one evening when I saw -Lewishon, whom I had not met for years. - -Thibaud’s Café I must tell you first, is situated on Coconut Square, -Noumea. Noumea has a bad name, but it is not at all a bad place if you -are not a convict, neither is New Caledonia, take it altogether, and -that evening, sitting and smoking and listening to the band, and -watching the crowd and the dusk taking the flame trees, it seemed to -me for a moment that Tragedy had withdrawn, that there was no such -place as the Isle Nou out there in the harbour, and that the musicians -making the echoes ring to the “Sambre et Meuse” were primarily -musicians, not convicts. - -Then I saw Lewishon crossing the Square by the Liberty Statue, and -attracted his attention. He came and sat by me, and we smoked and -talked whilst I tried to realise that it was fifteen years since I had -seen him last, and that he hadn’t altered in the least—in the dusk. - -“I’ve been living here for years,” said he. “When I saw you last in -’Frisco, I was about to take up a proposition in Oregon. I didn’t, -owing to a telegram going wrong. That little fact changed my whole -life. I came to the Islands instead and started trading, then I came -to live in New Caledonia—I’m married.” - -“Oh,” I said, “is that so?” - -Something in the tone of those two words, “I’m married,” struck me as -strange. - -We talked on indifferent subjects, and before we parted I promised to -come over and see him next day at his place, a few miles from the -town. I did, and I was astonished at what I saw. - -New Caledonia, pleasant as the climate may be, is not the place one -would live in by choice. At all events it wasn’t in those days when -the convicts were still coming there from France. The gangs of -prisoners shepherded by warders armed to the teeth, the great barges -filled with prisoners that ply every evening when work is over between -the harbour quay and the Isle Nou, the military air of the place and -the fretting regulations, all these things and more robbed it of its -appeal as a residential neighbourhood. Yet the Lewishons lived there, -and what astonished me was the evidence of their wealth and the fact -that they had no apparent interests at all to bind them to the place. - -Mrs. Lewishon was a woman of forty-five or so, yet her beauty had -scarcely begun to fade. I was introduced to her by Lewishon on the -broad verandah of their house, which stood in the midst of gardens -more wonderful than the gardens of La Mortola. - -A week or so later, after dining with me in the town, he told me the -story of his marriage, one of the strangest stories I ever heard, and -this is it, just as he told it: - -“The Pacific is the finest place in the world to drop money in. You -see it’s so big and full of holes that look like safe investments. I -started, after I parted with you, growing cocoanut trees in the Fijis. -It takes five years for a cocoanut palm to grow, but when it’s grown -it will bring you in an income of eighteen pence or so a year, -according as the copra prices range. I planted forty thousand young -trees, and at the end of the fourth year a hurricane took the lot. -That’s the Pacific. I was down and out, and then I struck luck. That’s -the Pacific again. I got to be agent for a big English firm here in -Noumea, and in a short time I was friends with everyone from Chardin -the governor right down. Chardin was a good sort, but very severe. The -former governor had been lax, so the people said, letting rules fall -into abeyance like the rule about cropping the convicts’ hair and -beards to the same pattern. However that may have been, Chardin had -just come as governor, and I had not been here more than a few months -when one day a big white yacht from France came and dropped anchor in -the harbour, and a day or two after a lady appeared at my office and -asked for an interview. - -“She had heard of me through a friend, she said, and she sought my -assistance in a most difficult matter. In plain English she wanted me -to help in the escape of a convict. - -“I was aghast. I was about to order her out of the office, when -something—something—something, I don’t know what, held my tongue and -kept me from rising for a moment, whilst with the cunning, which -amounts to magic, of a desperate woman in love, she managed to calm my -anger. ‘I understand,’ she said, ‘and I should have been surprised if -you had taken the matter calmly, but will you listen to me, and when -you have heard me out, tell me if you would not have done what I have -done to-day?’ - -“I could not stop her, and this is what she told me: - -“Her name was Madame Armand Duplessis, her maiden name had been -Alexandre. She was the only child of Alexandre, the big sugar refiner, -and at his death she found herself a handsome young girl with a -fortune of about twenty million francs and nothing between her and the -rogues of the world but an old maiden aunt given to piety and -guileless as a rabbit. However, she managed to escape the sharks and -married an excellent man, a Captain in the Cavalry and attached to St. -Cyr. He died shortly after the marriage, and the young widow, left -desolate and without a child to console her, took up living again with -her aunt, or rather the aunt came to live with her in the big house -she occupied on the Avenue de la Grande Armée. - -“About six months after she met Duplessis. I don’t know how she met -him, she didn’t say, but anyhow he wasn’t quite in the same circle as -herself. He was a clerk in La Fontaine’s Bank, and only drawing a few -thousand francs a year, but he was handsome and attractive and young, -and the upshot of it was they got married. - -“She did not know anything of his past history and he had no family in -evidence, nothing to stand on at all but his position at the bank; but -she did not mind, she was in love and she took him on trust and they -got married. A few months after marriage a change came over Duplessis; -he had always been given rather to melancholy, but now an acute -depression of spirits came on him for no reason apparently; he could -not sleep, his appetite failed, and the doctors, fearing consumption, -ordered him a sea voyage. When he heard this prescription he laughed -in such a strange way that Madame Duplessis, who had been full of -anxiety as to his bodily condition, became for a moment apprehensive -as to this mental state. However, she said nothing, keeping her fears -hidden and busying herself in preparations for the voyage. - -“It chanced that just at that moment a friend had a yacht to dispose -of, an eight hundred ton auxiliary-engined schooner, _La Gaudriole_. -It was going cheap, and Madame Duplessis, who was a good business -woman, bought it, reckoning to sell it again when the voyage was over. - -“A month later they left Marseilles. - -“They visited Greece and the Islands; then, having touched at -Alexandria, they passed through the Canal, came down the Red Sea and -crossed the Indian Ocean. They touched at Ceylon, and whilst there -Madame Duplessis suggested that instead of going to Madras, as they -had intended, they should go into the Pacific by way of the Straits of -Malacca. Duplessis opposed this suggestion at first, then he fell in -with it. More than that, he became enthusiastic about it. A weight -seemed suddenly to have been lifted from his mind, his eyes grew -bright and the melancholy that all the breezes of the Indian Ocean had -not blown away suddenly vanished. - -“Two days later they left Ceylon, came through the Straits of Malacca -and by way of the Arafura Sea and Torres Straits into the Pacific. The -Captain of the yacht had suggested the Santa Cruz islands as their -first stopping place, but one night Duplessis took his wife aside and -asked her would she mind their making for New Caledonia instead. Then -he gave his reason. - -“He said to her: ‘When you married me I told you I had no family; that -was not quite the truth. I have a brother. He is a convict serving -sentence in Noumea. I did not tell you because the thing was painful -to me as death.’ - -“You can fancy her feelings, struck by a bombshell like that, but she -says nothing and he goes on telling her the yarn he ought to have told -her before they were married. - -“This brother, Charles Duplessis, had been rather a wild young scamp; -he lived in the Rue du Mont Thabor, a little street behind the Rue St. -Honoré in Paris, and he made his money on the Stock Exchange. Then he -got into terrible trouble. He was accused of a forgery committed by -another man, but could not prove his innocence. Armand was certain of -his innocence but could do nothing, and Charles was convicted and sent -to New Caledonia. - -“Well, Madame Duplessis sat swallowing that fact, and when he’d done -speaking, she sat swallowing some more as if her throat was dry. Then -she says to Armand: - -“‘Your brother is innocent, then,’ she says. - -“‘As innocent as yourself,’ he answers her, ‘and it is the knowledge -of all this that has caused my illness and depression. - -“‘Before I was married I was forgetting it all, but married to the -woman I love, rich, happy, with enviable surroundings, Charles came -and knocked at my door, saying: “Remember me in your happiness.”’ - -“‘But can we do nothing for him?’ asked Madame Duplessis. - -“‘Nothing,’ replied Armand, ‘unless we can help him to escape.’ - -“Then he went on to tell her how he had not wanted to come on this -long voyage at first, feeling that there was some fate in the -business, and that it would surely bring him somehow or another to -Noumea; then, how the idea had come to him at Ceylon that he might be -able to help Charles to escape. - -“She asked him had he any plan, and he replied that he had not and -that it was impossible to make any plan till he reached Noumea and -studied the place and its possibilities. - -“Well, there was the position the woman found herself in, and a nice -position it was. Think of it, married only a short time and now -condemned to help a prisoner to escape from New Caledonia, for, though -she could easily have refused, she felt compelled to the business both -for the sake of her husband and the sake of his brother, an innocent -man wrongfully convicted. - -“She agreed to help in the attempt like the high spirited woman she -was, and a few days later they raised the New Caledonia reef and the -Noumea lighthouse that marks the entrance to the harbour. - -“Madame Duplessis had a big acquaintance in Paris, especially among -the political and military people, and no sooner had the yacht berthed -than the Governor and chief people who knew her name, began to show -their attentions, tumbling over themselves with invitations to dinners -and parties. - -“That, again, was a nice position for her, having to accept the -hospitality of the people she had come to betray, so to speak, but she -had to do it: it was the only way to help her husband along in his -scheme, and leaving the yacht, she took up her residence in a house -she rented on the sea road; you may have seen it, a big white place -with green verandahs, and there she and her husband spent their time -whilst the yacht was being overhauled. - -“They gave dinners and parties and went to picnics; they regularly -laid themselves out to please, and then, one night, Armand came to his -wife and said that he had been studying all means of escape from -Noumea, and he had found only one. He would not say what it was, and -she was content not to poke into the business, leaving him to do the -plotting and planning till the time came when she could help. - -“Armand said that before he could do anything in the affair he must -first have an interview with Charles. They were hand in glove with the -Governor, and it was easy enough to ask to see a prisoner, but the -bother was the name of Duplessis, for Charles had been convicted and -exported under that name. The Governor had never noticed Charles, and -the name of Duplessis was in the prison books and forgotten. It would -mean raking the whole business up and claiming connection with a -convict, still it had to be done. - -“Next day Armand called at the Governor’s house and had an interview. -He told the Governor that a relation named Charles Duplessis was -amongst the convicts and that he very much wanted to have an interview -with him. - -“Now the laws at that time were very strict, and the Governor, though -pretty lax in some things as I’ve said, found himself up against a -stiff proposition, and that proposition was how to tell Armand there -was nothing doing. - -“‘I am sorry,’ said the Governor, ‘but what you ask is impossible, -Monsieur Duplessis; a year ago it would have been easy enough, but -since the escape of Benonini and that Englishman Travers, the orders -from Paris have forbidden visitors: any message you would like me to -send to your relation shall be sent, but an interview—no.’ - -“Then Armand played his ace of trumps. He confessed, swearing the -Governor to secrecy, that Charles was his brother; he said that -Charles had in his possession a family secret that it was vital to -obtain. He talked and talked, and the upshot was that the Governor -gave in. - -“Charles would be brought by two warders to the house on the Sea Road -after dark on the following day, the interview was to take place in a -room with a single door and single window. One warder was to guard the -door on the outside, the other would stand below the window. The whole -interview was not to last longer than half an hour. - - - II - -“Next evening after dark steps sounded on the path up to the house -with the green verandahs. Madame Duplessis had retired to her room; -she had dismissed the servants for the evening, and Armand himself -opened the door. One of those little ten-cent whale oil lamps was the -only light in the passage, but it was enough for Armand to see the -forms of the warders and another form, that of his brother. - -“The warders, unlike the Governor, weren’t particular about trifles; -they didn’t bother about guarding doors and windows, sure of being -able to pot anyone who made an attempt to leave the house, they sat on -the fence in the moonlight counting the money Armand had given them, -ten napoleons apiece. - -“Half an hour passed, during which Madame Duplessis heard voices in -argument from the room below, and then she heard the hall door open as -Charles went out. Charles shaded his eyes against the moon, saw the -warders approaching him from the fence, and walked off with them back -to the prison he had come from. - -“Then Madame Duplessis, hearing the front door close, came from her -room, and found her husband in the passage. - -“He seemed overcome by the interview with his brother. - -“She asked him had he made plans for Charles’ escape, and he answered: -‘No.’ Then he went on to say that escape was impossible. They had -talked the whole thing over and had come to that decision. She stood -there in the hall listening to him, wondering dimly what had happened, -for only a few hours before he had been full of plans and energy and -now this interview seemed to have crushed all the life out of him. - -“Then she said: ‘If that is so there is no use in our remaining any -longer at Noumea.’ He agreed with her and went off to his room, -leaving her there wondering more than ever what could have happened to -throw everything out of gear in that way. - -“She was a high-spirited woman and she had thought little of the -danger of the business; pitying Charles, she did not mind risking her -liberty to set him free, and the thought that her husband had funked -the business came to her suddenly as she stood there, like a stab in -the heart. - -“She went off to her room and went to bed, but she could not sleep for -thinking, and the more she thought the clearer it seemed to her that -her husband brought up to scratch had got cold feet as the Yankees -say, and had backed out of the show, leaving Charles to his fate. - -“She was more sure next morning, for he kept away from her, had -breakfast early and went off into the town shopping. But the shock of -her life came to her at dinner time, for when he turned up for the -meal, it was plain to be seen he had been drinking more than was good -for him—trying to drown the recollections of his own weakness, it -seemed to her. - -“She had never seen him under the influence before, and she was -shocked at the change it made in him. She left the table. - -“Afterwards she was sorry that she did that, for it was like the blow -of an axe between them. Next morning he would scarcely speak to her, -and the day after they were due to leave for France. - -“They were due out at midday, and at eleven Duplessis, who had -lingered in the town to make some purchases, had not come on board. He -did not turn up till half an hour after the time they were due to -sail, and when he did it was plain to be seen that all his purchases -had been made in cafés. - -“He was flushed, and laughing and joking with the boatman who brought -him off, and his wife, seeing his condition, went below and left the -deck to him—a nice position for a woman on board a yacht like that -with all the sailors looking on, to say nothing of the captain and -officers. However, there was nothing to be done, and she had to make -the best of it, which she did by avoiding her husband as much as she -could right from that on, for the chap had gone clean off the handle; -it was as if his failure to be man enough to rescue his brother had -pulled a linch-pin out of one of his wheels, and the drink which he -flew to for consolation finished the business. - -“They stopped at Colombo and he went ashore, and they were three days -getting him back, and when he came he looked like a sack of meal in -the stern sheets of the pinnace. They stopped at Port Said and he got -ashore again without any money, but that was nothing, for a chap -coming off a yacht like that gets all the tick he wants for anything -in Port Said. He was a week there, and was only got away by the -captain of the yacht knocking seven bells out of him with his fists, -and then handing the carcase to two quartermasters to take on board -ship. - -“They stopped nowhere else till they reached Marseilles, and there -they found Madame Duplessis’ lawyer waiting for them, having been -notified by cable from Port Said. - -“A doctor was had in and he straightened Armand up with strychnine and -bromide, and they brushed his hair and shaved him and stuck him in a -chair for a family conference, consisting of Madame Duplessis, the old -maiden aunt, Armand and the lawyer. - -“Armand had no fight in him; he looked mighty sorry for himself, but -offered no explanations or excuses, beyond saying that the drink had -got into his head. Madame Duplessis, on the other hand, was out for -scalps—Do you wonder? Fancy that voyage all the way back with a -husband worse than drunk. When I say worse than drunk, I mean that -this chap wasn’t content to take his booze and carry on as a decent -man would have done. No, sir. He embroidered on the business without -the slightest thought of his wife. An ordinary man full up with liquor -and with a wife towing round would have tried to have hidden his -condition as far as he could, but this blighter carried on regardless, -and, when the whisky was in, wasn’t to hold or bind. - -“Of course she recognised that something in his brain had given way, -and she took into account that he was plainly trying to drown the -recollection of his cowardice in not helping Charles to escape; all -the same she was out for scalps and said so. - -“She said she would live with him no more, that she had been a fool to -marry a man whom she had only known for a few months and of whose -family she knew nothing. She said she would give him an allowance of a -thousand francs a month if he would sheer off and get out of her sight -and never let her see him again. - -“He sat listening to all this without a sign of shame, and when she’d -finished he flattened her out by calmly asking for fifteen hundred a -month instead of a thousand. Never said he was sorry; just asked for a -bigger allowance as if he was talking to a business man he was doing a -deal with instead of a wife he had injured and outraged. Even the old -lawyer was sick, and it takes a lot to sicken a French lawyer. I can -tell you that. - -“What does she do? She says: ‘I’ll allow you two thousand a month on -the condition I never see your face or hear from you again. If you -show yourself before me,’ she says, ‘or write to me, I’ll stop the -allowance—if you try to move the law to make us live together, I’ll -turn all my money into gold coin and throw it in the sea and myself -after it, you beast,’ she says. - -“And he says: ‘All right, all right, don’t fly away with things,’ he -says. ‘Give me my allowance and you’ll never see me again.’ - -“Then he signs a paper to that effect, and she leaves him at -Marseilles and goes back to Paris to take up her life as if she had -never been married. - -“Back in Paris she felt as if she’d been through a nightmare. You see -she’d loved the chap, that was the bother. And the rum part of the -thing was she couldn’t unlove him. That’s to say she couldn’t forget -him. She couldn’t forget the man he’d been. Seemed to her as if some -frightful accident had turned his nature and that it wasn’t altogether -his fault, and she guessed that it wasn’t only his funking his duty -that had changed him, but that Charles, away out there in New -Caledonia, was haunting him. - -“Then, after a while, being a rich woman, she managed, unknown to -anyone, to get news of what he was doing and how he was carrying on, -and what she found out didn’t comfort her any. He was up in Montmartre -with another woman and going to pieces fast, what with living all his -time in cafés and drinking and so on. She reckoned she wouldn’t be -paying his allowance long, and she was right. - -“One day an old woman turned up at her house asking her to come at -once to where he was living as he was mortally ill and couldn’t hold -out more than a few hours. - -“She didn’t think twice, but came, taking a cab and being landed in a -little old back street at the door of a house that stood between a -thieves’ café and a rag shop. - -“Up the stairs she went, following the old woman, and into a room -where his royal highness was lying with a jug of whisky on the floor -beside him and a hectic blush on his cheeks. - -“‘I’m dying,’ he says, ‘and I want to tell you something you ought to -know. I was sent to New Caledonia,’ he says, ‘for a robbery committed -by another man.’ - -“She thought he was raving, but she says, ‘Go on.’ - -“‘Armand and I were twins,’ he says, ‘as like as two peas. Armand -could do nothing. He stayed in Paris whilst poor Charles, that’s me, -went making roads on Noumea. Then you married him.’ - -“‘But you are Armand,’ she cries, ‘you are my husband, or am I mad?’ - -“‘Not a bit,’ says he, ‘I’m Charles, his twin brother.’ - -“Then she recollected how from the first she thought Armand had -changed. She sat down on the side of the bed because her limbs were -giving, and he goes on. - -“‘A year ago, you and him came in a big yacht to Noumea, and the -Governor sent me one night to have a talk with him. When we were -alone, he told me how his heart had been burning a hole in him for -years, how he had married a rich woman—that’s you—and how, when he -was happy and rich his heart had burned him worse, so that the doctors -not knowing what was wrong with him had ordered him a sea voyage.’ -Then Charles goes on to tell how Armand had come to the conclusion -that even if he helped Charles to escape, this likeness between them -would lead surely to the giving away of the whole show, make trouble -among the crew of the yacht, and so on—besides the fact that it was -next to impossible for a man to escape from Noumea in the ordinary -way, but said Armand, ‘We can change places, and no one will know. -Strip and change here and now,’ he says; ‘the guards are outside. I’ll -take your place and go to prison, and you’ll be free. I’ve got a -scissors here and two snips will make our hair the same, and by good -luck we are both clean shaven. You’ve done half your sentence of ten -years, and I’ll do the other half,’ he says; ‘the only bargain I’ll -make is that you’ll respect my wife and live apart from her, and, -after a while, you’ll break the news to her, and, maybe, when I’m free -in five years she’ll forgive me.’ - -“Charles finishes up by excusing himself for the drink, saying if -she’d served five years without the chance of a decent wet all that -time, she’d maybe have done as he’d done. - -“He died an hour after, and there was that woman left with lots to -think about. First of all her husband wasn’t the drunkard that had -disgraced her, but he was a convict serving his time and serving it -wrongfully for a robbery he had not committed and for the sake of his -brother. - -“The thundering great fact stood up like a shot tower before her that -Armand wasn’t the drunkard that had disgraced her in two ports and -before a ship’s company, wasn’t the swine that took her allowance and -asked for more. That he was a saint, if ever a man was a saint. - -“She rushed home, telegraphed to Marseilles and re-commissioned the -_Gaudriole_, that was still lying at the wharves. A week later she -sailed again for Noumea. - -“On the voyage, she plotted and planned. She had determined to save -him from the four years or so of the remains of his sentence at all -costs and hazards, and when the yacht put in here she had a plan fixed -on, but it was kiboshed by the fact that the Governor, as I have said, -was changed. However, she took up residence for awhile in the town, -people she had known before called on her, and she gave out that her -husband was dead. - -“You can fancy how a rich widow was run after by all and sundry, -myself included, not that I had any idea about her money. I only cared -for herself. She knew this as women know such things by instinct, and -one day when she was alone with me and I was going to tell her my mind -about her, she dropped a bombshell on my head by telling me her whole -story, capped by the fact that she had come to help her husband to -escape. She asked for my help. I’m a queer chap in some ways. I told -her I loved her enough to ruin myself for her by risking everything to -give her husband back to her, and between us we worked out a plan that -was a pippin. - -“It would have freed Armand, only that we found on inquiring about him -that he had already escaped—he was dead. Died of fever two months -before she came. - -“I heard once of a Japanese child that said her doll was alive because -she loved it so much, adding that if you loved anything enough it -lived. Well, in my experience, if you love anything enough you can -make it love you. - -“That woman stayed on in Noumea, and I made her love me at last. I -married her, you know her, she is my wife. She loves Armand still, as -a memory, and for the sake of his memory we live here. It’s as good a -place to live in as anywhere else, especially now that they have -settled to send no more convicts from France.” - - - - -XV—THE ABBOTT MYSTERY - - - I - -A man may live all his days without finding his true vocation, and it -is often accident that reveals it to him. Herschel might have ended -his days a music master only for chance, and Du Maurier towards the -finish of his life found that he had been all his life a novelist -without knowing it. - -Some years ago my friend John Sargenson found on the beach near Dover -an old red satin shoe that had been washed ashore tied to a bundle of -papers. I have told the story elsewhere and how, brooding over these -things, and by powers of analysis and synthesis rarely linked in one -brain, he solved the riddle and brought a murderer to justice. - -He didn’t continue in the business. He is a very rich man, and God’s -beautiful world offers him better objects of pursuit than the crook -and criminal; all the same, a year after the shoe business, accident -brought him again in touch with a problem. He took the thing up, -followed it to its solution and now he wishes he hadn’t. This is the -story as he told me it. - - - II - -I don’t know what it is about travelling that palls on one so much if -one is travelling alone, maybe it’s the fact that the perfectly -friendly people one meets are dead strangers to one, for all their -conversation and close propinquity; a sea and land journey round the -world is, in this respect, nothing more than a magnified bus ride, -passengers getting in and out, talking together and so forth, but dead -to one another once the destination is reached. - -It was at Rangoon that this great fact hit me, and incidentally laid -the keel of the yarn I promised to tell you. I was suddenly fed up -with boats, trains, hotels and strangers, homesick down to the heels -of my boots, and wanting some place of my own to hide in; anything, -even a shack in the jungle. It was the queerest feeling, and one day -when it was gripping me hard, I fell in talk in the hotel bar with an -old saltwater chap by name of Boston, who owned boats on the Irawadi -and a couple of deep-sea schooners. I told him what was in my mind and -he understood. He took me by the arm and led me off down to the river, -and pointing out a schooner tied up to the wharf: - -“There you are,” said he, “that’s what you want; she’s in ballast and -ready for sea. She’s mine. Buy her, or rent her. She’s a hundred and -ten tons and nothing can break her, best sea boat in these waters; -she’ll take you to Europe safer than the mails, and I’ll get you a -skipper and crew inside the week.” - -An hour after I had closed, and the _Itang_—that was her name—was -mine. I’d found a home. A week later I was off, slipping down the -Irawadi with the land breeze into the Gulf of Martaban, bound for -Europe?