“I am,” answered our “Old Man,” stepping forward. “Name of Ephraim Brown. This here is my first officer, Mr Mark Temple, and this is Mr Cunnin’ham, my second officer.”
“Jerushy! First and second officers, eh?” exclaimed the stranger in a fine tone of irony. “My, but you air puttin’ on style, Cap’n, and no mistake! I’m plain Abner Slocum, cap’n and owner of the schooner Kingfisher, sailin’ out o’ Nantucket; and my first, second, third, and fourth mate is all rolled into one under the name o’ Dan’l Greene. That’s him—the red-headed feller in the Scotch cap helpin’ t’other ’un to roll up my schooner’s mains’l. Well, Cap’n Brown, I’ve took the liberty to come aboard your ship to ask what you happens to be doin’ here, if I ain’t presumin’ too much.”
“May I ask what business that is of your’n, Cap’n—eh—um—Slocum?” demanded Brown blandly.
“Cert’nly you may,” retorted Slocum, with elaborate politeness, which, however, vanished the next instant. “An’ it won’t take me half a second to answer ye,” he continued truculently. “It’s business o’ mine because this ’ere island, and everything in the sea for three mile round it, happens to belong to me—left me by my deceased brother-in-law, Abr’am Johnson. And I don’t want, and won’t have—you hear me!—won’t have nobody trespassin’ on my property. So the sooner you ’uns gits, the better it’ll be for all parties. And now I hopes you understan’s. And there’s another thing. By the all-fired smell o’ that island I reckon that you’ve been poachin’ on my pearl-’yster bank. Now, I dunno whether you knows it or not, but by the laws of the United States of Ameriky pearl poachin’ is felony, and the poacher is liable to be put away for ten years or so in Sing Sing. But I don’t want to be hard upon nobody; so if you’ll just hand over to me the pearls that you’ve poached, I’m agreeable to let ye all go free, and say nothin’ more about it.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated Brown, apparently overwhelmed by such royal clemency. “Well, then, I guess— But stop a minute; I sure was very near forgettin’ something. You say that this here island’s yours, eh? Well, then, I s’pose you’ve got your title deeds and all that to prove it, eh?”
“Title deeds be—” began Slocum, with an ugly snarl. Then he pulled himself up sharp. “I sure have, to hum,” he answered. “But natchrally I didn’t bring sich vallyable papers along with me, for fear of losin’ ’em. And then again I didn’t expect to find nobody here to dispute my title. See?”
“No,” said Brown, “I don’t see; and that’s a solid fact. What I do see is somethin’ like this here. I’m cruisin’ in the Pacific in this here schooner o’ mine, and one day we sights this here island, and comes in to have a look at it. We lowers a boat and pulls ashore, and what do we find? We finds that the place is uninhabited, with nary a sign that anybody’s ever set eyes on it before. Anyway, it’s uninhabited, and it’s miles and miles away from any other land; therefore it don’t belong to nobody, and accordin’ly I takes possession of it. So you see, Cap’n, you’re all wrong about it bein’ your’n. It’s mine; and if I was measly and cantankerous I’d prob’ly order you to take your schooner outer my harbour at once. But I ain’t that sorter man: I’m lib’ral and free-handed to a fault; I ain’t no greedy grab-all, not by a long chalk, so you may stay in this here harbour o’ mine so long as you’ve a mind to. But, you understan’, you ain’t none of yer to go ashore without my leave; an’—”
“Oh, shucks!” interrupted Slocum in sudden fury. “What d’ye mean by givin’ me that sort o’ mush? I tell ye that this island is mine, and I means to have it. And I means to have all the pearls that you’ve poached, too; and look ’e here, Mister, if you ain’t out o’ sight before nightfall, I’ll—I’ll—”
“Yes; you’ll—what?” demanded the skipper calmly, seeing that the other hesitated.
“Why, I’ll—I’ll blow you and your blamed schooner and all hands of you to blazes!” exploded Slocum.