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Mr. Brooker regarded them with a good-natured smile before telling them to go for'ard again; then he turned to Jack, and said quietly-

'I was taught to despise niggers of any kind or breed, but this sort of thing jest jumps up and hits me in the face. I never yet saw many white sailors show any gratitude or remembrance for a good turn. Jack Tar is generally Jack Dog, and a darned or'nary yellow dog, with nary a good point about him. Why, every one of these natives aboard is a Christian, and lives clean in mind and body. You should see 'em in the evenings sitting on the main hatch, every man with his Samoan Bible or hymn-book in his hand, and waitin' for Salu the steward to begin the service. It's jest good to hear 'em sing! Where is the crowd of white sailors who'd have the courage, even if they had the inclination, to do as these men do, night after night! And every one of 'em is a right down smart sailor man. Now come below into my cabin, and we can hev' some talk. I want to hear all about your brother Tom, and where in thunder the skipper's brother come from, and all about the folks at Port Kooringa. Come on; the second mate will look after the ship.'

CHAPTER XIV
THE MALOLO SAILS IN SEARCH OF TOM

The following two weeks passed very quickly, Jack and his father and the two brothers being constantly in each other's society. The Malolo, after discharging her cargo, went into dock and came out again a bright shining white, and Mr. Wallis and the captain set about buying trade-goods for her next voyage. The second mate was paid off, and Henry Casalle shipped in his place, much to his satisfaction.

Late one night, after Jack had turned in and his father was about to follow, a hansom drove up to the hotel, and a short stout man, wearing a frock-coat and tall hat, jumped out, and for two or three minutes poured out a torrent of abuse upon the construction of the vehicle and the anatomy of the horse.

'And as for you, my joker,' he said to the cabman, 'you think that I don't know you've brought me by the most circumbendious route you could think of you thundering swab trying the great circle dodge on a poor old sailor.'

'Oh, come now, captain, don't say that. I've driven you a good many times, and hope to do so again.'

'Do you? Well, you won't; what's the figger I have to pay you for betraying me into your crazy old rat-trap?'

'Nothing at all-not to-night, anyway, skipper. You ain't in a good temper. Shall I wait for you?' replied the cabman, who evidently knew his fare.

'No, but come back for me in an hour. And here's five bob.'

Just as Mr. Wallis was ascending the stairs, he heard the stranger's voice, speaking to the hall porter.

'I want to see Mr. Charles Wallis of Port Kooringa young man; tell him that Captain Samuel Hawkins of the brig Lady-'

Mr. Wallis ran up to him with outstretched hand.

'I am Tom's father. How are you? Where is Tom?'

'In Samoa or else on his way up to Sydney. But it's a long yarn and-'

'Come to my room, captain. Porter, call my son, and tell him that Captain Hawkins is here.'

For once in his life old Sam said what he had to say in as few words as possible; and in less than five minutes Mr. Wallis and Jack heard of the meeting of the Lady Alicia with the Leonie, the fight, Mr. Collier's death and Tom's injuries, and how on account of the latter incident Captain Hawkins had acceded to Hayes's request to let Tom remain on board the Leonie with Maori Bill.

'And I'm sure that Bully Hayes would treat him well, sir, and I'm somewhat disappointed at not finding him here with you-'

'There is a very good reason for that, Captain Hawkins,' said Mr. Wallis, sadly. 'Tom never reached Samoa, and heaven knows what has happened to him and Maori Bill.' And then he told the captain the story that was heard by Captain Casalle in Fiji.

Old Sam was deeply distressed. 'God knows, sir, I acted for the best; and now it is clear I did the worst. Of course, the young lad mentioned must be Tom, and of course the New Zealand half-caste is my William Henry. Now sir what is to be done? I and my brig are at your service. If Tom and Maori Bill and the other man had a good boat they could have easily reached Fiji from Fotuna. And yet they might not have put to sea, after all; they might have gone ashore on some part of Fotuna and hidden until the Leonie had sailed! Fotuna is the place to try first, sir. They may be there now, waiting for a ship. If they did not stay there they would have headed for Fiji.'

