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CHAPTER XII
HENRY CASALLE ALSO HEARS GOOD NEWS

No one slept much that night in that happy household, for the news of Tom's escape had spread like wildfire among the townspeople of the quaint old port, and until long past midnight there were many callers, some coming on foot and some on horseback. Most of them were men and women who had known Tom since his infancy, and who had felt a deep and sincere sympathy for his father in the time of his affliction. And all were welcome.

Mr. Wallis, being a shrewd man, was at first rather concerned that the servants had already made it known that their visitor was a brother of Captain Casalle; but it was now too late to remedy the matter. On second thoughts, however, he felt sure that there was no danger to his guest at Port Kooringa, the people of which hardly knew that there was such a place as New Caledonia, and that sometimes convicts escaped from there to Australia. In Sydney, there would be some danger of Henry Casalle being recognized and recaptured, and sent back to a life of misery. This, however, was a matter to which he would attend; and indeed he had already outlined his plans to his guest.

It was nearly dawn before the last of the visitors had left, and then Mr. Wallis, his son, and Henry Casalle went out upon the verandah facing the sea, and had a quiet talk.

Cheerfully as he had spoken to Jack at dinner about the surety of Tom's return, Mr. Wallis was secretly anxious. As far as he could glean from the letter brought by Casalle, the Lady Alicia was returning to Sydney as soon as she had discharged her cargo at Noumea, but there was a possibility of Tom obtaining an earlier passage to Australia by the Virago. But the Lady Alicia should have been back in Sydney two months ago! What could have happened to her? he thought.

He decided to go to Sydney as quickly as possible, and announced his determination to Jack and Henry Casalle.

'We shall go to Sydney, Mr. Casalle-you, Jack, Nita, and I-and wait for your brother and the Malolo, and Tom and the Lady Alicia. I could not bear to remain here in suspense. The William the Fourth leaves to-night at six. Let us make our preparations at once.'

That evening, as the old Puffing Billy, as she was nicknamed, floundered and gasped and rolled sponsons under against the sweeping seas of the bar, and her long thin funnel sent up clouds of black smoke, Jack, his father, and Casalle waved their hands in farewell to old Foster and Kate, who, with the rest of the servants, were standing on the bluff to watch the steamer pass out. Little Nita was below with her maid-one of the stockmen's daughters.

Early one morning, after a tedious passage of nine days along the coast, Jack came on deck, and saw right ahead the bold outline of the North Head of Sydney, and in another hour the little steamer, which always seemed to be at her last gasp when there was the least sea on, groaned her way through the noble entrance into fair Sydney Harbour. The captain, a rough old sea dog, something after the style of old Sam Hawkins, beckoned to Jack to come up on the bridge, where he was soon joined by his father, both being anxious to see what men-of-war were lying in Farm Cove.

In half an hour they were abreast of the Cove, which lay embosomed in the vivid green of the loveliest gardens in the southern hemisphere, and presently Jack uttered a shout as several men-of-war were seen-one of which was a paddle-wheel barque-rigged steamer.

'That's the Virago, father. I've seen her twice passing Port Kooringa.'

'Ay, ay, that's her, Mr. Wallis,' said the captain. 'She ain't much to look at, neither. If I was to give the old Billy's funnel a coat o' yellow wash, she'd be just as good-looking.'

Hailing a passing schooner, the captain inquired how long the Virago had been in port.

'Three days about.'

'Has the Lady Alicia arrived?'

The master of the schooner shook his head.

'Haven't heard of her, and haven't seen her. She always lies at Cuthbert's slip up here in Darling Harbour. She's expected, I know.'

'Well, we shall soon know if Tom came in the Virago, anyway,' said Mr. Wallis, as the William the Fourth rounded Miller's Point, and headed for her wharf; 'we'll drive to Biffen and Chard's as quick as a hansom can take us.'

As soon as the steamer was made fast, Mr. Wallis told Casalle-who had made some very judicious changes in his personal appearance, changes which made him appear ten or a dozen years younger-to go to Petty's Hotel and await him there; and then he and Tom jumped into a hansom and drove to his agent's office in Pitt Street.

The moment he gave his name to one of the clerks, a big, stout man with a round red face, merged into one vast smile, rushed out of an office marked 'private' and seizing his hand, wrung it with such vigour that Mr. Wallis fairly winced.

'My dear Mr. Wallis,' he said, almost dragging his visitor into his room, 'what a happy meeting! I've glorious, glorious news for you! Your son Tom-'

'I know, my dear Biffen. Tom is alive. Is he here?'

