"Well?" muttered the captain inquiringly, as if he were afraid that the two poor wretches who but a few feet away lay like dead men might awaken.

For the moment Chard made no answer, but putting out his hand he gripped Hendry by the arm.

"Did you hear what Carr and Atkins said?" he asked in a fierce whisper.

Hendry's sullen eyes gleamed vindictively as he nodded assent.

"Well, they mean it—if we are fools enough to give them the chance of doing it. And by God, Louis, I tell you that it means hanging for us both; if not hanging, imprisonment for life in Darlinghurst Gaol. We shot the niggers, right enough, and every man of the crew of the Motutapu, from Oliver down to Carr's servant, will go dead against us."

He paused a moment. "This has happened at a bad time for us, Louis. Two years ago Thorne, the skipper of the Trustful, labour schooner, his mate, second mate, boatswain and four hands were cast for death for firing into native canoes in the New Hebrides. And although none of them were hanged they are rotting in prison now, and will die in prison."

"I know," answered the captain in a whisper. "Thorne was reprieved and got a life-sentence, the other chaps got twenty-one years."

"And I tell you, Louis, that if you and I face a jury we shall stand a worse chance than Jim Thorne and his crowd did. The whole crew will go dead against us, and swear there was no attempt to mutiny—that girl and her servant too, and Jessop as well. Jessop would give us away in any case over the cause of the fire, if he said nothing else. It's their lives or ours."

"What is it to be?" muttered Hendry, drawing the steer oar inboard, and putting his eager, cruel eyes close to Chard's face.

"This is what it must be. You and I, Louis, will be 'the only survivors of the "Motutapu" which took fire at sea. All hands escaped in the three boats, but only the captain's boat, containing himself and the supercargo, succeeded in reaching Ponape after terrible hardships. The mate's and second mate's boats, with all their occupants, have undoubtedly been lost.' That is what the newspapers will say, Louis, and it will be quite true, as all those in the other boats will perish. By sunrise tomorrow none of the ship's company but you and I must be alive."

"How are we going to do it?"

"Wait till nearly daylight, and then we can get within range of them, and pick them off one by one, if there is a good breeze. If there is no wind and we cannot keep going, we must put it off for the time. There's two hundred and thirty Winchester and Snider cartridges in that handkerchief—I've counted them—and we can make short work of them."

"What about these fellows?" said Hendry, inclining his head towards the drunken firemen.

"They go first. They must go overboard in the next squall, which will be upon us in a few minutes. Take another drink, Louis, and don't shake so, or—" and Chard grasped Hendry by the collar and spoke with sudden fury—"or by God, I'll settle you first, and do the whole thing myself!"

"I'll do it, Sam; I'll do it."

Again the hissing rain and the hum of the squall was upon them as the ocean was blotted out from view.

"Now," said Chard—"quick." They sprang forward together, lifted the unconscious men one by one, and threw them over the side.

"Run up the jib," said Hendry hoarsely; "let us get further away."

"You rotten-hearted Dutch cur," and Chard seized the captain by the beard with his left hand and clenched his right threateningly, "brace yourself up, or I'll ring your neck like a fowl's, and send you overboard after them. Think of your wife and family—and of the hangman's noose dangling between you and them."

*****

Throughout the night the rain squalls swept the ocean at almost hourly intervals, with more or less violence, but were never of long enough duration to raise more than a short, lumpy sea, which quickly subsided.

About an hour before dawn, however, a more than usually heavy bank formed to windward, and Harvey, with Huka and the other natives, could see that there was more wind in it than would be safe for the mate's boat, which was deep in the water, owing to the number of people in her. Oliver agreed with them that they should tranship three or four of their number into the second mate's boat.

"Better be sure than sorry, Carr," he said; "can any one of you see Mr. Atkin's boat?"

Nothing could be seen or heard of her until a boat lantern was hoisted on an oar by Oliver, and a few seconds after was responded to by Atkins soaking a piece of woollen cloth in rum, wrapping it round the point of a boathook, and setting it alight. Its flash revealed him half a mile away to leeward. Hendry and Chard, who by this time were quite three miles distant, saw the blazing light, and the latter wondered what it meant.

"They have parted company, I think," said Hendry, "and as the mate's boat is too deep I daresay he wants Atkins to take some of his people before this big squall comes down. It's going to be an ugly fellow this, and we'll have to drive again. I wish it would swamp 'em both. The sharks would save us a lot of trouble then."

As quickly as possible Oliver paddled down to Atkins, and Harvey, Latour, Huka, and another native got into the second mate's boat.

"We'll have to run before this, Atkins," said the mate, alluding to the approaching squall; "it will last a couple of hours or more by the look of it. Are you very wet, Miss Remington?"

"Very, Mr. Oliver," answered the girl, with a laugh; "but I don't mind it a bit, as the rain is not cold. I am too old a 'sailor man' to mind a wetting. Are you all quite well? I can't see your face, Mr. Studdert, nor yours, Mr. Morrison, it is so dark. Oh, Mr. Studdert, I wish I had one of your cigarettes to smoke."

"I wish I had one to give you, miss," answered the pale-faced young engineer. "A pipe is no to my liking, but I fear me I'll have to tackle one in the morning."

Alas, poor Studdert, little did he know that the morning, now so near, was to be his last.

"Goodbye for the present, Miss Remington," called out Oliver as the boats again separated. "Take good care of her, Harvey, and of yoursels too. He'll be getting an attack of the shakes in the morning, miss, after all this wetting. Give him plenty of rum, my dear, whether he likes it or not. You're a plucky little lady, and next to having you in my own boat I am glad to see you with Atkins. Cheer up, lads, one and all; we'll have the sun out in another hour."

Half an hour later both boats were driving before the fury of the squall, and the crews had to keep constantly bailing, for this time the violence of the wind was such that, despite the most careful steering of the two officers, large bodies of water came over amidships, and threatened to swamp the boats.

When dawn came the sky was again as clear as it had been on the previous morning, and Atkins stood up and looked for the captain's and mate's boats.

"There they are, Harvey," and he pointed to the westward; "the skipper is under sail, and making back towards Oliver. Well, that's one thing about him, dog as he is—he's a thorough sailor man, and is standing back to take Oliver in tow again."

At this time the captain's boat was about three miles distant from that of the second mate, and Oliver's between the two, but much nearer to Hendry and Chard's than to Atkins's. She was under both mainsail and jib, and as the sea was again very smooth was slipping through the water very quickly under a now steady breeze, as she stood towards the mate's boat.

As the red sun burst from the ocean Atkins told the crew to cease pulling for a few minutes and get something to eat. The men were all in good humour, though they yet meant to wreak their vengeance on Chard and Hendry for the murder of their shipmates. The wounded man who had been put in Oliver's boat they knew had also died, and this had still further inflamed them. But for the present they said nothing, but ate their biscuit and tinned beef in cheerful silence, after waiting for Tessa and Maoni to begin. Huka, their recognised leader, and Malua, Harvey's servant, had both assured them that the captain and Chard would be brought to punishment, but this assurance was not satisfactory to the majority of them. One of them, the big Manhikian who had helped Latour to rescue Tessa and Maoni from their cabin, was a brother of the man who had just died from his wounds in Oliver's boat, and he had, during the night, promised his shipmates to take his own and give them their utu (revenge) before the boats reached Ponape.

"Turn to again, boys," said Atkins presently, as soon as the men had satisfied their hunger; "we must catch up to the others now."

The natives bent to their oars again, and sent the boat along at a great rate, when suddenly Harvey heard the sound of firearms. He stood up and looked ahead.

"Good God!" he cried, "look there, Atkins! The captain and Chard are firing into Oliver's boat!"

Even as he spoke the repeated crackling of Winchester rifles could be heard, and the mate's boat seemed to be in great confusion, and her occupants were paddling away from their assailants, who, however, were following them up closely at a distance of about fifty yards.

"Pull, men, pull! For God's sake, lay into it! The captain and firemen are murdering Mr. Oliver and his party."

The seamen uttered a shout of rage, and made the boat leap through the water as now, in addition to the sharp crackle of the Winchesters, they heard the heavier report of a Snider, and Harvey, jumping up on the after whaleback, and steadying himself with one hand on Atkins's shoulder, saw that only two or three of Oliver's crew were now paddling—the rest had been shot down.

