THE tropical sun shone fiercely on the beach of coral sand. The tall-trunked cocoanuts, with their bunchy, long-leaved tops, rustled softly in the trade-wind on the shore, and stood like bold sentinels, or a picket-line, for the serried ranks of thick jungle growth on the land behind them. The long, heavy roll of the Pacific heaved itself up, as if in defiance, as it rolled towards the land, mounting higher and higher upon itself, until the blue wall wavered an instant, then fell with a mighty roar into a waste of sparkling foam as it rolled over the barrier-reef and rushed towards the beach beyond.

Sometimes the seas would come in quick couples, and the deep thundering jar of their falling bodies could be heard clear back to Sunharon, where Sangaan lived in the pride of his manhood and a grass-thatched palace.

Northward from the reef, well off shore, lay a small schooner, rolling deep in the swell. Her mainsail was hauled flat aft, and she lay hove to, while a small white speck in the sea between her and the shore, growing rapidly larger every moment, told plainly to the curious native sitting on the beach in the shadow of a palm that a boat was soon to make a landing.

But Warto was not uneasy. He had seen boats land there before, and had once helped to carry some of the men ashore, where a large fire had been built and knives sharpened; but that was long ago, long before Mr. Easyman had come there and taught him how to take care of his soul as well as his huge brown body.

Still, memory made his eyes bright, and he involuntarily clutched a short spear with his right hand as he sat and watched the small boat near the surf.

“Steady your bow oar!” roared a deep-voiced, bow-legged man who stood at the steering oar. Then he removed his cap and wiped a dent in the top of his bald head, while he gazed steadfastly at a floating mass in the water. “By the Holy Smoke, Gantline! but that’s some o’ that whale slush, or bust my eyes!”

Gantline, pulling stroke oar, turned quickly in his seat at this and gazed in the direction the boat was heading, where a small object floated like a lump of tallow on the smooth water. His gray eyes grew suddenly bright as he brought the object in range of his vision, but he assumed a careless air as he answered Garnett.

“Nothing but a piece of whale-blubber,” he muttered, as he drew his oar inboard. “Some of those niggers been trying out on the beach; and, by thunder! if that ain’t one squatting there under that big palm right ahead.”

“Get out your boat-hook,” roared Garnett to the man at the bow oar, “and make a pass at it; for, by the Pope! it looks to me like a lump of amber-grease.”

They were very close to the line of lifting water, closer, in fact, than Garnett supposed; but he was so intent on capturing the floating prize that he did not realize his danger.

The man forward reached for the floating mass with his boat-hook and drew it alongside, but it took the united efforts of himself and the man next him to lift the spongy, slippery lump into the boat.

There it was, a good hundred pounds of ambergris, worth fifty dollars a pound anywhere on the West Coast.

Garnett removed his cap and mopped the top of his bald head, while his eyes remained fixed upon the prize. “By the Holy Smoke, Gantline! you see what comes o’ being in charge of a party. I came mighty near letting you go ashore with the boat by yourself, and then I’d been out a few thousand; but never mind, I’ll give you a pound o’ the stuff, anyways.”

Gantline gave a loud grunt of disgust. “Seems to me half and half would sound better among old messmates like us. By thunder! if I had picked it up you would have had your share fast enough.”

Garnett smiled broadly and replaced his cap on his head.

“It’s a pity that the devilish desire to prosper should come atween two old shipmates like us two; but I remember the time, onct, when the terbacker gave out on the Moose, and you never so much as offered me a quid off your plug, even when you knowed I was suffering. Besides, it not only wouldn’t do to divy up from a physical stand-point, but it’s ’gainst all morals and religion. What d’ye suppose old Easyman, ashore there, would say if I gave up my rights? The Bible says, ‘He that have got, shall have; and he that haven’t got, shall have that which he ain’t taken from him,’ which goes to show that by all rights and religion I should take away that pound I promised you.”

Gantline muttered something that Garnett couldn’t hear, and then resumed his oar.

During all this time the boat had been drifting towards the beach, but the wind had caused her to swing nearly broadside on while all hands were busy with the prize. Suddenly Gantline looked seaward, and gave a quick exclamation that brought Garnett to his senses and the steering oar with a jump.