The big man gasped in astonishment. 'Here! No, of course he's not here; but how did you-'

'I know that he was picked up by the Lady Alicia, and he sent me a letter viâ Queensland, saying that it was possible he might get a passage to Sydney in the Virago from Noumea.'

'Well, the Virago has arrived, and has brought you another letter from him. Here it is; but before you read it let me tell you that the first lieutenant brought it here himself. He told me that your boy was looking splendid. You must go and see him.'

Mr. Wallis nodded. 'Of course I shall, at once. Now let me see what Tom says.'

Mr. Biffen went and left Jack and his father together.

This letter of Tom's was a very much longer one than that from Wreck Reef, and gave a detailed account of his adventures, from the time he lit the fire on Misty Head to his arrival at Noumea. 'I do so hope,' he went on to say, 'that the letter I sent you from Wreck Reef has long since reached you. The person to whom it was given pledged his solemn word of honour to Captain Hawkins that it would reach you safely. There is no harm now in my telling you that he and his companions were escaped convicts from New Caledonia. I often think of them, and wonder if they reached the mainland without much hardship. I do really love old Captain Hawkins for being so good to those poor wretches, and when you meet him I am sure you will like him too, and so will Jack. Dear old Jack, with his solemn old face! Oh, how I wish I could see into the room at Port Kooringa-that is, if you have received my letter from Wreck Reef, for then I know you would feel happy, and would perhaps be talking about me. Sometimes, after I began to get better, I would think so much of you by day, and dream of you all at night, that I could not stand it, and would sneak out of the cabin, and go up into the fore-top, where I could have a quiet blubber to myself.

'Mr. Collier, the chief mate, is just as kind to me as Captain Hawkins. He is a very religious man, and such a gentleman, and Captain Hawkins says that a better seaman never trod a deck. We often have long talks, for I always stand out the watch with him. The captain himself is the dearest old fellow in the world. Sometimes he swears horribly at the men, and threatens them with the most awful punishments, and they only wink at each other, and don't take the least notice of him, for he has the kindest heart of any man living. He is so proud of his ship, and of the way in which he dresses when he goes ashore-top-hat, frock-coat, gloves, walking-stick, and a watch-chain like a chain cable. This morning he has gone to call on the Governor, and he was half an hour deciding whether he would wear a green satin tie or a scarlet one, with a tiger's claw for a pin. He called Mr. Collier and me into his cabin to decide for him. We said green. It makes such a contrast to his fiery red face and white hair. 'There is a Maori half-caste on board named Chester. He and I are great friends. Captain Hawkins says that he (Chester) could be hobnobbing with dukes and duchesses in London if he had a mind to, as he can knock out any "pug." in the world in four rounds. Mr. Collier is teaching me navigation. I quite forgot to mention that the man who took my letter from Wreck Reef looked just like that shipwrecked captain who came to Port Kooringa that day. I often wonder what became of him and all his men, and whether that poor little girl lived or died. She looked just like a starved monkey. But I shall hear all about it when I come back. I am not very sorry that the Virago is not returning to Sydney before the Lady Alicia, as, although Captain Byng would give me a passage, I would rather stay with Captain Hawkins. Now good-bye for the present.'

The next portion was written very hurriedly: – 'My dear father and Jack. Such news! The Governor has chartered the Lady Alicia to go in search of a missing French transport-the Marengo. We are to search the islands to the northward, and leave as quickly as possible. Of course I am very sorry that it will now be perhaps four or five months more before I see you; but you will know that I am all right, and of course I feel very excited at going on such a cruise. Captain Hawkins, too, is very pleased, and I believe will make a lot of money out of it. He has such a funny way of making long speeches and never stopping for a second, so that you never can understand what he means. About an hour ago he called the hands aft and said, "My lads me and this ship has the honour of being employed by the Governor of this Colony to institoot a search for a missing ship whose whereabouts is secluded in mystery you stand by me and do your dooty like men and preserve decority inasmuch as there is a naval officer coming aboard and if I see any man spitting on the deck or smoking at the wheel he will get such a lift under the ear that his own mother won't know him again and if we find this ship I will give every one of you a five-pound note so go for'ard again and study out this revelation."