—oh Lord, no! I was homesick no longer; Europe might have gone -off the map as far as I was concerned, for the Pacific was calling me. - -We sailed south down by the Andamans and through the Straits of -Malacca, past Java and Flores, into the Banda Sea, tinkered about -amongst the islands and then came through Torres Straits; it was May -and the south-east monsoon was blowing—you can’t get through that -place when the north-west is on, because of the fogs—then steering -north by the Louisiades, we passed the Solomons, touched at several of -the Carolines and pushed on till we were about half-way between the -Ladrones and Wake Island just under 20° North. - -That’s where the happening took place. - -One blazing hot morning just as I was turning out of my bunk -Mallinson, the skipper, came down to report a boat sighted drifting -and derelict away ahead on the port bow. - -I came up in my pyjamas, and there she was, sure enough, a ship’s -boat, with no sign of life and evidently no dead bodies in her, for -she was riding high and dancing to the sea like a walnut-shell, but -stuck up in the bow of her there was something like a bit of white -board fixed to a spar of some sort. - -Through the glass Mallinson made out something on the board that he -said was writing. I couldn’t; it looked like black lines to me, but he -was right. - -We closed up with her, dropped a boat, and I put off with Hogg the -mate, the _Itang_ keeping to windward on the off-chance of infection. -Mallinson had it in his head that the notice on the board might be a -warning of smallpox or plague, or something like that, and he’d once -been had badly by picking up a plague boat off the Maldives. But it -wasn’t. - -The notice had nothing to do with disease or infection, and I’ll give -you a hundred guesses as to what some old ship master, maybe dying and -half crazy with the loss of his ship, and a secret on his conscience -had written up for some passing ship to read. - -This was it: - - “The heir of William Abbott will be found - at 11 Churles Street, Shanghai.” - -I don’t mind saying that no sailor man has ever struck anything at -sea stranger than that. You must remember where we were: a thousand -miles of blue ocean all around and that piece of writing staring us in -the face; the affairs of William Abbott and his heir, whoever they -might be, contrasted with God’s immensities—an advertisement, almost, -you might say, written on that desolation. - -It struck me clean between the eyes, it was like meeting a man in a -top hat in the middle of the Sahara desert. We closed up with the -boat; she was clean swept of everything down to the bailer, no ship’s -name on her, and worth maybe a hundred dollars; so we towed her to the -_Itang_ and got her on board, notice and all. - -It was lashed to a boat-hook, which was lashed to the forward thwart, -and we cut it loose and brought it down to the cabin, where we hung it -up as a trophy. - -After the word “Shanghai” there was the indication of a letter that -looked like “L,” faint as if the paint had run out or the fellow who -was writing had given up the job, dying maybe, before he could finish -it; the board itself was an old piece of white enamelled stuff, torn -evidently from some part of a ship’s make-up, the whole thing was -roughly done, but the chap, whoever he was, had some education, for -there was a punctuation mark after the word “Street.” - -We stuck it up on the after bulkhead, and there it hung, giving us -food for talk every meal time, and on and off for days. Mallinson said -it was the work of some chap who had died and left no will, he was a -bit of a sea lawyer and he held that if William Abbott was a sailor -and it could be proved he was lost at sea and if some relation of his -was to be found at 11 Churles Street, Shanghai, the Law, under the -circumstance, would regard the thing as a will. - -This seemed to me rubbish, but it gave us something to argue about, -and so it went on till the thing dropped from our talk as we raised -our latitude, looking in at Los Jardines and then steering for -Formosa. - -I’d determined to have a look at Japan, so we left Formosa, steering -north, and then one day, it was off the Riu Kiu islands, the helm went -over and we steered for Shanghai. - -The fact of the matter was that beastly board had obsessed me. Though -we had ceased talking of it, I hadn’t ceased thinking of it. You know -the way a problem gets hold of me. Lying in my bunk at night, I worked -that riddle backwards and forwards, and up and down. If William Abbott -had written it, what had become of him? Why wasn’t his corpse in the -boat? What was the use of writing it? As a legal document, it was -useless. The whole thing was a tangle, but one fact stood out, it was -a message. Well, to whom? Not to the seagulls or the world at large, -but to the first person who should pick it up, and the message was: - -“The heir of William Abbott lives at such and such an address.” That -was quite plain. Also it was evident that the writer meant that the -finder of the message should make use of it by bringing it to or -sending it to 11 Churles Street. - -Whether some man at the address given could benefit by the message or -not was another matter—evidently it was in the mind of the writer -that he could. - -You see how reasoning had brought me to a point where conscience was -awakened. I began to say to myself: “It’s your duty to take that -message; here you are a well-to-do idler bound for no port in -particular, but just following your own pleasure, you are going to -Japan for no earthly reason, just for a whim, Shanghai lies almost on -your way and your duty is to stop there,” but I didn’t want to go to -Shanghai, I had nothing against the place or the Chinese—I just -didn’t want to go; however, that didn’t matter, conscience had taken -the wheel and I went. - - - III - -We got to the river before noon one day and picked up a pilot. You -don’t know Shanghai? Well, you’re saved the knowledge of the shoals -and buoys and lightships and the currents, and the five-mile-long -anchorage, to say nothing of the freighters going up and down and the -junks out of control. I cursed William Abbott and his heirs before we -were berthed, and then, leaving Mallinson in charge, I went ashore to -hunt for my man. - -I knew Lockhart, the silk man, and found him out, and he made me stop -with him at his place all the time I was there, which was only three -days. - -It’s an interesting place, Shanghai, but the thing that intrigued me -most was the fact that there was no Churles Street. Thinking the -Johnnie who wrote the notice might have meant Charles Street, I asked -for that; there was no such place in the European quarter. The -European quarter lies east of the Chinese town. There was no such -place in the Chinese town, there was the street of a Thousand Delights -and the street of the Seven Dead Dogs, and the street of the Lanterns, -and so forth, but they were no use, so, feeling that I was done and -shaking the dried mud of Shanghai off my shoes, we put out for -Nagasaki. - -I sent the notice board flying over the after rail as we dropped the -land and dismissed the matter from my mind—from my conscious mind. My -subliminal mind had it still in hand, and two days after landing at -Nagasaki it asked me this question: “Could that faintly written ‘L’ -have been the first letter of the word ‘lost’?” - -I went