“Back port! Give way starboard, for God’s sake!” roared the mate, as he swung all his weight on the steering oar to slew the boat head-on; but it was too late. A great blue sea rose just outside of them, with its inshore slope growing steeper and steeper, until it was almost perpendicular. Then, curling clear and green, it fell over them, and in an instant boat and men disappeared in the white smother.

“’Ternal bliss! ’ternal bliss!” lisped Warto, sweetly, as he sat scraping his great toe-nail with a piece of shell. Then he glanced sharply up and down the beach to see if anybody was looking who might tell the missionary, and, grasping his spear firmly, dropped his grass cloth and made for the surf.

The first thing that attracted his attention was a shining bald head which glistened brightly in the sunshine, and he made his way swiftly towards it.

“Get onto the divil av a naygur makin’ for us,” said a sailor. “Faith, an’ if me eyes ain’t entirely full of salt, I do believe the black haythen has a harpoon along with him. Now, bless me——”

This last remark was caused by the actions of Garnett, who was swimming a little in advance of the rest, turning his head every now and then to watch for the following breakers. The mate had an oar under each arm and was using the boat-hook for a paddle, when he was aware of a black head, with shining eyes and grinning teeth, close aboard him.

There was something suspicious in the manner the savage swam, for, while he often held one hand clear of the water, Garnett noticed that the other was always below the surface.

“Git out the way, ye murdering shark, or I’ll hook ye higher than Haman!” roared Garnett, as he flourished his boat-hook and glared fiercely at the islander. “None o’ your cannibal tricks on me;” and with that he made a pass with his weapon so quick that Warto came near ending his career as a beach-comber then and there.

As it was, he ducked his head just in time, and then, completely cowed by this show of resistance from what he supposed were helpless men, made for the beach.

Before Garnett made the land quite a crowd had collected, for the fleeing savage had spread the news in a few moments, and then hastened back to see if anything was to be gained from the new arrivals.

These came ashore in due course of time on whatever flotsam that happened within their reach, Gantline astride of a keg which bore the missionary’s name in large black letters, painted on the ends, while the two sailors clung tenaciously to the sides of the capsized boat.

Soon the majestic form of Sangaan was seen approaching, accompanied by a crowd of servants and the Reverend Father Easyman himself.

At an order from their chief, several stout fellows plunged into the surf and assisted in getting Gantline and the men safely ashore; but Garnett flourished his boat-hook when they approached him, and glared at them so savagely that they soon let him alone and turned their attention to securing whatever stuff still floated in the broken water.

When Garnett could stand, he turned and cast his eye along the white line of rolling surge in search of his prize, but failing to see it, he walked slowly ashore, looking intently from right to left.

Gantline and the men were already surrounded by the crowd of natives, and the missionary was alternately shaking their hands and offering up thanks for their safe deliverance from the perils of the sea. At a wave of the good man’s hand, two strapping fellows picked up his keg and made off in the direction of the mission, but the rest of the supplies, that still floated, were piled in a heap upon the sand as fast as the men could rescue them from the water.

“By the Holy Smoke! Mr. Easyman,” grunted Garnett, with a string of oaths, “but you’re making a fine lot o’ these naygers when they swim out and try to murder a man as soon as he gets into trouble. There was——”

“Ah, me!” gasped the missionary, lifting his hands and raising his eyes; “so it is the violent one I see again,—the man of fierce speech. A warm welcome to you, friend; for it has been a long time since you and Father Tellman’s pig left the Marquesas suddenly on the same day. A mere coincidence, however! a mere coincidence!” and he shot a vengeful look at the mate, who smiled and spat a stream of tobacco and salt water upon the sand.

“What is the invoice of goods that you have landed so disastrously. I had thought you were a right good sailor, though I reckoned you a poor Christian. Give me the bill and I’ll check off what I owe your captain for. Ah, my friend, it gives me great unease to hear you use such strange and unholy words, especially before my great friend, Chief Sangaan, the greatest chief in the Archipelago, and also the greatest ras——”

“’Tis Garnett, sure enough,” he continued to himself, as that sailor, having handed him the list of goods, hurried off down the beach, where Gantline stood with his eyes fixed on an object in the surf.

“Blast his eyes! if he don’t remember me when I was on the Pigeon,” said Garnett, as he reached Gantline. “You remember that foolishness I told you about concerning a pretty wench he had at the mission—ewe lamb, he called her—and that infernal pig I pulled out of his friend’s pen the day we sailed. Dernation! the beast was so tough I can taste it yet.”

