The girl was a beauty. There are many like her in that far-away cluster
of coral atolls. That she was a chief's child it was easy to see; the
abject manner in which the commoner natives always behaved themselves
in her presence showed their respect for Le-jennabon. Of course we all
got very jolly. There were half a dozen of us traders there, and we
were, for a wonder, all on friendly terms. Le-jennabon sat on a fine
mat in the big room, and in a sweetly dignified manner received the
wedding-gifts. One of our number, Charlie de Buis, though in a state of
chronic poverty, induced by steadfast adherence to square gin at five
dollars a case, made his offerings--a gold locket covering a woman's
miniature, a heavy gold ring, and a pair of fat, cross-bred Muscovy
ducks. The bride accepted them with a smile.

"Who is this?" she asked, looking at the portrait--"your white wife?"
"No," replied the bashful Charles, "another man's. That's why I give it
away, curse her! But the ducks I bred myself on Madurocaron;."


* * * * *


A month or two passed. Then, on one Sunday afternoon, about dusk, I saw
Ned's whale-boat coming over across the lagoon. I met him on the beach.
Trouble was in his face, yet his hard, impassive features were such
that only those who knew him well could discover it. Instead of
entering the house, he silently motioned me to come further along the
sand, where we reached an open spot clear of coco palms. Ned sat down
and filled his pipe. I waited patiently. The wind had died away, and