“If you don’t care to listen to what I’ve got to say quietly, and while you are sober, I shall say it before such listeners as you will tremble to see. I’ve had enough of your capers, and I’ll have no more.”
“Now look here, Mr. Mate,” interrupted the agent, “this won’t do, you know. You mustn’t behave like this. You forget yourself.”
The mate’s blood grew hot. But he restrained himself with a mighty effort, and answered quietly—
“Oh no, I don’t, sir. I forget nothing. But that man there was drunk all the time the ship was in Levuka, and mad with the horrors half the way here, and if he’s going on the same way in Honolulu, I’m going to stop him, that’s all, if there’s any use in a British consul.”
The skipper looked at the agent in helpless fashion, and the agent, putting on a big official tone, said, “Now, Mr. Mate——”
But Mr. Jenkins stopped him, and said in a tone that carried conviction—
“Now, Mr. Agent, I have nothing to say to you at all. Only if Captain Swainson isn’t on board this ship to-morrow attending to his duty, it will be my business to know why, and the telegraph office is as free to me as to anybody else. That’s all I’ve got to say; and now I’ve my duties to attend to, and I wish you good day.”
And he turned on his heel, and left the pair to digest his words.
They got into a boat and went ashore, wondering what the outcome would be, while the mate’s orders flew like hail, and the ship was rapidly put in harbour trim, and the discharging gear got ready for transhipment of cargo. In this way the day passed rapidly, and Frank hardly had time to note the beauties of the island harbour wherein they lay until knock-off time, when the gentle native folk with soft caressing words came on board, bringing loads of gifts as they called them, but really gifts that called for a far greater return.
The four Hawaiians were now in their element among their fellows, and full of glee at being home again. They repaid with rich interest the kindly treatment they had received, and introduced the visitors with rapid outpourings of broken English. There was, however, one serious bar to any extended trade—no one had any money. Frank’s little store had all been spent in Levuka, and the sailors had not received a penny, although they had now nearly seven months’ wages due, and by unwritten ship law were entitled to liberty and a month’s wages. This, however, they could not get from the mate, they knew; and so they did not ask, hoping to get at the skipper some time when he was on board.