the man-crisply, an amused sneer hidden
under his mustache; "fog is my element. It agrees perfectly with my
delicate health."

"I'm relieved to hear it," remarked Captain Broome gently. "Come up to
my cabin, sir, and I'll give you a drink of something that will clear
the fog for you."

The professional gentleman, from the city, followed his sinister host up
the gangway and into his cabin, while the boat pushed away from the side
of the yacht, bowed softly to the gentle swell of the sea. It was like a
carriage that is waiting for the return trip. The two Hawaiians were
laughing and joking in characteristic good humor, which is entirely
different from the boisterous jollity of the darkies.

They were having sport by laughing at their passenger. His neatness of
demeanor and style of dress seemed to furnish them with much amusement.
With their quickness for giving nicknames, they called him, "Mr.
Blackbag," and the captain was known to them as Roaring Bull. They were
very apt, as all Hawaiians are, to see the defects of character and weak
points of those white people who came under their observation.

Meanwhile the captain and his guest sat in the latter's cabin,
discussing matters that will soon concern us gravely. This cabin, as
perhaps the reader remembers, was a good sized room. A large table of
cherry wood was against one side, with a few maps and books on it. A
broad bunk was curtained off with red draperies. There was a scarred sea
chest against the opposite wall, fastened by a heavy padlock. On this
the captain was firmly seated.

To complete the description I may say that the room was paneled in
white, and contrary to what you might expect, the cabin was absolutely
neat. Broome's visitor had turned the swivel chair halfway from the
desk, and was directly facing the hard-faced captain, who had taken off
his heavy cap, showing his bald and polished dome of thought that glowed
red under the light of the big, swinging, brass lamp. The shuttered
window was closed against the dim daylight outside. This was a secret
conclave and with good reason. Upon the table at Mr. Reynold's elbow the
black satchel was opened. Its contents at first glance were not
startling. But wait!

CHAPTER XV

THE LAWYER AND THE PIRATE

The contrast between the two men as they sat facing each other was
really dramatic; the rough hewn captain, in his countrified garb, and
the city man correct in dress and quiet in manner; but as t