straight to the shipping office and, looking over the list of -overdue ships, I found a notice that the steamship _Shanghai_, bound -from London to Canton was eight weeks overdue. You can imagine how the -hound in me woke to life and wagged its tail at that discovery. I sat -down and wrote out on a sheet of paper the message, amended into this: -“The heir of William Abbott lives at 11 Churles Street. Shanghai -lost.” If the writer had possessed the time and paint and space he -might have given the full strange history of the case and how the boat -had been drifted off and about the seas with that message. - -Maybe the chap had jumped to the sharks, driven by hunger or thirst as -many a man has done, maybe he had painted his message on that bit of -board before leaving some slowly sinking ship and taken it in the -boat—no knowing, the fact remained, and seemed clear enough, that -some desperate urgency of soul had made him, in face of death and with -a steady hand, take a paint brush and write that screed on the bare -chance of someone picking it up. - -You know my make-up and how, having gone so far on an inquiry of this -sort, I was bound to go on. It’s different now. I’ll never touch a -thing like that again, but that day I stripped for action, determining -to see the business through and find out every bit of meaning there -was to it. - -I started by sending a cable to the Board of Trade, London Docks. Next -day at noon I had an answer which read: “_Shanghai_ sixteen hundred -tons, Master’s name Richard Abbott.” - -That name Abbott coming over the wires all the way from murky London, -in answer, you might say, to the name Abbott written on that board -away in the blue Pacific, gave me a thrill such as I have never felt -before. I knew now the writer of the message, and at the same time I -knew that it was not his own money that he was bothering about simply -because he wasn’t William Abbott. I knew that it was highly probable -that he was a close relation of William Abbott, brother maybe, or son; -that might be placed among the high probabilities owing to the -similarity of name and intimate knowledge of family affairs. Just so, -and I could go a step further; it was pretty certain that Richard -Abbott, the master of the _Shanghai_, was the sole possessor of the -knowledge he had given to the world, and, from the urge that drove him -in the face of death to tell what he knew, it was possible that the -thing weighed on his mind, possible, in fact, that he had kept the -thing hidden. - -In other words, that he was trying to remedy an injustice committed -either by himself or someone else. - -I wrote all these probabilities and possibilities down on a sheet of -paper, with an account of the finding of the message, sealed the lot -up in an envelope and gave it in charge of the manager of the bank I -dealt with in Nagasaki, so that in the case of death or accident the -heir of William Abbott might have some chance of coming to his due. -Then I proceeded to enjoy myself in Japan, determined to think no more -of the matter till I got back to London. - -I spent a month in Japan, sold the old _Itang_ for more than I had -given for her and paid off captain and crew. - - - IV - -I made up my mind that the Churles Street referred to in the message -lay in London. London was the home town evidently of the master of the -_Shanghai_, and he would refer to Churles Street—perhaps a well-known -place in the dock quarter—just as one might speak of Cromwell Road or -Regent Street. - -On getting in to Southampton, the first thing I did at the hotel was -to consult a Kelly’s directory, and sure enough, there was Churles -Street, E.C., the only street of that name, a short street of twenty -houses or so with the name J. Robertson against No. 11. The street -opened off the West India Dock Road, and two days later, when I had -disposed of my private business in London, I took a walk in the East -End. The Dock Road is a fascinating place if you are in good health -and spirits, and if the day is fine, but there is no fascination about -Churles Street, a gloomy, evil looking cul-de-sac, not rowdy, but -quiet with the quietude of vice reduced to misery and crouching in a -corner. - -It was a horrible place. - -A thin woman nursing a baby was standing at the door of No. 11. I -asked her was anyone of the name of Abbott living there and she -glanced me up and down. - -“Have you come from his brother?” asked she. - -“Yes,” I said, “I’ve come from Captain Richard Abbott.” - -She led the way into the passage, opened a door, and showed me into a -room where a man, fully dressed, was lying on a bed smoking a pipe and -reading a sporting paper. - -A typical lounger and ne’er-do-well, unshaved, and with his collar and -tie on the chair beside him, this chap gave me pause, I can assure -you. - -“Well,” he said to the woman, “what’s he want?” - -“You’re his brother?” I said. - -“Yes,” he replied, “I’m his brother, and who might you be?” - -“Met him abroad,” I replied, “and he asked me to call in and see how -you were doing.” I was clean cut off from the business I had in mind, -some instinct told me to halt right there and show nothing that was in -my hand. The man repulsed me. - -“Well, you see how I am doing,” replied he, “hasn’t he sent me -anything but his kind inquiries?” - -“Yes,” I said, “he asked me to give you a sovereign from him.” - -I brought out the money and he took it and laid it on the chair by the -collar and tie, then he filled his pipe again and we talked. I had -taken a chair which the woman had dusted. I talked but I could get -nothing much out of him, to ask questions I would have had to explain, -and to explain might have meant bringing this unshaven waster on top -of me to help him to prosecute his claims. If I did anything further -in the matter, I would do it through an agent, but upon my word I felt -I had paid any debt I might owe to the master of the _Shanghai_ by the -trouble I had taken already and the sovereign I had handed over in his -name. - -As we talked a pretty little girl of ten or twelve ran into the room; -she was dirty and neglected, and as she stood at the end of the bed -with her great eyes fixed on me, I could have kicked the loafer lying -there, his pipe in his mouth and his sporting paper by his side. - -It seemed that he had four children altogether, and as I took my leave -and the woman showed me out, I put another sovereign into her hand for -the children. - -There I was in the West India Dock Road again feeling that I could -have kicked myself. It was not so much the trouble I had taken over -the business that worried me as the wind up. I’d put into Shanghai, -sent cables from Japan, altered my plans, spent no end of money to -bring news to that rotten chap, news of a fortune that if secured -would certainly be burst on racing and drink. - -I said to myself that this came of mixing in other folks’ business and -I took an oath never to do it again—I didn’t know I was only at the -beginning of things. - -Murchison was the agent I determined to employ to finish up the -affair. Murchison is less a detective than an inquiry agent, his game -is to find out facts relative to people, he lives in Old Serjeants’ -Inn, and knowing him to be secrecy itself and not caring to employ my -lawyer, I determined to go to him next day and place the matter in his -hands, telling him to do what he could with the business, but to keep -my name out of it. He need