Then the hushed voices subsided. Once again came the wild crescendos of ribald song from those lips, as the shanty trembled to the earthquake of some crashing finale of a wild sea-chantey and thumping sea-boots.
“Grimes, have another,” said I. So we drank again, and then again.
What a night of adventure and romance that was, for another came out of the night like an apparition and startled us.
I rose to go, and as I wished Grimes good-night two little native children, peeping in at the shanty door like imps of darkness, shouted “Kaolah!” and suddenly turned and bolted in fright as I tossed them a coin. I turned to see what was up, and there stood Waylao.
I noticed that her eyes had a wild look in them. On her arm hung the old wicker-work basket wherein she always placed her mother’s stores. I suppose she had come to the shanty to do some shopping, for Ranjo sold everything from bottled rum to tinned meat. I guessed that her mother had sent her off hours before, with those usual strict injunctions to hurry back home with the soap and the flask of rum.
Some of those rough shellbacks had known her since she could first toddle down to the beach. None were surprised to see her at that late hour. She was as wild as Tai-o-hae itself to them. She had even gone up into the mountains when the shellbacks had bombarded the cannibal chief Mopio’s stronghold; yes, when he had captured Ching Chu the Chinaman and bolted off with him as though he were a prize sucking pig. They had found the Chinaman trussed like a fowl, the wooden fire blazing, while that half-mad cannibal chief, who was the horror of the little native children in the villages, was about to club his half-paralysed victim. But Uncle Sam had whipped out his revolver and blown off the top of the cannibal’s head, in the nick of time.
“Hallo, girlie, how goes it?” “Give us a curl,” “Ain’t she growing,” said the beachcombers.
“Why, Wayee, you’re getting quite a woman,” said Uncle Sam, as he chucked her affectionately under her pretty chin.
“Give us a dance, there’s a good kiddie,” said another.
“What-o!” reiterated the whole crew, as they lifted their rum mugs and drank to those innocent-looking eyes.