"We'll never get there in time, Atkins," he cried, "unless we can hit those who are firing. It's Chard and the skipper! Let Huka steer."

In a few seconds the change was effected. Huka took the steer-oar, two of the after-oars were double-banked, and Atkins and Harvey sprang forward with their Sniders, and began firing at the captain's boat, though at a range which gave them little chance of hitting her. Every moment, however, the distance was decreasing, and the two men fired steadily and carefully. But the Winchesters still cracked for another five minutes. Then the fire from the captain's boat ceased as a shot from Atkins's rifle smashed into her amidships. She was suddenly put before the wind, and then Chard came aft, and began firing at the approaching boat with his Snider, in the hope of disabling her, so that he and his fellow-murderer (now that their plan of utterly destroying all the occupants of both boats had been so unexpectedly frustrated) might escape.

But the work of slaughter in which he had just been engaged and the rolling of the boat, together with the continuous hum of bullets overhead, made his aim wild, and neither the second mate's boat nor any of its people were hit, and she swept along to the rescue.



CHAPTER VIII

An exclamation of horror burst from Harvey as the boat, with its panting crew, dashed up alongside that of the chief mate.

"For God's sake, Tessa, do not look!" he cried hoarsely.

For the half-sunken boat was a shambles, and of her nine occupants only three were alive—the second steward Jessop, Morrison, and Oliver himself. The latter lay in the stern sheets with a bullet hole through his chest, and a smashed hip; he had but just time to raise his hand in mute farewell to Harvey and Atkins, and then breathed his last.

Morrison, whose spine was broken by a Winchester bullet, but who was perfectly conscious, was at once lifted out and placed in Atkins's boat, and Tessa, with the tears streaming down her pale face, and trying hard to restrain her sobs, pillowed his old, grey head upon Atkins's coat. Then Jessop, who was evidently still in agony from his broken ribs, one of which, so Morrison said in a faint voice, had, he thought, been driven into his lungs, was placed beside him.

Poor Studdert and the five native seamen were dead, some of them having received as many as five or six bullet wounds. Studdert himself had been shot through the head, and lay for'ard with his pale face upturned to the sky, and his eyes closed as if in a peaceful sleep.

The boat had been pierced in several places below the water-line by Snider bullets, and by the time Morrison and Jessop had been removed, and Harvey and Atkins had satisfied themselves that the other seven men in her were dead, she was nearly full of water—not the clear, bright water of the ocean alone, but water deeply stained with the blood of the murdered men.

"We must cast off," said Atkins in a low voice, "we can do no more."

As he spoke a bullet from Chard's Snider struck the water about thirty yards away, and springing up, he seized his own rifle again.

Huka placed his hand on the officer's arm, and then turned to Harvey and spoke in Samoan, gravely and with solemn emphasis, though his brown cheeks were wetted with tears.

"Let us take no heed of the bullets that come. Here be six dead men whose souls have gone to God for judgment. Let us pray for them."

Atkins, his blazing eyes fixed on the captain's boat, from which every few seconds a bullet came humming overhead, or striking the water within a few yards, laid down the rifle and took off his cap.

"Go ahead, Huka. You're a better Christian than me. Sling out a prayer for these poor chaps as quick as you can. We can't bury them in a decent, shipshape fashion."

Two men stepped into the sinking, shot-torn boat, and then Huka stood up amidships among his comrades, with bowed head, and his hands crossed upon his great naked chest. He prayed in Samoan.

"O Jehovah, who holdeth the great sea in the hollow of Thy hand, we commit to its depths these the bodies of our shipmates who have been slain. O Father', most just and most merciful, let them become of Thy kingdom. Amen."

Then, one by one, the bodies of Studdert and of the five natives were dropped overboard by the two seamen as reverently as circumstances permitted, and in silence broken only by the suppressed sobbing of the two girls.

Such stores as were in poor Oliver's boat were next taken out, and then the wrecked and bloodstained craft was cast adrift and left to fill.

As the second mate grasped the haft of the steer-oar again another shot from the captain's boat fell some distance ahead.

"He's running away from us as fast as he can," said Harvey; "look, he's hauled up a couple of points!"

"Ay, so he has. And our short Sniders won't carry any further than the one he's firing with, so we have no chance of hitting him, I'm afraid. However, just let us try. How many Sniders have we?"

"Seven."

"Avast pulling, lads. We'll give him a parting shot together. Maybe we might drop a bullet into him. Get out the other five Sniders, Harvey; the Winchesters are no use at such a range."

The boat was swung broadside on, and the two white men and five natives fired a volley together. Tessa stood up on the after-thwart, and watched through Atkin's glasses; the heavy bullets all fell short.

"Never mind, lads," said Atkins. "God Almighty ain't going to let those two men escape. Now, Harvey, what about ourselves? What is it to be? Ponape, or the nearest land?"

"The nearest land, tor Gawd's sake," sobbed Jessop. "I ain't got long to live, and for Christ's sake don't chuck me overboard to be chawed up by the sharks like a piece o' dead meat."

"Man," said a faint voice beside him, "ye're ower particular, I'm thinking. And it would be a verra hungry shark that wad hae the indecency to eat such a puir chicken-hearted creature as yourself, ye miserable cur! Are ye no ashamed to be whining before the two lasses?"

It was the dying Morrison who spoke. Tessa bent over him. "Do not be angry with him," she whispered, "he is in great agony."

"Ay, I hae no doubt he's in verra great pain; but ye see, my dear, I'm auld and crotchety, and the creature's verra annoying wi' his whining and moaning and fearsome blasphemy."

Tessa, who knew as well as the brave old man knew himself that he was dying, placed her soft hand on his rugged brow in silent sympathy; he looked up at her with a cheerful smile.

Harvey and Atkins consulted. Ponape was between four and five hundred miles distant, a long voyage for a deeply-laden boat without a sail. Two hundred miles to the westward was Pikirami Atoll (the "Greenwich Island" of the charts), and a hundred and eighty miles north of that was Nukuor, the most southerly of the vast archipelago of the Caroline Islands.

"I don't know what is best for us to do, Atkins," said the trader. "At this time of the year we can count upon every night being such as it was last night, perhaps a great deal worse; and we must either turn tail to the squalls or put out a sea anchor and drift. This means that we'll make no headway at all at night time, and be set steadily to the westward, and out of our course for Ponape. If we had a sail it would be right enough, as we could lay up for there—within a couple of points anyway. But we have no sail, and willing as the men are to pull, it will be terribly exhausting."

Atkins nodded. "Just so, Mr. Carr. If, as you say, we had a sail it would be different. Without one it may take us a fortnight or more to get to Ponape."

"Quite. Now on the other hand, Pikirami Lagoon lies less than a hundred and fifty miles dead to leeward of us. It is low, but I don't think we shall miss it if we steer W. by S., as on the south end there is a coral mound about a hundred feet high. If we do miss it we can steer south for New Ireland; we can't miss that if we tried to, and would get there sooner than we could reach Ponape. Then there is another advantage in our making for Pikirami—we can run before the night squalls, and the harder they blow the better it will be for us—we'll get there all the sooner."

Then Harvey went on to say that at Piki-rami—which he knew well—they would meet with a friendly reception from the few natives who inhabited two islets out of the thirty which formed the atoll. Twice every year the place was visited by a small German trading schooner from Blanche Bay, in New Britain, and possibly, he thought, they might either find her there loading a cargo of copra; or, if not, they could wait for her. In the latter case he would on Tessa's behalf charter the vessel to take them all to Ponape, for her father's name and credit were well known from one end of the Pacific to the other, and there would be no difficulty in making terms with the master.

Atkins agreed willingly to Harvey's suggestions, for he well knew the great risks that would attend the attempt to reach Ponape under such circumstances as were theirs; and the native crew, much as they wished to pursue the captain and wreak their vengeance upon him and the supercargo, readily acquiesced in Harvey's plan of steering for Pikirami Lagoon in when he pointed out to them the difficulties and dangers that lay before them by making for Ponape, or, indeed, any other island of the Caroline Group.

"And those men there," said Harvey, speaking in Samoan, and pointing to the captain's boat, which was now more than a mile distant, "cannot escape punishment for their crimes; for is not this the word of God: 'Thou shalt do no murder'? And those two men have done murder, and God will call them to account."

Roka, the big Manhikian native, whose brother had been killed, answered for himself and his comrades in the same tongue.

