about the fate of the mutineers who had remained at
Otaheite, and received in exchange a brief outline of the history of the
nine mutineers who had landed on Pitcairn.

The excitement of the two men and their interest in each other increased
every moment; the one being full of the idea of having made a wonderful
discovery of, as it were, a lost community, the other being equally full
of the delight of once more talking to a man--a seaman--a messmate, he
might soon say, for he meant to feed him like a prince.

"Get a pig cooked, Molly," he said, during a brief interval in the
conversation, "an' do it as fast as you can."

"There's one a'most ready-baked now," replied Mrs Adams.

"All right, send the girls for fruit, and make a glorious spread--
outside; he'll like it better than in the house--under the banyan-tree.
Sit down, sit down, messmate." Turning to the sailor, "Man, _what_ a
time it is since I've used that blessed word! Sit down and have a
glass."

Jack Brace smacked his lips in anticipation, thanked Adams in advance,
and drew his sleeve across his mouth in preparation, while his host set
a cocoa-nut-cup filled with a whitish substance before him.

"That's a noo sort of a glass, John Adams," remarked the man, as he
raised and smelt it; "also a strange kind o' tipple."

He sipped, and seemed disappointed. Then he sipped again, and seemed
pleased.

"What is it, may I ax?"

"It's milk of the cocoa-nut," answered Adams.

"Milk o' the ko-ko-nut, eh? Well, now, that is queer. If you'd 'a
called it the milk o' the cow-cow-nut, I could have believed it.
Hows'ever, it ain't bad, tho' raither wishy-washy. Got no stronger
tipple than that?"

"Nothin' stronger than that, 'xcept water," said John, with one of his
sly glances; "but it's a toss up which is the strongest."

"Well, it'll be a toss down with me whichever is the strongest," said
the accommodating tar, as he once more raised the cup to his lips, and
drained it.

"But, I say, you unhung mutineer, do you mean for to tell me that all
them good-lookin' boys an' girls are yours?"

He looked round on the crowd of open-mouthed young people, who, from
six-foot Toc down to the youngest staggerer, gazed at him solemnly, all
eyes and ears.

"No, they ain't," answered Adams, with a laugh. "What makes you ask?"

"'Cause they all calls you father."

"Oh!" replied his host, "that's only a way they have; but there's only
four of 'em mine, three girls a