V. A Little Account With Swithin Hall

by Jack London

　　IWith a last long scrutiny at the unbroken circle of the sea, David Griefswung out of the cross-trees and slowly and dejectedly descended theratlines to the deck."Leu-Leu Atoll is sunk, Mr. Snow," he said to the anxious-faced youngmate. "If there is anything in navigation, the atoll is surely under thesea, for we've sailed clear over it twice--or the spot where it ought tobe. It's either that or the chronometer's gone wrong, or I've forgottenmy navigation.""It must be the chronometer, sir," the mate reassured his owner. "Youknow I made separate sights and worked them up, and that they agreedwith yours.""Yes," Grief muttered, nodding glumly, "and where your Summer linescrossed, and mine, too, was the dead centre of Leu-Leu Atoll. It must bethe chronometer--slipped a cog or something."He made a short pace to the rail and back, and cast a troubled eye atthe _Uncle Toby's_ wake. The schooner, with a fairly strong breeze onher quarter, was logging nine or ten knots."Better bring her up on the wind, Mr. Snow. Put her under easy sail andlet her work to windward on two-hour legs. It's thickening up, and Idon't imagine we can get a star observation to-night; so we'll just holdour weather position, get a latitude sight to-morrow, and run Leu-Leudown on her own latitude. That's the way all the old navigators did."Broad of beam, heavily sparred, with high freeboard and bluff, Dutchybow, the _Uncle Toby_ was the slowest, tubbiest, safest, and mostfool-proof schooner David Grief possessed. Her run was in the Banks andSanta Cruz groups and to the northwest among the several isolated atollswhere his native traders collected copra, hawksbill turtle, andan occasional ton of pearl shell. Finding the skipper down with aparticularly bad stroke of fever, Grief had relieved him and taken the_Uncle Toby_ on her semiannual run to the atolls. He had elected to makehis first call at Leu-Leu, which lay farthest, and now found himselflost at sea with a chronometer that played tricks.IINo stars showed that night, nor was the sun visible next day. A stuffy,sticky calm obtained, broken by big wind-squalls and heavy downpours.From fear of working too far to windward, the Uncle Toby was hove to,and four days and nights of cloud-hidden sky followed. Never did the sunappear, and on the several occasions that stars broke through they weretoo dim and fleeting for identification. By this time it was patent tothe veriest tyro that the elements were preparing to break loose. Grief,coming on deck from consulting the barometer, which steadfastly remainedat 29.90, encountered Jackie-Jackie, whose face was as broodingand troublous as the sky and air. Jackie-Jackie, a Tongan sailor ofexperience, served as a sort of bosun and semi-second mate over themixed Kanaka crew."Big weather he come, I think," he said. "I see him just the same beforemaybe five, six times."Grief nodded. "Hurricane weather, all right, Jackie-Jackie. Pretty soonbarometer go down--bottom fall out.""Sure," the Tongan concurred. "He goin' to blow like hell."Ten minutes later Snow came on deck."She's started," he said; "29.85, going down and pumping at the sametime. It's stinking hot--don't you notice it?" He brushed his foreheadwith his hands. "It's sickening. I could lose my breakfast withouttrying."Jackie-Jackie grinned. "Just the same me. Everything inside walk about.Always this way before big blow. But _Uncle Toby_ all right. He gothrough anything.""Better rig that storm-trysail on the main, and a storm-jib," Grief saidto the mate. "And put all the reefs into the working canvas before youfurl down. No telling what we may need. Put on double gaskets whileyou're about it."In another hour, the sultry oppressiveness steadily increasing and thestark calm still continuing, the barometer had fallen to 29.70. Themate, being young, lacked the patience of waiting for the portentous. Heceased his restless pacing, and waved his arms."If she's going to come let her come!" he cried. "There's no useshilly-shallying this way! Whatever the worst is, let us know it andhave it! A pretty pickle--lost with a crazy chronometer and a hurricanethat won't blow!"The cloud-mussed sky turned to a vague copper colour, and seemed toglow as the inside of