He soon returned with his violin, and it was a sight worth seeing to watch Samuel Bilbao’s face as Hillary obediently performed the songs that he asked him to play. And as Hillary played that strange man lifted and moved his hands in rhythmic style, half closed his big-lidded eyes, looking most sentimental, as he drank in the melody and huge sips of rum.
“Play that again! Bewtif-ool! You’re a genius,” he ejaculated, as the shellbacks who stood round looked into one another’s eyes in wonder to see a man who had confessed to such a past almost weep over an English song.
All was going merrily as a marriage bell in heathen-land when one by name Bill Bark appeared on the scene. He was a big gawk of a fellow, and lived mostly by cadging drinks. Going up to Hillary as he stood in the grog parlour playing his instrument, he deliberately knocked his bowing arm upwards.
“That’s a silly joke,” said the apprentice quietly. Then, as the aggressor used several foul epithets, Hillary continued: “You’re an awful fool if you really think that your disgusting language is more attractive to these men standing here than my violin playing.”
At this gracious compliment, paid to the listening shellbacks, traders and the three pretty native girls, the rough audience blushed. It really was said so politely, so courteously, and reflected such credit on their musical taste that one or two of them took a huge sip from their glasses and bowed to Hillary.
Bill Bark felt extremely wild at the laughter that followed that invisible blush, and then once more knocked Hillary’s bow-arm up, just as he had begun to play again.
“Why not be pleasant, friendly like?—though you’re not much of a catch, even to look at,” said Hillary in quiet tones as he stopped playing once more.
“’Ain’t ’e soft-o!” said Bill Bark, sotto voce, to three boiled-looking sailormen who sat on tubs itching to see a fight.
As for Ulysses, who was watching the whole proceeding quietly, his face was a study. He had not travelled the South Seas for nothing; he saw further ahead than all the brains of Bougainville put together. He was peering steadfastly into Hillary’s eyes. He seemed to be quite satisfied with what he found there, for he gave a tremendous guffaw, smacked his big knee and chuckled inwardly. He knew! Old Samuel Bilbao knew; “Knock the ass’s bow arm up again, Bill Bark! How dare he think your oaths are worse than his damned fiddling!”
Hillary noted the deep undertone of Ulysses’s voice as he roared forth that demand to the loafer, and the apprentice felt gratified to hear the subtle note, for it told him that Ulysses, at least, knew that true pluck is always humble.