“‘Give her biscuits,’ says Buck, ‘and there’s lots of bananas on board.’
“Off the mate goes and back he comes to the conference, but we could fix up nothing that night, Buck still holding out for a proper trial at Sydney, and we pointing out that English or American law would be sure to let a woman escape. It stood like that till next morning, when Buck, coming down to breakfast, says: ‘Boys, I’ve got an idea.’
V
“He’d struck an idea in the night of how to dispose of Tawela. Buck had a fine knowledge of the Kanaka mind, and when he’d explained his idea to us I allowed it was a peach, if what he said was true.
“Have you ever heard tell of the Swatchway—the Scours some call it? It’s an island, or more truly speaking a big lump of reef with half a dozen cocoanut trees on it lying south of the Australs about four hundred and fifty miles from the steamer track between Auckland and Tahiti. It’s got reefs round it all spouting like whales, and ships’ captains give it a big wide berth.
“Well, Buck’s plan was to land Tawela on the Scours; there’s water there according to the Pacific Directory, and Buck said he wasn’t going to maroon her without grub. He’d give her six months’ grub—canned. Bully beef and so on with biscuits in tins. If she starved herself to death in the middle of plenty then it wouldn’t be our fault. He said he’d come back in six months, and if she was alive he’d take her back home, said she was only an ignorant Kanaka and he reckoned six months’ punishment would fill the bill, and if she chose to kill herself, why, then it would be Providence not us that did the business.
“Ridley, at first go off, flew out against this till Buck quieted him, asking who was master of the schooner, and whether he wanted to be logged for insubordination; the course was changed to sou’-sou’-west and two days later we raised the Scours.
“There were six cocoanut trees there, all bearing, so we cut them down and brought the nuts on board, then we landed Tawela and her provisions with a can opener, showing her how to use it. There was a fresh water pond in the coral, so she couldn’t want for water, and there we left her.
“We made for Suva and sold that coral, not getting near the price we thought to, and then we ran a cargo to Auckland.
“I’d noticed for some time Buck wasn’t the man he used to be, and one night it come out. ‘I’ve got something on my mind,’ he says, ‘it’s that dam Kanaka. Can’t help thinking about her. My conscience is clear enough,’ he says, ‘for she deserved her gruel, but I can’t help thinking of her—wonder if she’s dead.’