a huge heated caldron. Nobody remained below. Thenative sailors formed in anxious groups amidships and for'ard, wherethey talked in low voices and gazed apprehensively at the ominoussky and the equally ominous sea that breathed in long, low, oilyundulations."Looks like petroleum mixed with castor oil," the mate grumbled, as hespat his disgust overside. "My mother used to dose me with messes likethat when I was a kid. Lord, she's getting black!"The lurid coppery glow had vanished, and the sky thickened and lowereduntil the darkness was as that of a late twilight. David Grief, whowell knew the hurricane rules, nevertheless reread the "Laws of Storms,"screwing his eyes in the faint light in order to see the print. Therewas nothing to be done save wait for the wind, so that he might knowhow he lay in relation to the fast-flying and deadly centre that fromsomewhere was approaching out of the gloom.It was three in the afternoon, and the glass had sunk to 29:45, whenthe wind came. They could see it on the water, darkening the face of thesea, crisping tiny whitecaps as it rushed along. It was merely a stiffbreeze, and the _Uncle Toby_, filling away under her storm canvas tillthe wind was abeam, sloshed along at a four-knot gait."No weight to that," Snow sneered. "And after such grand preparation!""Pickaninny wind," Jackie-Jackie agreed. "He grow big man pretty quick,you see."Grief ordered the foresail put on, retaining the reefs, and the _UncleToby_ mended her pace in the rising breeze. The wind quickly grew toman's size, but did not stop there. It merely blew hard, and harder, andkept on blowing harder, advertising each increase by lulls followed byfierce, freshening gusts. Ever it grew, until the _Uncle Toby's_ railwas more often pressed under than not, while her waist boiled withfoaming water which the scuppers could not carry off. Grief studied thebarometer, still steadily falling."The centre is to the southward," he told Snow, "and we're runningacross its path and into it. Now we'll turn about and run the other way.That ought to bring the glass up. Take in the foresail--it's more thanshe can carry already--and stand by to wear her around."The maneuver was accomplished, and through the gloom that was almostthat of the first darkness of evening the _Uncle Toby_ turned and racedmadly north across the face of the storm."It's nip and tuck," Grief confided to the mate a couple of hourslater. "The storm's swinging a big curve--there's no calculating thatcurve--and we may win across or the centre may catch us. Thank the Lord,the glass is holding its own. It all depends on how big the curve is.The sea's too big for us to keep on. Heave her to! She'll keep workingalong out anyway.""I thought I knew what wind was," Snow shouted in his owner's ear nextmorning. "This isn't wind. It's something unthinkable. It's impossible.It must reach ninety or a hundred miles an hour in the gusts. That don'tmean anything. How could I ever tell it to anybody? I couldn't. And lookat that sea! I've run my Easting down, but I never saw anything likethat."Day had come, and the sun should have been up an hour, yet the bestit could produce was a sombre semi-twilight. The ocean was a statelyprocession of moving mountains. A third of a mile across yawned thevalleys between the great waves. Their long slopes, shielded somewhatfrom the full fury of the wind, were broken by systems of smallerwhitecapping waves, but from the high crests of the big waves themselvesthe wind tore the whitecaps in the forming. This spume drove mastheadhigh, and higher, horizontally, above the surface of the sea."We're through the worst," was Grief's judgment. "The glass is comingalong all the time. The sea will get bigger as the wind eases down. I'mgoing to turn in. Watch for shifts in the wind. They'll be sure to come.Call me at eight bells."By mid-afternoon, in a huge sea, with the wind after its last shift nomore than a stiff breeze, the Tongan bosun sighted a schooner bottomup. The _Uncle Toby's_ drift took them across the bow and they couldnot make out the name; but before night they picked up with a small,round-bottom, double-ender boat, swamped but with white letteringvisible on its bow. Through the binoculars, Gray made out: _Emily L No.3_."A sealing