be jiggered," said I; "that is to say, God forgive me, for I
love Miss Ruth better than my own sister. He's no more a prince than
you are, though that's a liberty, seeing that I don't know your name,
doctor. He's just Edmond Czerny, a Hungarian musician, who caught a
young girl's fancy in the South, and is making her suffer for it here
in the Pacific. Why, just think of it. A young American girl----"

He stopped me abruptly, swinging round on his heel and showing the
first spark of animation he had as yet been guilty of.

"An American girl?" cried he.

"As true as the Gospels, an American girl. She was the daughter of
Rupert Bellenden, who made his money on the Western American Railroad.
If you remember the Elbe going down, you won't ask what became of him.
His son, Kenrick Bellenden, is in America now. I'd give my fortune,
doctor, to let him know how it fares with his sister on this cursed
shore. That's why my own ship sails for 'Frisco this day--at least, I
hope and believe so, for otherwise she's at the bottom of the sea."

I told the story with some heat, for amazement is the enemy of a slow
tongue; but my excitement was not shared by him, and for some minutes
afterwards he stood like a man in a reverie.

"You came in your own ship!" he exclaimed next. "Why, yes, you would
not have walked. Did Mme. Czerny ask you here?"

"It was a promise to her," said I. "She left the money with her lawyers
for me to bring a ship to Ken's Island twelve months after her
marriage. That promise I kept, doctor, and here I am and here are my
shipmates, and God knows what is to be the end of it and the end of
us!"

He agreed to that with one of those expressive nods which spared him a
deal of talk. By-and-bye, without referring to the matter any more, he
turned suddenly to Peter Bligh and exclaimed:

"Halloa, my man, and what's the matter with you?"

Now, Peter Bligh sat up as stiff as a board and answered directly.

"Hunger, doctor, that's the matter with me! If you'll add thirst to it,
you've about named my complaint."

"Fog out of your lungs, eh?"

"Be sure and it is. I could dance at a fair and not be particular
about the women. Put me alongside a beef-steak and you shall see some
love-making. Aye, doctor, I'll never get my bread as a living skeleton,
the saints be good to me, my hold's too big for that!"

It was like Mister Bligh, and amused the stranger very much. Just as if
to answer Peter, the doctor crossed the r