Mr. Wallis sighed. 'I fear the very worst, Captain Hawkins. Surely had they reached Fiji we should have heard something by now! Fotuna, I am told, however, is seldom visited by even trading vessels, and it may be that my boy is there now. Now, will you come here to-morrow morning at ten o'clock, and meet my friend Captain Casalle, of whom you have heard from Tom? and we will discuss what is best to be done. He has a vessel ready for sea, and I think I shall charter him to go to Fotuna. If Tom is not there, Captain Hawkins, I shall go to Fiji. I shall never rest until I know what has become of my poor boy. I cannot but think that he and his companions may have perished at sea; though there is a chance that, by God's mercy, they have reached one of the islands.'

Old Sam pondered, then said, 'I don't want to alarm you, Mr. Wallis, but if Tom and Maori Bill reached Fiji they ought to have been in Sydney by now. But if they didn't leave Fotuna, they might be there for another six months before they could get away in a ship. And, as I said before, I and my ship are at your service; I will lend her and myself and crew to you for six months free of charge to look for Tom, for I love the boy.' He took out a violently coloured silk handkerchief, and mopped his red face and suspiciously watery eyes.

Mr. Wallis pressed the old man's hand. 'Thank you, Hawkins. You have been a good friend to Tom, as his letters show. But come here to-morrow, and we shall decide what we shall do. And always bear in mind one thing, Hawkins-that whether God has or has not spared my boy to meet me again, I shall always be glad to call you my friend.'

The old sailor's eyes filled. 'I'm only a rough old shellback Mr. Wallis but you know what I mean my ship and myself-'

'I know that you saved my boy's life, I know that you are a good and generous-hearted man, and I thank you very heartily for your offer. But we will talk of all these things to-morrow. Now tell me about your cruise in search of the Marengo. Were you successful?'

'Successful we was, sir. Leastways we found the men right enough, and a miserable lot they were too; not six good sailor-men in the whole crowd. But we had a long long passage back to Noumea, nothing but light winds and calms for weeks together; half of the Frenchmen were bad with fever and some died and me and Mr. de Cann was right glad when the job was finished. And the brig too is badly strained and will have to undergo a lot of repairs.'

Then, bidding Jack and his father good-night, the old captain went away, leaving them a prey to anxiety and torturing surmise about Tom.

Early on the following morning, Mr. Wallis went on board the Malolo for Captain Casalle, and returned with him to the hotel, where at ten o'clock they were joined by Captain Hawkins; and the three men at once went into the subject of the most likely course which would have been taken by Tom and his companions after leaving Fotuna.

'Fiji, of course, would be the nearest land,' said Captain Casalle; 'but, as Captain Hawkins says, they may not have left Fotuna at all, but have waited about till Hayes had sailed. If they had reached any part of Fiji, I should certainly have heard of them whilst I was there. In my opinion, there are at Fotuna still.'

'Then I will charter the Malolo from you, Casalle, and we shall go there-'

'There is no question of a charter, Mr. Wallis. The Malolo is your ship, not mine. I am at your service, and will be ready to sail in twenty-four hours.'

'And as I told you, sir, last night,' said old Sam, 'me and my ship are yours for as long as you want us. If harm has come to the boy, it is through me.'

'No, no, Captain Hawkins. Do not say that. You are in no way to blame. And I thank you very sincerely for your offer; but, as you see, the Malolo is ready for sea, while your ship has just come into port after a long and trying voyage, and needs repairs. So it must be the Malolo.'

Before noon that day Mr. Brooker was informed of the decision arrived at, and he and Henry Casalle at once began to make the vessel ready for sea. A cabin was fitted up for Nita and her nurse, and another for Mr. Wallis and Jack, and in something under thirty hours everything was ready. That night the master of Kooringa wrote a long letter to old Foster, giving him full instructions as to what to do in his absence, and concluded by saying-

'We may be away eight months or longer. If we cannot find Tom in six months, I shall give up all hope of ever seeing him again.'

Just before sunset on the following day a tug came alongside the Malolo, and by seven o'clock the beautiful vessel had gained an offing, and was heading eastward on her quest.

CHAPTER XV
ON ALOFI ISLAND

A little before dawn broke, Tom was awakened from a heavy slumber by Maori Bill, and, sitting up, he saw that the boat was within a cable length of densely verdured Alofi, which, unlike its sister island of Fotuna, has no protecting barrier reef along its shore.

