A Son Of The Sun

  "Very funny t'ing," he reported. "One white man stop all the time. Hehas big rifle. He lay in water and watch. Maybe twelve o'clock, otherwhite man come and take rifle. First white man go to bed. Other man stopnow with rifle. No good. Me cannot talk with Kanakas. Me come back."

  "By George!" Grief said to Snow, after the Tongan had gone back to hisbunk. "I smell something more than shell. Those three men are standingwatches over their Kanakas. That man's no more Swithin Hall than I am."

  Snow whistled from the impact of a new idea.

  "I've got it!" he cried.

  "And I'll name it," Grief retorted, "It's in your mind that the _EmilyL._ was their schooner?"

  "Just that. They're raising and rotting the shell, while she's gone formore divers, or provisions, or both."

  "And I agree with you." Grief glanced at the cabin clock and evincedsigns of bed-going. "He's a sailor. The three of them are. But they'renot island men. They're new in these waters."

  Again Snow whistled.

  "And the _Emily L._ is lost with all hands," he said. "We know that.They're marooned here till Swithin Hall comes. Then he'll catch themwith all the shell."

  "Or they'll take possession of his schooner."

  "Hope they do!" Snow muttered vindictively. "Somebody ought to rob him.Wish I was in their boots. I'd balance off that sixty thousand."

  VII

  A week passed, during which time the _Uncle Toby_ was ready for sea,while Grief managed to allay any suspicion of him by the shore crowd.

  Even Gorman and Watson accepted him at his self-description. Throughoutthe week Grief begged and badgered them for the longitude of the island.

  "You wouldn't have me leave here lost," he finally urged. "I can't get aline on my chronometer without your longitude."

  Hall laughingly refused.

  "You're too good a navigator, Mr. Anstey, not to fetch New Guinea orsome other high land."

  "And you're too good a navigator, Mr. Hall," Grief replied, "not to knowthat I can fetch your island any time by running down its latitude."

  On the last evening, ashore, as usual, to dinner, Grief got his firstview of the pearls they had collected. Mrs. Hall, waxing enthusiastic,had asked her husband to bring forth the "pretties," and had spent halfan hour showing them to Grief. His delight in them was genuine, as wellas was his surprise that they had made so rich a haul.

  "The lagoon is virgin," Hall explained. "You saw yourself that mostof the shell is large and old. But it's funny that we got most of thevaluable pearls in one small patch in the course of a week. It was alittle treasure house. Every oyster seemed filled--seed pearls by thequart, of course, but the perfect ones, most of that bunch there, cameout of the small patch."

  Grief ran his eye over them and knew their value ranged from one hundredto a thousand dollars each, while the several selected large ones wentfar beyond.

  "Oh, the pretties! the pretties!" Mrs. Hall cried, bending forwardsuddenly and kissing them.

  A few minutes later she arose to say good-night.

  "It's good-bye," Grief said, as he took her hand. "We sail at daylight."

  "So suddenly!" she cried, while Grief could not help seeing the quicklight of satisfaction in her husband's eyes.

  "Yes," Grief continued. "All the repairs are finished. I can't get thelongitude of your island out of your husband, though I'm still in hopeshe'll relent."

  Hall laughed and shook his head, and, as his wife left the room,proposed a last farewell nightcap. They sat over it, smoking andtalking.

  "What do you estimate they're worth?" Grief asked, indicating the spreadof pearls on the table. "I mean what the pearl-buyers would give you inopen market?"

  "Oh, seventy-five or eighty thousand," Hall said carelessly.

  "I'm afraid you're underestimating. I know pearls a bit. Take thatbiggest one. It's perfect. Not a cent less than five thousand dollars.Some multimillionaire will pay double that some day, when the dealershave taken their whack. And never minding the seed pearls, you've gotquarts of baroques there. And baroques are coming into fashion. They'repicking up and doubling on themselves every year."

  Hall gave the trove of pearls a closer and longer scrutiny, estimatingthe different parcels and adding the sum aloud.

  "You're right," he admitted. "They're worth a hundred thousand rightnow."

