In the crowded bar of the café a woman was laughing and talking gaily. Something made her look up. She put her hand to her eyes and walked slowly from the room.
As the two Englishmen walked slowly down to the wharf the handsome Captain S——— whistled cheerily, and asked Chester on board to hear him and his steward play violin and piccolo. “By God, S———,” said Chester, “you have no heart!”
“Right you are, my lad. She made it into stone. But it won't hurt her as it did me. You see, these Frenchmen here pay well for new beauty; and women love money—which is a lucky thing for many men.”
THE FEAST AT PENTECOST
There was a row in the fo'c's'le of the Queen Caroline, barque, of Sydney, and the hands were discussing ways and means upon two subjects—making the skipper give them their usual allowance of rum, or killing him, burning the ship, and clearing out and living among the natives.
Half of the crew were white, the others were Maories, Line Islanders, and Hawaiians. The white men wanted the coloured ones to knock the skipper and two mates on the head, while they slept. The natives declined—but they were quite agreeable to run away on shore with their messmates.
The barque was at anchor at one of the New Hebrides. She was a “sandalwooder,” and the captain, Fordham, was, if possible, a greater rascal than any one else on board. He had bargained with the chief of the island for leave to send his crew ashore and cut sandalwood, and on the first day four boatloads were brought off, whereupon Fordham cursed their laziness. One, an ex-Hobart Town convict, having “talked back,” Fordham and the mate tied him up to the pumps and gave him three dozen.
Next day he started the boats away during fierce rain-squalls, and told the men that if they didn't bring plenty of wood he would “haze” them properly.