'And now, my dear father, good-bye! You will not hear from me again until you see me come tearing up over the hill from the town. Give my love to Foster, and Kate, and Mrs. Potter, and Wellington, and all the hands. I hope poor Peter was not burnt up in that awful fire. When I last saw him he was running up and down on the beach, with the reins hanging down, looking for me. And please tell old Foster that the Lady Alicia has single rolling topsails like Uncle Hemsley's brig in the picture over the mantel, and also tell him that I can furl the fore royal by myself; Captain Hawkins says I manage it "with mendicity and ability not to be aversed or commented on by the most improper mind." Oh, I shall have such a lot of things to tell you about him, and the extraordinary words he uses!

'The other day, one of our native sailors met with a rather bad accident-smashed his big toe-and Captain Hawkins made me write a note to the doctor of the Virago, asking him to come on board, as one of his men "was suffering from a fragmentary pediment which was in a state of collusion and might suborn tettans or some corresponding aliment." Good-bye once more, dear dad!'

Intensely disappointed as he was at the prospect of Tom not returning for so many months, Mr. Wallis could not help laughing at his description of old Sam. Presently Mr. Biffen returned, and Mr. Wallis read the letter to him.

'Well, your boy is in good hands, Wallis. Old Hawkins is a sterling old fellow, in spite of his many absurdities, and if the lad has any inclination for a sea life he could not be with a better man. Oh, by the way, you received a letter from Casalle, didn't you? I sent one on to you.'

'Yes; and as he told me he expected to be in Sydney in a month after it reached me, I mean to wait here for him. I have brought his little girl up with me. Possibly the Lady Alicia may soon follow. Anyway, I shall of course wait for her arrival as well.'

'Why not go on board the Virago and see Captain Byng? He can give you a good idea of how long the Lady Alicia is likely to be. I'm sure that both he and the first lieutenant will be delighted to see you; they'll have a lot to tell you about Tom.'

Thanking Mr. Biffen, and promising to call again later on in the day, Mr. Wallis and Jack rose.

'Casalle tells me in his letter to me that the Malolo is a heeler,' said the merchant (he and his partner had transacted the business of buying her for Captain Casalle), 'and that he expects to repay you about thirteen hundred pounds after selling his cargo.'

Mr. Wallis smiled pleasantly and shook hands with his agent. 'I'm glad he likes his new ship, Biffen. He is a good fellow, I'm sure.' The repayment of thirteen hundred pounds was a matter of no moment to him at such a time, when his thoughts were full of Tom.

Driving up to Petty's Hotel, he and Jack lunched with Henry Casalle and little Nita, and then father and son walked down to the Circular Quay and took a waterman's boat for the Virago.

Captain Byng happened to be on board, and greeted them most warmly, answered all their inquiries about Tom, told them all he knew of the mission on which the Lady Alicia had been sent, and said that he certainly thought she should be in Sydney in a few weeks, whether she had discovered the Marengo or not. Then followed a long talk, in the course of which Mr. Wallis mentioned the fact of his having received a letter from Tom by a somewhat unusual source. 'It was written at Wreck Reef,' he said, 'but only reached me ten days ago.'

The naval officer's face lit up. 'Of course, of course, I know all about it. That amusing old fellow, Hawkins, as well as Tom, gave me an account of the party of gentlemen they met there; and now I've something interesting to tell you. But tell me, do you know where to find the poor fellow who was their leader?'

'He is here in Sydney-with me. I am interested in the man. I believe him to be innocent of the crime.'

The commander jumped up from his chair and went to the cabin door.

'Ask Mr. Perry to come to me at once,' he said to his steward.

Mr. Perry, the second lieutenant, at once made his appearance.

'Perry, this is Mr. Wallis and his son. I want you to tell them what it was the Governor at Noumea said about the party of convicts who escaped a few weeks before the Lady Alicia arrived.'

'He said that the Cyclope had brought a pardon for one of them, an American named Castelle or Casalle, or some name like that, and that he hoped that he at least would reach Australia safely. It seems that something came to light in France which clearly proved his innocence.'

An exclamation of delight broke from Mr. Wallis, who could not now refrain from telling the sympathetic Byng both the story of Henry Casalle, and that of his brother Ramon.

'Well, I'm heartily glad. 'Twill be a happy meeting for them. No doubt the French Consul here has received advices from the Governor on the subject; but at the same time I should strongly advise your friend not to go near him; the chances are that the Consul would apply to the authorities here for extradition papers, and get the poor fellow sent back to Noumea, in order to be told he was innocent. Then the beggars there would most likely give him seven years' detention for running away "while under sentence." That's the French style. He's safe enough now anywhere in the colonies, and I'll use my influence with the Governor at Noumea, when I am there next month, to have the pardon sent on here.'

