“This,” he said, “is the sum I agreed to pay Captain Peese to land me on any island of my choice in the Paumotu Archipelago, and this unsigned order here is in his favour on the Maison Brander of Tahiti for a similar sum.”
Signing the paper he pushed it with the money over to Peese, and then went on:—
“I assure you, Mr. Lupton, that this is the only transaction I have ever had with Captain Peese. I came to him in Tahiti, hearing he was bound to the Paumotu Group. I had never heard of him before, and after to-day I will not, in all human probability, see him again.”
“Perfectly correct, my dear sir,” said Peese. “And now, as our business is finished, perhaps our dear friend, Lupton, will save me the trouble of lowering a boat by taking you ashore in his own, which is alongside.”
Five minutes later and Lupton and the stranger were seated in the boat.
“Good-bye, my dear Lupton, and adios my dear Mr. Brown. I shall ever remember our pleasant relations on board my humble little trading vessel,” cried the renowned Peese, who, from former associations, had a way of drifting into the Spanish tongue—and prisons and fetters—which latter he once wore for many a weary day on the cruiser Hernandez Pizarro on his way to the gloomy prison of Manilla.
The boat had barely traversed half the distance to the shore ere the brigantine's anchor was hove-up and at her bows, and then Peese, with his usual cool assurance, beat her through the intricate passage and stood out into the long roll of the Pacific.
When Lupton, with his “walking bone bag,” as he mentally called the stranger, entered his house, Màmeri, his bulky native wife, uttered an exclamation of pity, and placing a chair before him uttered the simple word of welcome Iorana! and the daughters, with wonder-lit star-like eyes, knelt beside their father's chair and whispered, “Who is he, Farani?”
And Lupton could only answer, “I don't know, and won't ask. Look to him well.”