“My God, it’s strange!” cried Davis. “There’s some men would call that accidental: not me. That——” and he drew his thick finger under the music—“that’s what I call Providence.”
“You said we had a chance,” said Herrick.
“Yes, sir!” said the captain, wheeling suddenly face to face with his companion. “I did so. If you’re the man I take you for, we have a chance.”
“I don’t know what you take me for,” was the reply. “You can scarce take me too low.”
“Shake hands, Mr. Herrick,” said the captain. “I know you. You’re a gentleman and a man of spirit. I didn’t want to speak before that bummer there; you’ll see why. But to you I’ll rip it right out. I got a ship.”
“A ship?” cried Herrick. “What ship?”
“That schooner we saw this morning off the passage.”
“That schooner with the hospital flag?”
“That’s the hooker,” said Davis. “She’s the Farallone, hundred and sixty tons register, out of ’Frisco for Sydney, in California champagne. Captain, mate, and one hand all died of the small-pox, same as they had round in the Paumotus, I guess. Captain and mate were the only white men; all the hands Kanakas; seems a queer kind of outfit from a Christian port. Three of them left and a cook; didn’t know where they were; I can’t think where they were either, if you come to that; Wiseman must have been on the booze, I guess, to sail the course he did. However, there he was, dead; and here are the Kanakas as good as lost. They bummed around at sea like the babes in the wood; and tumbled end-on upon Tahiti. The consul here took charge. He offered the berth to Williams; Williams had never had the small-pox and backed down. That was when I came in for the letter-paper; I thought there was something up when the consul asked me to look in again; but I never let on to you fellows, so’s you’d not be disappointed. Consul tried M’Neil; scared of small-pox. He tried Capirati, that Corsican, and Leblue, or whatever his name is, wouldn’t lay a hand on it; all too fond of their sweet lives. Last of all, when there wasn’t nobody else left to offer it to, he offers it to me. ‘Brown, will you ship captain and take her to Sydney?’ says he. ‘Let me choose my own mate and another white hand,’ says I, ‘for I don’t hold with this Kanaka crew racket; give us all two months’ advance to get our clothes and instruments out of pawn, and I’ll take stock to-night, fill up stores, and get to sea to-morrow before dark!’ That’s what I said. ‘That’s good enough,’ says the consul, ‘and you can count yourself damned lucky, Brown,’ says he. And he said it pretty meaningful-appearing too. However, that’s all one now. I’ll ship Huish before the mast—of course I’ll let him berth aft—and I’ll ship you mate at seventy-five dollars and two months’ advance.”
“Me mate? Why, I’m a landsman!” cried Herrick.