schooner," Grief said. "But what a sealer's doing in thesewaters is beyond me.""Treasure-hunters, maybe?" Snow speculated. "The _Sophie Sutherland_ andthe _Herman_ were sealers, you remember, chartered out of San Franciscoby the chaps with the maps who can always go right to the spot untilthey get there and don't."IIIAfter a giddy night of grand and lofty tumbling, in which, over a bigand dying sea, without a breath of wind to steady her, the Uncle Tobyrolled every person on board sick of soul, a light breeze sprang upand the reefs were shaken out. By midday, on a smooth ocean floor, theclouds thinned and cleared and sights of the sun were obtained. Twodegrees and fifteen minutes south, the observation gave them. With abroken chronometer longitude was out of the question."We're anywhere within five hundred and a thousand miles along thatlatitude line," Grief remarked, as he and the mate bent over the chart."Leu-Leu is to the south'ard somewhere, and this section of ocean is allblank. There is neither an island nor a reef by which we can regulatethe chronometer. The only thing to do--""Land ho, skipper!" the Tongan called down the companionway.Grief took a quick glance at the empty blank of the chart, whistled hissurprise, and sank back feebly in a chair."It gets me," he said. "There can't be land around here. We neverdrifted or ran like that. The whole voyage has been crazy. Will youkindly go up, Mr. Snow, and see what's ailing Jackie.""It's land all right," the mate called down a minute afterward. "You cansee it from the deck--tops of cocoanuts--an atoll of some sort. Maybeit's Leu-Leu after all."Grief shook his head positively as he gazed at the fringe of palms, onlythe tops visible, apparently rising out of the sea."Haul up on the wind, Mr. Snow, close-and-by, and we'll take a look.We can just reach past to the south, and if it spreads off in thatdirection we'll hit the southwest corner."Very near must palms be to be seen from the low deck of a schooner, and,slowly as the _Uncle Toby_ sailed, she quickly raised the low land abovethe sea, while more palms increased the definition of the atoll circle."She's a beauty," the mate remarked. "A perfect circle.... Looks as ifit might be eight or nine miles across.... Wonder if there's an entranceto the lagoon.... Who knows? Maybe it's a brand new find."They coasted up the west side of the atoll, making short tacks in tothe surf-pounded coral rock and out again. From the masthead, acrossthe palm-fringe, a Kanaka announced the lagoon and a small island in themiddle."I know what you're thinking," Grief said to his mate.Snow, who had been muttering and shaking his head, looked up with quickand challenging incredulity."You're thinking the entrance will be on the northwest." Grief went on,as if reciting."Two cable lengths wide, marked on the north by three separatedcocoanuts, and on the south by pandanus trees. Eight miles in diameter,a perfect circle, with an island in the dead centre.""I _was_ thinking that," Snow acknowledged."And there's the entrance opening up just where it ought to be----""And the three palms," Snow almost whispered, "and the pandanus trees.If there's a windmill on the island, it's it--Swithin Hall's island. Butit can't be. Everybody's been looking for it for the last ten years.""Hall played you a dirty trick once, didn't he?" Grief queried.Snow nodded. "That's why I'm working for you. He broke me flat. It wasdownright robbery. I bought the wreck of the _Cascade_, down in Sydney,out of a first instalment of a legacy from home.""She went on Christmas Island, didn't she?""Yes, full tilt, high and dry, in the night. They saved the passengersand mails. Then I bought a little island schooner, which took the restof my money, and I had to wait the final payment by the executors to fither out. What did Swithin Hall do--he was at Honolulu at the time--butmake a straightaway run for Christmas Island. Neither right nor titledid he have. When I got there, the hull and engines were all that wasleft of the _Cascade_. She had had a fair shipment of silk on board,too. And it wasn't even damaged. I got it afterward pretty straight fromhis supercargo. He cleared something like sixty thousand dollars."Snow shrugged his shoulders and gazed bleakly at the smooth surface