  "And at what do you figure your working expenses?" Grief went on. "Yourtime, and your two men's, and the divers'?"

  "Five thousand would cover it."

  "Then they stand to net you ninety-five thousand?"

  "Something like that. But why so curious?"

  "Why, I was just trying----" Grief paused and drained his glass. "Justtrying to reach some sort of an equitable arrangement. Suppose I shouldgive you and your people a passage to Sydney and the five thousanddollars--or, better, seven thousand five hundred. You've worked hard."

  Without commotion or muscular movement the other man became alert andtense. His round-faced geniality went out like the flame of a snuffedcandle. No laughter clouded the surface of the eyes, and in theirdepths showed the hard, dangerous soul of the man. He spoke in a low,deliberate voice.

  "Now just what in hell do you mean by that?"

  Grief casually relighted his cigar.

  "I don't know just how to begin," he said. "The situation is--er--isembarrassing for you. You see, I'm trying to be fair. As I say, you'veworked hard. I don't want to confiscate the pearls. I want to pay youfor your time and trouble, and expense."

  Conviction, instantaneous and absolute, froze on the other's face.

  "And I thought you were in Europe," he muttered. Hope flickered fora moment. "Look here, you're joking me. How do I know you're SwithinHall?"

  Grief shrugged his shoulders. "Such a joke would be in poor taste, afteryour hospitality. And it is equally in poor taste to have two SwithinHalls on the island."

  "Since you're Swithin Hall, then who the deuce am I? Do you know that,too?"

  "No," Grief answered airily. "But I'd like to know."

  "Well, it's none of your business."

  "I grant it. Your identity is beside the point. Besides, I know yourschooner, and I can find out who you are from that."

  "What's her name?"

  "The _Emily L._

  "Correct. I'm Captain Raffy, owner and master."

  "The seal-poacher? I've heard of you. What under the sun brought youdown here on my preserves?"

  "Needed the money. The seal herds are about finished."

  "And the out-of-the-way places of the world are better policed, eh?"

  "Pretty close to it. And now about this present scrape, Mr. Hall. I canput up a nasty fight. What are you going to do about it?"

  "What I said. Even better. What's the _Emily L._ worth?"

  "She's seen her day. Not above ten thousand, which would be robbery.Every time she's in a rough sea I'm afraid she'll jump her ballastthrough her planking."

  "She has jumped it, Captain Raffy. I sighted her bottom-up after theblow. Suppose we say she was worth seven thousand five hundred. I'llpay over to you fifteen thousand and give you a passage. Don't move yourhands from your lap." Grief stood up, went over to him, and took hisrevolver. "Just a necessary precaution, Captain. Now you'll go on boardwith me. I'll break the news to Mrs. Raffy afterward, and fetch her outto join you."

  "You're behaving handsomely, Mr. Hall, I must say," Captain Raffyvolunteered, as the whaleboat came alongside the _Uncle Toby_. "Butwatch out for Gorman and Watson. They're ugly customers. And, by theway, I don't like to mention it, but you've seen my wife. I've given herfour or five pearls. Watson and Gorman were willing."

  "Say no more, Captain. Say no more. They shall remain hers. Is that you,Mr. Snow? Here's a friend I want you to take charge of--Captain Raffy.I'm going ashore for his wife."

  VIII

  David Grief sat writing at the library table in the bungalowliving-room. Outside, the first pale of dawn was showing. He had had abusy night. Mrs. Raffy had taken two hysterical hours
to pack her andCaptain Raffy's possessions. Gorman had been caught asleep, but Watson,standing guard over the divers, had shown fight. Matters did not reachthe shooting stage, but it was only after it had been demonstrated tohim that the game was up that he consented to join his companions onboard. For temporary convenience, he and Gorman were shackled in themate's room, Mrs. Raffy was confined in Grief's, and Captain Raffy madefast to the cabin table.

