d towards the market, bright as a scarf with the
many-coloured clothing of the natives and the piles of fruit. But not
even the beauty and the welcome warmth of the morning, not even these
naval movements, so interesting to sailors and to idlers, could engage
the attention of the outcasts. They were still cold at heart, their
mouths sour from the want of steep, their steps rambling from the
lack of food; and they strung like lame geese along the beach in a
disheartened silence. It was towards the town they moved; towards the
town whence smoke arose, where happier folk were breakfasting; and as
they went, their hungry eyes were upon all sides, but they were only
scouting for a meal.

A small and dingy schooner lay snug against the quay, with which it was
connected by a plank. On the forward deck, under a spot of awning, five
Kanakas who made up the crew, were squatted round a basin of fried feis,
and drinking coffee from tin mugs.

'Eight bells: knock off for breakfast!' cried the captain with a
miserable heartiness. 'Never tried this craft before; positively my
first appearance; guess I'll draw a bumper house.'

He came close up to where the plank rested on the grassy quay; turned
his back upon the schooner, and began to whistle that lively air, 'The
Irish Washerwoman.' It caught the ears of the Kanaka seamen like a
preconcerted signal; with one accord they looked up from their meal and
crowded to the ship's side, fei in hand and munching as they looked.
Even as a poor brown Pyrenean bear dances in the streets of English
towns under his master's baton; even so, but with how much more
of spirit and precision, the captain footed it in time to his own
whistling, and his long morning shadow capered beyond him on the grass.
The Kanakas smiled on the performance; Herrick looked on heavy-eyed,
hunger for the moment conquering all sense of shame; and a little
farther off, but still hard by, the clerk was torn by the seven devils
of the influenza.

The captain stopped suddenly, appeared to perceive his audience for the
first time, and represented the part of a man surprised in his private
hour of pleasure.

'Hello!' said he.

The Kanakas clapped hands and called upon him to go on.

'No, SIR!' said the captain. 'No eat, no dance. Savvy?'

'Poor old man!' returned one of the crew. 'Him no eat?'

'Lord, no!' said the captain. 'Like-um too much eat. No got.'

'All right. Me got,' said the sailor; 'you tome here. Plenty t