_An Island Memory_

CHAPTER I


From early dawn wild excitement had prevailed in the great native
village on the shores of Port Lele, and on board two ships which were
anchored on the placid waters of the land-locked harbour. As the fleecy,
cloud-like mist which, during the night, had enveloped the forest-clad
spurs and summit of Mont Buache, was dispelled by the first airs of the
awakened trade wind and the yellow shafts of sunrise, a fleet or canoes
crowded with natives put off from the sandy beach in front of the king's
house, and paddled swiftly over towards the ships, the captains of which
only awaited their arrival to weigh and tow out through the passage.

As the mist lifted, Cayse, the master of the _Iroquois_ of Sagharbour,
stepped briskly up on the poop, and hailed the skipper of the other
vessel, a small, yellow-painted barque of less than two hundred tons.

"Are you ready, Captain Ross?"

"All ready," was the answer; "only waiting for the military," and then
followed a hoarse laugh.

Cayse, a little, grizzled, and leathern-faced man of fifty, replied by
an angry snarl, then turned to his mate, who stood beside him awaiting