“In spite of Jake Dimball’s reputation for truthfulness, his story was not believed in the village of Second Westcock. It was voted altogether too improbable, from whatever side it was looked at. In fact, so profoundly incredulous were his fellow-villagers, that Jake could not even organize a bear-hunt. Some ten days later, however, his veracity received ample confirmation. A man out looking for strayed cattle in the woods not more than a couple of miles from Jake’s pasture, found a large bear lying dead in a cedar swamp. Examining the body curiously to find the cause of death, he was puzzled till he recalled Jake’s story. Then he looked at the dead brute’s throat. The mystery was solved; and the community was once for all convinced of the fighting qualities of the wooden leg.”
“That’s a good story,” said Magnus. “In a vague way it reminds me of one which is as unlike it as anything could well be. Mine is a tropical tale. Let the O. M. enter it as—
‘PERIL AMONG THE PEARLS.’
I got it at first-hand when I was in Halifax last autumn.
“In the tiny office of the ‘Cunarder’ inn the air was thick with smoke. The white, egg-shaped stove contained a fire, though September was yet young; for a raw night fog had rolled in over Halifax, making the display of bright coals no less comforting than cheerful. From the adjacent wharves came the soft washing and whispering of the tide, with an occasional rattle of oars as a boat came to land from one of the many ships.
“The density of the atmosphere in the office was chiefly due to ‘Al’ Johnson, the diver, who, when he was not talking, diving, eating, or sleeping, was sure to be puffing at his pipe. We had talked little, but now I resolved to turn off the smoke flowing from Johnson’s pipe by getting him to tell us a story. He could never tell a story and keep his pipe lit at the same time.
“Johnson was a college-bred man, whom a love of adventure had lured into deep-sea diving. He and his partner were at this time engaged in recovering the cargo of the steamer Oelrich, sunk near the entrance to Halifax harbor.
“I asked Johnson, ‘Do you remember promising me a yarn about an adventure you had in the pearl-fisheries?’
“‘Which adventure? and what pearl-fisheries?’ Johnson asked. ‘I’ve fished at Tinnevelli, and in the Sulu waters off the Borneo coast, and also in the Torres Strait; and wheresoever it was, there seemed to be pretty nearly always some excitement going.’
“‘Oh,’ said I, ‘whichever you like to give us. I think what you spoke of was an adventure in the Torres Strait.’