"Well, well! Maybe it will be best, 'specially as them natives are going to have a bit of a bust-up to-night. You mayn't like it, though I'm used to it. When do you set sail for your own island?"
"To-morrow at dawn."
"Oh!"
Mr. McKay looked up sharply. There was a strange sound about that "Oh!" The ex-pearler realised that the exclamation was a weak expression of regret, and hastened to explain.
"I thought as how you would be wanting fresh water, 'specially for your two young chaps. Make a day of it, and have a spell ashore. One more day won't make no difference like."
"Possibly not," assented Mr. McKay.
"Then there are yams and plantains. They'll be rare good for feverish fellows. You're welcome, you know."
"I'll see what the others say. So now, Blight, my son can row you ashore."
"This is a present, isn't it, boss?" asked Blight, pointing to the revolver that he had used to such good purpose at Ahii.
"Certainly, I gave it you," was the reply.