"Now look 'ee here, Big Chief--which it would be big thief if 'ee had
yer right name--I ain't goin' to stand this sort o' thing no longer. I
kep' my word to you all the time we wos at Raratonga, but now I'll keep
it no longer. I'll do my best to cut the cable and make sail the wery
first chance I gits--so I give 'ee fair warnin'."

Big Chief made no reply for some moments, but opened his eyes with such
an intense expression of unaffected amazement, that Jarwin's wrath
abated, in spite of his careful nursing of it to keep it warm.

"Jowin," he exclaimed at length, "you Christian Breetish tar, have your
dibbil got into you?"

This question effectually routed Jarwin's anger. He knew that the
savage, to whom he had spoken at various times on the subject of satanic
influence, was perfectly sincere in his inquiry, as well as in his
astonishment. Moreover, he himself felt surprised that Big Chief, who
was noted for his readiness to resent insult, should have submitted to
his angry tones and looks and threatening manner without the slightest
evidence of indignation. The two men therefore stood looking at each
other in silent surprise for a few moments.

"Big Chief," said Jarwin at last, bringing his right fist down heavily
into his left palm, by way of emphasis, "there's no dibbil, as you call
him, got possession o' me. My own spirit is dibbil enough, I find, to
account for all that I've said and done--an' a great deal more. But it
_has_ bin hard on me to see the door open, as it were, an' not take
adwantage of it. Howsever, it's all over now, an' I ax yer parding.
I'll not mutiny again. You've been a kind feller to me, old chap--
though you _are_ a savage--an' I ain't on-grateful; as long as I'm your
slave I'll do my duty--`honour bright;' at the same time I think it fair
an' above board to let you know that I'll make my escape from you when I
git the chance. I'm bound for to sarve you while I eat your wittles,
but I am free to go if I can manage it. There--you may roast me alive
an' eat me, if you like, but you can't say, after this, that I'm sailin'
under false colours."

During this speech a variety of expressions affected the countenance of
Big Chief, but that of melancholy predominated.

"Jowin," he said, slowly, "I like you."

"You're a good-hearted old buffer," said Jarwin, grasping the Chief's
hand, and squeezing it; "to say the truth, I'm wery fond o' yourself,
but it's nat'ral that I should like