  Grief finished the document and read over what he had written:

  To Swithin Hall, for pearls taken from his lagoon (estimated) $100,000

  To Herbert Snow, paid in full for salvage from steamship Cascade in pearls (estimated) $60,000

  To Captain Raffy, salary and expenses for collecting pearls 7,500

  To Captain Raffy, reimbursement for schooner Emily L., lost in hurricane 7,500

  To Mrs. Raffy, for good will, five fair pearls (estimated) 1,100

  To passage to Syndey, four persons, at $120. 480

  To white lead for painting Swithin Hall's two whaleboats 9

  To Swithin Hall, balance in pearls (estimated) which are to be found in drawer of library table 23,411

  $100,000--$100,000

  Grief signed and dated, paused, and added at the bottom:

  _P. S.--Still owing to Swithin Hall three books, borrowed from library: Hudson's "Law of Psychic Phenomena," Zola's "Paris," and Mahan's "Problem of Asia." These books, or full value, can be collected of said David Griefs Sydney office_.

  He shut off the electric light, picked up the bundle of books, carefullylatched the front door, and went down to the waiting whaleboat.

  Chapter Six--A GOBOTO NIGHT

  I

  At Goboto the traders come off their schooners and the planters driftin from far, wild coasts, and one and all they assume shoes, white ducktrousers, and various other appearances of civilization. At Goboto mailis received, bills are paid, and newspapers, rarely more than five weeksold, are accessible; for the little island, belted with its coral reefs,affords safe anchorage, is the steamer port of call, and serves as thedistributing point for the whole wide-scattered group.

  Life at Goboto is heated, unhealthy, and lurid, and for its size itasserts the distinction of more cases of acute alcoholism than any otherspot in the world. Guvutu, over in the Solomons, claims that it drinksbetween drinks. Goboto does not deny this. It merely states, in passing,that in the Goboton chronology no such interval of time is known. Italso points out its import statistics, which show a far larger percapita consumption of spiritous liquors. Guvutu explains this on thebasis that Goboto does a larger business and has more visitors. Gobotoretorts that its resident population is smaller and that its visitorsare thirstier. And the discussion goes on interminably, principallybecause of the fact that the disputants do not live long enough tosettle it.

  Goboto is not large. The island is only a quarter of a mile in diameter,and on it are situated an admiralty coal-shed (where a few tons of coalhave lain untouched for twenty years), the barracks for a handful ofblack labourers, a big store and warehouse with sheet-iron roofs, and abungalow inhabited by the manager and his two clerks. They are the whitepopulation. An average of one man out of the three is always to be founddown with fever. The job at Goboto is a hard one. It is the policy ofthe company to treat its patrons well, as invading companies have foundout, and it is the task of the manager and clerks to do the treating.Throughout the year traders and recruiters arrive from far, dry cruises,and planters from equally distant and dry shores, bringing with themmagnificent thirsts. Goboto is the mecca of sprees, and when they havespread they go back to their schooners and plantations to recuperate.

  Some of the less hardy require as much as six months between visits. Butfor the manager and his assistants there are no such intervals. They areon the spot, and week by week, blown in by monsoon or southeasttrade, the schooners come to anchor, cargo'd with copra, ivory nuts,pearl-shell, hawksbill turtle, and thirst.

  It is a very hard job at Goboto. That is why the pay is twice that onother stations, and that is why the company selects only courageous andintrepid men for this particular station. They last no more than a yearor so, when the wreckage of them is shipped back to Australia, or theremains of them are buried in the sand across on the windward side ofthe islet. Johnny Bassett, almost the legendary hero of Goboto, brokeall records. He was a remittance man with a remarkable constitution,and he lasted seven years. His dying request was duly observed by hisclerks, who pickled him in a cask of trade-rum (paid for out oftheir own salaries) and shipped him back to his people in England.Nevertheless, at Goboto, they tried to be gentlemen. For that matter,though something was wrong with them, they were gentlemen, and had beengentlemen. That was why the great unwritten rule of Goboto was thatvisitors should put on pants and shoes. Breech-clouts, lava-lavas, andbare legs were not tolerated. When Captain Jensen, the wildest of theBlackbirders though descended from old New York Knickerbocker stock,surged in, clad in loin-cloth, undershirt, two belted revolvers anda sheath-knife, he was stopped at the beach. This was in the days ofJohnny Bassett, ever a stickler in matters of etiquette. Captain Jensenstood up in the sternsheets of his whaleboat and denied the existence ofpants on his schooner. Also, he affirmed his intention of coming ashore.They of Goboto nursed him back to health from a bullet-hole through hisshoulder, and in addition handsomely begged his pardon, for no pantshad they found on his schooner. And finally, on the first day he sat up,Johnny Bassett kindly but firmly assisted his guest into a pair of pantsof his own. This was the great precedent. In all the succeeding years ithad never been violated. White men and pants were undivorce-able. Onlyniggers ran naked. Pants constituted caste.