ofthe lagoon, where tiny wavelets danced in the afternoon sun."The wreck was mine. I bought her at public auction. I'd gambled big,and I'd lost. When I got back to Sydney, the crew, and some of thetradesmen who'd extended me credit, libelled the schooner. I pawnedmy watch and sextant, and shovelled coal one spell, and finally got abillet in the New Hebrides on a screw of eight pounds a month. Then Itried my luck as independent trader, went broke, took a mate's billet ona recruiter down to Tanna and over to Fiji, got a job as overseer on aGerman plantation back of Apia, and finally settled down on the _UncleToby_.""Have you ever met Swithin Hall?"Snow shook his head."Well, you're likely to meet him now. There's the windmill."In the centre of the lagoon, as they emerged from the passage, theyopened a small, densely wooded island, among the trees of which a largeDutch windmill showed plainly."Nobody at home from the looks of it," Grief said, "or you might have achance to collect."The mate's face set vindictively, and his fists clenched."Can't touch him legally. He's got too much money now. But I can takesixty thousand dollars' worth out of his hide. I hope he is at home.""Then I hope he is, too," Grief said, with an appreciative smile. "Yougot the description of his island from Bau-Oti, I suppose?""Yes, as pretty well everybody else has. The trouble is that Bau-Otican't give latitude or longitude. Says they sailed a long way from theGilberts--that's all he knows. I wonder what became of him.""I saw him a year ago on the beach at Tahiti. Said he was thinking aboutshipping for a cruise through the Paumotus. Well, here we are, gettingclose in. Heave the lead, Jackie-Jackie. Stand by to let go, Mr. Snow.According to Bau-Oti, anchorage three hundred yards off the west shorein nine fathoms, coral patches to the southeast. There are the patches.What do you get, Jackie?""Nine fadom.""Let go, Mr. Snow."The _Uncle Toby_ swung to her chain, head-sails ran down, and the Kanakacrew sprang to fore and main-halyards and sheets.IVThe whaleboat laid alongside the small, coral-stone landing-pier, andDavid Grief and his mate stepped ashore."You'd think the place deserted," Grief said, as they walked up a sandedpath to the bungalow. "But I smell a smell that I've often smelled.Something doing, or my nose is a liar. The lagoon is carpeted withshell. They're rotting the meat out not a thousand miles away. Get thatwhiff?"Like no bungalow in the tropics was this bungalow of Swithin Hall. Ofmission architecture, when they had entered through the unlatched screendoor they found decoration and furniture of the same mission style. Thefloor of the big living-room was covered with the finest Samoan mats.There were couches, window seats, cozy corners, and a billiard table. Asewing table, and a sewing-basket, spilling over with sheer linen in theFrench embroidery of which stuck a needle, tokened a woman's presence.By screen and veranda the blinding sunshine was subdued to a cool, dimradiance. The sheen of pearl push-buttons caught Grief's eye."Storage batteries, by George, run by the windmill!" he exclaimed as hepressed the buttons. "And concealed lighting!"Hidden bowls glowed, and the room was filled with diffused golden light.Many shelves of books lined the walls. Grief fell to running overtheir titles. A fairly well-read man himself, for a sea-adventurer, heglimpsed a wide-ness of range and catholicity of taste that were beyondhim. Old friends he met, and others that he had heard of but never read.There were complete sets of Tolstoy, Turgenieff, and Gorky; of Cooperand Mark Twain; of Hugo, and Zola, and Sue; and of Flaubert, DeMaupassant, and Paul de Koch. He glanced curiously at the pages ofMetchnikoff, Weininger, and Schopenhauer, and wonderingly at thoseof Ellis, Lydston, Krafft-Ebbing, and Forel. Woodruff's "Expansion ofRaces" was in his hands when Snow returned from further exploration ofthe house."Enamelled bath-tub, separate room for a shower, and a sitz-bath!" heexclaimed. "Fitted up for a king! And I reckon some of my money went topay for it. The place must be occupied. I found fresh-opened butter andmilk tins in the pantry, and fresh turtle-meat hanging up. I'm going tosee what else I can find."Grief, too, departed, through