ted.

Two minutes passed. Then Martin turned.

"How much?" he said.

"Fifty pounds, sonny. Two hundred and fifty dollars."

"Easy to see you've been in the business," mumbled Martin; "why, her
mother's worth that. 'Tain't no deal."

"Well, then, how much _do_ you want?"

"A hundred."

"Haven't got it on board, sonny. Take eighty sovereigns and the rest in
trade or liquor?"

"It's a deal," said Martin; "are you game to part ten sovereigns for the
girl's mother, and I'll get her back from the natives!"

"No," said Chaplin, rising \ "the girl's enough for me."

She had risen and was looking at Martin with a pallid face and set
teeth, and then without a word of farewell on either side she picked
up a Panama hat and, fan in hand, walked down to the boat and got in,
waiting for Chaplin.

*****

Presently he came down, and said, "Well, Mr. Denison, I suppose, as
matters are arranged, you'll want to land Martin some trade?"

"Oh, no," said Denison, "he's got plenty. This _tabu_ on his own
business will teach him a lesson. But I want to send him some provisions
on shore. By the way, captain, that girl's likely to prove expensive to
you. I hope you'll put her ashore at Rotumah till the voyage is nearly
over."

"No," said he, "I won't. Of course, I know our godly owners would raise
a deuce of a row about my buying the girl if I couldn't pay for her
keep while she's on board, but I've got a couple of hundred pounds in
Auckland, as they know, besides some cash on board. After I've paid that
thundering blackguard I've still some left, and I mean to put her ashore
at Levuka to live until I can take her to her destination."

"Why," Denison queried, "what are you going to do with her?"

"Just this: there's a friend of mine in Honolulu always willing to give
a few thousand dollars for a really handsome girl. And I believe that
girl will bring me nearly about three thousand dollars."

*****

For three months the girl remained on board, grave, dignified, and
always self-possessed. Chaplin treated her kindly, and it was evident
to all on board that the girl had given him such affection as she was
capable of, and little knew his intentions regarding her future. With
both Chaplin and Denison she would now converse freely in the Pelew
Island dialect. And often pointing to the sinking sun she would
sigh--"There is my land over there behind the sun. When will we get
there?" Laying her hand on Chaplin's she would seek for