n,
in striped pajamas, was surprised at morning coffee on the veranda of
his little house. He darted inside, and reappeared with a magazine rifle
which he emptied in the air, and followed up his courtesies by raising
and lowering a Union Jack the size of a handkerchief. The battleship
dipped her stately white ensign in acknowledgment, as a swan might
salute a fly, and swept on with majesty.

With every mile the bays and wooded promontories grew increasingly
familiar as Sir John was borne toward Lihua, the scene of his boyish
folly. He looked ashore in wonder, surprised at the vividness and
exactness of his recollection. He might have landed anywhere and found
his way through those tangled, scented paths with no other guide but
memory. There was Papaloloa with its roaring falls; there, the ti'a a
Peau where he had shot his first goat; yonder, the misty heights of
Tiarapu, where Tehea and he had camped a night in the clouds in an air
of English cold. It was like a home-coming to see all these familiar
scenes spreading out before him. He looked at his hands, his thin,
veined, wrinkled hands, and it came over him with a sort of wonder that
he was an old man.

"That was forty years ago," he said to himself. "Forty years ago!"

And yet, by God! it all seemed like yesterday.

As Lihua opened out and he perceived, with an inexpressible pang, the
thatched houses set deep in the shade of palms and breadfruit trees, he
felt himself in the throes of a strange and painful indecision. He paced
up and down the bridge; he lit a cigar and threw it away again; he twice
approached Captain Stillwell as though to give an order, and then,
still in doubt, turned shamefacedly on his heel.

"By the deep nine!" came the hoarse murmur of the leadsman.

It lay with him to stop the ship or not; a word, and she would come
shivering to a standstill; a word, and the boatswain would pipe away his
gig and the crew would be running to their places. His heart ached with
the desire to land, but something, he knew not what, withheld the order
on his lips. Let him remain silent, and the opportunity would pass away
forever; it was passing now with every turn of the propeller. Had he not
told her he would return? Had he not whispered it that night when they
were torn apart? Did he not owe it to her to keep the promise of forty
years, a promise given in the flush of youth and hope, and sealed with
scalding tears?

His resolution was taken. He ordered Ca