a door that led out of the opposite endof the living-room. He found himself in a self-evident woman's bedroom.Across it, he peered through a wire-mesh door into a screened anddarkened sleeping porch. On a couch lay a woman asleep. In the softlight she seemed remarkably beautiful in a dark Spanish way. By herside, opened and face downward, a novel lay on a chair. From thecolour in her cheeks, Grief concluded that she had not been long in thetropics. After the one glimpse he stole softly back, in time to see Snowentering the living-room through the other door. By the naked arm he wasclutching an age-wrinkled black who grinned in fear and made signs ofdumbness."I found him snoozing in a little kennel out back," the mate said. "He'sthe cook, I suppose. Can't get a word out of him. What did you find?""A sleeping princess. S-sh! There's somebody now.""If it's Hall," Snow muttered, clenching his fist.Grief shook his head. "No rough-house. There's a woman here. And if itis Hall, before we go I'll maneuver a chance for you to get action."The door opened, and a large, heavily built man entered. In his belt wasa heavy, long-barrelled Colt's. One quick, anxious look he gave them,then his face wreathed in a genial smile and his hand was extended."Welcome, strangers. But if you don't mind my asking, how, by all that'ssacred, did you ever manage to find my island?""Because we were out of our course," Grief answered, shaking hands."My name's Hall, Swithin Hall," the other said, turning to shake Snow'shand. "And I don't mind telling you that you're the first visitors I'veever had.""And this is your secret island that's had all the beaches talking foryears?" Grief answered. "Well, I know the formula now for finding it.""How's that?" Hall asked quickly."Smash your chronometer, get mixed up with a hurricane, and then keepyour eyes open for cocoanuts rising out of the sea.""And what is your name?" Hall asked, after he had laughed perfunctorily."Anstey--Phil Anstey," Grief answered promptly. "Bound on the _UncleToby_ from the Gilberts to New Guinea, and trying to find my longitude.This is my mate, Mr. Gray, a better navigator than I, but who has losthis goat just the same to the chronometer."Grief did not know his reason for lying, but he had felt the promptingand succumbed to it. He vaguely divined that something was wrong, butcould not place his finger on it. Swithin Hall was a fat, round-facedman, with a laughing lip and laughter-wrinkles in the corners of hiseyes. But Grief, in his early youth, had learned how deceptive this typecould prove, as well as the deceptiveness of blue eyes that screened thesurface with fun and hid what went on behind."What are you doing with my cook?--lost yours and trying to shanghaihim?" Hall was saying. "You'd better let him go, if you're going to haveany supper. My wife's here, and she'll be glad to meet you--dinner, shecalls it, and calls me down for misnaming it, but I'm old fashioned. Myfolks always ate dinner in the middle of the day. Can't get over earlytraining. Don't you want to wash up? I do. Look at me. I've been workinglike a dog--out with the diving crew--shell, you know. But of course yousmelt it."VSnow pleaded charge of the schooner, and went on board. In addition tohis repugnance at breaking salt with the man who had robbed him, it wasnecessary for him to impress the in-violableness of Grief's lies on theKanaka crew. By eleven o'clock Grief came on board, to find his matewaiting up for him."There's something doing on Swithin Hall's island," Grief said, shakinghis head. "I can't make out what it is, but I get the feel of it. Whatdoes Swithin Hall look like?"Snow shook his head."That man ashore there never bought the books on the shelves," Griefdeclared with conviction. "Nor did he ever go in for concealed lighting.He's got a surface flow of suavity, but he's rough as a hoof-raspunderneath. He's an oily bluff. And the bunch he's got with him--Watsonand Gorman their names are; they came in after you left--real sea-dogs,middle-aged, marred and battered, tough as rusty wrought-iron nails andtwice as dangerous; real ugly customers, with guns in their belts, whodon't strike me as just the right sort to be on such comradely termswith Swithin Hall. And the woman! She's a lady. I mean