Twelve months had come and gone, and Frewen, now “Captain” Frewen, was seated in the office of Ramon Mercado, the Valparaiso agent of the late captain and owner of the Esmeralda, which had arrived in port the previous day.

The worthy merchant—a little stout man with merry, twinkling eyes—was listening to the detailed story of the capture of the ship by the mutineers, her subsequent recapture, and of all that had occurred since she had been brought to an anchor in front of Raymond's house in Samatau Bay. Mercado himself, four months previously, had received a letter from Mrs. Marston, acquainting him with what had occurred up to the time of her husband's death, and telling him that the Esmeralda, as soon as a crew could be obtained, would sail under Frewen's command for Manila, and from there proceed to Newcastle, in New South Wales, and load a cargo of coal for Valparaiso. This letter had reached him by an American whale-ship which had touched at Samoa (a month or two after the Esmeralda had sailed for Manila), and which, after cruising among the Galapagos Islands, had, as the master had told Mrs. Marston would be very likely, called at Valparaiso to refit.

A few days after the burial of Captain Marston his wife asked Frewen to take command of the ship, as Villari would be incapacitated for some months.

Villari himself had at first strenuously, and even somewhat bitterly, protested.

“Why should Mr. Frewen, much as he has done to help you to recapture the ship, be given command?” he said excitedly to Raymond. “Does Mrs. Marston distrust me? Do I not possess her confidence as I did that of her husband? Beg her to come to me. Surely she will not give the command of the ship to a stranger! I tell you, Mr. Raymond, that I would give my life for Mrs. Marston, as I was ready to give it for her husband,” and his dark eyes blazed.

“There is no reflection either upon your integrity or ability, Mr. Villari,” said the planter. “But here is the situation—and I am sure your own sound sense will make you approve of Mrs. Marston asking Mr. Frewen to take charge of the Esmeralda. And, before I go any further, I must tell you that Mr. Frewen not only did not seek the position, but said pointedly to Mrs. Marston—only an hour or two ago—that he would be quite satisfied to sail with you as mate. He is as honest as the sun. Pray do not for one moment imagine that he has supplanted you.”

“Then let him come with me as mate,” urged the Italian.

Raymond shook his head. “It is quite out of the question your taking command, Mr. Villari. You will not be able to get about for some months, and I, as a business man, see the necessity of the ship proceeding on her voyage as quickly as possible. She has a cargo that will bring a large sum of money to Mrs. Marston if it is delivered in Manila in good time. But in this humid climate it would become worthless in a few months. And it was purely my suggestion to Mrs. Marston to ask Mr. Frewen to take charge. She is, as you know, almost heartbroken at the calamity which has overtaken her. And then your remaining here will, I am sure, be a source of comfort to her, for she has the very highest opinion of you.”

Villari's eyes sparkled with pleasure. “What! Is not Mrs. Marston sailing in the Esmeralda?”

“No; it will be better for her to remain here until the youngster comes. My wife and I will be only too glad to have her with us. It would be impossible for her to go to sea now her poor husband is dead. And she knows no one in Manila. So you must be content to remain here at Samatau as my welcome guest. Frewen will take the ship to Manila, and then decide as to his future course. He thinks that after selling the cargo at Manila he should proceed to Australia for a cargo of coal for Valparaiso. I think it a very sensible suggestion, especially as he can then see poor Marston's agent there and settle up with him regarding some money due to Marston.”

The Italian's face assumed a placid appearance. “You are quite right, Mr. Raymond. And I shall be content to remain here. Per Bacco! Mr. Frewen is a gentleman, and I wish him all good lack with the Esmeralda. But I should like the lady to know that I am prepared to return to the ship this moment if she so wishes it.”

“She does know it, Mr. Villari. You have her full esteem and confidence—as you had that of her poor husband, who just before he died anxiously inquired about you, and said that he regretted not taking your advice concerning the two Greeks.”

“Ah! Mr. Raymond,” and the man raised and clenched his right hand, “I was a fool! I suspected that mischief was afoot that night when I found Almanza and the two Greeks talking together; I simply reported the matter to the captain, who thought nothing of it. Had I done my duty I should have watched, for no one can trust a Greek.”

“Do not reproach yourself, Mr. Villari. I may as well tell you that poor Captain Marston, when he was inquiring about you just before he died, spoke in the highest terms of you, and asked Mrs. Marston to see that you were given five hundred pounds.”

Villari raised himself on his elbow. “I swear to you, Mr. Raymond, that I do not want any money—compensation—reward—gift—call it what you will—for doing my duty as a seaman. Captain Marston was not only my captain, but my friend. And I would give my life for his wife. Tell her from me that it will hurt me if she even speaks of this money to me.”

“As you will, Mr. Villari,” said Raymond kindly, who saw that the Italian was excited. “I will tell her to-morrow. But I trust you will now understand that Mr. Frewen had no desire to supplant you in any way.”

“I understand. Can I see him now, for there is much that I have to tell him about the ship—things that he would like to know.”

So Frewen came in, and he and the Italian mate had quite a long talk about the Esmeralda, and when they parted they did so with a feeling of growing friendship.

Anxious to obtain a reliable crew as quickly as possible, Frewen, on the following day, sent Randall Gheyne to Lepi to see if he could persuade the men who had deserted from the Casilda to come and help man the Esmeralda. But they were all too enamoured of island life to accept the offer he made them, which was generous enough—two hundred and fifty dollars each for the voyage to Manila. So Cheyne came back disappointed, and Frewen then went to Apia in the Casilda's whale-boat, and succeeded in engaging ten natives of NiuÉ,{*} who, with half a dozen Samoans, made up a sufficient complement for the ship.

During this time Almansa and his fellow-mutineers had been confined on board the ship, guarded by a number of MaliË's warriors. Then to the joy of Raymond and Frewen there came into Apia Harbour a British gunboat bound from the Phoenix Islands to Sydney, and within forty-eight hours the planter, accompanied by the unwounded survivors of the English crew of the Esmeralda, were on board, and related the tale of the mutiny to the captain of the man-of-war.

“I am letting myself in for a lot of trouble, Mr. Raymond,” said the captain of the warship, “but I do not see how I can avoid it. I suppose that as the Esmeralda is a British ship and is now in distress I must be a sort of fairy godmother and take these beastly mongrels of Chilenos and Greeks to Sydney to be hanged on the evidence of these men whom you have brought. By the way, Mrs. Marston can have a passage with me if she wishes it.”

Raymond thanked him, and said Mrs. Marston wished to remain at Samatau with his (Raymond's) wife for an indefinite time.

“Very well, Mr. Raymond. I should be delighted to give her a passage to Sydney, and I'm delighted she can't come. You understand me? I cannot refuse a passage to a lady in such circumstances as Mrs. Marston, but the Virago is a man-of-war, and—you know.”

Raymond laughed. “I think I know what you mean, Captain Armitage; a lady passenger on a man-of-war would be a bit of a trial. But on Mrs. Marston's behalf I thank you sincerely.”

“That's all right,” said the bluff commander of the Virago; “now you can get home, and in a day or so I'll come round to Samatau and take these mutineering scoundrels into custody. Pity you did not get your Samoan friend MaliË to hang or shoot them out of hand. It would have saved Her Majesty's Government something in food, and me much trouble.”