“Crack! crack!” Hillary had fired his revolver to make sure. He was taking no risks. Old bapa’s voice was still shouting lustily, till his words echoed in the mountains: “Putih bini! The Rajah’s beautiful bunga bini!” And though the top of the dusky Papuan’s head had been blown off, and Ulysses had given a muffled oath and told Hillary to jump into the canoe and not stand there on the beach writing poetry, those dreadful words echoed in the young apprentice’s brain—for he knew the meaning of them.
Hillary, recovering his mental equilibrium, turned to embark, and was helped by a shove from the irritated Ulysses into the canoe.
In a moment the paddles were splashing. They were off! The covey of canoes shot out into the silent waters of the forest-locked bay! In a quarter of an hour they had all safely reached the decks of the hospitable Sea Foam.
“Clear off, you niggers,” said Ulysses, as the clamouring natives received payment for the job in tins of condensed milk, sugar, tea and tobacco plug. But still they clamoured for more! In no time Ulysses had picked up a deck broom and cleared them over the side, back into their canoes. In less than an hour the Sea Foam was stealing along the coast to the north-west.
It appeared that Samuel Bilbao had got wind that the North German steamer Lubeck was about due from Apia, bound for the ports of German New Guinea along the western coast. The Sea Foam was right dead in the trading course. He was anxious to get Hillary and Gabrielle off the Sea Foam in case of trouble. Ulysses was no fool: he well knew that the original skipper of the Sea Foam would not stagnate in Bougainville, but would make a hue-and-cry and seek Government help to trace the whereabouts of his vessel. Bilbao loved liberty, and the idea of languishing for five or ten years in some island calaboose (jail) or in Darlinghurst, New South Wales, a punishment that would not be out of place in the verdict of the kindest judge and jury extant, made him anxious to seek the outer seas. Consequently, before dawn the Sea Foam once more dropped anchor, under the cover of dark, some miles to the east of Astrolabe Bay.
“Come along, boy, now’s yer chance. Bring the gal forward,” said Ulysses, as he put his hand to his brow and scanned the sea horizon.
“What’s the matter?” whispered Gabrielle, as she stepped forward, half recovering from the stupor that had made her fall asleep as she had sobbed in Hillary’s arms under the awning aft. Hillary, who had hardly spoken a word to her during the three hours they had been on board the Sea Foam, said: “We are going to leave the Sea Foam. Our friend here has got to fly, to go a voyage that we cannot take.” Hillary said no more. He could not very well explain to the girl, especially in her distressed condition, how Samuel Bilbao had obtained possession of the Sea Foam and that now that Gabrielle had been rescued from the kidnapper, Macka, he must sail her to remote isles where he could strand her, make a bolt, or do anything he liked except go back to Bougainville. Indeed, Ulysses, Hillary and the bilious, haunted mate had planned the whole programme before they had first dropped anchor off Tumba-Tumba. Ulysses knew that Hillary could easily obtain a passage from Astrolabe Bay for the Admiralty Isles, and then again ship for Bougainville. And so it happened that at the first flush of dawn, when all the stars were taking flight, Samuel Bilbao put forth his big hand and gripped Hillary affectionately by the wrist: “Farewell, pal; good luck to ye.”
“Good-bye, Bilbao; and may good luck come to you,” said Hillary, with deep meaning and sincerity in his voice as he looked into the clear eyes of the Homeric sailorman.
“Awaie! O le Sona Gaberlel,” wailed sad Mango Pango, as she threw her arms affectionately round the white girl’s neck. She had known Gabrielle as a child in Bougainville. For a moment the two girls wept. It was a strange sight to see Mango Pango’s brown arms entwined with Gabrielle’s white arms as they bade each other farewell and wept together. They were only girls after all. Then the mate crept out of the shadows of the awning aft; he had worried so much over his share in stealing the Sea Foam and in helping to install Ulysses as skipper, and he had so reduced his frame, that he seemed to consist only of clothes and bones, a veritable skeleton of sorrow with a cheese-cutter on its skull. “Farewell, for ever, friends; farewell!” he almost sobbed, as his bones creaked. At hearing that melancholy voice, Samuel Bilbao, in his thunderous, inconsequential style, gave a loud guffaw and brought his fist down with wonderful artistic gentleness on the mate’s bowed form. Had Ulysses struck the mate with his usual forcible exuberance he would have surely doubled up as though he were no more than a bit of muslin wrapped round an upright skeleton.
Then Ulysses gently took hold of Gabrielle’s hand and said: “I knew yer brave old father years ago!” Then he added: “Good-bye, girl; he’s a good boy, he is.”