Mr. Wallis expressed his thanks, and then only remaining a few minutes longer-so eager was he to tell the good news to Casalle-he and Jack shook hands with Captain Byng, and hurried ashore.

Casalle and little Nita were seated on the wide verandah of the hotel, awaiting their return, when father and son dashed up in a cab. Jack's excited face told Casalle that something unusual had occurred.

'Casalle,' said Mr. Wallis, with his grave, kindly smile, as he grasped the ex-convict's hand, 'you were the bearer of happy tidings to me, and now I have good news to tell you.'

'Your son Tom-'

'No, my dear fellow, nothing about my boy-but good news for you. The captain of the Virago has just told me that you have been pardoned. Your innocence has been proved. This he heard from the Governor of New Caledonia only a few weeks after you escaped. Come, let us go inside, and I will tell you all about it. Come, Nita, little one. This is a happy day for us all.'

Regardless of the people who were sitting about, Henry Casalle leapt to his feet, his dark eyes shining with great joy. Then they filled with tears.

'God is good to me, and I thought He had deserted me! The world is bright to me again.'

Then entering a quiet room he knelt down and buried his face in his hands, as Mr. Wallis led Nita away.

CHAPTER XIII
JACK HAS MISGIVINGS

After dinner that evening, as the two men were sitting in the hotel garden smoking, and talking, of course, about the return of the Malolo and the Lady Alicia, Jack, who had been unusually quiet and thoughtful, came up to his father.

'Father, there has been something troubling me all day-ever since we got Tom's letter from Mr. Biffen this morning. Let me have it, please, to read again, and Captain Casalle's as well.'

'What is it, Jack, that is troubling you?'

'Let me read the letters first, dad, then I'll tell you.'

His father gave him both, and Jack, whose always serious face was now more serious than ever, went quietly away into a sitting-room, and placing them side by side, read them through carefully.

He sat considering for a few minutes, then went out again to the garden with the letters in his hand.

'Father, I must tell you and Mr. Casalle what is troubling me. Don't think me foolish.'

'Certainly not, my boy,' said Mr. Wallis, who knew that Jack must have some good reason for speaking as he did.

'Well, come inside, and let us read those letters again. Father, it may be that Tom is not on board Captain Hawkins's ship after all.'

'What!' cried Mr. Wallis in startled tones. 'What on earth makes you think that, Jack?'

Entering the sitting-room and closing the door, the two men seated themselves at the table, and looked expectantly at Jack, who stood, his grey eyes filled with trouble.

'Father, this is what makes me think that some fresh mishap has come to Tom. Now, listen; here is what Tom says in one part of his letter-

'"There is a Maori half-caste on board named Chester. He and I are great friends."

'Now it is just those words which keep running in my head, because of something in Captain Casalle's letter-that part about Bully Hayes and his ship.' Then he read-

'"During the fighting she also took, or was set on, fire, and only for another vessel (said to be a Sydney brig) coming to her assistance, the niggers would have massacred every one of the crew. After this Hayes touched at Fortuna Island for provisions, and while there fell foul of one of his officers, a New Zealand half-caste, who seems to have been lent to him by the Sydney brig, and was about to flog him, but in the night this man, with a white sailor and a young lad, who was a passenger (on the Leonie, I suppose), escaped in one of the boats, after scuttling the brig in two places."

'Don't you think it strange, father, that Tom should speak of a "Maori half-caste," and that a "New Zealand half-caste" was lent to Captain Hayes by the captain of a Sydney brig?'

'It is certainly a coincidence, Jack; but surely it cannot be anything more,' and Mr. Wallis looked at Casalle, as if wishing for confirmation of his views.

The seaman nodded. 'A coincidence, sir, no doubt; but yet-' he paused a moment, 'some very strange things do occur at times at sea. Did not the captain of the Virago say that the Lady Alicia was going northward to New Britain?'

'Yes.'

'And my brother in his letter says that Hayes was coming from New Britain, bound to Samoa. Can it be that the two ships have met, and, by some means, Tom and the half-caste officer left their own vessel and went on board the Leonie?'

Mr. Wallis thought for a few moments before replying.

'It is very disturbing to think about. Your brother says there was heavy fighting on board Hayes's ship, and that the Sydney brig lent Hayes an officer; but then the young lad is spoken of as being a passenger on board the Leonie-not on board Tom's ship. No; after all, Jack, I do not think we need distress ourselves. But, anyway, let us drive out to Mr. Biffen's house. He may be able to tell us if there are any other brigs in the South Sea trade sailing out of Sydney.'

