ad to clear out
to save my ---- skin. Where are you bound to, captain? Give me and my
boys a passage. I don't care where the hell you're going to, so long
as I git somewhere away. And, say, mister, give me suthin' to drink."

Rawlings smiled pleasantly. "Certainly, Mr. Warner. Come below, and
let your men come on deck. They are not dangerous, I hope."

The moment the new arrival heard Rawlings' voice he stared, and then
gave a hoarse, snorting laugh as he again grasped the captain's hand.

"God strike me dead, Jim Rawlings! I wouldn't have reckernised yer
only for yer voice. Why, what the hell----"

Rawlings laughed boisterously. "Delighted to meet you again, old
comrade. Mr. Barry, this is Mr. Bill Warner, an old Solomon Island
shipmate and friend of mine. Come below, Warner, and tell me what has
gone wrong."

The big man saw a warning glance in Rawlings' dark eyes, which he took
in quickly, and the two descended below.

They remained talking together for nearly two hours, and then at four
bells Mr. Warner staggered up on deck, and with a vast amount of
hilarious profanity and blasphemy called his boat's crew together and
addressed them in their own tongue.

"The captain of this ship is my friend. We are going with him to a new
land. We must stand by him when the time comes, for there may be
throats to cut." Then he added in English, "And now you can all go to
hell until the morning. I'm going to sleep."

So saying, he flung himself upon the skylight, and in a few minutes was
snoring in a drunken slumber.

Rawlings sauntered up on deck a few minutes later, and stood watching
the progress of the brig through the calm and glassy water, for Barry
had lowered one of the boats, and the crew were towing her clear of the
outlying horn of the reef. The wild, half-naked savages who had just
come on board were sitting or lying on the main-deck, smoking or
chewing betel-nut, while their boat was towing astern.

"How are we getting along, Mr. Barry?" said the captain pleasantly.

"Pretty well, sir. Once we are clear of that long stretch of reef we
need no more towing. But it is just as well to be on the safe side,
for there's no bottom here at ninety fathoms."

Rawlings nodded. "Just so. We don't want to get piled up on Ponape,
Mr. Barry." He took a turn or two along the deck, and then with his
hands in his pockets inclined his head towards the sprawling figure of
Mr. Bill Warner.

"Not at all