it. She knows awhole lot of South America, and of China, too. I'm sure she's Spanish,though her English is natural. She's travelled. We talked bull-fights.She's seen them in Guayaquil, in Mexico, in Seville. She knows a lotabout sealskins."Now here's what bothers me. She knows music. I asked her if she played.And he's fixed that place up like a palace. That being so, why hasn'the a piano for her? Another thing: she's quick and lively and he watchesher whenever she talks. He's on pins and needles, and continuallybreaking in and leading the conversation. Say, did you ever hear thatSwithin Hall was married?""Bless me, I don't know," the mate replied. "Never entered my head tothink about it.""He introduced her as Mrs. Hall. And Watson and Gorman call him Hall.They're a precious pair, those two men. I don't understand it at all.""What are you going to do about it?" Snow asked."Oh, hang around a while. There are some books ashore there I want toread. Suppose you send that topmast down in the morning and generallyoverhaul. We've been through a hurricane, you know. Set up the riggingwhile you're about it. Get things pretty well adrift, and take yourtime."VIThe next day Grief's suspicions found further food. Ashore early,he strolled across the little island to the barracks occupied by thedivers.They were just boarding the boats when he arrived, and it struck himthat for Kanakas they behaved more like chain-gang prisoners. The threewhite men were there, and Grief noted that each carried a rifle. Hallgreeted him jovially enough, but Gorman and Watson scowled as theygrunted curt good mornings.A moment afterward one of the Kanakas, as he bent to place his oar,favoured Grief with a slow, deliberate wink. The man's face wasfamiliar, one of the thousands of native sailors and divers he hadencountered drifting about in the island trade."Don't tell them who I am," Grief said, in Tahitian. "Did you ever sailfor me?"The man's head nodded and his mouth opened, but before he could speakhe was suppressed by a savage "Shut up!" from Watson, who was already inthe sternsheets."I beg pardon," Grief said. "I ought to have known better.""That's all right," Hall interposed. "The trouble is they're too muchtalk and not enough work. Have to be severe with them, or they wouldn'tget enough shell to pay their grub."Grief nodded sympathetically. "I know them. Got a crew of themmyself--the lazy swine. Got to drive them like niggers to get ahalf-day's work out of them.""What was you sayin' to him?" Gorman blurted in bluntly."I was asking how the shell was, and how deep they were diving.""Thick," Hall took over the answering. "We're working now in about tenfathom. It's right out there, not a hundred yards off. Want to comealong?"Half the day Grief spent with the boats, and had lunch in the bungalow.In the afternoon he loafed, taking a siesta in the big living-room,reading some, and talking for half an hour with Mrs. Hall. After dinner,he played billiards with her husband. It chanced that Grief had neverbefore encountered Swithin Hall, yet the latter's fame as an expert atbilliards was the talk of the beaches from Levuka to Honolulu. But theman Grief played with this night proved most indifferent at the game.His wife showed herself far cleverer with the cue.When he went on board the _Uncle Toby_ Grief routed Jackie-Jackie out ofbed. He described the location of the barracks, and told the Tonganto swim softly around and have talk with the Kanakas. In two hoursJackie-Jackie was back. He shook his head as he stood dripping beforeGrief."Very funny t'ing," he reported. "One white man stop all the time. Hehas big rifle. He lay in water and watch. Maybe twelve o'clock, otherwhite man come and take rifle. First white man go to bed. Other man stopnow with rifle. No good. Me cannot talk with Kanakas. Me come back.""By George!" Grief said to Snow, after the Tongan had gone back to hisbunk. "I smell something more than shell. Those three men are standingwatches over their Kanakas. That man's no more Swithin Hall than I am."Snow whistled from the impact of a new idea."I've got it!" he cried."And I'll name it," Grief retorted, "It's in your mind that the _EmilyL._ was their schooner?""Just that. They're raising and rotting the shell, while she's gone formore