“There’s a saying in the Holy Book that stolen fruits is sweetest,” answered Gantline, with a grin; “which goes to show the onreliability of misplacing these quotations. Which, the same, you seem to be doing in regard to that lump of whale stuff. It seems to me that I might enter into a dispute with you in regard to the ownership of it; for, if I see straight, there it is just inside the first line of breakers, and belongs to the man who can abide the longest for its sake.”

“Now, by the eyes of that sky-pilot, if you are bent on quarrelling and intent on mutiny, it won’t take long for me to show you who is running this affair,” said Garnett, as he glared at Gantline and began to make a few preparations necessary for establishing his authority.

“We’re on the beach; and, Lord love ye, Garnett, I’ll make a fair showing if you start for me. Afloat I’ll obey orders, but ashore you’ve got to prove what’s what before I believe it.”

So saying, Gantline plunged into the surf and made his way rapidly towards the floating mass, which represented, in value, his profits of a dozen voyages.

“This is too infernal bad,” muttered Garnett to himself, as several natives started out to help Gantline. “Here I’ll have to fight Gantline or lose half of that lump o’ grease; but he brings it on himself, for it’s mutiny.”

He grasped the boat-hook which he still carried, and waited patiently until the lump was brought ashore. Then he approached the second mate, who had had the prize carried above high-water mark, where he stood astride of it.

The natives saw that something was wrong between the white men, although they knew nothing of the dispute or the value of the fetid prize, so they began to crowd around them in the hope of viewing and enjoying the hostilities in which they had no desire to take part.

“’Tis no use, Garnett; you are too old a dog to make headway against me, even with that hook, though there was a time when you might have held on to some purpose.”

“I have had a clip or two in my time,” answered Garnett; “but we’ll see. No matter if you do get to windward of me, Easyman and the chief will hold you for mutiny till the skipper gets you. So stand away to leeward of that lump or I’ll be for boarding ye.”

“Stand off!” bawled Gantline; “if I fire this chunk of coral into that dent in your forepeak there’ll be trouble.”

“Ah, brothers! ah, brothers! what is this strife about? and what is that lump on the sand?” asked a voice on the outside of the group. The natives instantly stood aside, and the Reverend Father Easyman stood before the quarrelling mates. “Oh, ho! it is my friend of the godless tongue; and pray, my friend, what is it he desires to take from you? for I reckon him a covetous man,” said the missionary, looking at Garnett, but addressing Gantline.

“It’s just a find of grease,” answered Gantline, “and, as I went into the surf after it, I want to divide it with Garnett here, who says it’s his because he saw it first.”

“Lump of grease! Now, bless me, my friend, it has a most unholy odor for grease. ’Tis a poor beef that gives forth such tallow; but let me examine it closer, for there is no need to guard it, as Sangaan there will have no disputes about the ownership of property on his most civilized island.”

“Sangaan be hanged!” grunted Garnett; “the stuff’s mine, and I’ll have it if I have to bring the schooner in and fire on the village with our twelve-pounder. Who’s Sangaan, that he must meddle with the affairs of an American citizen, hey? After a while I suppose I’ll have to be asking permission from every chief in the Archipelago to carry the stuff we just brought ashore for you. Have your niggers clear our boat and give me the bill, for it’s time we were aboard again.”

“Not so fast, friend Garnett,” said the missionary; “your boat is stove, and it will take a man a half a day to repair it, and as you haven’t enough spare hands aboard your vessel to man another, you will have to stay ashore with me this evening. Perhaps I may find a nice tender shote and entertain you according to your taste,” and he glanced sharply at the sailor. “As for this find, as you call it, it seems to me that I have heard of the stuff before, and that it has some value; so I will have it carried up to the village and stored safely. In the mean time we can discuss its ownership and also examine certain articles billed to me at our leisure; for although your captain is an honest trader and a true Christian man, yet one of his last year’s kegs did contain a most unsavory mixture, and gave rise to the impression that his vessel’s hold contained much liquid tar in a free state. As for Sangaan, it will be well for you to show him some deference, for, although a good chief and a devout man, he has little love for sailors, as you may remember if you have not forgotten that affair of the Petrel. He is coming this way now with his men, so have a care.”