'There's a little bit of creek just here, where we can fill our water breakers,' said the Maori, 'but I can't see it just yet. It will be a fine place for us to lie by in until to-night, and then slip out again.'

Taking down the sail, they waited until the light became stronger, and then a little further to the southward they saw a break in the thick foliage which grew to the water's edge.

Charlie, whose arm was not yet strong enough to use an oar in pulling, now came aft and steered, and Tom and Bill went to the oars. It was fortunately high water, and they were enabled to bring the boat not only into the mouth of the creek, but some fifty yards higher up, where she lay completely hidden from view under the thick and drooping foliage of the trees, and in pure fresh water.

Just as the boat was made fast rain began to fall heavily, and Tom and his friends found excellent shelter between the buttresses of an enormous fallen maso'i tree, where they ate their breakfast in comfort and watched the descending torrents with complacency.

Maori Bill, as he filled his pipe, seemed well pleased. The place to which he had brought them was well known to him, though many years had passed since he had last seen it. The island of Alofi, he told his companions, had but one small village of half a dozen houses, situated on the northern point, where there were extensive plantations of yams, taro, sugar-cane, and bananas owned by the people of Fotuna. The rest of the island, though of extraordinary fertility, was left to solitude, except when a party of young men would visit it on a pig-hunting or pigeon-snaring expedition.

'Then there's no fear of any natives being about now,' said Tom.

'No; but we must not make a fire. The smoke might be seen by some one. We can lie by here nice and comfortable all day, whether it rains or clears up,' answered the Maori.

As he spoke a grunt sounded near him, and in an instant he lay flat upon the leaves, motioning to Tom and Charlie to do likewise.

'It's a pig,' he whispered, taking his knife out of its sheath.

The grunt was followed by squeaks, and presently a sow, followed by a litter of seven pretty black and yellow striped piglets, came down the side of the leaf-strewn hill, tossing up the leaves with their little snouts in search of maso'i berries.

'Let 'em get between us and the boat,' said Bill to Tom. 'I'll tackle the old sow; perhaps you can knock over one or two of the young ones.'

Quite unsuspicious of danger, mother and children rooted their innocent way along till they were well between the water and the fallen tree. Then Bill leapt up and flung himself upon the sow, seized her by a hind leg, and thrice quickly drove his knife into her ribs; the progeny, with squeals of terror, scattered in all directions, some going up the hill-side and others taking to the water like otters. Tom managed to secure one, which promptly bit him savagely on the hand; and Maori Bill jumped into the creek, and caught another, as it was swimming across.

'Don't kill them!' he cried; 'fresh pork for the boat.'

Tearing off some bark from a sapling, Bill lashed the animals' feet securely together and carried them to the boat. They were both very plump, and yelled and squealed and bit vigorously. The sow was at once cut up by Tom, who was no novice at such work, for he had often lent a hand in the killing yard on his father's station, and soon the quarters were hung up to a branch.

After nine o'clock the rain ceased, the sun came out bright and warm, and the trade wind blew fresh and clear, and brought with it the sweet earthy smell from the rain-soaked forest around and above them. Flock after flock of small but noisy green and gold and scarlet plumaged parrakeets came screaming down from the mountain sides, and settled on the bushes which overhung the creek, and every now and then, with heavy flapping of wings and deep booming note, pigeons, singly and in pairs, lit in the branches of the loftier trees, to feed on the scarlet berries of the maso'i and se'ase'a.

Satisfied from the absence of any paths along the mountain side that they were not likely to be disturbed by native visitors, and that the boat could not possibly be discerned from the sea, the three adventurers hauled her alongside of a smooth, flat rock on the bank of the creek, and unloaded her. Everything was spread out to dry, and Tom was astonished at the number and variety of articles his companions had managed to smuggle away from the Leonie.

Bill smiled grimly. 'That's the first time I've ever robbed any one-if it is robbery. The steward helped me to get most of the provisions.'

'Robbery!' said Charlie, 'not a bit of it. There's a matter of about three hundred dollars due me by Bully Hayes for wages, which I shall never see.'

'And I was to get a hundred from him with my discharge from Samoa,' said Bill, 'so that's four hundred dollars he'll be to windward.'

'Let us reckon up the value of all this gear, and see how we stand with Bully,' said Charlie, with a grin. 'Mr. Wallis, you do the figgerin', an' me an' Mr. Chester will do the valooin'. Now here goes; but as we hasn't any pens an' paper these will do.'

