“You must do something,” said Old Bee, “and do that something soon, Frenchy my Bo, for I can’t stay here for ever at seven pound a day!”
“Here’s luck!” said the gentleman thus addressed, raising his eyebrows significantly over his glass. There must have been further interchange of signals, for Bibo turned to me and in a very kind and flattering way requested me to go back to the ship. The fact was, he said, that it was not right to leave her altogether to Babcock, and it would go far to lessen his own anxiety if there were another white man on board. I ought to know pretty well by this time what Kanakas were like, he continued, and how little the crew would care if they laid the bark ashore or drowned her in a squall. He put it to me, he said, as a personal favour to himself. To such a request I could, of course, make but one answer, though it went sorely against the grain for me to return again on board; the more especially when I found the reliable Babcock snoring on a hatch. I had only to look from him to the boatswain’s leathery, watchful face to realise how completely I had been tricked. The ship was as safe under Johnny’s care as she would have been in Brisbane harbour, and I could see that he was handling her with the most admirable skill. My only complaint was that he acquitted himself far too well, for in the humour that then possessed me I would gladly have seen him pile her on the reef.
It was hot on board, and the day seemed endless, so slowly did the hours drag on. Three or four times the boat came off from shore and returned again. At one time it brought out old Tom Ryegate, together with our whole party, who at once went below. Afterwards they sent the steward up for Johnny and two or three of the hands to come down. I felt too sulky and ill used to pay much attention to all this coming and going, though in the bottom of my heart I could not resist a certain pang of curiosity. I doubted not that my companions were up to some mischief, the nature of which I was at a loss to understand; but the way they put their heads together was enough to inspire me with alarm; and I did not like at all this calling in of the crew. I tried to sound Johnny after they had pulled back to the settlement, but he turned a deaf ear to me and pretended not to understand my questions. I tried Lum with like ill success, finding him also (though from a different reason) cross and uncommunicative.
“White man all same devil,” he said, and went on kneading his dough.
Supper-time came, and Babcock and I had the table to ourselves; he was very garrulous and tiresome, and I suspect he had been nipping on the sly, for he giggled a lot, and sometimes talked foolishly to himself. Altogether I was sick of the ship and of Babcock and of my own company; and when I came on deck after supper, and saw the shore lights twinkling through the palms, and the torches of the fishers on the roof, I felt I could no longer control my impatience.
Slipping down the gangway, I signalled to one of the canoes that hung about the ship, and a few minutes later I was landed for the second time near old Tom Ryegate’s store. Needless to say, I gave it a wide berth, for the last thing I wished was to run across any of my shipmates. I was spied out by some little children playing tag in the dark, who took me by the hands and led me about the settlement. I was conducted into half a dozen houses, and given green nuts to drink, with here and there a present of a hat or a mat or some pearl-shells. I do not know how long I had been wandering about in this fashion—but it must have been nearer two hours than one—when I was suddenly startled by a roar of voices and a sound of scurrying feet. In an instant we were all rushing in the direction of the noise, falling and stumbling over one another in our excitement. At the church I found a crowd assembled, buzzing like bees, and crushing frantically against the unglazed windows for a sight of what was taking place within. I jostled my way round to the door, where I was surprised to find our brawny boatswain Johnny, together with several of our men, keeping the other natives at bay. They would have kept me out, too, if they had dared, but I pushed boldly past them and entered the building.
It was all but empty. At the farther end, by the light of a tawdry hanging lamp, I perceived that some sort of service or ceremony was in progress, and I was thunderstruck to recognise in the little congregation there assembled every member of the shore party. Old Bee and the captain were standing on one side, the latter smoking a cigar and spitting from time to time on the coral floor; next them, his benignant hair all awry, was Tom Ryegate, leaning unsteadily against the wall, and wiping his eyes on a trade handkerchief. A burly Kanaka whom I had no difficulty in recognising as Jimmy Upolu, the native pastor, was reciting something out of a book over the heads of Frenchy and a woman, who both knelt before him. Frenchy’s costume had suffered not a little since the morning; it was dirty and stained, and the collar of his coat was torn half-way down his back, as though some one had seized him there with a smutty hand. In an instant I seemed to see the whole thing. I ran forward with my heart in my mouth, and even as I did so there rose from the outside the strangled cry of a man, followed by a scuffle and the noise of blows.
The woman beside Frenchy sprang to her feet, and as she turned towards me I recognised the ashen face of Elsie Ryegate. Frenchy caught her in his arms, and swearing beneath his breath, forced her down again beside him; while the pastor, not a whit abashed, rattled on briskly with the service.
He soon came to an end, closing his book with a flourish, as much as to say the ceremony was over. Frenchy rose to his feet, still with one arm round Elsie’s waist.
“How much?” he asked.