mention nothing about the finding of the -message, but he could give it as coming from some unknown source—the -message was the main thing, anyhow. - -I called at his office next morning. Murchison is a thin old chap, dry -as a stick. I told him the whole story and it made no more impression -on him than if I’d been telling it to a pump. He made a note or two, -and when I had finished, he told me in effect that he wasn’t a -District Messenger, but an inquiry agent, and that I had better take -the thing to my lawyer. He seemed put out; I had evidently raised his -tracking instincts by my story and ended simply by asking him to take -a message. - -I apologised, told him the truth, that my lawyer was an old-fashioned -family solicitor, gone in years, touchy as Lucifer, the last man in -London to set hinting of possible fortunes to beggars in slums. “If -you won’t do it yourself,” I finished, “tell me of a man who will.” - -“I can tell you of plenty,” he replied, “but if you take my advice you -will let me make an inquiry into the business before you move further -in the matter; there’s more in it than meets the eye and you may be -doing injury to other parties by stirring up the mud, for this man you -tell me of seems mud.” - -“A jolly good name for him,” said I. “Well, go ahead and make your -inquiries; it’s only a few pounds more thrown after the rest, and it -will be interesting to hear the result.” Then I left him. - -A month later I got a letter asking me to call upon him, and I went. - -When I took my seat he sent the clerk for the Abbott documents, and -the clerk brought a sheaf of all sorts of papers, laid them on the -table and went out. Murchison put on his glasses, took a glance -through the papers and started his yarn. - -Beautifully concise it was, and I’ll give you it almost in his own -words. - - - V - -William Abbott, of Sydney, N.S.W., was a wool broker who came to -England in the year 1906 and died worth some hundred and fifty -thousand pounds. He had three sons, John, Alexander and Richard. - -The Will was simple and direct. Murchison laid a copy of it before me, -taken by permission of Abbott’s lawyer’s, whom he had found, and it -ran something like this. - -“Owing to the conduct of my eldest son, John Abbott, I hereby revoke -my Will of June 7th, 1902, by which I bequeathed him the whole of my -property, with the exception of the sum of twenty thousand pounds to -be equally divided between my sons Alexander and Richard. I hereby -bequeath the whole of my property to my son Alexander Abbott. Signed: -William Abbott, July 10th, 1904. Witnesses: John Brooke, Jane -Summers.” - -“Well,” said Murchison, as I handed the paper back, “that signature is -a forgery; the body of the document is written as if by a clerk in -almost print character, but though I have never seen the handwriting -of William Abbott, I will bet my reputation that the signature is -forged.” - -“How can you tell?” I asked. - -“Because the signatures of the witnesses are forged; they have both -been written by the same hand. The signature ‘William Abbott’ has -evidently been carefully copied from an original, there is a -constraint about it that tells me that, but the witnesses’ signatures, -where the forger had nothing to copy and had to invent imaginary -names, simply shout. The fool never thought of that; leaving the point -of similarity aside, the woman’s signature is as masculine as a -Grenadier. The body of the document, though almost in print, is also -the work of the forger.” - -“Are you sure?” I asked. - -“Absolutely,” said he, “handwriting with me is not only a science -which I have studied for fifty years; it is something that has -developed in me an instinct. Now to go on. Alexander Abbott lives in a -big house down in Kent. Richard, at the time of his father’s death, -was a captain in the Black Bird Line, evidently working for his bread. -A year after his father’s death he bought the steamer _Shanghai_, -paying a large sum for it spot cash. He was an unmarried man, and when -ashore occupied a flat in Bayswater. Alexander is a widower with one -daughter.—That’s all. The case is complete.” - -“How do you read it?” I asked. The old chap fetched a snuff box out of -a drawer in the desk, took a pinch and put the box back without -offering it. - -“I read it,” he said, “in this way. John, the eldest son, was a bad -lot; the father may have intended to disinherit him, and make a second -will; anyhow, he didn’t; put it off as men do. When the father died, -Alexander boldly did the trick. Richard may have been party to the -business, at first—who knows? Anyhow, it seems that he was later on, -since he was able to plank that big sum down for the ship, and since -he was left nothing in the will, and since, as you say, he put up that -notice you took off the boat and which told the truth.” - -I said nothing for a while, thinking this thing over. I was sure -Murchison was right. - -This thing would have been weighing in the sailor’s mind for years; -from what I could make out at Churles Street he had evidently been -making John some sort of allowance; one could fancy the long watches -of the night, the pacing of the deck under the stars, and the mind of -the sailor always teased by the fact that he was party to this -business, a forgery that had kept a brother, however bad, out of his -inheritance. Then the last frantic attempt to put things right in the -face of death, the agonised thought that to write the thing on paper -was useless, paper that would be washed away by the rain or blown away -by the wind. - -“Well,” said I to Murchison, “it seems plain enough, and now, on the -face of it, what would you advise me to do?” - -“If I were in your place,” said he, “I would do nothing. You say this -elder brother is a scamp; Alexander, on the other hand, is a rogue; if -you mix yourself up in the business you may have trouble. Why should -you worry yourself about a bad lot of strangers?—turn it down.” - -That seemed sensible enough, but you see Murchison knew only the bare -facts of the case; he had not seen that notice board tossing about in -the desolation of the Pacific. - -I left him without having made up my mind as to what I should do, half -determined to do nothing. - -The bother was that the facts Murchison had put before me gave a new -complexion to the whole business, a new urgency to that message which -I had not delivered. I felt as if the captain of the _Shanghai_ had -suddenly come to my elbow, him and his uneasy conscience craving to be -put at rest. Just so, but on the other hand there was John Abbott, and -I can’t tell you the grue that chap had given me. It wasn’t that he -was a boozer, or a waster; he was bad; bad right through and rotten. -There is a sixth sense, it has to do with morals and the difference -between good and evil; it told me this chap was evil, and the thought -of helping to hand him a fortune made my soul revolt. - -Still, there you are, I didn’t make the chap, and the fact remained -that in doing nothing I was holding him out of his rights. - -All that evening the thing worried me and most of that night. Next -morning I couldn’t stand it any longer. I took the train for Oakslot -in Kent. I had determined to go straight to Alexander Abbott, beard -him, tell him of the notice I had found and see what he had to say. -The idea came to me that he might make restitution in some way without -handing all the fortune over to John—anyhow, it would