"Ay, that is true. But yet it is hard that I, whose brother's blood is before my eyes and the smell of it in my nostrils, cannot see these men die. How can we tell, master, that men will judge them for their crimes? They are sailing away, and may reach some country far distant, and so be safe."

Harvey partly assented. "They may escape for a time, Roka, but not for long. Rest assured of that."

Then a tot of rum was served out to each man, and the boat's head put W. by S. for Pikirami Lagoon, while Tessa and Maoni set to work under Atkins's directions to sew together some odd pieces of calico and navy blue print, which Latour the steward had fortunately thrust into the sack containing the firearms. When it was completed it made a fairly sized squaresail, which could always be used during light winds.

The captain's boat had disappeared from view, when Jessop the second steward beckoned to Harvey to come to him.

"Ask the young lady to go for'ard, mister, will you?" he said, turning his haggard eyes upon the trader's face. "I feel as 'ow I'm goin', an' I said I would make a clean breast of it. But I don't want 'er to 'ear; do ye twig, mister, though I'll tell you and Mr. Hatkins?"

Harvey nodded, and whispered to Tessa to go for'ard. "The poor little beggar is dying, Tessa, and has something to tell me."

Tessa and Maoni went for'ard and sat down under the shade of the newly-made mainsail, which was hoisted upon an oar with a bamboo yard. There they were quite out of hearing of the vile confession of Jessop's complicity with Chard and the captain made by the wretched man, who was now sinking fast, and knew that his hours were numbered, for, as Morrison had surmised, one of his lungs was fatally injured. And when he had finished the low-spoken tale of his villainy even the rough-natured Atkins was filled with pity when he saw how the poor wretch was suffering, both physically and mentally.

"You've done right, Jessop, in telling us this; it'll be all the better for you when you have to stand before the Almighty, won't it, Mr. Carr?"

"Yes, indeed, Jessop," said Harvey kindly; "and I wish we could do something to alleviate your pain, poor fellow!"

"Never mind, sir. You're a gent if ever there was one, and you 'as taken away a lot o' the pain I've 'ad in me 'eart by forgivin' me. And perhaps the young lady will just let me tell 'er I'm sorry, and give me 'er 'and before I go."

Atkins beckoned to Tessa, who came quickly aft and knelt beside the dying man, who looked into her soft, sympathetic face longingly yet fearfully.

"I'm a bad lot, miss, as Mr. Carr will tell you when I'm dead. It was me that give you and Monny the drugged coffee, and I want you to forgive me, an' give me your 'and."

Tessa looked wonderingly at Harvey, who bent towards her and whispered a few words. In an instant she took Jessop's hand between both of hers.

"Poor Jessop," she said softly, "I forgive you freely, and I do hope you will get better soon."

He looked at her with dimmed, wistful eyes. "Thank you, miss. You're very kind to a cove like me. Will you 'old me 'and a bit longer, please."

Early in the afternoon, as the boat slipped lazily over the gentle ocean swell, he died. And though Atkins and Harvey would have liked to have acceded to his last wishes to be buried on shore, stern necessity forbade them so doing, for they knew not how long it would be ere they reached Pikirami; and so at sunset his body was consigned to the deep.

*****

For the rest of that day, and during the night, when the white rain squalls came with a droning, angry hum from the eastward and drenched the people with a furious downpour, flattening the heaving swell with its weight, the boat kept steadily on her course; and, but for the shadow of death which hourly grew darker over poor Morrison, the voyagers would have talked and laughed and made light of their sodden and miserable surroundings. Morrison himself was the most cheerful man in the boat, and when Atkins and Harvey rigged an oilskin coat over him to keep the rain from his face at least he protested as vigorously as he could, saying that he did not mind the rain a bit, and urging them to use it to protect "the two lassies" from the blinding and deafening downpour.

*****

Dawn at last.

The misty sea haze lifted and scattered before the first breath of the gentle breeze, a blood-red sun leapt from the shimmering water-line to windward; a frigate bird and his mate swept swiftly through the air from the westward to view the dark spot upon the ocean two thousand feet below, and day had come again.

Tessa had the engineer's old, grey head pillowed on her lap. Harvey held his right hand, and Atkins, who knew that the end was near, had taken off his soddened cap, and bent his face low over the haft of the steer-oar.

"Do you feel any pain, Mr. Morrison?" asked Tessa, as she stroked the old man's face, and tried to hide her tears.

"Well, I wouldna be for saying no, and I wouldna be for saying yes, my dearie," replied the brave old fellow; "I'm no complaining aboot mysel', but I'd like to see ye 'saft and warm,' as we Scots say, instead of sitting here wi' my auld, greasy head in your lap, and your ain puir body shivering wi' cauld. Gie me your hand, Harvey Carr... and yours too, Miss Remington.... May God guide ye both together; and you too, Atkins, for ye are a guid sailor man, and a honest one, too. And if ye can get to this lagoon in time—ye know what I mean—ye'll pit my auld bones under God's earth and no cast me overboard?"

Atkins was beside him in a moment. "Brace up, Morrison, old man, you're a long way off dead yet," he said, with rough sympathy.

"Nay, Atkins, I'm verra near... verra near. But I hae no fear. I'm no afraid of what is to come; because I hae a clean sheet o' my life to show to the Almighty—I'm no like that puir devil Jessop. Harvey man, listen to me. Long, long ago, when I was a bairn at my mother's knee, I read a vairse of poetry which has never come to my mind till now, when I'm verra near my Maker, I canna repeat the exact words, but I think it goes like this," he whispered,

"'He who, from zone to zone, Guides o'er the trackless main the sea-bird's flight, In the long way that I must tread alone Will guide my steps aright.'"

"May God guide us all as He guides the sea-bird, and as He has guided you," said Tessa sobbingly, as she pressed her lips to his cheek.

Morrison took her hand and held it tightly,

"God help and bless ye, lassie. May ye and Harvey never see the shadow of a sorrow in your lives. Atkins, ye'll tak' guid care to remember that there is a hundred and sixty-three pounds due to me frae Hillingdon and MacFreeland, and that if ye do not care to take it yoursel', it must go to auld John Cameron, the sailors' parson in Sydney. Ye hae ony amount of witnesses to hear what I'm now telling ye. I'm no for being long wi' ye, and I dinna want yoursel' nor auld Jock Cameron to be robbed."

"I'll see that the old parson gets it, Morrison," said Atkins huskily; "he'll do more good with it than a man like me."

"Man," said the old engineer, as he lifted his kindly grey eyes to the second mate, "ye're welcome to it. I wish it were a thousand, for ye're a grand sailor man, wi' a big heart, and maybe ye hae some good woman waiting for ye; and a hunner and sixty pound is no sma' help to——"

His voice failed, but his lips were smiling still as he gave his last sigh; and then his head lay still in Tessa's arms.



CHAPTER IX

All that day over a gently heaving sea the boat sped steadily onward before the soft breath of the dying trade wind, and when night fell Harvey and Atkins reckoned that they could not be more than twenty miles from Pikirami. About midnight, therefore, the sail was lowered, and the boat allowed to drift, as otherwise she might have run past the island in the darkness. Two of the natives were placed on the look-out for indications of the land, and the rest of the people, except Harvey, laid down and slept, for after one or two rain squalls early in the evening the night had turned out fine and dry.

Poor Morrison's body had been covered up and placed under the for'ard thwarts; amidships lay Atkins, who had fallen asleep with his pipe in his mouth and his head pillowed on the naked chest of one of the native sailors; aft, in the stern sheets, Tessa and Maoni slept with their arms around each other, Tessa's pale cheek lying upon the soft, rounded bosom of the native girl. Still further aft, on the whale-back, Harvey sat, cross-legged, contentedly smoking a stumpy clay pipe lent to him by Huka, and looking, now at the glorious, myriad-starred sky above, and now at the beautiful face just beneath him, and musing upon the events of the past few days. Then as his eye rested for a moment or two on the stiffened form of the dead engineer, his face hardened, and he thought of Chard and the captain. Where were they now? Making for Ponape, no doubt, with all possible speed, so that they might escape in some passing whale-ship or vessel bound China-wards. But where could they go? What civilised country would afford protection to such fiendish and cruel murderers? Neither of them dare dream of ever putting foot on Australian soil again if a single one of the survivors of the Motutapu reached there before them. Then he thought of Hendry's wife and three fair daughters.

