“I wouldn't have said that if I were you,” said Dawson, the other trader, nervously; “that fellow Larmer is bound to hear of it.”
“I am quite prepared,” Challoner replied quietly, “as you know, Dawson. Things cannot go on like this. I have never killed a man in my life, but to kill such a brute as Larmer would be a good action.”
The distance between Challoner's place and Kiti, where Larmer dwelt with his villainous associates, was but ten miles. Yet, although Larmer had now been living on the island for a year, Challoner had only once met and spoken to him.
During a visit which he (Challoner) had made to a little harbour called Metalanim, he had explored some very ancient ruins there, which were generally believed by the white uneducated traders to have been constructed by the old buccaneers, though the most learned antiquarians confess themselves puzzled to solve the mystery of their existence. But that these ruins had been used as a depot or refuge of some sort by those who sailed the North Pacific more than two hundred years ago was evident, for many traces of their occupancy by Europeans had been found by the few white men who had visited them.
It was Challoner's fortune to discover amid the mass of tangled vines and creepers that grew all over the walls, and even down in the curious chambers, an old brass cannon. With the aid of some of his native friends he succeeded in dragging it forth and conveying it in his boat to his house, where, upon cleaning it, he found it bore the Spanish arms over the date of its casting in Manila, in the year 1716. Much interested in this, he refused to sell the gun to several whaleship captains, who each wanted to buy it. He would sell it, he thought, to better advantage by sending it to Australia or Europe.
Soon after its discovery he had set his people to work to clean and polish it One day he saw coming towards him a man, who from his huge figure he knew must be Larmer, the beachcomber.
“I say, boss,” said the man roughly, “let's have a look at that cannon you've found, will yar?”
“There it is,” said Challoner quietly, pointing to his boat-house, but not deigning to accompany the beachcomber and show him the weapon.
Larmer made a brief but keen inspection, and then walked into the trader's room and, unasked, sat down.