He went down to the water's edge and returned with his cap full of small smooth pebbles, which he handed to Tom. Then, seizing a flour-sack, which was full of various articles, he turned them out on the rock.

Thirty-four tins of canned dog, called American meat. How much, Mr. Chester?'

'Half a dollar a tin.'

'Half a dollar it is. Got that down, Mr. Wallis?'

'Yes,' said Tom, 'seventeen dollars;' and he counted out seventeen pebbles.

'Six bottles of pickles, two bottles of chutney, and two bottles of green things like plums, one bag of oatmeal, and a tin box of raisins. How much for that lot?'

Bill was not sure. 'Say ten dollars.'

'Fourteen-pound box of "Two Seas" tobacco-Mr. Chester, you has a right noble mind to think of it, – three hanks twine, palm and sail-needles, one box fish-hooks, four pair dungaree pants, six dozen packets Swedish stinker matches, lot o' clay pipes all broken, three clasp-knives, and one tin o' mustard. How much?'

After a little discussion the lot was valued at forty dollars; and then the contents of the next bag were turned out. They consisted of about fifty pounds of biscuit, some tins of German sausage, a rug belonging to Mr. Kelly, a bag of bullets, a fan-tail hatchet, a bundle of fishing-lines, a burning-glass, a Dutch cheese in a tin, ten boxes of percussion-caps, and one bottle of Edinburgh ale.

'Put them down at twenty dollars, Mr. Wallis.'

The next 'lot' was rolled up in the steward's own blankets, and carefully seized round with spun yarn-three Snider carbines with three hundred or four hundred cartridges, the steward's own razor, glass, and comb, Tom's gun (that given him by the captain of the Virago at Noumea), some more tins of powder, caps, a bag of No. 3 shot, a bottle of one 'Kennedy's Medical Discovery for the Cure of all Diseases,' a bag of salt, a piece of New Zealand bacon, Mr. Harvey's revolver with case and fittings, a roasted fowl, and a sextant-case without the sextant.

'About a hundred and fifty dollars will square that lot,' said Maori Bill, thoughtfully.

In addition to these items, the steward and Bill had casually picked up some unconsidered trifles in the trade-room, such as bottles of brandy, a dozen tins of sardines and salmon, a bundle of tomahawks, some loose tobacco, and a German concertina, which were appraised at twenty dollars by Bill, who seemed anxious to give every article its full value.

'Two hundred and fifty-seven dollars,' said Tom, counting his pebbles.

'Then there's the boat and all her gear complete-sails, oars, and compass,' said Bill, virtuously. 'That's worth another hundred and fifty.'

Charlie grinned and shook his head. 'Don't count that in-the Leonie herself wasn't bought by Hayes; he found her. Found her in the Bonin Islands, when her captain and most of the afterguard was ashore drunk at a Portugee dance; and so, as he hadn't a ship himself, and was shocked at seeing such a fine brig being left in charge of a few Manila men sailors, he went aboard with a few of his friends-I was one of 'em-and lifted the anchor and went to sea to look for the owners. But he couldn't find the owners, though I've heard him say that he's just wearing out his life trying to find 'em, and has to go into nigger-catching to pay his expenses. No, you needn't set the boat down. Now, there we are; two hundred and fifty-seven dollars from four hundred.'

'Leaves a hundred and forty-three,' said Tom.

'That Bully Hayes owes us. Well, he owes a lot more to other people, so we'll forgive him our little bill,' said Charlie, as he began laying the various articles out separately on the rock, so as to dry in the sunshine.

Tom looked at the man in silence. He was tall and thin, with red hair, deep-set eyes, a square, determined chin, and a set mouth scarcely veiled by a straggling moustache and ragged beard of the same hue as his hair. His face, on the whole, Tom thought, was not a taking one; but his voice was pleasant, though a cynical and reckless humour was ever noticeable in his speech. Suddenly he turned and caught Tom's eye, and his cheeks flushed. He stood up stiffly and put his hand in his trouser pocket.

