Carey Cranford saw the great treasures in pearls, pearl shell, and valuables collected from wrecked vessels in the course of some twenty years, during which Dan Mallam had reigned paramount in a lonely island off the north-west coast of Australia, for Jackum piloted the steamer there in triumph, and looked proud of his achievement, while he pointed out everything he thought of value to Carey, and could not understand the lad’s hanging back from helping himself to articles he did not want.
The steamer was nearly laden with valuable pearl shell and the boxes of pearls hoarded up by the old beachcomber, who was supposed to have escaped from Norfolk Island with a party of his fellows who had all passed away.
These must have been enough, with their insurance, to quite compensate the company for their loss. In fact, voyage after voyage was made to the Chusan and to Jackum’s island during the following twelve months on salvage business, and with excellent results.
But we have nothing to do with that. It is enough to state that the boats on the night of the wreck had been carried in safety to a western Australian port; that the doctor rapidly began to mend; that Carey’s injured chest was doctored by a sick man; and that Jackum wanted badly to follow the young adventurer when the time came for saying good-bye, and was only stopped by its being impressed upon him that he was King of Pearl Island now, and was to go on collecting till Carey came to see him some day on a voyage with his father, to trade for all his copra, shell, and pearls.
Jackum nodded and grinned.
“Get big lot. You come some day,” he cried.
“Some day, Jackum, if my father will fit out a vessel.”
“Iss,” said Jackum. “No Big Dan. Killa feller. Mumkull eberybody. You come sit along Jackum. Jackum show Car-ee how fro boomerang next time. Ha, ha!”
The last Carey saw of him then was the tall black figure waving his boomerang as he stood up in his canoe, before showing his teeth and then hurling the weapon, to fly far after the retreating steamer, to curve up and return—to the canoe—not quite, for it dropped into the sea some fifty feet away, to be lost somewhere in the lovely submarine gardens of the reef along by whose side the steamer glided.
A fortnight later, with the doctor steadily gaining strength, the vessel glided into Moreton Bay. Then Brisbane was soon reached; but the message had flown before on wire to the lonely watcher, waiting for the son she would not believe to be dead, month after month, till three-quarters of a year had passed.