saved their mutterings for the barracks at night, where he could not
hear. And there were no more runaways and no more night-prowlers on the
veranda.

Dawn of the third day after the whipping brought the _Jessie's_ white
sails in sight. Eight miles away, it was not till two in the afternoon
that the light air-fans enabled her to drop anchor a quarter of a mile
off the shore. The sight of her gave Sheldon fresh courage, and the
tedious hours of waiting did not irk him. He gave his orders to the boss-
boys and made his regular trips to the hospital. Nothing mattered now.
His troubles were at an end. He could lie down and take care of himself
and proceed to get well. The _Jessie_ had arrived. His partner was on
board, vigorous and hearty from six weeks' recruiting on Malaita. He
could take charge now, and all would be well with Berande.

Sheldon lay in the steamer-chair and watched the _Jessie's_ whale-boat
pull in for the beach. He wondered why only three sweeps were pulling,
and he wondered still more when, beached, there was so much delay in
getting out of the boat. Then he understood. The three blacks who had
been pulling started up the beach with a stretcher on their shoulders. A
white man, whom he recognized as the _Jessie's_ captain, walked in front
and opened the gate, then dropped behind to close it. Sheldon knew that
it was Hughie Drummond who lay in the stretcher, and a mist came before
his eyes. He felt an overwhelming desire to die. The disappointment was
too great. In his own state of terrible weakness he felt that it was
impossible to go on with his task of holding Berande plantation tight-
gripped in his fist. Then the will of him flamed up again, and he
directed the blacks to lay the stretcher beside him on the floor. Hughie
Drummond, whom he had last seen in health, was an emaciated skeleton. His
closed eyes were deep-sunken. The shrivelled lips had fallen away from