divers, or provisions, or both.""And I agree with you." Grief glanced at the cabin clock and evincedsigns of bed-going. "He's a sailor. The three of them are. But they'renot island men. They're new in these waters."Again Snow whistled."And the _Emily L._ is lost with all hands," he said. "We know that.They're marooned here till Swithin Hall comes. Then he'll catch themwith all the shell.""Or they'll take possession of his schooner.""Hope they do!" Snow muttered vindictively. "Somebody ought to rob him.Wish I was in their boots. I'd balance off that sixty thousand."VIIA week passed, during which time the _Uncle Toby_ was ready for sea,while Grief managed to allay any suspicion of him by the shore crowd.Even Gorman and Watson accepted him at his self-description. Throughoutthe week Grief begged and badgered them for the longitude of the island."You wouldn't have me leave here lost," he finally urged. "I can't get aline on my chronometer without your longitude."Hall laughingly refused."You're too good a navigator, Mr. Anstey, not to fetch New Guinea orsome other high land.""And you're too good a navigator, Mr. Hall," Grief replied, "not to knowthat I can fetch your island any time by running down its latitude."On the last evening, ashore, as usual, to dinner, Grief got his firstview of the pearls they had collected. Mrs. Hall, waxing enthusiastic,had asked her husband to bring forth the "pretties," and had spent halfan hour showing them to Grief. His delight in them was genuine, as wellas was his surprise that they had made so rich a haul."The lagoon is virgin," Hall explained. "You saw yourself that mostof the shell is large and old. But it's funny that we got most of thevaluable pearls in one small patch in the course of a week. It was alittle treasure house. Every oyster seemed filled--seed pearls by thequart, of course, but the perfect ones, most of that bunch there, cameout of the small patch."Grief ran his eye over them and knew their value ranged from one hundredto a thousand dollars each, while the several selected large ones wentfar beyond."Oh, the pretties! the pretties!" Mrs. Hall cried, bending forwardsuddenly and kissing them.A few minutes later she arose to say good-night."It's good-bye," Grief said, as he took her hand. "We sail at daylight.""So suddenly!" she cried, while Grief could not help seeing the quicklight of satisfaction in her husband's eyes."Yes," Grief continued. "All the repairs are finished. I can't get thelongitude of your island out of your husband, though I'm still in hopeshe'll relent."Hall laughed and shook his head, and, as his wife left the room,proposed a last farewell nightcap. They sat over it, smoking andtalking."What do you estimate they're worth?" Grief asked, indicating the spreadof pearls on the table. "I mean what the pearl-buyers would give you inopen market?""Oh, seventy-five or eighty thousand," Hall said carelessly."I'm afraid you're underestimating. I know pearls a bit. Take thatbiggest one. It's perfect. Not a cent less than five thousand dollars.Some multimillionaire will pay double that some day, when the dealershave taken their whack. And never minding the seed pearls, you've gotquarts of baroques there. And baroques are coming into fashion. They'repicking up and doubling on themselves every year."Hall gave the trove of pearls a closer and longer scrutiny, estimatingthe different parcels and adding the sum aloud."You're right," he admitted. "They're worth a hundred thousand rightnow.""And at what do you figure your working expenses?" Grief went on. "Yourtime, and your two men's, and the divers'?""Five thousand would cover it.""Then they stand to net you ninety-five thousand?""Something like that. But why so curious?""Why, I was just trying----" Grief paused and drained his glass. "Justtrying to reach some sort of an equitable arrangement. Suppose I shouldgive you and your people a passage to Sydney and the five thousanddollars--or, better, seven thousand five hundred. You've worked hard."Without commotion or muscular movement the other man became alert andtense. His round-faced geniality went out like the flame of a snuffedcandle. No laughter clouded the surface of the eyes, and in theirdepths showed the hard, dangerous soul of the man. He spoke in a