"Poor things," he muttered, "the story of their father's crime will break their hearts, and make life desolate to them. Better for them if the Almighty, in His mercy, took them before this frightful tale is told to wreck their lives."

An hour passed, and then Roka, who was one of the look-outs, came aft, stepping softly so as not to awaken the sleepers.

"What is it, Roka?"

"Listen," whispered the native, "dost hear the call of the kanapu? There be many of them about us in the air; so this land of Pikirami must be near."

Harvey nodded and listened, and though his ear was not so quick as that of the sailor, he soon caught the low, hoarse notes of the kanapu, a large bird of the booby species, which among the islands of the North-West Pacific fishes at night-time and sleeps most of the day; its principal food being flying-fish and atulti or young bonito, which, always swimming on the surface, fall an easy prey to the keen-eyed, sharp, blue-beaked bird.

"Ay, Roka," said the trader, "we be near the land, for the kanapu never wandereth far from the shore."

Low as he spoke, Tessa heard him, for she slumbered but lightly. She rose and sat up, deftly winding her loosened hair about her head.

"Is it land, Harvey?"

"Land is near, Tessa. We can hear the kanapu calling to each other."

"I am so glad, Harvey; for it would be terribly hard upon the men if we missed Pikirami and had to make for New Britain."

"Ay, it would indeed. So far we have been very lucky, however, yet, even if we had missed it, we should have no cause to fear. We have a fine boat, provisions and water, a good crew, and one of the best sailor men that ever trod a deck in command," and he pointed to the sleeping second mate.

Then as they sat together, listening to the cries of the sea-birds, and waiting for the dawn, Harvey re-told to Tessa, for Roka's benefit, the story of that dreadful boat voyage sixteen years before, in which his father and five others had perished from hunger and thirst.

"I was but fourteen years of age then, and people wondered how a boy like me survived when strong men had died. They did not know that every one of those thirteen men, unasked by my father, had put aside some portion of their miserable allowance for me, and I, God forgive me for doing so, took it. One man, a big Norwegian, was so fearful of going mad with the agonies of thirst, that he knelt down and offered up a prayer, then he shook hands with us all—my father was already dead—and jumped overboard. We were all too weak to try and save him. And less than an hour afterwards God's rain came, as my father had said it would come just before he died."

Atkins, with a last mighty snore, awoke, sat up, and filled his pipe again.

"What, awake, miss!" he said with rough good-humour to Tessa. "How goes it, Mr. Carr?"

"Bully, old man. We're near the land; we can hear some kanapu about us, so we can't be more than five or six miles away."

"The land is there," said Roka to Harvey, pointing to a dark shadow abeam of the boat, "and we could see it but for the rain-clouds which hide it from us."

Harvey grasped the steer oar, the crew were aroused, and in another few minutes the boat was under way again, heading for the sombre cloud to the westward under which Roka said the land lay.

And he was right. For as the dawn broke there came to the listening ears in the boat the low hum of the surf upon the coral reef; and then, as the rain-cloud dissolved and vanished to leeward, a long line of coco-palms stood up from the sea three miles away, and the bright golden rays of the rising sun shone upon a beach of snow-white sand, between which and the curling breakers that fell upon the barrier reef there lay a belt of pale green water as smooth as a mountain lake.

"Up with the sail, boys," cried Harvey, with sparkling eyes, turning to Atkins as he spoke; "the passage into the lagoon is on the south side, just round that high mound of coral, and the native village is on the first islet on this side of the passage. Keep her going, my lads; we shall be drinking young coconuts and stretching our legs in another half an hour."

The sail was hoisted, and, with five oars assisting, the boat was kept away two or three points, till the entrance to the lagoon was opened out, and the weary voyagers saw before them a scene of quiet beauty and repose that filled their hearts with thankfulness. Nestling under a grove of coco-palms was a village of not more than a dozen thatched houses, whose people had but just awakened to another day of easy labour—labour that was never a task. As Harvey steered the boat in between the coral walls of the narrow passage, two or three thin columns of pale blue smoke ascended from the palm grove, and presently some women and children, clad only in their thick girdles of grass, came out from the houses and walked towards the beach for their morning bathe. Then the click-clack of the oars in the rowlocks made them look seaward, to utter a scream of astonishment at the strange sight of the crowded boat so suddenly appearing before them. In another ten seconds every man, woman, and child in the village—about fifty people all told—were clustered together on the beach, shouting and gesticulating in the most frantic excitement, some of the men rushing into the water, and calling out to the white men to steer clear of several submerged coral boulders which lay directly in the boat's track.

But their astonishment was intensified when Harvey answered them in their own tongue.

"I thank ye, friends, but I have been to this land of thine many times. Have ye all forgotten me so soon?"

That they had not forgotten was quickly evident, for his name was shouted again and again with eager, welcoming cries as the boat was run up on to the hard, white sand of the shining beach, and he, Atkins, Tessa, and their companions were literally pounced upon by the delighted people and carried up to the headman's house. Ten minutes later every family was busy preparing food for their unexpected visitors; and pigs, fowls, and ducks were being slaughtered throughout the islet, whilst Tessa and her faithful Maoni were simply overwhelmed with caresses from the women and children, who were anxious to hear the story of their adventures from the time of the burning of the steamer to the moment of their arrival in the lagoon.

Calling the head-man apart Harvey pointed to the body of Morrison, which was then being carried up from the boat.

"Ere we eat and drink, let us think of the dead," he said.

The kindly-hearted and sympathetic natives at once set to work to dig out a grave beneath a wide-spreading pandanus palm, which grew on the side of the coral mound overlooking the waters of the placid lagoon; whilst some of the women brought Atkins and Harvey clean new mats to serve as a shroud for their dead shipmate.

Then mustering the hands together, Atkins, with Harvey, Roka, and Huka, carried the body to its last resting-place, and Huka, as Latour the steward dropped a handful of the sandy soil into the grave, prayed as he had prayed over the bodies of those who had been buried at sea—simply, yet touchingly—and then the party returned along the narrow palm-shaded path to the village.

Much to Harvey's satisfaction, the head-man informed him that a trading schooner was expected to reach Pikirami within two or three weeks, as nearly six months had passed since her last visit, and she always came twice a year.

"That will suit us well," said Harvey to Tessa and Atkins, as they sat in the head-man's cool, shady house and ate the food that had been brought to them. "We can well wait here for two or three weeks; and the skipper of the Sikiana will be glad enough to earn five or six hundred dollars by giving us a passage to Ponape. I know him very well; he's a decent little Dutchman named Westphalen, who has sailed so long in English and American ships that he's civilised. He was with me, Tessa, when I was sailing the Belle Brandon for your father."

Soon after noon the crew, after having had a good rest, set to work to overhaul the boat in a large canoe shed, for quite possibly they might have to put to sea in her again, if anything should prevent the Sikiana from calling at the island in a reasonable time.



CHAPTER X

That night as the second mate and his companions were sleeping peacefully under the thatched roofs of the little native village, with nought to disturb their slumbers but the gentle lapping of the waters of the lagoon on the sandy beach, and the ceaseless call of the reef beyond, Hendry and his companion in crime were sitting in their boat talking earnestly.

The captain was steering; Chard sat on the after-thwart, facing him.

"I tell you that I don't care much what we do, Louis," said the supercargo, with a reckless laugh, as he looked into the captain's sullen face. "We've made a damned mess of it, and I don't see how we are to get out of it by going to Ponape."

"Then what are we to do?" asked Hendry in a curious, husky voice, for Chard's mocking, careless manner filled him with a savage hatred, which only his fear of the man made him restrain.

"Let us talk it over quietly, Louis. But take a drink first," and he handed the captain some rum-and-water. Hendry drank it in gloomy silence, and waited till the supercargo had taken some himself.

"Now, Louis, here is the position. We can't go to Ponape, for Atkins will very likely get there as soon as we could, for with light winds such as we have had to-day he would soon pass us with six oars, deep as he is in the water. And even if we got there a week before him, we might not find a ship bound to Sydney or anywhere else."

"But there is a chance of finding one."

"True, there is a chance. But there is also a chance of Atkins's boat being picked up at sea this very day, or the next, or a month hence, and he and his crowd reaching Sydney long before us. And I don't want to run my neck into the noose that will be waiting there. Neither do you, I suppose?"

"Why in the name of hell do you keep on talking about that?" burst from the captain; "don't I know it as well as you?"