Garnett saw there was nothing to do but as the missionary said. The boat was injured so as to be unsafe for a long pull through the heavy surf, and it would have to be repaired before launching again.

Gantline had the fetid mass which he was guarding so closely put into an empty keg, and several natives carried it off to the mission as Sangaan walked up.

The chief evidently remembered the mate, for he advanced smiling and held out his hand, saying, in good English, “How do you do? Had a bad time in surf, so come up to the mission and we’ll have a good time.”

Garnett shook his hand, and then, the missionary joining them, they walked towards the mission house together. They proceeded in silence, Garnett eyeing the chief suspiciously and trying to remember if he had ever committed any deviltries which Sangaan might still feel sore about. The missionary kept Gantline and the two sailors in view, but appeared to be lost in deep thought. A close observer, however, might have noticed an unholy twinkle in his eye when he glanced at the natives who were carrying the keg of ambergris towards his home.

As for Sangaan, he suddenly seemed to remember some of Garnett’s former trips through the Archipelago, and asked very abruptly, “How’s Mr. ’Toole?” And at the memory of O’Toole’s affairs with the natives Garnett snapped out, “He’s dead.” Whereupon the chief laughed so heartily that Garnett’s suspicions were aroused again, and he remained silent.

“And Captain Crojack, how is he? He used to do good trade with the people to the southward.”

“Oh, he’s still alive,” answered Garnett, somewhat reassured. “He’s in the China trade now.”

“And ’Toole, his mate,—I think you must lie——”

“He is dead, I tell you,” answered the mate quickly, for it was evident that the chief still wished to hear some news of him. “That’s a fine big mission house, by the—— Beg your pardon, but it is just the same; and, by thunder, it’s the best on the islands.”

“Be not so violent, friend Garnett,” said the missionary. “It is a good house, and, by the blessing of Providence, we have striven successfully to keep it in good repair against the fierce typhoon and the hot sun.”

“It’s good and large,” said Sangaan, with pride; “and you and your men may sleep upstairs. The room is wide and cool.”

Garnett grunted out thanks for the chief’s hospitality, but remarked that if the boat could be fixed in time he would rather go aboard the ship. All he wished for was the loan of a few tools and a piece of wood, and he thought the boat could be fixed fast enough. These the missionary lent him; so, after going over the list of goods and testing some of the contents of the kegs and packages, he and Gantline, accompanied by the two sailors, went back to the beach and began work on the boat.

They were soon surrounded by a curious crowd of natives, who squatted around them in a circle and looked on, regardless of the hot sunshine, while the mates and men toiled bravely at their task.

The boat was so badly stove, however, that it was dark before they were half through repairing her; so, when Father Easyman came down on the beach and told them that they would find something to eat at the mission, all hands knocked off and started for it.

Garnett and Gantline had been arguing about the possession of their find of the morning, but had not come to blows; for the mate knew that it would rest with the skipper as to who would have the largest share of it, and that nothing could be settled until they got aboard ship. There was little use, either, in getting the missionary mixed up in the matter, for he would be likely to press the weight of his judgment against him if called upon to help decide the case.

The mission house was a large frame building, built of boards brought ashore from a vessel, and had a sloping thatch roof. It was two stories high, however, the upper one serving as a loft for storing supplies belonging to the missionary. It was now nearly empty; a large, cool room, with a slight opening all around it under the overhanging eaves of the thatch.

In this loft Garnett and his men were left to pass the night, after having partaken of a good meal at the expense of their host, who lived several hundred yards farther back in the village, in a modest little cottage close to the larger abode of Sangaan.

The good chief had offered them shelter under his roof, but as he had a numerous company in his household, and the weather being warm, the mates had expressed a keen desire to sleep alone with their men. The keg containing their prize was also stored away with them for the night, and soon silence settled upon the peaceful village of Sunharon.

The gentle rustle of the trade-wind soothed the ears of the tired men and they slept soundly on.

“By the Holy Smoke! what’s up?” exclaimed Garnett, as he sprang up from the tarpaulin on which he and the men were lying.

There was a tremendous uproar in the room beneath, and the voice of Sangaan could be heard singing lustily. It was a little past midnight, but the chieftain’s voice was thick and husky, and it was evident that he intended celebrating the arrival of the supplies.

