So Gilbert lived, toiled and died, the sincerest and most successful missionary of the far South Seas.
CHAPTER XXVI
A Deck-hand on Board the Eldorado—A Socialist—A Fo’c’sle Fight—Buying an Island—Apemama—King Tembinok—The Eldorado sails—Tembinok’s Palace—Seeking the Enemy—The captured Chief—The Hurricane
IN Sydney long ago I shipped as deck-hand on board the Eldorado, a schooner bound for Fiji and the Gilbert Groups. The first night out we squared the yards; the wind was aft and the canvas bellied out steadily as we dipped along under the stars at a good eight knots.
On board, as saloon passenger, was a Mr Milburn, a socialistic crank of the theorist school. He was aboard on the outlook for an island which he could buy and which would suit a socialistic colony, and he had got it into his head that Apemama was a likely spot to start his scheme. The skipper, a Yankee with long face and billygoat whiskers, was mostly drunk, and would stand on the poop aft, telling Milburn that the King of Apemama was an old pal of his and he knew for a positive fact that he wanted to sell his dominion. Milburn’s blue eyes shone with delight as the skipper listened to him and kept saying: “The very thing, the very spot! I guess you’ll be glad yer shipped aboard here when yer see the isles,” and then he would smack Milburn on the back, for they were having high jinks in the cabin aft. Milburn had plenty of money and gave it freely to the skipper, who could hardly conceal his satisfaction as he opened bottle after bottle of whisky and gave us cigars.
We arrived in due course at Suva, Fiji. Milburn went ashore and looked around and was delighted with all he saw. The skipper kept close to him and said: “I guess if you like this d——d place you’ll go daft with joy when you see Apemama.” We only stayed two days at Fiji and then left for the group of islands of which Apemama was one. With fair winds we made a quick trip and soon dropped anchor off the lagoon isle. Milburn, through a telescope, gazed enthusiastically across the lagoon and on to the atolls and groves of distant waving coco-palms; the skipper stood beside him and, as Milburn gazed, smacked him on the back and nudged him in the ribs, saying: “I guess that’ll suit you right enough, eh?” He told Milburn to leave the purchasing to him and the isle would soon be Milburn Isle, the socialistic El Dorado of the South Seas.
I instinctively knew that the skipper was on some scheme, and I had discovered that he was the biggest liar on earth and sea, so when he said that he knew that Milburn could purchase Apemama I had my own doubts; but Milburn was a bit soft, treated the skipper with drink and money in advance and had positive faith in his promises.
Later Milburn and I sat on the cabin settee and had a whisky each. We liked each other, for, to tell the truth, we were the only respectable members of polite society on board, for the crew was made up of two or three Americans or negroes, three Polynesians, a half-blood, a lascar and a Dutch American. I felt a bit out of sorts, for the night before there had been a terrible row in the fo’c’sle while the crew were sitting around their bench, shuffling and playing cards by the oil fo’c’sle lamp.
I was standing smoking and watching, when suddenly I was astonished to see them all jump off their feet and start a regular tribalistic battle; one had been caught cheating and they took sides. You never saw such a jumbled sight of struggling figures as the shadows of knives danced on the walls. A white man fell on top of a half-blood, who fastened his yellowish teeth into his opponent’s ear; he wouldn’t let go, and the white pounded away at his face with his clenched fists, as the half-blood tugged and chewed away at his ear. As the American punched him he cried out: “Yer-rrrr-rr-ip! Yerrr-rr-ip!” and the white man shouted: “You d——d —— —— ——,” and many more things, only to be described in dashes. A Chinaman who was shouting: “Kee-Honk! Chow k-rrr—Chrry!” suddenly fell, as an empty hundred-pound beef tub hit him behind the ear. He was buried overboard that same night; and what with one thing and another, as I said before, I was a bit out of sorts and glad of a little whisky for medicinal purposes. Milburn also was a bit shaky. The skipper had shot the tip of the half-blood’s chin off and then the matter ended, and all I got out of it was a lost tooth and the knowledge that white men in a passion get purply red in the neck and foamy at the mouth, and that the eyes of the savage races turn yellowish and their brown lips whitish.