A short drive brought them to the agent's house, and Mr. Wallis at once mentioned the suspicions which had arisen in Jack's mind, and asked him if there were any other Sydney trading brigs likely to have been cruising about the Solomons.

Mr. Biffen at once answered, 'No, no brigs; of that I'm certain. I know every vessel sailing out of Sydney (and Melbourne as well) which is an island trader. There would be about there at that time the barques Anna and Lightning, and the schooner Meg Merrilies, but no brig. The only other vessel of that rig besides Hawkins's ship which would be seen down there, is the Mexicana, and she has been laid up here for the past six months. It certainly is curious, I must admit, but it is only a coincidence, as you surmise.'

But, in spite of this opinion, both Mr. Wallis and Jack left the agent's house feeling somewhat depressed and anxious.

'We can only wait, Jack, and trust in God. The Lady Alicia may be here in a few weeks now.'

As the time went by, however, even Jack ceased to let the matter trouble him much, and, like all bush-bred boys, entered into the delights of Sydney life with a zest. Unlike Tom, ships and sailors possessed no interest for him beyond that which had lately become engendered in his mind through Tom himself; nevertheless, he and Henry Casalle spent much of their time in sailing about the harbour, watching the great merchant clippers entering the Heads, or being towed to sea; at other times, taking little Nita with them, they would spend the day fishing in one of the countless bays of the Harbour, or on the bright waters of the Parramatta River or Lane Cove.

Early one warm, drowsy afternoon, as Jack, accompanied by Nita only, was returning homewards from a fishing excursion, and the boat was sailing slowly between Goat Island and the Balmain shore, he saw that signals were flying at the Observatory flagstaff, 'Ship from Fiji Islands.'

Knowing that the Malolo was due, Jack took down the sails, got out his sculls, and sent the boat skimming over the water to town.

'Perhaps it is the Malolo, Nita.'

Nita's black eyes danced with delight, but, having something of her father's grave manner, she did not pester Jack with childish questions. Pulling in to Miller's Point, Jack left the boat with the owner, and in a few minutes he and Nita were hurrying along the squalid streets leading from the Point into the city proper. Almost as soon as he entered the hotel, Mary Potter, Nita's nurse, ran up to him.

'Mr. Wallis and Mr. Casalle have gone down the Harbour, sir, in the Customs launch; the Malolo is come in. And will you and Miss Nita follow in a waterman's boat down to Woolloomooloo Bay, where the ship will anchor? I won't be five minutes dressing, Miss Nita.'

The walk from Petty's Hotel to the Circular Quay only took a few minutes, and as soon as the boat rounded Fort Macquarie Jack saw a large white-painted barquentine, which he knew was the Malolo, just being cast off by a tug, as she anchored between Lady Macquarie's Chair and Garden Island. The moment the boat came alongside, Captain Casalle, who had been talking to his brother and Mr. Wallis aft, ran down the gangway ladder, and caught his child up in his arms.

'How are you, mister?' said a cheerful voice to Jack as soon as he reached the deck; and his old acquaintance, Mr. Brooker, the mate, gave him a hurried handshake as he passed along for'ard; 'here we are back again, safe and sound, with our pockets full of dollars and our hearts as sweet as honey, and right glad I am to see you again.'

Several native sailors, whose faces Jack at once recognised, rushed up to him and shook hands. They were members of the old crew of the lost Bandolier.

Going aft, Jack saw a pretty picture-the two brothers, whom fate had thus brought together so strangely after more than twenty years, and when each only thought of the other as dead, were walking the deck together hand in hand, speaking in low but eager tones, with little Nita clinging tightly to her father's disengaged hand, looking into his face and drinking in every word he uttered.

As soon as possible the captain, his brother, Nita, and Mr. Wallis went ashore, leaving Jack to spend an hour or so on board with the mate, and then follow and join them at dinner.

Whilst the active mate (whose manner of addressing the crew Jack thought to be extremely personal and vigorous) was getting the decks cleared, and the ship made snug, before sitting down to chat, Jack had time to have a better look at her. Next to the Virago, she was the largest vessel he had ever boarded, and although externally her white-painted hull was reddened and yellowed with rust stains, within board she was spotlessly clean and neat, and her lofty pitch-pine spars were as bright and smart-looking as those of a crack yacht. She carried three boats-a long boat, which was stowed on the main hatch, and two beautifully moulded whale-boats, one on each quarter. She was a flush-decked vessel, and of great beam for her tonnage, with a sheer that would not be perceived until one actually stood on her deck, either for'ard or aft, and looked right along it.

