gazed through it at the sea. At last he picked up the white sails of the
schooner and studied them.

"No _Jessie_," he said very quietly. "That's the _Malakula_."

He changed his seat for a steamer reclining-chair. Three hundred feet
away the sea broke in a small surf upon the beach. To the left he could
see the white line of breakers that marked the bar of the Balesuna River,
and, beyond, the rugged outline of Savo Island. Directly before him,
across the twelve-mile channel, lay Florida Island; and, farther to the
right, dim in the distance, he could make out portions of Malaita--the
savage island, the abode of murder, and robbery, and man-eating--the
place from which his own two hundred plantation hands had been recruited.
Between him and the beach was the cane-grass fence of the compound. The
gate was ajar, and he sent the house-boy to close it. Within the fence
grew a number of lofty cocoanut palms. On either side the path that led
to the gate stood two tall flagstaffs. They were reared on artificial
mounds of earth that were ten feet high. The base of each staff was
surrounded by short posts, painted white and connected by heavy chains.
The staffs themselves were like ships' masts, with topmasts spliced on in
true nautical fashion, with shrouds, ratlines, gaffs, and flag-halyards.
From the gaff of one, two gay flags hung limply, one a checkerboard of
blue and white squares, the other a white pennant centred with a red
disc. It was the international code signal of distress.

On the far corner of the compound fence a hawk brooded. The man watched
it, and knew that it was sick. He wondered idly if it felt as bad as he
felt, and was feebly amused at the thought of kinship that somehow
penetrated his fancy. He roused himself to order the great bell to be
rung as a signal for the plantation hands to cease work and go to their