The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

who would look well by the side of Kitty and she by him. They are not matched any more than opposites can be. When Kitty mates it will be because she falls in love, and when she does that it will be with a man-size lover. I suppose there are possibilities in Newton, but he has much to do to even up his shortcomings. Besides, he is her cousin. He might be willing to ignore the relationship, but I know that Kitty would never marry anyone in whom her own blood ran. The trouble with you, Jim Lyman,” she added, in her rich voice that was her one great outward charm, “is that you make two big mistakes.”

      “What are those?”

      Lynda laughed. “I like you enough to tell you. It is doubtful if you would ever find them out for yourself. One is that you don’t know how to appraise yourself, not knowing how a woman makes her valuations of a man; the other that you fail altogether to realize that Kitty Whiting is not either angel or fairy, but a very human being. A woman may use her head, Jim, but she has not yet progressed to the place where reason displaces sentiment. Certain types of women need certain types of men. Kitty is ninety percent feminine. She will fall in love with a ninety percent male. A man with a man’s force and strength. She would rather have a man who would bully her a little than one who would worship her. I’ve given you enough to think about. When the right time comes, apply your digested knowledge. Good luck to you and good night.” She left him gasping.

      The wind began to get capricious the second day out and they had to resort to gasoline, much against Jim’s will. He had wanted to save all he could for emergencies, but there was no help for it and Sanders once more took charge of the motive power. They were now where the prevailing wind was southeast, and even if it blew steadily, they, sailing into it on a southeasterly course, could not expect to do better than eight knots, besides falling off in leeway. With the engine, despite the reek of oil, the vibration and the extra heat, all petty annoyances that loom large when the thermometer is over a hundred, they had the satisfaction that every revolution, every turn of the screw sent them ahead, straight to their destination. It seemed to sing a chant of progress:

      One foot—two feet—three feet—four!

      Five feet—six feet—one fathom more!

      Eight hundred and eighty fathoms to a land mile! One thousand and fourteen and a half to a nautical mile! Six thousand and eighty-seven feet divided by six. One nautical mile to a minute, sixty of them to a degree. It was possible to calculate the exact time of arrival, of the moment when they might expect to see the beckoning finger of craggy rock showing through the torn mist.

      Newton and Kitty worked out the sums, and checked them off on the chart as they progressed. It was a sort of game calculated to relieve the tension and was not confined to the cabin. Jim gave a talk to the crew. They had cleared from Suva as for “island ports,” but he knew that curiosity was rife as to their destination, that the men had speculated on the appearance of the Shark, and also on the fact that they had been given firearms practice. He wanted to know how far he could count on them. The Fijian natives were more or less carefree and adventurous. They also had a wholesome fear of the British Government and conceived themselves as lent to the Seamew, to be returned in good time and repair, plus satisfactory wage, providing they did their duty and behaved themselves. There were six of them, three of whom had served in the Fijian native police, all good swimmers, brave and faithful, fair shots, handy men, fine sailors; messing, sleeping, and keeping to themselves, unconcerned for the morrow, willing and strong.

      Jim held consultation with Kitty and Lynda over his speech. Newton was admitted to the council out of courtesy. Even Baker knew nothing of their purposes. It was decided unwise to mention pearls.

      “We’ve got to arm our landing party,” said Jim. “We can’t count on my experience as to there being no natives. If on visiting the ship we should uncover a million dollars in pearls, it might turn the heads of our crew.

      “I don’t want to discriminate against any of them. I think Baker’s all right. I am sure of Sanders and Wood, and Douglas Moore would fight like a fiend for whichever side his temperament happened to attach itself to. He could argue himself right under any conditions and spill his blood as freely as the other chap’s to prove it. Walker’s game and square. I don’t know that any of them are not, but I am sure the best way would be to ally them with us by taking them into our confidence to a certain extent. I’ll call ’em aft at the end of the dog-watch.”

      “We are going down to an island where I was once wrecked,” he told the listening men, all hands assembled down to Li Cheng and the monkey, the kanakas grinning in a rear circle of their own. “When I was there I discovered a fine ship stranded in the jungle where some big wave had flung it. That ship, men, was called the Golden Dolphin. Its model is below in the main cabin. It was built by the father of Miss Whiting, who has chartered this schooner to search for him, believing him to be alive.

      “It is to the interest of certain people, for business reasons, to get in touch with Captain Whiting before we do, to prevent our finding him until they have secured what they want from him. We believe those men to have been following us from Honolulu, in fact from the States. We hope we have thrown them off the trail. If we have not we are not afraid of them. We look to you to stand by us.”

      There had been a shuffling of feet and a rolling of eyes when Jim mentioned the pursuit. Nods passed between the men.

      “There may be hostile natives,” Jim went on. “I am authorized to state that there will be extra pay—a substantial bonus—for all those who volunteer, but it is distinctly understood that you do volunteer, for shore duty. Nothing will be held against you if you prefer to stay aboard. But—the main factor of this trip of ours is the rescue of Miss Whiting’s father, to crown with success a venture that has brought her nearly ten thousand miles by sea and land. She takes the chances that I ask you to share, not for the matter of wages or bonus, but as men for the sake of a brave woman.”

      It was the longest speech that Jim had ever made. He was conscious that he had injected into it much of his own feeling for Kitty Whiting’s venture. It self-inspired him with fresh belief in their ultimate success as he conjured it up in words of crisp, stirring appeal. He saw her flushed face and shining eyes as he finished. The men were cheering. Strangely enough, they were led by Li Cheng, who stepped out in front in his cook’s white drill apron and cap, his Oriental face a mask of approval and enthusiasm.

      “Thlee chee’ fo’ Lilly Miss,” he cried. “Hoolay!”

      Jim dismissed the men, feeling that he might count upon all of them. Baker spoke to him.

      “That was a good talk you made, Skipper. Good idea to make it. You know how things leak out aboard ship, and how little things roll up. The men savvied there was more than just a chance meeting with that Shark schooner, and there’s been a heap of talk about this being a trip for buried treasure. A word of talk starts in the cabin, and by the time it drifts forward, it’s a whole book. Now they know what they’re after, and if there’s a spice of danger to it, why it’ll tie ’em up.”

      “How did they ever come to talk about buried treasure?”

      “It’s the most natural thing, I reckon, to tie up with a trip like this where it ain’t given out at the start just where you’re goin’, an’ then there’s the pistol an’ rifle practice. You don’t look like a tradin’ outfit. I’ve done some wonderin’ myself, but my motto is to get orders, an’ outside of that to be deef, dumb an’ blind. You can count on me, Skipper. I hope the young lady finds her father. Looks like a long shot to me, though. I understand you’ve been to the island an’ didn’t sight him?”

      “I was only ashore for a little while.”

      “It’s derned funny he didn’t show if he was there. I’ve bin wrecked myself, an’ I spent night an’ day on the highest point I c’ud find. Leastwise, I was there often enough to make sure nothin’ went by me.”

      “He might have been ill; broken a leg?”

      “He c’ud have made a smoke. Not that I’d aim to discourage Miss Whiting, Skipper.”

      “Of course not.” But Baker’s common-sense