'Look here, Mr. Wallis! Don't you think I run away from Bully Hayes and the Leonie for the sake of these'-he held out the ten sovereigns which Tom had given him the previous night, and then let them fall carelessly upon the rock. 'I came with you and this man here because I was sick of the life I've led with Hayes for the past four years. Mind you, I'm not saying anything against the man; I like him. He did me a good turn when I was lying in gaol in Cape Town, and was as good as booked for ten years for smashing a man's-'

Bill strode forward and placed his brown hand over the sailor's mouth.

'Shut up, Charlie, shut up, I tell you!' he said in a savage whisper; 'what does this boy want to hear 'bout the doings of men like you an' me? It won't do him no good, I tell you; an' I won't have it. I'm no better than you, Charlie. I've been in goal for killing a man I didn't mean to kill, and I've suffered for it too. Don't let us talk 'bout such things-for the boy's sake.'

The white sailor immediately collapsed. 'Of course I won't. I'm not the man to shove my opinions on nobody, but Bully Hayes is not a bad sort.'

'He's not-with his mauleys. But he's not a better man with them than I am with mine, Charlie. If you don't believe me, wait till we get to Fiji, and I'll thump you and any other three men, one after another, in the yard at Manton's Hotel-for nothing.'

'Thank you, mister; you have a noble mind for trifles, as I said just now. But I take it for granted, and I'm sorry I spoke as I did before the boy. Now what about filling these water-breakers?'

The Maori put both his huge hands on the sailor's shoulders, and with a good-humoured smile forced him down upon the rock in a sitting posture.

'You sit down there and let me do that. You mus' look out that you don't hurt your arm. We may have to pull a lot between here and Fiji. And while I am filling the water-breakers you can fix up some fishing-lines. We can catch some fish here before we leave, and after we have stowed the boat again I'll get a hundred or so of young drinking coco-nuts.'

The remainder of the morning passed away pleasantly enough. Tom and Charlie, baiting their hooks with large fresh-water prawns, which were very plentiful in the creek, threw their lines out in the shallow water at its mouth, and soon caught some purple-scaled fish called by the natives afulu, and resembling English barbel in shape and size.

Meanwhile Maori Bill, after placing everything back in the boat, and filling the water-breakers, had walked along a narrow beach to where a grove of coco-nuts displayed their tempting fruit in great clusters. He ascended two or three trees, threw down a score or so of the young nuts from each, tied them together by tearing out a piece of each husk with his sharp teeth, and returned to the camp just as Tom and Charlie appeared with a string of fish and a huge soft-shell crab, which they had found lying in a weedy pool.

Bill's eyes glistened at the sight of the crab. 'That's a beauty! Let me feel him. He weighs ten pound. What a pity we can't light a fire and cook him! But, never mind, we'll cut him athwart-ships and rub some salt into him when we do the pig. The fish we can dry in the boat. Now what about some dinner?'

With a tin of what Charlie termed 'canned dog,' but what was really excellent American beef, half a dozen biscuits, and some deliciously sweet young coco-nuts, the three made a hearty meal. Then the two men filled their pipes and discussed their coming voyage while roughly salting the pig.

'I couldn't get a chart of Fiji,' said Bill, 'as Bully had locked his door when he went ashore. But it doesn't matter a bit. We have only to steer a course between S. and S.S.W. to hit the north end of Fiji. If we can strike the Nanuku Passage, I'll know my way right down to Levuka. They're a bad lot of natives in the northern part; but even if we have to land there, we'll get along all right without fighting, as I talk Fiji well. I had a Fiji girl for wife once; she came from just that part-from a little island called Thikombia.'

Just as they had finished salting the pork, and were about to stow the boat again, Charlie, looking up at the tree tops, remarked that the wind seemed to have fallen very light 'all of a sudden.'

Bill was on the alert at once. 'I'll have a look outside;' and he walked down to the mouth of the creek, from where he could have a good view of the sky and the sea horizon as well. He came back at a run.

'There's going to be a blow-a big blow from the eastward. Like as not it'll last for five days; three days for certain, anyway. We'll have to snug down here until it's over. Let's get the boat up as far as we can; there'll be a thundering big sea rolling right into the creek before night. Heavy rain is coming too, and we'll have to house in and weather it out.'

