As they ran the boat’s nose on to the beach, out from the groves to right and left stepped a dozen Kanakas armed with spears. Casting their spears on the sand, they trod on them whilst Sellers and his companion, walking up the beach with hands outstretched, greeted the chief man, bright with palm oil, absolutely naked, and adorned simply with half a willow-pattern soup plate worn as a pendant.
The Kanakas and the two whites seemed old friends, and the whole lot, after a moment’s chatter, disappeared into the groves, leaving Bud and Billy on the beach by the stranded boat.
“They’re off to the village,” said Harman. “Wonder what they’re up to? Bargainin’ most like over them guns.”
“What guns?” asked Davis.
“Them cases we left on deck, them’s guns, or my name’s not Billy Harman. There’s six guns in each of them cases, that’s thirty-six for the lot, and I expect Schumways will be askin’ old Catch-em-alive-o ten pound apiece for them in coin or shell—maybe in bêche-de-mer, for that’s as good as bank notes. That’s three hundred and sixty pounds and the durned things didn’t cost him sixty. I’ll bet——” He turned. Someone came breaking through the trees; it was Sellers.
“Hike off back to the ship and bring them cases,” cried Sellers, “the ones we’ve left on deck. If you can’t bring the whole six, bring four, and you can go back for the other two. Now then, you lazy sweeps, grease yourselves and get goin’.”
“Blast him!” said Davis as they pushed off across the inner lagoon towards the reef break leading to the outer reef channels sparkling blue in the sun.
“No use swearin’,” said Hannan, “it don’t cut no ice—— Bud, I’ve got them.”
“What do you mean?” asked Davis.
“Got ’em all in the fryin’ pan, b’gosh. It’s only jumped into my head this minute. Told you I’d get even with them at last, and now I’ve as good as done it.”