Garnett had carefully withdrawn the charges from the brace of huge muzzle-loading pistols he had carried ashore with him, and had managed to get a handful or two of dry powder from the missionary, so he was prepared to defend any attack upon his treasure.

He awaited developments, but as no one appeared on the ladder which led to the loft, he crawled to the opening and looked below.

About twoscore of natives, with Sangaan in their midst, were crowding around a keg which Garnett recognized as one of his own wares, and a smile broke upon his grizzled features.

Gantline had come to his side, and they gazed down upon the mob.

In a moment Sangaan saw their faces and waved his hands, “Come down! come down!” he cried in a thick voice, and the whole assembly took up the cry, laughing and shouting.

“Come, drink health!” bawled Sangaan, as he staggered towards the ladder.

“No, sirree!” roared Garnett. “What! you expect me to come down and drink with a lot o’ niggers like them. No, sirree, not by a darned sight.”

“Go t’ell, then!” bawled Sangaan, and he walked to the keg for another drink, flourishing an empty cocoanut shell as he went.

It was well that the natives could not understand Garnett’s remarks, or there might have been trouble, but, instead of paying any attention whatever to the white men, they shouted, laughed, and sang in the highest good humor.

“Gad, Lord love ye, but what heads you’ll have in the morning,” muttered Gantline, with a grin. “’Tis nearly half Norway tar the devils are pouring into their skins. However, I suppose it’s best, after all, for if ’twas the real stuff, like what we gave the missionary, they would set fire to half the village before morning and probably murder us.”

“By thunder, I’m about tired of the racket as it is,” said Garnett; “let’s see, if we can’t get a move on them anyhow,” and he poked one of his pistols down the opening. “Yell together, Gantline.”

“Hooray! Let ’er go slow!” they roared as Garnett fired. “Hooray!” and he banged away with the other, filling the place with smoke and smashing the lantern on the table beneath him.

“Load her up, Gantline,” and he passed one of the pistols to the second mate. There was wild scrambling for the door in the room beneath, but before the frightened natives could get clear the mates had fired again, yelling all the time like madmen, while the two sailors hove everything they could get their hands on down upon the struggling crowd. In a few moments Sangaan had retreated, but, as he carried the keg of rum along with him, he doubtless thought it was not worth while to go back again. The shouting gradually died away in the distance, and only a faint hum from the direction of Sangaan’s abode told that the celebrating natives were still in high good humor.

“After all, Gantline,” said Garnett, “now that these barkers are dry and in good condition, we might decide who’s to be owner of that keg, if we only had a little more light,” and he began to reload one of the pistols.

“You’re the most bloody-minded devil I ever sailed with,” growled Gantline; “but I’ll just go you this time, for there’s light enough for me to see to bore a hole in that stove-in figure-head of yours. Here, give me a bullet and powder and take your place over there by that barrel of rice, and let Jim here give the word.”

“If it’s murder ye’re up to, I’ll be for calling the missionary,” cried the sailor. “Faith, an’ who iver heard ave fi’tin’ a jewel in sich a dark hole. As fer me, I won’t witness it,” and he started for the ladder, closely followed by his shipmate.

“Go, and be hanged,” growled Garnett; “but mark ye, this is a fair fight and don’t you go trying to make the missionary believe different, for I never struck a sailor or mate under me that couldn’t have a chance to strike back. I don’t belong to that kind o’ crowd.”

“Take your place and stop your jaw tackle; if you don’t hurry they’ll be back with a crowd before we begin,” said Gantline, as the sailors disappeared down the ladder and started off. “We ought to have stopped them.”

“Darnation! but it’s dark. Where are you now?” asked Garnett from his position.

“Ready. Fire!” bawled Gantline, and his pistol lit up the darkness.

Bang went Garnett’s, and then there was a dead silence.

“Garnett,” growled Gantline.

“Blast you! what is it?”

“Did you get a clip?”

“No, you infernal fool; but you came within an inch of my ear, and I fired before I put the ball in my pistol. You owe me a shot.”

“It’ll be a hard debt to collect, mate, for I’ll be stove endways before we try that again. Here comes Easyman with the men now.”

As he spoke there was a rush of feet, and the two sailors, followed by the missionary and a crowd of half-sober natives, burst into the room below.

“Hello aloft, there!” sung out a sailor.

“What’s the matter?” asked Garnett, quietly, from the opening above.

