“I don’t know,” she answered gayly as she led the way toward home; “but the ‘Talofa’ is a schooner, and the natives believe she will come. And that’s a schooner.”
Her logic was not convincing to the midshipmen, but then they had not lived three years in Kapua. Schooners were not frequent visitors at Ukula.
CHAPTER III
PLOTTING FOR POWER
The Herzovinian consul sat upon his wide verandah gazing out upon the quiet bay of Ukula. His usually serene face wore a troubled look. Count Rosen paced the porch restlessly. His well-knit figure was becomingly clad in a military khaki riding suit, and he held a heavy rhinoceros hide whip in his hand. Consul Carlson was over fifty. Rosen was not over thirty, and appeared even younger.
Count Rosen was talking while Mr. Carlson listened with an unusual air of deference.
“When Kataafa was hurried here from Malut, the island of his exile, our foreign office expected you to have paved the way to make him king.” The speaker struck a picturesque stand in front of the consul’s chair. “Instead you have been fraternizing with these other consuls. The chief justice has you under his thumb. Is that the way to bring on a crisis?”
The Herzovinian consul swallowed a lump in his throat. It was hard to be taken to task by such a young man.
“Count Rosen,” he answered, a sudden spark of resentment coming into his small eyes, “if I have displeased the foreign office, I can resign.”
“Resign,” the count exclaimed disgustedly. “Why talk of resigning with such an opportunity before you? Have you no ambition? Will you permit Herzovinia to be robbed of what naturally belongs to her? We have worked long and spilled Herzovinian blood in order to acquire these beautiful rich islands. And with the end in sight will you resign?”
Mr. Carlson roused himself from his dejection.