Anyway, that's what happened. It was pretty bad, but it wasn't the worst by a long way, as I soon found out. If you'll believe me, those beggars are that savage they actually set their old men and women adrift too. As soon as one of them shows signs of getting too old and feeble, then he's for it. There's a bit of a ceremony like, and then he or she, or whoever it is, is tied up and set adrift, and that's the end of it. And the queer thing is, the most of them don't seem to mind it. They none of them made any fuss or a fight for it, and just took it quite natural and quiet. It's queer, and it's only over the babies that there's sometimes a bit of a fuss. It's the mothers that make it. And most of the kids that get born on that atoll get set adrift. They only keep the big strong ones, and all the rest have to go for a sail. Nobody ever comes back, of course, for those canoes ain't exactly what you'd call seaworthy. They go sailing off down wind, and I guess the first squall that comes along does for 'em. And you'd hardly believe those beggars 'd do a thing like that unless you've seen it like I have, because in other ways they're the quietest, happiest, gentlest-hearted lot of niggers I ever saw anywhere. You never see them having a row amongst themselves, and as for scrappingwell, it's my belief they don't know how to. They never do fight anyway, or show any

signs of wanting to, either. And that's all to the good, because, as I've told you already, they'll make the easiest kind of labour to handle man could wish for.

The language they use is as much like Samoan as anything; and, knowing Samoan, it wasn't long before I could talk to 'em pretty well as good as I can to you now. And one of the first things I did was to try to get the hang of this trick of theirs of burying a man alive, as you might say, in a canoe. I wanted to get at the why and wherefore of the thing, you understand, because I could see myself falling sick or sick or something one day maybe, and getting cast adrift myself. And I didn't like the thought of it. I tackled Falapa about it, but I couldn't get him, or any one else, to tell me much that amounted to anything. It seems it's something to do with their brand of religion, and all I could make out is that they think a sick person or a corpse, or even a very old man, ain't natural or healthy, and So they get rid of them accordingly. But about the kids it's a bit different. As Falapa said, there isn't much room on the island anyway, and if they kept all the babies that were born there the place would get crowded. So they get rid of them like I told you. Which'll show you that, in spite of their gentle ways and not fighting and so on, they're black sav. ages all right, and'll do things

that'll fair turn the stomach of a white man to think of.

They're a lazy bunch, too. They won't work unless they have to. They're happy enough as they are, so why worry? That seems to be the way they see it. About all they eat is fish and cocoa-nuts, and all they've got to do when they want some grub or anything is just to reach out and get it. It's a soft life all right, and when I got there first I didn't even have to reach. When I wanted anything a dozen of 'em would run off quick and fetch it. I lived in Falapa's hut, and the fool couldn't seem to do enough for me. You might say he turned himself out of his hut to make room for me, and he and his women looked after me as though I was some blame baby. It was all right; but after two or three months of that I began to get restless. It wasn't the grub, because I had plenty of that, and what I had was good. Fish and cocoa-nuts don't sound much, I know, but the different ways they'd cook the stuff made it seem as if I had something different to eat every blessed meal. No, the grub was all right. What I What I needed was some baccy, and I'd have given my bally soul and welcome for one good swig of any drink that had a bit of a kick to it. Water and cocoanut milk was all they drank, and the water was salty anyway. And while cocoa-nut milk's all right at first, it doesn't take you long to get sick of the

sight of it. If there's any other strong liquor within range, I naturally wouldn't walk across the road to get a drink of cocoa-nut toddy; but when toddy's all there is to be got it ain't so bad. A man can get cheerful on it anyway. So I tackled Falapa to see if he could get hold of some, or knew how to make it. He didn't understand what I was driving at, though, so I had to bear a hand myself. I got some green nuts and fermented the juice, and the brew was coming on fine, when Falapa got on to what I was up to. And you should have seen the fuss the beggar made then! He actually tried to stop me. He was scared stiff, too, because it turns out there's a mighty strict taboo against making toddy at all. Can you beat it? Those blame niggers had got it into their thick skulls that a man with a drink or two inside him is as bad as if he's broken his leg or got some sickness. And what's more, it turns out that, if any one did get drunk, he was for it. I mean, they'd lash him up as I've told you, and set him adrift the same as if he was dead. Well, when I heard that I'll admit it made me a bit thoughtful. I've never let any blame silly taboo stop me from doing anything I wanted to do yet, but all the same I saw I'd have to be careful. After that I'll own I judged it wise to make my bit of a brew on the quiet, and I only drank at night when all hands was