  II

  On this night things were, with one exception, in nowise different fromany other night. Seven of them, with glimmering eyes and steady legs,had capped a day of Scotch with swivel-sticked cocktails and sat down todinner. Jacketed, trousered, and shod, they were: Jerry McMurtrey, themanager; Eddy Little and Jack Andrews, clerks; Captain Stapler, of therecruiting ketch _Merry_; Darby Shryleton, planter from Tito-Ito; PeterGee, a half-caste Chinese pearl-buyer who ranged from Ceylon to thePaumotus, and Alfred Deacon, a visitor who had stopped off from the laststeamer. At first wine was served by the black servants to those thatdrank it, though all quickly shifted back to Scotch and soda, picklingtheir food as they ate it, ere it went into their calcined, pickledstomachs.

  Over their coffee, they heard the rumble of an anchor-chain through ahawse-pipe, tokening the arrival of a vessel.

  "It's David Grief," Peter Gee remarked.

  "How do you know?" Deacon demanded truculently, and then went on to denythe half-caste's knowledge. "You chaps put on a lot of side over a newchum. I've done some sailing myself, and this naming a craft whenits sail is only a blur, or naming a man by the sound of hisanchor--it's--it's unadulterated poppycock."

  Peter Gee was engaged in lighting a cigarette, and did not answer.

  "Some of the niggers do amazing things that way," McMurtrey interposedtactfully.

  As with the others, this conduct of their visitor jarred on the manager.From the moment of Peter Gee's arrival that afternoon Deacon hadmanifested a tendency to pick on him. He had disputed his statements andbeen generally rude.

  "Maybe it's because Peter's got Chink blood in him," had been Andrews'hypothesis. "Deacon's Australian, you know, and they're daffy down thereon colour."

  "I fancy that's it," McMurtrey had agreed. "But we can't permit anybullying, especially of a man like Peter Gee, who's whiter than mostwhite men."

  In this the manager had been in nowise wrong. Peter Gee was that rarecreature, a good as well as clever Eurasian. In fact, it was thestolid integrity of the Chinese blood that toned the reckle
ssness andlicentiousness of the English blood which had run in his father's veins.Also, he was better educated than any man there, spoke better Englishas well as several other tongues, and knew and lived more of their ownideals of gentlemanness than they did themselves. And, finally, he wasa gentle soul. Violence he deprecated, though he had killed men in histime. Turbulence he abhorred.

  He always avoided it as he would the plague.

  Captain Stapler stepped in to help McMurtrey:

  "I remember, when I changed schooners and came into Altman, the niggersknew right off the bat it was me. I wasn't expected, either, much lessto be in another craft. They told the trader it was me. He used theglasses, and wouldn't believe them. But they did know. Told me afterwardthey could see it sticking out all over the schooner that I was runningher."

  Deacon ignored him, and returned to the attack on the pearl-buyer.

  "How do you know from the sound of the anchor that it was thiswhatever-you-called-him man?" he challenged.

  "There are so many things that go to make up such a judgment," PeterGee answered. "It's very hard to explain. It would require almost a textbook."

  "I thought so," Deacon sneered. "Explanation that doesn't explain iseasy."

  "Who's for bridge?" Eddy Little, the second clerk, interrupted, lookingup expectantly and starting to shuffle. "You'll play, won't you, Peter?"