"Thanks. But what is the name of the port? I presume we are still in Australia?"
"We are. This is Broome, the headquarters of the pearling fleet, and the hottest hole on earth."
"Oh, I think I'll survive till the Australind comes along," I said, as indifferently as I could; and, after seeing my baggage on shore, I followed out the captain's directions, and finally entered a well-lit saloon, in which the strains of a gramaphone were evidently causing much appreciation. No one seemed to notice me as I made my way forward. All the occupants were clustered round the gramaphone and indulging in various comments as to the correctness of the song it was giving forth. There were about ten men in the party, all of whom were white. Some were garbed in the most approved London clubland fashion, while others were very scantily clad indeed; but the careless manner in which handfuls of sovereigns were occasionally flung down on the counter showed that money at least was not much of a consideration with any of them.
"Hallo, boys! here's a stranger," suddenly cried one, seeing me looking on interestedly, and instantly a general move was made in my direction.
"Name it, boss," spoke the bar-tender, coming forward; "that is, if you is not an S—— 's man."
"What will happen if I am?" I inquired, slightly curious to know what an S—— 's man was.
"You'll get fired; that's all——"
"Shut up, Bob," reproved a tall, broad-shouldered man. "This is the master-pearlers' club," he continued, addressing me, "and as a stranger you are very welcome to whatever it affords."
"Thank you, but I understood that this was Roderick's Hotel?"