low,deliberate voice."Now just what in hell do you mean by that?"Grief casually relighted his cigar."I don't know just how to begin," he said. "The situation is--er--isembarrassing for you. You see, I'm trying to be fair. As I say, you'veworked hard. I don't want to confiscate the pearls. I want to pay youfor your time and trouble, and expense."Conviction, instantaneous and absolute, froze on the other's face."And I thought you were in Europe," he muttered. Hope flickered fora moment. "Look here, you're joking me. How do I know you're SwithinHall?"Grief shrugged his shoulders. "Such a joke would be in poor taste, afteryour hospitality. And it is equally in poor taste to have two SwithinHalls on the island.""Since you're Swithin Hall, then who the deuce am I? Do you know that,too?""No," Grief answered airily. "But I'd like to know.""Well, it's none of your business.""I grant it. Your identity is beside the point. Besides, I know yourschooner, and I can find out who you are from that.""What's her name?""The _Emily L._"Correct. I'm Captain Raffy, owner and master.""The seal-poacher? I've heard of you. What under the sun brought youdown here on my preserves?""Needed the money. The seal herds are about finished.""And the out-of-the-way places of the world are better policed, eh?""Pretty close to it. And now about this present scrape, Mr. Hall. I canput up a nasty fight. What are you going to do about it?""What I said. Even better. What's the _Emily L._ worth?""She's seen her day. Not above ten thousand, which would be robbery.Every time she's in a rough sea I'm afraid she'll jump her ballastthrough her planking.""She has jumped it, Captain Raffy. I sighted her bottom-up after theblow. Suppose we say she was worth seven thousand five hundred. I'llpay over to you fifteen thousand and give you a passage. Don't move yourhands from your lap." Grief stood up, went over to him, and took hisrevolver. "Just a necessary precaution, Captain. Now you'll go on boardwith me. I'll break the news to Mrs. Raffy afterward, and fetch her outto join you.""You're behaving handsomely, Mr. Hall, I must say," Captain Raffyvolunteered, as the whaleboat came alongside the _Uncle Toby_. "Butwatch out for Gorman and Watson. They're ugly customers. And, by theway, I don't like to mention it, but you've seen my wife. I've given herfour or five pearls. Watson and Gorman were willing.""Say no more, Captain. Say no more. They shall remain hers. Is that you,Mr. Snow? Here's a friend I want you to take charge of--Captain Raffy.I'm going ashore for his wife."VIIIDavid Grief sat writing at the library table in the bungalowliving-room. Outside, the first pale of dawn was showing. He had had abusy night. Mrs. Raffy had taken two hysterical hours to pack her andCaptain Raffy's possessions. Gorman had been caught asleep, but Watson,standing guard over the divers, had shown fight. Matters did not reachthe shooting stage, but it was only after it had been demonstrated tohim that the game was up that he consented to join his companions onboard. For temporary convenience, he and Gorman were shackled in themate's room, Mrs. Raffy was confined in Grief's, and Captain Raffy madefast to the cabin table.Grief finished the document and read over what he had written:To Swithin Hall,for pearls taken from his lagoon (estimated) $100,000To Herbert Snow, paid in full for salvage fromsteamship Cascade in pearls (estimated) $60,000To Captain Raffy, salary and expenses forcollecting pearls 7,500To Captain Raffy, reimbursement forschooner Emily L., lost in hurricane 7,500To Mrs. Raffy, for good will, five fairpearls (estimated) 1,100To passage to Syndey, four persons,at $120. 480To white lead for painting SwithinHall's two whaleboats 9To Swithin Hall, balance in pearls (estimated)which are to be found in drawer of library table 23,411$100,000--$100,000Grief signed and dated, paused, and added at the bottom:_P. S.--Still owing to Swithin Hall three books, borrowedfrom library: Hudson's "Law of Psychic Phenomena," Zola's"Paris," and Mahan's "Problem of Asia." These books, or fullvalue, can be collected of said David Griefs Sydney office_.He shut off the electric light, picked up the bundle of books, carefullylatched the front door, and went down to the waiting whaleboat.