s Hello Island.

"'Course that ain't the real name of it. The real one is spelt with four
o's, three a's, five i's, and a peck measure of h's and x's hove in
to fill up. It looks like a plate of hash and that's the way it's
pronounced. Maybe you might sing it if 'twas set to music, but no white
man ever said the whole of it. Them that tried always broke down on
the second fathom or so and said 'Oh, the hereafter!' or words to that
effect. 'Course the missionaries see that wouldn't do, so they twisted
it stern first and it's been Hello Island to most folks ever since.

"Why Jule was at Hello Island is too long a yarn. Biled down it amounts
to a voyage on a bark out of Seattle, and a first mate like yours, Eri,
who was a kind of Christian Science chap and cured sick sailors by the
laying on of hands--likewise feet and belaying pins and ax handles and
such. And, according to Jule's tell, he DID cure 'em, too. After he'd
jumped up and down on your digestion a few times you forgot all about
the disease you started in with and only remembered the complications.
Him and Julius had their final argument one night when the bark was
passing abreast one of the Navigator Islands, close in. Jule hove a
marlinespike at the mate's head and jumped overboard. He swum ashore
to the beach and, inside of a week, he'd shipped aboard the Emily. And
'twas aboard the Emily, and at Hello Island, as I said afore, that he
met Rosy.

"George Simmons--a cockney Britisher he was, and skipper--was standing
at the schooner's wheel, swearing at the two Kanaka sailors who were
histing the jib. Julius, who was mate, was roosting on the lee rail
amid-ships, helping him swear. And old Teunis Van Doozen, a Dutchman
from Java or thereabouts, who was cook, was setting on a stool by the
galley door ready to heave in a word whenever 'twas necessary. The
Kanakas was doing the work. That was the usual division of labor aboard
the Emily.

"Well, just then there comes a yell from the bushes along the shore.
Then another yell and a most tremendous cracking and smashing. Then out
of them bushes comes tearing a little man with spectacles and a black
enamel-cloth carpetbag, heaving sand like a steam-shovel and seemingly
trying his best to fly. And astern of him comes more yells and a big,
husky Kanaka woman, about eight foot high and three foot in the beam,
with her hands stretched out and her fingers crooked.

"Julius used to swear that that beach was all of twent