"Wish they would," I said, out of all patience with the fellow. "First
he can't marry Rosalie because her uncle's a murderer. Now he can't
marry her because her uncle's a liar. Disprove that, and he'd dig up
some fresh objection!"

"I lofe her! I lofe her!" protested Silver Tongue.

"Come, come," I said, "you aren't marrying the girl's adopted uncle."

"A traidor to my family? No, gaptain, dat is what I can never be," said
Silver Tongue.

"Traitor--nothing!" I said.

"Oh, the silly baker!" said Sasa.

"He speaks like a delirious person," said Seumanutafa.

"Now about that ham," said the Chief Justice, belligerently coming
forward and speaking in rich Swedish accents, "when I send my servant
for a ham, Mr. Oppenstedt, I want a good ham--not a great, coarse, fat,
stinking lump of dog meat----"

"Let's go," I said to Sasa; "Captain Morse is holding back the _Alameda_
for a talk, and I know there's an iced bucket of something in the corner
of his cabin."

"Wish the dear old captain would land and punch his head off!" said Sasa
vindictively.

"Whose head?" I asked.

"Silver Tongue's," she returned.

* * * * *

Sasa had always plagued me to get up a moonlight sailing party on the
_Nukanono_, a little fifteen-ton schooner of mine that plied about the
Group. From one reason and another the thing had never come off, though
we had talked and arranged it all time and time again. Now that I had
remasted her and overhauled her copper and painted her inside and out,
the subject had bobbed up again; and as I couldn't make any objection,
and as the moon for the first time in seven years had happened to be
full at the same moment when the vessel happened to be free, Sasa
informed me (in the autocratic manner of lovely woman dealing with an
old sea horse) that the invitations were out, the music engaged, and
that my part was to plank down fifty dollars, keep my mouth shut, and do
what I was told.

I perceived from the beginning that there was something queer about the
trip, for Sasa, usually so communicative, could scarcely be induced to
speak of it at all; and then when she did it was with such a parade of
mystery and reserve that I felt myself completely baffled. However, like
the jossers in the poem, it wasn't for me to reason why, and so I
obediently ran about the beach, did what I was bidden, and discreetly
asked no questions. I confess, though, that on the day itself my
curiosity b