On boarding the little craft, Marsh was much pleased with her, and during the day the business of transferring the vessel to her new owners was completed at the American Consulate, the money paid over, and the partners put in possession.
The same evening, Âli, a splendid diver, succeeded in finding and partly stopping the main leak, which was on the bilge on the port side, and preparations were made to sail early in the morning for Laulii.
The partners were seated in the little cabin, smoking, and talking over their plans for the future, when the former master and owner of the schooner came on board to see, as he said, “how they were getting on”.
He was a good-natured, intelligent old man, and had had a life-long experience in the South Seas. By birth he was a Genoese, but he was intensely proud of being a naturalised British subject, and, from his youth, having sailed under the red ensign of Old England. Marsh and Meredith made him very welcome, and he, being mightily pleased at having sold The Dove (as the schooner was called), and also having dined exceedingly well at the one hotel then in Apia, became very talkative.
“I can tell you, gentlemen, that The Dove, although she is not a new ship, is as strong and sound as if she were only just built. I have had her now for nearly thirteen years, and have made my little fortune by her, and I could kiss her, from the end of her jibboom to the upper rudder gudgeon. But I am an old man now, and want to go back to my own country to die among my people—or else”—and here he twisted his long moustaches and laughed hilariously—“settle down in England, and become a grand man like old General Rosas of South America, and die pious, and have a bishop and a mile-long procession at my funeral.”
The partners joined the old sailor in his laugh, and then Marsh said casually, and to make conversation:—
“By-the-way, Captain, where did you buy The Dove?”
“I didn't buy her, my bold breezy lads. And I didn't steal her, as many a ship is stolen in the South Seas. I came by her honestly enough.”
“A present?” said Meredith interrogatively.
“Wrong, my lad—neither was she a present” Then the ancient squared his broad shoulders, helped himself to some refreshment (more than was needed for his good) and clapping Marsh on the shoulder, said: “I'll tell you the yarn, my lads—for you are only lads, aren't you? Well, here it is:—