very busy.
The former, with a gang of shore carpenters, was engaged in preparing
the 'tween decks of the ship for the reception of the native passengers,
and constructing two movable gratings to go across the upper deck--one
for'ard and the other aft--which, whilst they would practically allow
the natives the free run of the deck, would yet prevent them from making
any sudden onslaught on the crew.

Beilby, whose long experience of the South Sea Islands trade especially
fitted him for the task, devoted himself to the work of fulfilling
Raymond's orders as to the trade goods required, and in three weeks the
_Esmeralda_ was again ready for sea.

And when, under full sail, she passed down the harbour towards Sydney
Heads bound for beautiful Samoa, her captain's heart swelled with pride
as the crews of a score of other ships cheered, "Bravo, _Esmeralda!_"

CHAPTER XV

Under a shady wild orange-tree which grew just above high-water mark
on the white beach of Samatau Bay, Marie Raymond and Mrs. Marston were
seated together on a cane lounge imagining they were sewing, but in
reality only talking on subjects dear to every woman's heart.

Quite near them, and seated on mats, were the old nurse Malu, who held
Mrs. Marston's baby-girl, and Raymond's own little daughter Loise, who
was playing with a young native girl--Olivee--grey-haired old Main's
assistant.

It was early in the morning--an hour after breakfast--and the two ladies
had come down to the beach to watch Raymond and his partners and some
hundreds of natives working at a jetty being constructed from slabs of
coral stone, and which was to be carried out into deep water.

The day was delightfully bright, and the soft cool breath of the brave
south-east trade wind, which rippled the blue of the ocean before them,
stirred and swayed and made rhythmic music among the plumed crests of
the graceful coco-palms above. And, as they talked, they heard, every
now and then, Raymond's cheery voice giving orders, and the workmen's
response, which was generally sung, some one among them improvising a
chant--for the Samoans, like many other Polynesian peoples, love to work
to the accompaniment of song.

"Marie," said Mrs. Marston, as she let the piece of sewing which she
held in her hand fall unheeded to the ground and looked dreamily out
upon the blue ocean before them, "you must be a happy woman."

"I am a very, very happy woman, Amy. And I shall be happier still if yo