“What’s your plan?” asked Davis.
“Well, it’s more’n a plan. I’ve been thinkin’ quick and come to the conclusion that we’ve got to get out of here, pronto, get me? More’n that, we’ve got to make for Rarotambu, that’s the German island between here and Papeete.”
“Why the deuce d’you want to go there?” asked Davis.
“There’s money waitin’ for us there,” replied Harman, “and I don’t want to touch at no French island.”
Davis put his paper behind him and filled a pipe. He knew that when Harman had one of his mysterious fits on, there was sure to be something behind it, some rotten scheme or another too precious to be disclosed till ripe. But he was willing enough to leave Mambaya and made no objections.
“How are you going to get down to Rarotambu,” he asked, “s’posing we decide to go?”
“I’ve worked out that,” said Harman. “You know that copra schooner that’s been filling up in the bay? She’s off to ’Frisco, touching at Papeete, leavin’ to-night. Wayzegoose, he’s her skipper, I met him ten minutes ago when I was workin’ out my plans, and he’ll turn aside for us and drop us at Rarotambu for two hundred dollars, passage money.”
“Not me,” said Davis. “Him and his old cockroach trap, why, I’d get a passage on the mail boat for a hundred dollars.”
“Maybe,” said Harman, “but I don’t want no mail boats nor no Papeetes, neither. What are you kickin’ at? I’ll pay.”
“Well, I’ll come along if you’re set on it,” said Bud, “but I’m hanged if I see your drift. What’s the hurry, anyhow?”