It appeared that, before the schooner sailed, Benbow had had a hint that Waylao had been in Suva. I never found out how he got this information, probably he had heard it from some sailor who called in at Tai-o-hae when the Sea Swallow came into port again.
After I bade the native woman good-night I went straight away towards the grog shanty to see the Ranjos again. In their little bar parlour I heard a full account of the sailing of the Bell Bird. It appeared that the whole township had been agog with the excitement of the start. The whole population had turned out to see the beachcombers off. Bill Grimes, Uncle Sam and nearly all who had attended the council at Benbow’s cottage were on board as the crew. Ranjo said: “There never was such a hell of a pandemonium of farewell cheers down on the beach before as when Benbow put to sea with my Tai-o-hae customers on his ship—and fourteen casks of the best rum in the cuddy!”
Some of the island folk sneered and said Benbow had gone daft.
“What a fuss to make about a sinful girl!” said some.
Others shook their heads about the ways of the world and of Benbow’s wisdom in sailing away on such a mad search with such a desperately bad crew. The Tai-o-hae Missionary Times devoted a special article to the sailing of the Bell Bird. Its tone was sarcastic: it said something about Helen of Troy in the Southern Seas and of the benefit she had conferred on the island by ridding Tai-o-hae of so many wastrels.
Many ventured their opinions as to the ultimate result of the voyage. Some said that they would safely return with Waylao, others shook their heads as though they were dubious about it. But not one, I am sure, prophesied or dreamed of the far-off port that Benbow and his crew had set sail for.
But to return to my own immediate experiences. As soon as I saw a chance of speaking to Mrs Ranjo alone I took her aside and asked for news of John L——.
“Does L—— still come to the shanty and imbibe?” I asked.
I asked this question because I had walked under the palms to and fro to that grog bar quite twenty times, hoping that I might meet Pauline. I knew that so long as her father had a chance of getting drunk the daughter would be seeking his whereabouts.
When Mrs Ranjo informed me that he was laid up, crippled with gout, I felt truly sorry. I must confess that I was not so sorry about his gout and suffering as at the thought that he could not get tight at the shanty and so give me a chance of meeting his daughter.