“Have you done him any harm?” asked the missionary, in a voice that showed him to be a man of action when necessary.

“No,” answered Gantline; “there’s nothing happened.”

A lantern flashed in the room, and in a moment Father Easyman was upon the ladder.

In another moment he was in the loft, and the sailors with a crowd of natives followed.

“Now,” said the missionary, “hand over those pistols, or I will have to assert my authority, even as the good King David did of old. I know you, Garnett, a fierce and unholy man, but you have enough sins on your soul now, so don’t force me to set these men upon you.”

“By thunder!” growled the mate, “it’s to protect ourselves we’ve been forced to fire, to scare that drunken Sangaan out of the room below. It’s a pretty mess he’s been making in a decent mission house, coming here drinking that tar—I mean rum, and waking us out of peaceful sleep.”

“Fact, he woke us up with his yelling,” said Gantline, “and we fired down below just to scare the crowd away.”

“But what is this the men say about you two fighting?” asked the missionary.

“Oh, they were as badly frightened as the niggers. Hey, Jim, ain’t that so?” said Garnett, and he gave the sailor so fierce a look that the fellow stammered out, “Faith, an’ it must ’a’ been so; it was so dark we couldn’t see nothing at all.”

“Well, come with me, anyway,” said the missionary. “It won’t do for Sangaan to take it into his head to come back here if he gets drunk. He is easy enough to manage sober, but you remember the Petrel affair.”

“Sangaan be blowed,” grunted Garnett. “I can take care of any crowd o’ niggers that ever saw a mission, but if you insist on our cruising with a sky-pilot, why, we’re agreeable. Come on, Gantline.”

They followed the good man down the ladder and up the village street to his house. When they were in the starlight the mates noticed that several of the natives who had followed the men back carried short spears, and one or two had long knives in the belts of their grass cloths. When they saw this they began to realize that perhaps the missionary was right after all, and it was just as well that they changed their sleeping quarters for the remainder of the night.

The next morning they patched the stove-in plank on the boat’s bottom, and after getting all the gear into her, including the keg into which they had put their treasure the day before, they ran her out into the surf and started off. Several natives helped them until they were beyond the first line of breakers, but Garnett was in a bad humor and accepted this favor on their part in very bad grace.

When the men and Gantline put good way on the craft with their oars, the mate swore a great oath and rapped the nearest native, holding to the gunwale, a sharp blow across the head with his boat-hook and bade them get ashore. This fellow gave a yell which was taken up by the crowd on the beach, and instantly several rushed into the surf carrying short spears.

“Give way, bullies,” grunted Garnett, “or the heathen will be aboard of us.” And the men bent to their oars with a hearty good will.

As it was, several managed to get within throwing distance, and a spear passed between the mate’s bow-legs and landed in the bottom of the boat. He instantly picked it up and threw it with such wonderful aim at a native that it cut a scratch in the fellow’s shoulder. This had the effect of stopping the most ambitious of the crowd, and they contented themselves with yelling and brandishing their weapons.

“Steady, bullies,” said Garnett, as they neared the outer line of combing water; “if we miss it this time there’ll be trouble.”

The old mate balanced himself carefully on his bow-legs and grasped the steering oar firmly as they neared the place where the sea fell over the outer barrier.

They went ahead slowly until there came a comparatively smooth spell, then they went for the open water as hard as they could.

As they reached almost clear, a heavy sea rose before them with its crest growing sharper and sharper every moment. Garnett, with set jaw and straining muscles, held her true, and with a “Give way, bullies,” hissed between his teeth, the boat’s head rose almost perpendicular for an instant on the side of the moving wall. Then with a smothering roar it broke under and over her and she fell with a crash into the smooth sea beyond.

“Drive her!” he roared, as the half-swamped craft lay almost motionless; and Gantline, bracing his feet, gave three gigantic strokes and his oar snapped short off at the rowlock.

“Drive her through!” he roared again, as one of the men turned with a scared look at the sea ahead. “Drive her or I’ll drive this boat-hook through you!” and he made a motion towards the bottom of the boat. The two remaining oars bent and strained under the pressure, and in another instant they rose on a smooth crest and went clear, while the sea fell but two fathoms astern.

