newspaper--the salt smells of the seashore and of the dank muck of
mangrove swamps at low tide, the spicy fragrances of tropic vegetation,
and the faint, most faint, acrid tingle of smoke from smudgy fires.

The trade, which had laid the _Arangi_ well up under the lee of this
outjutting point of Malaita, was now failing, so that she began to roll
in the easy swells with crashings of sheets and tackles and thunderous
flappings of her sails. Jerry no more than cocked a contemptuous
quizzical eye at the mainsail anticking above him. He knew already the
empty windiness of its threats, but he was careful of the mainsheet
blocks, and walked around the traveller instead of over it.

While Captain Van Horn, taking advantage of the calm to exercise the
boat's crew with the fire-arms and to limber up the weapons, was passing
out the Lee-Enfields from their place on top the cabin skylight, Jerry
suddenly crouched and began to stalk stiff-legged. But the wild-dog,
three feet from his lair under the trade-boxes, was not unobservant. He
watched and snarled threateningly. It was not a nice snarl. In fact, it
was as nasty and savage a snarl as all his life had been nasty and
savage. Most small creatures were afraid of that snarl, but it had no
deterrent effect on Jerry, who continued his steady stalking. When the
wild-dog sprang for the hole under the boxes, Jerry sprang after, missing
his enemy by inches. Tossing overboard bits of wood, bottles and empty
tins, Captain Van Horn ordered the eight eager boat's crew with rifles to
turn loose. Jerry was excited and delighted with the fusillade, and
added his puppy yelpings to the noise. As the empty brass cartridges
were ejected, the return boys scrambled on the deck for them, esteeming
them as very precious objects and thrusting them, still warm, into the
empty holes in their ears. Their ears were perforated with many of these
holes, the smallest capable of receiving a cartridge, while the larger