Schumer sent him below for two deck chairs which he had seen in the saloon; they were placed close to the wheel, and the white men, taking their seats, and with the rifles across their knees, Schumer threw his old panama hat on the deck about fifteen paces away from where he was sitting, and ordered all hands aft for a palaver.
No man was to take a step beyond the hat.
They came up, some of them still smoking, some chewing, and all evidently wondering what was up, and what the bearded white man with the fixed, determined face had to say to them.
Though he could speak in the dialect of the Solomons, he made Joe his interpreter.
He asked the labor hands first what wages the recruiter had promised them for plantation work.
They were very explicit on this point. They were each to receive in trade goods, tobacco, knives, and so forth what would be the equivalent of about seven pounds a year. They were, of course, to be fed and looked after.
Schumer, taking a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket, made calculations. Then he addressed them through Joe. He said that he and Floyd were owners of this island, which was a very pleasant place, as they could see for themselves, with plenty of food, both grown here and brought to them regularly by a ship, which they also owned.
To allow this to sink into their intelligence, he proceeded to roll a cigarette; when he had lit it, he went on.
He would offer them work here, and a happy life, and a return home at the end of a year, if they desired to return. The work was very easy, and play, compared to plantation work; it was simply diving for shellfish. They could all dive?
A flashing of white teeth answered this question in the affirmative.