be doing -something, and I determined to use all my knowledge and power if -necessary. - -Ever been to Oakslot? It is the quaintest and quietest place, and it -wasn’t till I got out of the train and found myself on the platform -that the terrible nature of the business I was on took me by the arm. - -I had no difficulty in finding Alexander Abbott’s residence; the -Waterings was the name it went by, an old Georgian house set in a -small park; one of those small, rook-haunted, sleepy, sunlit -pleasaunces found only in England and best in Sussex or Kent. - -I was shown into the drawing-room by an old manservant, who took my -card, on which I had pencilled: “From Captain Richard Abbott.” - -A few moments passed and the door opened and a girl came in, a girl of -sixteen or so, pretty as a picture and charming as a rose; one of -those sweet, whole, fresh, candid creatures, almost sexless as yet, -but made to love and be loved. - -I stood before her. I was Tragedy, but she only saw a man. She told me -her father was unwell but would see me. Would I follow her? - -She led me to a library, and there, seated by the window which gave -upon the sunlit park, sat the criminal, a man of forty or so, a man -with seemingly a good and kindly face, a man I would have trusted on -sight. He was evidently far gone in consumption, this forger of -documents, and it was pretty evident that anxiety had helped in the -business; a weight on the conscience is a big handicap if one is -trying to fight disease. - -I sat down near him and started right in; the quicker you get a -surgical operation over the better, and so he seemed to think, for -when I told him of the finding of the notice and went on to say that -it might be necessary to inquire into the will and that I had reason -to believe there was something wrong about it, he saw I knew nearly -everything and stopped me right off. - -“Everything is wrong about it,” said he, “and thank God that this -matter has fallen into the hands of a straight and honest man like -you—you will understand. This thing has tormented me for years, but -when you have heard what I have to say you will know I did wrong only -to do right. There is no greater scoundrel in this world than my -brother John Abbott; a terrible thing to say but the truth. My father -had made a will leaving him everything. He placed that will in the -hands of James Anderson of Sydney, our lawyer. Anderson knew John’s -character better than my father and was averse from the business, but -he could do nothing. My father was a very headstrong man and blind to -John’s doings, which the scamp somehow managed to partly conceal from -him. He thought John was sowing his wild oats and that he would be all -the better for it. John could do no wrong in his eyes, but a few days -before his death he had a terrible awakening with a forged bill of -exchange—forgery seems to run in the family. It cost him five -thousand pounds to stifle the matter, and the day after the business -was settled my father died; slipped coming downstairs, fell, and broke -his back. - -“I was there and he died in my arms, and his last words were: ‘Get -that will from Anderson and destroy it.’ He had no power to write a -new will, no strength even to write his signature, and when he was -dead there was I with those words ringing in my ears. - -“I knew my father intended to revoke his first will, would have done -it that day; maybe, ought to have done it days ago, but his mind was -in a turmoil and he was a strong, hearty man with never a thought of -death. Well, there I was, not only with that knowledge but the -knowledge that if the property fell to John it would be the end of the -family’s good name; that beast was only possible when he was kept -short of money—then there was the lower consideration of my own -position, penniless and at John’s mercy. - -“I made a will and put my father’s name to it, sure that Anderson -would make no trouble, sure that John would not inquire into it, for -the forgery of the bill of exchange had drawn his teeth, and the fact -of that forgery would account to him for the change in the disposition -of the property. - -“I dated the will, it is true, some years back, and in the time my -father lived in Sydney. I did that because I had to forge the names of -the two witnesses; had I dated it recently someone might ask who are -these witnesses? As it was there was no one to put that question to, -for I was not in Sydney at the time indicated in the will—they might -have been hotel servants—anyone. - -“I left myself the whole property, not from greed but simply because -my brother Richard was at sea. I knew his temperament and character, -and it was possible that, had I made him part heir, he would have -revolted and disclosed all—for I had determined to tell him -everything. - -“I placed the forged will among my father’s papers; it was proved and -there was no trouble. Anderson, whose clients are largely wool brokers -and Australian merchants, has a branch office in London; they were my -father’s solicitors in England as well as Australia, and the whole -thing went through their hands. They had all the less reason to cast -any suspicious eye on the document in as much as they had dealt with -the forgery of the bill of exchange. - -“Then Richard came back from sea and I told him all. He was horrified, -yet he saw that what I had done had been simply to carry out my -father’s wish. It was impossible to destroy the old will as he had -directed, or possible only in one way—by the creation of a new will. - -“After a while he cooled on the matter and even accepted a large sum -for the purchase of a ship, the _Shanghai_, now lost. But the thing -weighed on his mind as it has on mine, only more so. He was of a -different temperament. He did not dread detection, with him it was -entirely a matter of conscience: he felt he had defrauded John by -being partner to the business, and accepting that sum of money. He -seemed to think in his sailor way it would bring him bad luck; no -doubt when the end came and he lost his ship he had that in mind, and -lest the bad luck might follow him into the next world wrote that -notice you found. I have only a few more months to live—now tell me, -was I right or wrong in doing what I did?” - -“I don’t know,” I said. “I am not your judge, but all I can say is -this: from what I know of the business, I will move no further in the -matter, if for no other reason than that, should John Abbott get word -of the business, your daughter would be rendered penniless after your -death.” - -“Absolutely,” said he. - -I asked him was John receiving an allowance, and he said yes. He was -receiving two pounds a week for life. - -Then I left him and took the train for London, and from that day to -this I have heard nothing of any of the lot of them. I expect he’s -dead and his daughter an heiress—I don’t know, but I’ll never touch a -thing like that again. Even still I’m bothered to know if I was right -or wrong in holding my hand and tongue. What would you have done in -similar circumstances? - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ocean Tramps, by H. de Vere Stacpoole - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OCEAN TRAMPS *** - -***** This file should be named 63269-0.txt or 63269-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/2/6/63269/ - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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