"Very well, I won't allude to such an unpleasant possibility—I should say certainty—again," replied Chard coolly. "But as I was saying, the chances are against us. If we kept on for Ponape we should either be collared the moment we put foot ashore, or before we get away from there to China or any other place, for Atkins is bound to turn up there, unless, by a stroke of good luck for us, he meets with bad weather, and they all go to the bottom. That's one chance in our favour."

"His boat is certainly very deep," said Hendry musingly, as he nervously stroked his long beard.

"She is; but then she has a kanaka crew, and I never yet heard of a drowned kanaka, any more than I've heard of a dead donkey. With a white crew she would stand to run some heavy risks in bad weather, with kanakas she'd keep afloat anyhow."

Hendry uttered an oath, and tugged at his beard savagely. "Go on, go on, then. Don't keep harping on the pros and cons."

"Take another drink, man. Don't behave like a fretful child. Curse it all! To think of us being euchred so easily by Carr and Atkins! Why, they must have half a boat load of Winchester and Sniders, judging by the way they were firing.... There, drink that, Louis. Oh, if we had had but a couple of those long trade Sniders out of the trade-room!" He struck his clenched fist upon the thwart. "We could have kept our own distance from the second mate, and finished him and his crowd as easily as we did the others."

"Well, we didn't have them," said the captain gloomily; "and if we had thought of getting them, we were neither of us able to stand on our feet after the mauling we got on board."

Chard drank some more rum, and went on smoking in silence for a few moments; then he resumed:

"You have a wife and family and property in Sydney, and I feel sorry for you, Louis, by God, I do. But for you to think of going there again means certain death, as certain for you as it is for me. But this is what we can do. We have a good boat, and well found, and can steer for the Admiralty Group, where we are dead sure to meet with some of the sperm whalers. From there we can get a passage to Manila, and at Manila you can write to your wife and fix up your future. Get her to sell your house and property quietly, and come and join you there. I daresay," he laughed mockingly, "she'll know by the time she gets your letter that you're not likely to go to Sydney to bring her. And then of course none of her and your friends will think it strange that she should leave Sydney, where your name and mine will be pretty notorious. There's two Dutch mail boats running to Manila from Sydney—the Atjeh and the Generaal Pel. In six months' time, after Atkins and Carr get to Sydney, the Motutapu affair will be forgotten, and you and your family can settle down under a new name in some other part of the world. That is what I mean to do, anyway."

Hendry listened with the closest attention, and something like a sigh escaped from his over-burdened bosom. "I suppose it's the best thing, Sam."

"It is the only thing."

The captain bent down and looked at the compass and thought for a moment.

"About S.W. will be the course for tonight. To-morrow I can tell better when I get the sun and a look at the chart. Anyway, S.W. is within a point or less of a good course for the Admiralty Group."

He wore the boat's head round, as Chard eased off the main-sheet in silence, and for the rest of the night they took turn and turn about at the steer-oar.

In the morning a light breeze set in, and the whaleboat slipped over the sunlit sea like a snow-white bird, with the water bubbling and hissing under her clean-cut stem. Then Hendry examined his chart.

"We'll sight nothing between here and the Admiralty Group, except Greenwich Island, which is right athwart our course."

"Do you know it?"

"No; but I've heard that there is a passage into the lagoon. We might put in and spell there for a day or two; or, if we don't go inside, we could land anywhere on one of the lee-side islands, and get some young coconuts and a turtle or two."

"Any natives there?"

"Not any, as far as I know, though I've heard that there were a few there about twenty years ago. I expect they have either died out or emigrated to the northward. And if there are any there, and they don't want us to land, we can go on and leave them alone. We have plenty of provisions for a month, and will get more water than we want every night as long as we are in this cursed rainy belt. What we do want is wind. This breeze has no heart in it, and it looks like a calm before noon, or else it will haul round to the wrong quarter."

His former surmise proved correct, for about midday the boat was becalmed on an oily, steamy sea under a fierce, brazen sun. This lasted for the remainder of the day, and then was followed by the usual squally night.

And so for three days they sailed, making but little progress during the daytime, for the wind was light and baffling, but doing much better at night.

On the evening of the third day they sighted the northernmost islet of Pikirami lagoon, and stood by under its lee till daylight, little dreaming that those whose life-blood they would so eagerly have shed were sleeping calmly and peacefully in the native village fifteen miles away.

With the dawn came a sudden terrific downpour of rain, which lasted but for a few minutes, and both Chard and Hendry knew, from their own experience and from the appearance of the sky, that such outbursts were likely to continue for at least five or six days, with but brief intervals of cessation.

"We might as well get ashore somewhere about here," said Hendry; "this is the tail-end of the rainy season, and we can expect heavy rain and nasty squalls for a week at least. It's come on a bit earlier than I expected, and I think we'll be better ashore than boxing about at sea. Can you see the land to the south'ard?"

Chard stood up and shielded his eyes from the still falling rain, but it was too thick for him to discern anything but the misty outline of the palm-fringed shore immediately near them.

"We'll wait a bit till it's a little clearer, and then we'll run in over the reef just abreast of us," said Hendry; "it's about high water, and as there is no surf we can cross over into the lagoon without any trouble, and pick out a camping-place somewhere on the inner beach."

They lowered the sail and mast, took out their oars, and waited till they could see clearly before them. A few minutes later they were pulling over the reef, on which there was no break, and in another half a mile they reached the shore of the most northern of the chain of islets encompassing the lagoon, and made the boat's painter fast to the serried roots of a pandanus palm growing at the edge of the water.

Then they sought rest and shelter from the next downpour beneath the overhanging summits of some huge, creeper-clad boulders of coral rock, which lay piled together in the midst of the dense scrub, just beyond high-water mark.

Bringing their arms and some provisions from the boat, they placed them on the dry sandy soil under one of the boulders, ate their breakfast, and then slept the sleep of men mentally and physically exhausted.

When they awoke the rain had cleared off, and the sun was shining brightly. By the captain's watch it was a little past one o'clock, and after looking at the boat, which was high and dry on the beach; for the tide was now dead low, Chard suggested that they should make a brief examination of the islet, and get come young drinking and some fully-grown coconuts for use in the boat.

"Very likely we'll find some turtle eggs too," he added; "this and next month is the season. We are bound to get a turtle or two, anyway, if we watch to-night on the beach."

Returning to the camp, they picked up their loaded Winchesters and started off, walking along the beach on the inner side of the lagoon, and going in a northerly direction. The islet, although less than a mile and a half in circumference, was densely wooded and highly fertile, for in addition to the countless coco-palms which were laden with nuts in all stages of growth, and fringed the shore in an unbroken circle, there were great numbers of pandanus and jackfruit-trees growing further back. Here and there were to be seen traces of former inhabitants—depressions of an acre or so in extent, surrounded by high banks of soil, now thickly clothed with verdure, and which Chard, who had had a fair experience of the South Seas, knew were once plantations of puraka, the gigantic taro plant of the low-lying islands of the South and North Pacific.

"It must be a hundred years or more since any one worked at these puraka patches," he said to Hendry, as he sat upon the top of a bank and looked down. "Look at the big trees growing all around us on the banks. There can't be natives living anywhere on the atoll now, so I don't think we need to keep a night watch as long as we stop here."

But had Harvey Carr or any one of the native crew sat there on the bank, they would have quickly discovered many evidences of the spot having been visited very recently—the broken branch of a tree, a leaf basket lying flattened and rotting, and half covered by the sandy soil; a necklace of withered berries thrown aside by a native girl, and the crinkled and yellowed husks of some young coconuts which had been drunk not many weeks before by a fishing party.

At the extreme northern point of the islet there stood a mound of coral slab, piled up by the action of the sea, and similar to the much larger one fifteen miles away at the other end of the lagoon. With some difficulty the two men succeeded in gaining the summit, and from there, at a height of fifty feet, they had a view of the greater portion of the atoll, and of some of the green chain of islands it enclosed. On no one of them could they discern signs of human occupancy, only long, long lines of cocos, with graceful slender boles leaning westward to the sea, and whose waving crowns of plumes cast their shadows upon the white sand beneath. From the beach itself to the barrier reef, a mile or two away, the water was a clear, pale green, unblemished in its purity except by an occasional patch of growing coral, which changed its colours from grey to purple and from purple to jetty black as a passing cloud for a brief space dimmed the lustre of the tropic sun. Beyond the line of green the great curving sweep of reef, with the snow-white, ever-breaking, murmuring surf churning and frothing upon it; and, just beyond that, the deep, deep blue of the Pacific.