But I reckon what you're waiting to hear about is the shell. As I told you, the lagoon's plum full of it. Which is only natural, as the stuff has never been touched at all. The beggars do a bit of diving for it sometimes, but that's only when they feel like a feed of oysters. For they don't know enough yet, you understand, to see that it's the shell that's worth money. And you can believe me I took good care not to tell 'em either. If they like to think that the only thing worth having about a pearl oyster is the meatwell, good enough. That's where you and I come in, pard. We know better. And that place is just lousy with shell. It's all prime stuff, too, and there must be enough there to keep this schooner running full for years-if we can only manage to keep the place to our selves, that is. There's pearls there, too, of course. I've seen Falapa break a tooth on one the size of a gooseberry, and the beggar just cussed a bit. And he says, 'That's the trouble with oysters. They

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stones hidden in 'em that you've got to watch out you don't bite on." Can you beat it? Well, that'll show you what they think about pearls, and you can judge what sort of a proposition it is I'm letting you on to. Why, I think maybe, if we go about the job properly, we'll be able to clean up a pile on the pearls alone, without bothering much about the shell.

The funny thing is, it didn't strike me for months that the place was as good as a goldmine to me. It all belonged to me, of course, because I

was the first white man to find it; but I'll admit I was a bit slow to see there was a big pile of cash coming to me if I ever managed to get in touch with civilisation again. I'd been living pretty soft up to then, and not worrying about things much; but when I got on to the fact that, if only I could get away with it, I was a rich man-why, then I got busy. The first idea I had was to rig up a canoe and make her seaworthy, and sail her west in the hope of making Tonga or somewhere. The canoes they had were no good for a trip like that, as you'll have seen for yourself, because the one you picked me up out of was a sample. If I hadn't had the darndest luck and fine weather all the time, I'd never have kept her afloat as long as I did. Well, I did what I could to make a ship-shape looking craft out of one of the things, but it didn't take me.

long to see it wasn't any use. I hadn't the tools or the timber to make a real job out of a canoe, so I had to give up the notion of getting myself off the island.

When I got on to the fact that I was stuck on the place for good and all unless a ship happened to turn up, I got a bit mad about things. You'd have been the same yourself. There was I, with all that shell and pearls belonging to me, worth thousands, and I couldn't do a darn thing about it. It was like being locked up inside the blooming Bank of England. It would have made any one feel savage. It did me; and for a bit I guess I raised Cain. And then I had another idea. I built some big fires and made such a smoke that I knew anything passing within twenty miles of the place was bound to sight it. I did the thing properly. I turned on Falapa and the rest of the crowd, and made 'em keep those fires burning good and smoky. I told 'em off into regular watches, four hours on and four off, all ship-shape, and they kept my fires going fine, night and day. At first the beggars seemed to like it. Thought it was some sort of a game, I reckon. But after a bit it began to look too much like work to them, and they chucked it. So then I had to start right in and show the brutes who was boss. I'd made up my mind those fires had got to be kept alight, and I manhandled a lot of those riggers properly, trying to make

'em do it. But it wasn't any use. They'd struck, you might say.

And they didn't even put up a decent scrap about it to make things interesting. Just knocked off and cleared out. But I showed 'em, at any rate, there was one man on the island willing and able to fight for what he wanted, and, I tell you, I surprised 'em. I gave them a proper lesson, and I guess they know enough now to respect a white man when they see one, especially if he's got red hair. It wasn't any good, though, for all I could do to them. They wouldn't work, and knocking 'em about didn't seem to help at all, which was queer.

After a bit the beggars began to give me a wide berth, and I had to let my fires out, because I couldn't keep them going by myself, and even Falapa jibbed at stoking them. I caught a sort of cold about then, too, and didn't feel so good for a day or so. I must have got into a sweat, I suppose, after the scrapping I'd had to do, and I know I had a powerful thirst on me when it was all over. Anyhow, I put away quite a load of toddy that night. And that fool Falapa must have let me lie out on the beach all night instead of getting me under cover as usual. When I woke up I was shivering and coughing, and I had a real nasty head on me. And I reckon, maybe, I had a touch of fever. It knocked me out for a little

perhaps a day, or maybe