Going below to the cabin, he was met by the steward, a brown-skinned, smiling-faced Samoan, who, putting his arms around Jack's shoulders, rubbed noses with him as he shook his hand.

'Don't you 'member me, Mister Jack? Oh, I never forget you and Kooringa, never.'

'Of course I haven't forgotten you, Salu, but I thought you were a sailor on the Bandolier. Now you are a steward.'

'Yes, sir. You see, sir, my sister Solepa was fafine tausi teine (nurse) to Mrs. Casalle's Nita. And now Mrs. Casalle and Solepa are dead and gone to God, and I am Salu, the steward to the captain; and now I am glad, very glad, for I hav' hear that your brother never is dead.'

'No, Salu, he is not dead. He will soon be here in Sydney, I hope.'

The steward smiled delightedly. 'I am glad; every one on boar' this ship is glad. Your fath' is a good man. Now, if you please, let me make you some coffee.'

'No, thank you, Salu,' said Jack, shaking the man's hand, as he looked around the cabin and noticed the number of Snider rifles and cutlasses arranged in racks on both sides. 'What a lot of arms, Salu!'

'Yes, sir. We go to some bad places. Sometimes we have to fight, but Capt'en Casalle never want to fight. He always go ashore first when we go to some new place where the natives is wild and we want to trade. He won't let the covering boat come too close, because these wild peoples, when they see the rifle and the cutlass, they get afraid and begin to shoot poison' arrows. He just jump out of boat and walks up on th' beach, with his han's in his trousers' pocket, and smokin' his pipe; an' he says to those wild people, "What's the matter with you? I hav' come to talk an' trade, not to fight. I am not a fighting man. I wan' to buy your copra an' ivory nuts. See, I have no little gun," and then he lifts up his pyjama pocket and show them his bare skin, wis'out no revolver strapped to his waist. Oh, he is a fine man, a good man.'

Mr. Brooker came rattling down the companion way.

'Oh, here you are, Jack. Now, look here, here's the whole lot of the old Bandolier's crew wants to shake hands with you again. And so do I, Jack,' and he seized Jack's hand in his and wrung it vigorously. 'I reckon I've got some new ideas about British people since I struck Port Kooringa. I was brought up pious enough by a father and mother who believed that the only good people ever produced by Great Britain were the Mayflower folks; and then in the village school I was taught to consider the Britishers of those times as inhuman bein's, who with a mob of Hanoverian or other Dutch-bred soldiers jest delighted to kill American farmers, and their wimmen folk and children, by sticking bayonets into them as a sorter light amusement. Yes, thet is so, Jack. I come from Martha's Vineyard, and us boys were always taught to hate Britishers. We are a mighty poor lot of people down thet way, and the farming folk are the poorest of all-only get a square meal once a week. They'd look sour at a barrel of cider for working after twelve o'clock on Saturday night, and kick a cat for catching a mouse on Sunday morning. But, say, let's get on deck again; these men want to see you mighty bad before you go ashore again. They hev' got something to give you.'

Lighting a huge cheroot, he led the way.

All the crew of the Malolo were gathered together on the main deck, awaiting Jack's appearance. Every man had a present of some kind-a bundle of Solomon Island spears, bows and arrows, baskets of magnificent shells, snowy white coral, clubs, native fish hooks, made from iridescent pearl shell, a whale's tooth, necklaces of porpoise teeth, shell armlets, carved coco-nut shells, and many other curios from the savage islands of Melanesia. Placing them upon the deck at Jack's feet, they drew back, and their spokesman, a sturdy, square-built native of Rotumah Island, made a short speech-

'All these things here me and my shipmates bring you because we want to give you something. All the time we stop at Kooringa, your father and you and old man Mr. Foster very kind to us all, and woman with red hair give us plenty kai-kai.³ That woman is good woman, and me and my shipmates very sorry we can' see her no more. So if you please, sir, good afternoon, and very much oblige'.'

Simple as were the man's words, their sincerity was very pleasing to Jack, who thanked them individually, shaking hands with them all. Most of them were natives of the South Sea Islands; one came from beautiful and verdant Rotumah; another from lonely Easter Island in the far eastern Pacific; two from Nuié-the 'Savage Island' of Captain Cook; one from Yasawa in Fiji; and the remainder from various island groups in the South Pacific.