'Yes,' said the supercargo, shortly, as, without looking at the child, he took some papers from his pocket and began to read. His and her hearts' desire had never been granted, and so he hated to look at the child of another man.
'I wish this fellow would come,' he said presently, in an irritable tone, as he rose and walked to and fro.... Don't let that child paw you about like that, Nell.... Hallo, here he is at last.'
Fanning his heated brow with his broad hat of pandanus leaf, the trader stood in the doorway.
'Good morning. I'm sorry I was away when you came—'
A cry, half scream and half sob, came from the supercargo's wife, as, still holding the child in her arms, she swayed to and fro, and Melanie sprang to her side.
'Oh, Harry, it is Tom!' she said.
Then she sank back and lay upon the matted floor, with her head pillowed upon Melanie's bosom; and the child wailed in terror.
'What the hell is the matter?' said the big supercargo, striding forward to the trader and seizing him by the arm. Then he looked into Masters's face. 'By God, Masters, is it you? As heaven is my judge, I swear to you that we both thought you were dead!'
The trader's eyes met his in a long, searching glance, then turned to where the unconscious, figure of the white woman lay, supported in the arms of Melanie, who, with affrighted eyes, gazed appealingly to them both.
He reached out his hand to the other man. 'That's all right, Laurance. Let us go outside and talk. See, your wife has fainted, but Melanie will see to her.'