in the
newly-founded convict settlement of New South Wales, and his dream
was the founding of a new state in the Solomon Islands, where he, an
autocratic, but beneficent ruler, would reign supreme, and the English
Government recognise him as a Clive, a Warren Hastings of the Southern
Seas. But the clubs of the murderous Solomon Islanders--the country
of the people in which he had already planned out vast achievements on
paper--battered out his brains almost under the guns of his beautiful
armed yacht, the _Wanderer_; and the name of Ben Boyd was now alone
remembered by a decayed village and a ruined lighthouse on the south
headland of Twofold Bay, in New South Wales, where, in the days of his
prosperity, he had erected it, as a guide to the numerous American and
English whaleships, which in those times traversed the Pacific from one
end to the other, and would, he imagined, eagerly avail themselves of
the quiet, landlocked harbour to repair and recruit, and sell their
cargoes of sperm oil. But they never came, and his dream was ended ere
his life was gone.
Yes, I would ask her, as soon as I had an opportunity of speaking to her
alone. It was true that she had once told me that she would never part
from Lucia--and Lucia had often spoken to me of their plans for the
future.
But, my vanity whispered, she would listen to me She cared for me, I was
sure, and would not long hesitate. We were certain to meet with at least
one missionary going through the Carolines, and he would many us. If we
did not, it would not matter--there were half a dozen Spanish priests
in Guam. Then after our marriage I would go on in the boat to Amboyna,
where I had a business friend, a rich trader--a man who liked and
trusted me, and who would give me a thousand, ay, two thousand pounds'
worth of trade goods for my pencilled I.O.U. in his notebook. Then I
would buy a little schooner, and sail with Niabon to the islands of
the south-eastern Pacific, and begin trading. I would make Rapa, in
the Austral Group, my head station, or else Manga Reva in the southern
Paumotus--Niabon should decide.
The low cloud to windward lifted, the red sun leapt from the sea-rim,
and then I felt a soft hand on my arm.
"What are you thinking of, Jim? I called you twice, but you did not
hear. I believe you were talking to yourself, for I twice saw you throw
out your arm as if you were speaking to some one."
"I believe I was, Lucia," I replied with a laugh. "I wa
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