l be glad to get rid of a man
like me. I'm not the sort of trader they want. I took service with them
under the impression that they were straight people. They are
not--they are simply unmitigated sweeps. Hillingdon, with his solemn,
stone-jug-like face, I _know_ to be a most infernal rogue. He fakes the
firm's accounts to the detriment of the London people who are paying the
piper, and who are really the firm. As for Sam Chard and this measly,
sneaking, Danish skipper, they are merely minor thieves. But I didn't do
so badly with them, did I, Oliver?"

The mate laughed loudly. "No, indeed. You settled them that time. But
you must be careful. Hendry especially is a dangerous man. I believe
that he wouldn't stick at murder if it could be done without any fear of
detection. And he hates you like poison. Chard, too, is a scoundrel, but
wouldn't do anything worse than he has done, which is bad enough,
for the fat blackguard always keeps up the appearance of a jolly,
good-natured fellow. But be careful of Hendry. Don't lean on the rail
on a dark night when he's on deck. He'd give you a hoist overboard in a
second if you gave him a chance and no one was about."

"I'll watch him, Oliver. And when I get better, I'll take it out of him.
But I'm not going to let him and Chard drive me out of the ship. I am
under a two years' engagement to this rascally firm, and have only three
more months to put in. I'll settle in the Carolines, and start trading
there on my own account. I'm sick of this filthy old tub."

"So is Morrison, and so am I," said the mate, as he rose to go for'ard
again. "Hallo, here is the skipper coming at last."

A quarter of an hour later the captain's boat, came alongside, and
Hendry and his supercargo came aft under the awning, and with much
solicitude asked Carr how he was feeling. He replied civilly to their
inquiries, but excused himself when Chard asked him to have a small
bottle of lager. They were accompanied by two respectable-looking white
men, who were resident traders on Drummond's Island.

"I have some news for you, Mr. Carr," said the supercargo genially;
"there's an old friend of yours here, a trader named Remington."

Carr raised himself with an expression of pleasure lighting up in his
worn, thin face. "Old Jack Remington! Where is he? I _shall_ be glad to
see him again."

"He'll be aboard here in another hour. He has a station at the north end
of the island. The moment we mentioned your nam