and
windless as well, and the perspiration was streaming down the naked
chests and backs of our sturdy native sailors. The only sounds that
broke the silence were the cries of birds--cockatoos and large green and
scarlet parrots, which screamed angrily at us as the boats passed close
in to the dense, steamy jungle of the littoral.

Just as the captain's boat rounded the point, we heard a cry of
astonishment from his crew, a cry that was echoed by ourselves half a
minute later; for there in the centre of a small landlocked bay, was
a cutter lying at anchor! She appeared to be of about thirty or forty
tons, had an awning spread aft, and presented a very weather-worn
appearance; her rudder was gone, and the upper part of her stern badly
damaged. There was no one visible on deck, but presently, in answer to
the captain's hail, the face of an old, white-haired man, appeared above
the companion.

"Come on board," he called out in clear, vigorous tones, and we saw him
take up a broom, which was lying on the skylight, and begin to sweep the
after-deck vigorously with one hand, the other being in a sling.

"Guess he's a lunatic," said Captain Guest, turning to me with a laugh.
But we had no time to indulge in surmises, for in a few minutes we were
drawing up alongside; the stranger was standing at the stern, broom in
hand, watching us.

"Step on board here, over the stern, please," he said, and then he added
quickly, "but are you all wearing boots?"

"No," answered the captain, now quite sure the old man was wrong in his
head, "some of my men have no boots."

"Then they had better not come aboard," he said with a quiet, amused
smile, as he saw our puzzled faces.

The moment Captain Guest and myself stepped over the rail and shook
hands with the stranger, we saw the reason for the broom--the entire
deck, except the small space aft which had just been swept, was covered
with broken glass!

"Glad to see you, gentlemen. My name is Yorke, and this cutter is the
_Francesco_."

"And my name is Guest. I am master of the brigantine _Fray Sentos_,
of Sydney, lying just round the point, and this is Mr. Drake, my
supercargo."

"Sit down here on the skylight, gentlemen, out of the way of the
glass--my cabin is very small."

"Guess it would have to be a pretty big one if you had another two men
like yourself to share it," said Guest with a laugh, as he surveyed our
new friend's proportions. And indeed he was right, for Yorke wa