"There's no natives here, Louis," said Chard confidently, as his keen, black eyes traversed the scene before them; "we can see a clear seven or eight miles along the beaches, and there's not a canoe to be seen on any one of them. We'll spell here for a day or two, or more, if the weather has not settled."

Hendry nodded in his usual sullen manner. "All right. We want a day to overhaul the boat thoroughly; the mainsail wants looking to as well."

"Well, let us get back, and then we'll have a look over the next islet to this one before dark. We may come across some turtle tracks and get a nest of eggs."

They descended the mound, and set out along the outer beach on their way back to the camp.

Had they remained but a few minutes longer they would have seen two canoes come into view about three miles to the southward, paddling leisurely towards the northernmost islet.



CHAPTER XI

The two canoes were manned by some of the crew of the Motutapu together with six natives of Pikirami; one was steered by Harvey, the other by Huka the Savage Islander; and as they paddled along within a few feet of each other the crews laughed and jested in the manner inherent to all the Malayo-Polynesians when intent on pleasure.

That morning Harvey, tiring of the inaction of the past three days, had eagerly assented to a proposal made by Huka that they should make a trip round the lagoon, and spend a day or two away from the village, fishing and shooting. Several young Pikirami natives at once launched two of their best canoes, and placed them at Harvey's and Atkins's service, and offered to go with the party and do all the paddling, cooking, etc.

"Ay," said Nena the head-man, a little wizen-faced but kindly-eyed old fellow, whose body was so deeply tatooed in broad vertical bands that scarcely a strip of brown skin could be seen—"ay, ye must take my young men; for are ye not our guests, ye, and the brown sailor men as well? and they shall tend on ye all. That is our custom to strangers who have come to us as friends."

Preparations were at once made for a start, and Harvey went to tell Tessa, whom he found in the house allotted to her, listening to Atkins, who was planning some improvements in the interior so as to add to her comfort.

"I wish I could go with you, Harvey," said Tessa with a bright smile; "it would be like the old days in Ponape, with you and my brothers. How long will you be away?"

"Perhaps two days. Will you come, Atkins?"

"Not me! The less salt water I see and the less rain-water I feel for another week the better I'll like it. Besides, I'm going to do a bit of carpentering work for Miss Remington. We may have to hang out here for a month before that Dutch schooner comes along, and I'm just going to set to work and make Miss Remington comfy. And if you had any sense, Harvey, you'd stay under shelter instead of trying to get another dose of shakes by going out and fooling around in a canoe."

Harvey laughed. "There's no more fever for me, Atkins. I'm clear of it. That little boat trip of ours has knocked it clean out of my bones, and if you don't believe me, I'm willing to prove it by getting to the top of that coconut-tree outside there in ten seconds' quicker time than you can do it."

The boat voyage had certainly done him good, and although he had by no means thoroughly recovered his strength, his cheeks had lost their yellow, haggard look, and his eyes were bright with returning health. Atkins, who knew that Tessa was to become his wife, looked first at him and then at her with sly humour twinkling in his honest grey eyes. Then he took his pipe out of his pocket and put it in his mouth.

"Well, I'll come back by and by. Two is company, and three is none. The sooner I go, the better you'll like it, and the sooner you go, Harvey, the sooner I can get to work;" and so saying he walked out.

Tessa's dark eyes danced with fun as she walked backwards from Harvey, and leaning against the thatched side of the house, put her finger to her lips. "What a beautiful sensible man he is, isn't he, Harvey?"

"He's a man after my own heart, Tessa," and then Maoni, who sat smoking a cigarette in a corner of the room, discreetly turned her back as certain sibilant sounds were frequently repeated for a minute or two.

"Harvey, you sinner," she whispered, "I don't like you a bit. Really and truly I don't.... Now, now, no more.... Maoni can hear you, I'm sure. The idea of your going away for two days—two whole days—and marching calmly up to me and telling me of it in such a rude, matter-of-fact manner. You are unkind.... Don't.... I don't like you, Harvey... I'll tell father that you went away and left me for two whole days—to go fishing and pig-shooting, and poor Mr. Atkins had to look after me, and... oh, Harvey, Harvey, isn't it lovely! Father will be so glad, and so will Carmela and Jack, and Librada and Ned. Harvey dear, I do hope your sisters will like me. Perhaps they will think I am only a native girl.... Oh, do be careful, I can see Maoni's back shaking. She knows you're kissing me, I'm sure."

"Don't care if she does; don't care if she sees me kissing you, like this, and this, and this; don't care if Atkins sees us."

Her low, happy laugh sounded like the trill of a bird. "Harvey dear, do you remember the day when we went to Roan Kiti in Ponape—when you were sailing the Belle Brandon for father?"

Harvey didn't remember, but, like a sensible lover, said he did, and emphasised his remembrance in a proper manner.

"Well, now, listen... Oh, you horrid fellow, why do you look at me as if I were a baby! Now, I shan't tell you anything at all.... There, don't pretend to be sorry, for you know... oh, Harvey dear, I must tell you."

"Tell me, dearest."

"That's a good boy, a good would-be-climbing-a-coconut-tree youth, who wanted to show off before poor Atkins who told me just now that you were 'the whitest man in the South Seas.' He did really."

"Atkins is 'an excellent good man,' and you are the sweetest and most beautiful girl in all the wide, wide Pacific. Come, tell me what it is that you must tell me."

"I'll tell you if you don't kiss me any more. Maoni's eyes can see round her shoulders, I believe. I do wish she wasn't here.... Well, that day when you and I were climbing up the mountain-path you let a branch swing back—you careless thing—and it hit me in the face and hurt me terribly, and you took me up in your arms and kissed me. Oh, Harvey, don't you remember? Kissed me, just because I was crying like a baby. Harvey dear, I was only fourteen then, but I loved you then—that was the real, very beginning of it all, I think. And then I went away to school to San Francisco, and you went away—and I suppose you never thought one little bit about me again."

"Indeed I did, Tess" (here was a silent but well-employed interlude); "I often thought of you, dear, but not as a lover thinks. For in those days you were to me only a sweet child (if Maoni wasn't here I'd pick you up and nurse you), a sweet, sweet little comrade whose dear, soft eyes used to smile into mine whenever I stepped into your father's house, and——"

"Oh, Harvey, Harvey! I have never, never forgotten you. There! and there! and there! I don't care if Maoni, or any one, or all the world sees me," and she flung her soft arms round his neck and kissed him again and again in the sheer abandonment of her innocent happiness. "But you really love me now, Harvey, don't you? And oh, Harvey dear, where shall we live? And your sisters... if they don't like me?"

Harvey stroked her soft hair, and pressed his lips to her cheeks.

"They won't like you, Tess. They'll just love you—and they'll make me jealous."

Again her happy laugh trilled out. "How lovely!... Harvey dear?"

"Yes, Tess."

"I want to tell you something—something that only mother knows, something about me—and a man."

Harvey looked smilingly into her deep, tender eyes, half-suffused with tears.

"Go ahead, dear."

"Go ahead, indeed! You rough, rude sailor! Any one would think I was a man by the way you speak to me... But, Harvey dear, listen... there was a man who wanted to marry me."

Harvey was all attention at once. "Sit down here, little woman, and tell me who the———"

"Sh! Don't swear, or I won't tell you anything, not anything at all, about it.... Harvey dear, why do you want to go away fishing? Stay here, and help poor Mr. Atkins."

"Who was the man, Tess?"

"Are you really, really going away for two whole days?"

"I am, sweet."

"Harvey dear, I'll tell you all about it. You won't be angry?"

"All depends. Who was the man?"

His laughing eyes belied his assumed sternness of visage, for in her eyes there shone a light so serenely pure that he knew he had naught to dread.

"A very, very nice man, sir. Now try and guess who it was?"

"Old Schuler, the fat German trader at Yap."

"Oh, you wretch, Harvey! He's been married three times, and has dozens and dozens of all sorts of coloured children.... Now there! Guess again or I'll twist this side of your moustache until I make you cry.... Harvey dear, who was the girl whose photograph was over your bunk in father's schooner?"

"I forget. Most likely it was my sister Kate," was the prompt reply.

