A few old sea-dogs were still lurking about and arguing over their quart pots, talking softly as they saw Ulysses settle himself for the night. Hillary did not heed them, they were mostly muddled and not curious. Going straight up to the big man, he said softly: “I say, I’d like to speak to you outside for a moment, if you’ve no objection.”
It wanted a bit of pluck to make a bold bid to that huge adventurer.
Ulysses had nicely settled his recumbent form and closed his eyes when Hillary thus addressed him. For a moment the big face rested on the settee pillow, then slowly the head turned, the unflinching eyes stared hard at the young apprentice, the massive, curly head slowly lifted. Did the young whipper-snapper have the cursed cheek to want his change back? Such was the apparent thought that flashed through Ulysses’ mind as his eyes fixed themselves on Hillary. But in a moment he saw the earnest expression in the young apprentice’s face and with marvellous instinct gathered that Hillary’s request was worth granting. “Any money in it?” he whispered in a thunderous undertone. For a moment Hillary looked abashed and rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully. It was the last thing on earth he had expected to hear from that hero of the seas.
“Maybe there’s a lot of money in it,” he quietly replied. That reply acted like magic on Ulysses’ weary limbs. In less than two minutes they had passed outside the shanty.
When they arrived outside the wooden South Sea pub the large, low yellow moon lay on the horizon, staring across the wide Pacific. The scene could not have been staged with better effect. The background of the mountains in Bougainville, the tin roofs of the township, moonlight falling on the sheltering palms and over the small doors of the huts, gave an individual touch to the whole scene. The landscape looked like some mighty oil-painting showing two men standing on a silent shore staring out to sea at the full moon. Then the two figures, engaging in deep conversation, once more began to walk to and fro.
As Hillary walked up and down with Ulysses he told the man all that troubled him, and begged his assistance in rescuing Gabrielle from the hands of a kidnapper.
“You don’t mean that golden-haired girl that I caught yer with? The girl I saw swinging on the banyan-tree when I first had the enormous pleasure of spying on ye?” said Ulysses, as he towered over the apprentice till Hillary’s five feet eleven inches appeared quite diminutive.
“Yes, that was Gabrielle, that’s whom I’m talking about. She’s missing! Gone! Stolen! He’s got her, a blasted heathen missionary! He’ll take her away to New Guinea and put her in his tambu harem in some devilish coastal town! He will sacrifice her purity to his filthy desires! God in heaven!”
For a moment his companion stared at the flushed face of the youth, who had waxed so grandiloquent as emotion got the better of him. Then he said:
“Are ye drunk, boy?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he smacked the apprentice on the back and looked into his eyes. Then he gave a loud guffaw that echoed to the hills and made Hillary look round in apprehension. Next he swelled his chest, tugged his mighty moustachios and said: “Don’t ye worry, lad, I’m yer man!”