"Would it not be good political economy," Bumpo whispered back,
"if we salted the able seaman and ate him instead? I should judge
that he would weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds."

"How often must I tell you that we are not in Jolliginki,"
snapped Polynesia. "Those things are not done on white men's
ships--Still," she murmured after a moment's thought, "it's an
awfully bright idea. I don't suppose anybody saw him come on to
the ship--Oh, but Heavens! we haven't got enough salt. Besides,
he'd be sure to taste of tobacco."



THE FIFTH CHAPTER

POLYNESIA HAS A PLAN

THEN the Doctor told me to take the wheel while he made a little
calculation with his map and worked out what new course we should
take.

"I shall have to run for the Capa Blancas after all," he told me
when the seaman's back was turned. "Dreadful nuisance! But I'd
sooner swim back to Puddleby than have to listen to that fellow's
talk all the way to Brazil."

Indeed he was a terrible person, this Ben Butcher. You'd think
that any one after being told he wasn't wanted would have had the
decency to keep quiet. But not Ben Butcher. He kept going round
the deck pointing out all the things we had wrong. According to