"I don't believe you, Mr. Harvey Carr. But I'll find out all about you by and by. You'll have to just tell me everything. Now guess again."

"The captain of the Lafayette. He asked each of your sisters to marry him, I know, and I suppose you followed in turn as soon as you began to wear long dresses."

"That horrible man! We all hated him. No, indeed, it was somebody better than the captain of a whaler."

"Don't be so superior, Tess. Your brother Ned hopes to be skipper of a whaler some day."

"But Ned is very good-looking, and——"

"So was old Ayton before he lost his teeth, and one eye, and began 'ter chaw terbacker' and drink Bourbon by the gallon.... Beauty is only skin deep, my child."

"Oh, you, you—I don't know what to call you, but I do know that I have a round turn of your moustache in my hand, and could make you go on your knees if I liked. Now guess again; you're getting 'warmer,' because it—he I mean—is a captain. Quick, and don't struggle so. I mean to keep you here just as long as I please."

"Well, then, old Freeman. He's a captain, or was one about a hundred years ago, when he was much younger than he is now." (Freeman was a nonogenerian settler on Ponape and a neighbour of Tessa's father.)

"Don't be so silly! I've a great mind not to tell you at all, but as you haven't whimpered when I pulled your moustache I shall tell you—it—he, I mean—was Captain Reade, of the United States ship Narrangansett. Now!"

Then all her raillery vanished in a moment. "He was a great friend of father's, you know, Harvey; and first he asked father, and father said I was too young, and then when I was leaving school in San Francisco to come home he wrote to me and asked me if he could come and see me. And he did come, and asked me to marry him."

"And you really didn't care for him, Tessa?"

"Not a bit. How could I? Harvey, I never, never thought about anybody in the world but you," and she looked into his face with swimming eyes as he pressed his lips to hers. "There, I'll let you go now, dear. I can hear Huka and the others coming for you. But Harvey dear, don't stay away for two whole days."

*****

An hour after leaving the village the canoes turned aside into a small narrow bay on one of the larger islands. The water was of great depth, from sixty to seventy fathoms, though the bay itself was in no part wider than a hundred yards. A solid wall of coral enclosed it on three sides, rising sheer up from the deep blue, and its surface was now bared and drying fast under the rays of the sun, for the rain had cleared off, and the sky was a vault of unflecked blue once more.

The natives had told Harvey and Roka that this bay was a spot famed as the haunt of a huge species of rock-cod called pura, some of which, they said, "took two strong men to lift," and they were greatly pleased when they found that both the white man and Roka knew the pura well, and had eagerly assented to Harvey's proposition that they should spend an hour or two in the place, and try and get one or two of the gigantic fish; as they had the necessary tackle—thick, six-plaited lines of coir fibre, with heavy wooden hooks such as are used for shark-fishing by the natives of the equatorial and north-west islands of the Pacific.

*****

Had Harvey and his companions been ten minutes later in turning aside to enter the bay they would have been seen by Chard and Hendry ere they descended the coral mound at the north end of the lagoon, and much of this tale would not have been told. For had the destroyers of poor Oliver and his crew discovered the canoes they probably would at once have launched their boat again, and have put to sea, or at least prepared themselves for an attack. But great events so often come of small things.

For nearly an hour Harvey, Roka, and Huka fished for pura from the coral ledges, but without success. They had baited their hooks with flying-fish, as was the practice of the Pikirami people.

"Master," said Roka presently to Harvey, "never have I had good luck with flying-fish when fishing for pura in mine own land of Manhiki. 'Tis a feke{*} that the pura loveth."

* Octopus.

"Ay, Roka, feke is a good bait for the pura and all those great fish which live deep down in their fale amu" (houses of coral). "Let us seek for one on the outer reef. Then we shall return here. It is in my heart to show these our good friends of Pikirami that there is one white man who can catch a pura."

Roka showed his white teeth in an approving smile. "Thou art a clever white man, and can do all those things that we brown men can do. Malua hath told me that there is no one like thee in all the world for skill in fishing and many things. Let us go seek feke."

The rest of their party—the men from the Motutapu and the Pikirami people—were busily employed in preparations for cooking, some making ready an oven of red-hot stones, others putting up fish and chickens in leaf wrappers, and Malua and two Pikirami youths of his own age were husking numbers of young drinking-nuts.

Telling his native friends that he would return in an hour or two, or as soon as he had caught some feke. Harvey set off, accompanied by Roka and Huka, the latter carrying a heavy turtle-spear, about five feet in length from the tip of its wide arrow-headed point to the end of the pole of ironwood.

Turning to the eastward, they struck into the cool shade of the narrow strip of forest which clothed the island from the inner lagoon beach to the outer or weather side, and Harvey at once began to search among the small pools on the reef for an octopus, Huka with Roka going on ahead with his turtle-spear. In the course of a quarter of an hour they were out of sight of each other.

For some time Harvey, armed with a light wooden fish-spear, carefully examined the shallow pools as he walked along over the reef, and after he had progressed about a mile he at last saw one of the hideous creatures he sought lying on the white sandy bottom of a circular hole in the reef, its green malevolent eyes looking upward at the intruder. In an instant he thrust the spear through its horrible marbled head, and drew it out upon the rocks, where he proceeded to kill it, a task which took him longer than he anticipated; then carrying it back to the shore, he threw the still quivering monster upon a prominent rock and set out again in search of another, intending to follow his native comrades, who were in hopes of striking a turtle.

As he tramped over the reef, crushing the living, many-coloured coral under his booted feet, his eyes were arrested by some objects lying on the bottom of a deep pool. He bent down and looked carefully—five magnificent orange cowries were clinging closely together upon a large white and sea-worn slab of dead coral.

An exclamation ot pleasure escaped from him as he saw the great size and rich colouring of these rare and beautiful shells.

"What a lovely present for Tessa!" he thought; and taking off his shirt he dived into the clear water and brought them up one by one. Then with almost boyish delight he placed them beside him on the reef, and looked at them admiringly.

"Oh you beauties!" he said, passing his hand over their glossy backs; "how delighted Tessa will be! No one else has ever had the luck to find five such shells together. I'm a tagata manuia lava,{*} as Malua says."

* A man with extraordinary good luck.

He picked the shells up carefully, put them into his wide-brimmed leaf hat, which he then tied up in his shirt, and taking his spear again made towards the shore, too pleased at his good fortune to trouble any further about another feke and only anxious to let Roka and Huka see his prizes.

Half-way to the shore he paused and looked along the curving line of beach to see if either of them were in sight; then from behind a vine-covered boulder not fifty yards away a rifle cracked, and he fell forward on his face without a cry.



CHAPTER XII

Soon after they had left Harvey the Manhikian and Huka parted, each preferring to take his own way, Roka laughingly telling his comrade that although he, Roka, had no spear, he would bring back a turtle.

"In my land of Manihiki we trouble not about spears. We dive after the turtle and drag them ashore."

"Thou boaster," replied the Savage Islander good-naturedly, as he stepped briskly down the hard, white sand towards the water, his sturdy, reddish-brown body naked to the waist, and his brawny right arm twirling the heavy turtle-spear about his head as if it were a bamboo wand. "I go into the lagoon, whither goest thou?"

Roka pointed ahead. "Along the beach towards the islet with the high trees. May we both be lucky in our fishing."

In a few minutes he was out of sight and hearing of his shipmate, for the beach took a sudden curve round a low, densely-verdured point, on the other side of which it ran in an almost straight line for a mile. Suddenly he paused and shaded his eyes with his hand as he caught sight of a dark object lying on the sand.

"'Tis a boat," he muttered, and in another moment he was speeding towards it. When within a few hundred yards he stopped and then crouched upon his hands and knees, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

"It is the captain's boat," he said to himself, as lying flat upon his stomach he dragged himself over the sand into the shelter of the low thicket scrub which fringed the bank at high-water mark. Once there, he stood up, and watched carefully. Then stripping off his clothes and throwing them aside, he sped swiftly along an old native path, which ran parallel to the beach, till he was abreast of the boat. Then he crouched down again and listened. No sound broke the silence except the call of the sea-birds and the drone of the surf upon the reef.

