A passing native had drawn his ire for some reason or another, and the redoubtable Seedbaum was storming at him. Then he kicked the native, and the latter, a big, powerful man, turned and ran.
“The coward!” said Mrs. Connart.
“I expect that chap ain’t a coward,” said Bowlby. “He’s just ’feared of Seedbaum. I reckon there’re some curious things in nature. I’ve seen a whole ship’s company livin’ in terror of a hazin’ captain. They could have hove him overboard and swore he fell over—for the after guard was as set against him as the fo’c’sle—but they didn’t. Just let themselves be driv’ like sheep and kicked like terriers. It’s the same with the Kanakas on this island, I expect.”
“He’s got a personal ascendancy over them,” said Connart.
“I reckon he’s got something like that,” said Captain Bowlby.
3
In a week they were settled down, and a few days later, the cargo having been landed and stored, the Golden Gleam took her departure.
They went down to the beach to see her off; they watched her topsails vanish beyond the reef, and they returned, feeling very much alone in the world. A good man is warmth and light even to the souls of sinners. Captain Bowlby was illiterate; his language was free; he was not a saint, but he was a good, human man right through. The sea turns out characters like this just as she turns out shells. It is a pity that they have to cling to the ocean and the beaches; the cities want them.
“I feel just as if I had lost a near relation,” said Mrs. Connart.
“Well, we’ll have him back soon,” said her husband. “It’s up to us now to get the copra to give him a cargo.”