His suggestions were carried out as quickly as possible. Everything movable was first taken out of the boat, which was hauled still further up the little creek, and the stores were carried up to the fallen tree, and placed under its buttress, on the dry leaves which covered the ground. Then, leaving Charlie at the camp, Tom and Bill set off in search of fallen coco-nut branches to make a roofing. In an hour they had collected enough, and Bill at once set to work to make thatching, which he did with such speed and cleverness that Tom was lost in admiration at his resourcefulness. By four o'clock in the afternoon they had made the buttress of the fallen maso'i into a perfectly rainproof house, open to the westward, and protected at the back from the coming gale by the mighty trunk of the tree itself.

By this time the atmosphere had become intensely close and oppressive, and every now and then a warm gust of wind would sway the branches overhead. The calls of the forest birds had ceased, but vast numbers of ocean birds came flying in from seaward, filling the air with their hoarse, screaming notes.

'It's coming presently,' said Bill to Tom; 'don't you hear the sea making a booming noise? It always does in these places when it is coming on to blow from the eastward. When the natives of the Tokelau⁴ Islands hear the sea make that sound, they know it means heavy weather from the eastward or the northward, and always haul up their canoes and secure their houses from the matagi afa,⁵ as they call it.'

Before Tom could answer there came a droning, humming sound from the sea, and then a wild and deafening clamour, as the first squall of the coming hurricane smote the island, and ripped and tore its way through the forest.

'That's the first lot,' shouted Bill in Tom's ear; 'now we'll get some rain, and after that another squall or two and more rain, and then it'll settle down to business properly, and blow like forty thousand cats yowling at once. I'm glad we put in here.'

It certainly did settle down to business properly, for before another hour had passed the wind was blowing with almost hurricane force, and the sea was a succession of seething, foaming billows, which, dashing furiously against the eastern shore of the island, sent their spume and spray in a continuous misty shower, high up among the swaying and crashing branches of the trees half a mile inland.

Sitting under the shelter of the great tree, Tom and his comrades listened to the howling of the storm with feelings of the utmost serenity, for they were completely protected from its force.

'Let us light a fire,' said Bill, picking up a tomahawk; 'the smoke of fifty fires wouldn't be noticed now, and we can cook the pork and fish.'

The dead tree itself furnished plenty of firewood, and presently Bill and Tom had cut quite a pile; then the former went to the shore with a bag, and returned with it half filled with large, rough stones.

'I'll show you how we cook in the South Seas, Mr. Wallis,' he said, as he turned out the stones and began to dig out a shallow hole in the soft soil just in front of their shelter. This done, he lit a fire in the centre of the hole, laid a lot of thick pieces of wood across, and then piled the stones on top.

Then as the fire blazed up and began to heat the stones, he and Charlie took the four quarters of pork, cut them up into smaller pieces, wrapped each portion in wide green leaves and placed them aside; the fish were simply disembowelled without being scaled, and then neatly parcelled round with coconut leaf, the crab being treated in the same manner. In the course of an hour the stones, at white heat, fell into the depression, and were spread out evenly by means of a stick, the pork and fish placed on them, and then the whole lot quickly covered up by layers of thick heavy leaves, on top of which again was placed a covering of loose soil.

Whilst waiting for the food to cook, Tom and the others made their way through the forest to the nearest point overlooking the sea. The sky was grey and sullen, and the sea, a mile or so out, presented an appalling aspect; immediately under the lee of the island it was not so bad, though every now and then great billows would come rolling in to the very mouth of the creek, as Bill had foretold. Fotuna Island, although the nearest point, and but eight miles distant, was quite obscured from view, for, in addition to the salty spume which filled the air, there was a sharp, driving rain.

'Bill,' said Tom, 'where should we be now if we had kept on in the boat?'

Bill shook his head. 'We could only have done two things-either let her run before it, and most likely broach to and capsize, or put out a sea-anchor and tried to ride it out that way; but whatever we did we would have been carried away to the westward, and there's no land that way, except the New Hebrides-a matter of more than a thousand miles. I can tell you, sir, that it's lucky for us we left the Leonie without any water. If we had had water in the boat, I should have kept on.'

Returning to the camp before darkness set in, the oven was opened, and the three made another hearty meal by the light of a blazing fire. The two piglets were partially freed by being tethered with a bit of spun yarn to a hind leg. The boat was seen to, and then, spreading out the sail on the ground inside the hut, Tom and his comrades lay down and slept, undisturbed by the clamour of the sea and the moaning of the wind.