He waited patiently, his keen eyes searching and his quick ear listening; then creeping softly along on his hands and knees again, he examined the sandy soil. In a few minutes his search was rewarded, for he came across the footmarks of Chard and the captain, leading to the vine-covered boulders under the shelter of which they had made their camp. Following these up, he was soon at the place itself, and examining the various articles lying upon the ground—provisions, clothing, the roll of charts, sextant. Leaning against the rocky wall was a Snider carbine. He seized it quickly, opened the breach, and saw that it was loaded; then he made a hurried search for more cartridges, and found nearly a dozen tied up in a handkerchief with about fifty Winchesters. These latter he quickly buried in the sand, and then with his eyes alight with the joy of savage expectancy of revenge, he again sought and found the tracks of the two men, which led in the very direction from which he had come.

To a man like Roka there was no difficulty in following the line which Hendry and the supercargo had taken; their footsteps showed deep in the soft, sandy soil, rendered the more impressionable by the heavy downfall of rain a few hours before. And even had they left no traces underfoot of their progress, the countless broken branches and vines which they had pushed or torn aside on their way through the forest were a sure guide to one of Nature's children, whose pursuit was quickened by his desire for vengeance upon the murderers of his brother and his shipmates.

Pushing his way through a dense strip of the tough, thorny scrub called ngiia, he suddenly emerged into the open once more—on the weather side of the island. First his eye ran along the sand to discover which way the footsteps trended; they led southwards towards a low, rugged boulder whose sides and summit were thickly clothed with a thick, fleshy-leaved creeper. Beyond that lay the bare expanse of reef, along which he saw Harvey Carr was walking towards the shore, unconscious of danger. And right in his line of vision he saw Chard, who, kneeling amid the foliage of the boulder, was covering Harvey with his rifle; in another instant the supercargo had fired, Roka dropped on one knee and raised his Snider carbine, just as Sam Chard turned to Hendry with a smile upon his handsome, evil face, and waved his hand mockingly towards the prone figure of Harvey.

"That's one more to the good, Louis——" he began, when Roka's carbine rang out, and the supercargo spun round, staggering, and then fell upon his hands and knees, with the blood gushing in torrents from his mouth.

Hendry, taking no heed of anything but his own safety, dashed into the undergrowth and disappeared.

Running past Chard, rifle in hand, the Manhikian launched a curse at the groaning man, who heard him not in his agony. Leaping from pool to pool over the rough, jagged coral, which cut and tore his feet and legs, the seaman sprang to Harvey's aid, and a hoarse sob of joy burst from him when he saw that he was not dead.

"My thigh is broken, Roka. Carry me to the shore quickly, and then haste, haste, good Roka, and warn the others. These men of Pikirami are traitors. Haste thee, dear friend, if ye be a good man and true, and help to save the woman who is dear to me."

Tearing off the sleeves of Harvey's shirt, Roka, as he answered, bound them tightly over the wound to stay the flow of blood. "Nay, master, 'tis not the men of Pikirami. 'Tis the captain and the tuhi tuhi{*} who have done this to thee. Nay, question me no more... so, gently, let me lift thee."

He raised Harvey up in his mighty arms as if he were a child, his right hand still grasping the Snider carbine, and carried him carefully to the beach. There he laid him down for a while.

"Stay not here with me, Roka of Manhiki," said Harvey, trying hard to speak calmly, though he was suffering the greatest agony from his wound—"stay not here, but run, run quickly, so that there may be no more murder done. Leave me here.... Tell the sua alii{**} to get the people together and hunt and slay those two men. Give them no mercy."

* I.e., one who writes—a supercargo or clerk.

** The mate, chief officer—one next in command to a captain.

"No mercy shall they have," said the Manhikian grimly; "so rest thee content for a little while.... Aue!"

He sprang to his feet, carbine in hand, for from out the thickset jungle there emerged a thing of horror to look upon.

Chard, leaning upon his Winchester, was staggering down to the beach, with his lower jaw shot away. He came blindly on towards the man he had sought to murder, gasping and groaning. Then he saw Roka, dropped his Winchester, threw up his hands, and tried to speak.

Roka walked up to him.

"'Tis better for thee to die quickly," he said.

The supercargo swayed to and fro, and mutely held out both hands to Harvey as if imploring help or forgiveness.

Roka drew back, and planted his left foot firmly in the sand, as he placed the muzzle of his carbine against Chard's breast, and Chard, grasping the barrel in his left hand to steady himself, bent his dreadful face upon his chest.

*****

As the loud report reverberated through the leafy forest aisles there came the sound of rushing feet, and Malua and the rest of the crew of the Motutapu, together with the six Pikirami natives, burst through the undergrowth, and gazed in wonder at the scene before them—Harvey lying on the sand, Roka with his still-smoking rifle in his hand, standing over the dead body of Chard.

Too weak from loss of blood to answer Malua's weeping inquiries, Harvey yet managed to smile at him, and indicate Roka by a wave of his hand. Then the Manhikian spoke.

"No time is there now to tell ye all. Run back, some of ye, to the sua alii Atkins, and tell him that I have killed the man Chard, but that the captain hath escaped. Get thee each a rifle and follow him. He hath fled towards his boat, which lieth on the little island with the high trees. Follow, follow quickly, lest he drag the boat into the water and sail away. Slay him. Let his blood run out. And tell the sua alii Atkins and the white girl that Harfi hath been sorely hurt, but is well, and will not die, for it is but a broken bone."

Five or six men darted off, while the rest, under Roka's directions, quickly made a litter for Harvey, and placed him upon it.

"Art thou in pain, master?" asked the giant Manhikian tenderly, as the bearers lifted the wounded man.

"Ay, but let me smoke so that the pain may go. And one of ye go to where I fell on the reef and bring me the five pule,{*} lest when the tide cometh in they be lost."

* Cowries.

Roka himself ran off, picked up the hat and shells and brought them back; then he gave the word to march.

Half-way through the forest they were met by Atkins and Tessa, who were accompanied by the entire population of the village, except those of the young men who had set off in pursuit of Hendry.

"I'm all right, Tessa," said Harvey; "it's only a broken bone. Atkins, old man, don't look so worried. You can set it easily enough. Good man, you've brought some rum, I see, and 'I willna say no,' as poor Morrison used to say."

Atkins, whose hand was shaking with excitement, for he thought that perhaps Harvey was mortally wounded and was only assuming cheerfulness, gave him a stiff tot of rum.

"Here's luck to you, Atkins. Tessa dear, don't cry. Atkins will fix me up in a brace of shakes as soon as we get to the village. And look here, Tess. See what I found upon the reef."

*****

Long before sunset Harvey was sleeping quietly in the head-man's house, with Tessa and Maoni watching beside him. Atkins had carefully set the broken limb with broad splints of coconut-spathe; and, proud and satisfied with his work, was pacing to and fro outside the house, smoking his pipe.

Presently Latour and Malua appeared, and the Frenchman beckoned to the second mate.

"What is it, steward?"

"Huka has just come back, sir. He wants to see you. The captain is dead."

"Thank God for that. Where did they get him?"

"Huka will tell you, sir. Here he is."

The Savage Islander stepped forward, and raised his hand in salute, with a smile of pride upon his lips.

"I been kill him," he said in his broken English; "I was come along back to meet Mr. Harvey, when I hear the guns. And then I see the captain come, running quick. He have Winchester in his hand, and when he see me he stop. He fire two, three times at me. Then I run up to him, and I drive my turtle spear through him, and he fall down and I put my foot on his mouth, and he die."

Atkins slapped him on the shoulder. "Good man you, Huka! Stay here a moment, and I'll bring you a big drink of rum. Then we must go and bury both the swine."

*****

Three weeks later the Sikiana sailed into the lagoon, and the "good little Dutch skipper," of whom Harvey had spoken, had him brought on board and placed in his bunk for the voyage to Ponape.

"My tear Mees Tessa," he said, "Mr. Carr haf dold me dat your fader vill gif me five hundred dollar ven ve get to Ponape. If der Sikiana vas mein own ship I vould dake you und Mr. Carr and der second mate und all your natives to Ponape for nodings; for your fader vas a good man to me, und Harvey Carr vas a good man to me ven I sailed mit him in the Belle Brandon. But you must invide old Westphalen to the wedding."

"Indeed we shall, captain."

"And me too, miss?" asked Atkins, with a sly twinkle in his eye.

"And you too, of course, dear, dear Atkins, so good, brave, and true. There, look, Harvey, I am going to kiss Mr. Atkins."

"God bless you both, miss," said the mate huskily.

THE END