“Lord love ye, Garnett, but that was a close shave,” panted Gantline; “give us the bailer and let me get some of this water out of her. It’s astonishing how those seas deceive one, for from here it looks as smooth on the reef as the top of Easyman’s head. It’s evident that you calculate to go out of the island trade on the profits of this voyage. They would have handled us rough enough had we been stove down on the reef again.”

Garnett muttered something, as he glared astern at the crowd on the beach, and passed Gantline the bailer from the after-locker.

He then headed the boat for the schooner, which had been working in all the morning, and now lay hove-to about a mile distant.

In a little while they were on board and Captain Foregaff was handed the receipts of his trade, which he carried below and deposited in a strong box; making a note afterwards, in a small book, of the percentage due his mates. Then he came on deck, and as the boat was dropped astern he drew away his head-sheets and stood to the eastward.

On going forward he noticed the keg they had brought back with them and instantly demanded to know its contents.

“It’s a find o’ grease,” said Garnett, as he picked it up and carried it aft, where he deposited it carefully in the cockpit.

“Find o’ what?” asked Foregaff, as he and Gantline followed hard in his wake.

“Find o’ whale grease,” said the mate. “It’s the stuff that sells so high in the States. I found it in the surf, and Gantline here has been trying to prove half of it his because he was along with me.”

“Well, where, in the name o’ Davy Jones, do I come in on this deal?” bawled Foregaff. “Ain’t we running this business on shares, I want’er know?”

“So far as concerns trade, you’re right; but d’ye mean to say that what I find ain’t my own?” said the mate in a menacing tone.

“Trade be blowed! Gantline and I come in on this, share an’ share alike. Knock in the head o’ the keg an’ let’s have a look at it.” And the skipper’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Gantline reached an iron belaying-pin and quickly knocked in the top of the keg and tore off the pieces.

“You see, it’s ill-smellin’ stuff,” grunted Garnett, “and its value is according to its smell.” He bent over the keg and peered into it. “It’s pretty hard,” he continued, “when a man’s been through all the danger and trouble o’ getting a prize to have to divy up with them that ain’t in the contract——”

“Gord A’mighty! Hard down the wheel there! Spring your luff!” he roared, as he sprang to his feet. “Pig grease! s’help me, the scoundrel’s robbed us!”

The men rushed to the sheets as the schooner came up on the wind and headed for the island again, while Gantline and Foregaff bent over the open keg.

“’Tis as good lard as ever fried doughnut,” said the skipper, as he stuck his finger into the mass and then drew it through his lips, while Gantline glared at it as though it was the ghost of Father Tellman’s pig.

“Clear away the gun for’ard, and get——”

“Hello, what’s the matter?” asked the skipper, as Garnett was getting ready for action.

“Why, we can’t get ashore there again. They well-nigh murdered us as it was,” said the mate.

“Well, what good can we do with that gun, then? It won’t throw a ball across the surf, let alone to the village. You must have been up to some deviltry ashore.” And the skipper eyed the mates suspiciously.

“Devil be hanged! We were as soft as you please, but they were for mischief from the time we rolled over in the surf. I guess, perhaps, you’d better go ashore, though, for old Easyman don’t like me.”

“Not by the holy Pope,” said the skipper, with a grin. “You don’t catch me on that beach for all the whale grease afloat, or ashore either, for that matter. If that’s the game, we might as well stand off again.”

“Let’s at least have a try at that sky-pilot’s house,” growled Garnett. “Give me a couple of charges and I’ll see what I can do, anyhow.”

“As for that, go ahead; but no good’ll come of it,” muttered the skipper.

Garnett was on the forecastle in a few minutes with several cartridges for the old twelve-pounder.

The schooner was rapidly nearing the surf, and Foregaff could see the natives with great distinctness through his glass.

When she was as near as was safe to navigate, she yawed and Garnett fired.

The shot struck the crest of a comber, in spite of all he could do to elevate the gun, and ricochetted on to the sand, where a native picked it up and danced a peculiarly aggressive dance while he held it aloft in his hand.

The flag on the mission dipped gracefully three times while Garnett loaded for a second shot.

“If I only had a shell I’d make those niggers see something,” he muttered, as he rammed home the charge.

“Fire!” And the gun banged again.

The flag dipped again in the breeze, and several natives, joining hands, danced wildly to and fro.

“Keep her off!” bawled the skipper, with a broad smile on his face. “Done by a nigger chief,” he muttered to himself. “I want’er know, I want’er know.”