Going into his own cabin, he took a large handbag, threw into it his revolver and two boxes of cartridges, then carried it into the trade-room, and added half a dozen tins of the brand of tobacco which he knew Lacy liked, and then filled the remaining space with pint bottles of champagne. Then he whipped up a sheet or two of letter paper and an envelope from the cabin-table, thrust them into his coat pocket, and, bag in hand, stepped quickly on deck. The old mate was in his cabin, and had not heard anything.
"Give it to her, boys," he said to the crew, taking the steer-oar in his hand, and heading the boat towards a small fore-and-aft schooner lying half a mile away in the Matafele horn of the reef encircling Apia Harbour.
The four native seamen bent to their oars in silence, and sped swiftly through the darkness over the calm
waters of the harbour. The schooner showed no riding light on her forestay, but, on the after deck under the awning, a lamp was burning, and three men—the captain, mate, and boatswain—were playing cards on the skylight.
Otway jumped on deck, just as the men rose to meet him.
"Great Ascensial Jehosophat! Why, it's you, Mr. Otway?" cried the captain, a little clean-shaven man, as he shook hands with the supercargo. "Well, now, I was just wondering whether I'd go ashore and try and drop across you. Say, tell me now, hev you any good tinned beef and a case of Winchesters you can sell me?"
"Yes, both," replied Otway, shaking hands with the three in turn—they were all old acquaintances, especially Le Brun, the mate. "But come below with me, Revels; I've important business, and it has to be done right away—this very night."
Revels led the way below into the schooner's cabin, and at once produced a bottle of Bourbon and a couple of glasses.
"No time to drink, Revels.... All right, just a little, then. Now, tell me, do you want to make—and make it easy—five hundred pounds?"
"Guess I do."