into an almost
fabulous fortune, he is apt to set about doing that which pleases him
best; in all probability he overdoes it. If he be fond of any society
and is willing to pay for the purchase of it, he will find no difficulty
in supplying himself, even to the verge of satiety.

A certain gentleman who shall be nameless in these pages but who came to
be known among his followers as _The Commodore_, finding himself heir to
a fortune, chartered a yacht for a summer cruise, and invited his
friends to join him. The yacht had been for some weeks the scene of
unceasing festivity; the joyous party on board her had passed from
island to island, the feted guests of Kings and Queens and dusky Chiefs;
feasting, dancing, and the exchange of gifts--these were the order of
entertainment night and day.

It was a novel life for most who were on board, filled with adventure
and spectacular surprises. The Commodore's hospitality was boundless;
the appetites of his guests insatiable. But Clitheroe had seen all this
from quite another point of view; he had been a native among the
natives; admitted into brotherhood with the tribe, he had lived the life
they lead until it had become as natural to him as if he had been born
to it. Their thoughts were his thoughts, their tongue, his tongue. He
was thinking of this as he sat by the companion-way, in the silence,
unobserved.

_Three Bells!_ He rose and going to the open transom, looked down into
the cabin. The long dinner table had been relieved of dessert-dishes,
but the after-dinner bottles were there in profusion, and cigar-boxes
and cigarettes within convenient reach; it was an odd scene; a picture
of confusion in a dead calm. The lights were burning low and there was
no sound save the hoarse breathing of some of the revelers who had
subsided into uncomfortable positions and were too heavy with sleep to
seek easier ones. Clitheroe saw at the head of the table the Commodore,
stretched back in his easy chair; he was fast asleep; there was no doubt
about that. His guests one and all were dozing. The drowsy stupor that
follows a debauch pervaded the whole company. I venture the assurance
that not one person present could have been aroused in season to save
himself or herself had the ship at that moment struck a reef, and
foundered.

There they were, dimly outlined under the cabin-lamps, the companions
with whom for a season Clitheroe had been more or less intimately
associated in the Misty