re
was Oriental blood in him. You could see that. He called himself Quint.
But his eyes were Jap, or Chinese; and he had their calm, blank screen
across his countenance, to hide what may have been his thoughts. Quint,
he called himself. And he was a big man, and very much of a man in his
own way, Joel.

"The other was little, and he walked with a slink and a grin. His name
was Fetcher. And he was oily in his speech.

"When they saw me, they studied me for a considerable time without
speech. And I stood there, with the rifle in my arm, and laughed at them.
And at last, Quint said calmly:

"'You took Farrell.'

"'The fat man?' I asked him. He nodded. 'Yes,' I said. 'He took my girl,
and so I dropped him into the water, and a friend met him there and
hurried him away.'

"'Your girl?' he echoed, in a nasty way. 'You're that, then?'

"'Am I?' I asked, and shifted the rifle a thought to the fore. And his
eyes held mine for a space, and then he shook his head.

"'I see that I was mistaken,' he said.

"'Your sight is good,' I told him. 'Now--what is this? Tell me.'

"He told me, evenly and without malice. They had a line on the pearls;
there were enough for three. I was welcome. And at the end, I nodded my
consent. The _Nathan Ross_ was gone. Furthermore, there were nine pagans
in me now; and the prospect of looting some still lagoon, in company with
these two rats, had a wild flavor about it that caught me. My blood was
burning; and the sun was hot. Also, they had liquor aboard her. Liquor,
and loot, and the three women. Pagan, Joel. Pagan! But wild and red and
raw. There's a glory about such things.... Songs are made of them....
There was no handshaking; but we made alliance, and crowded on sail, and
went on our way."

He stopped short, laughed, filled his pipe again, watched Joel. "You're
shocked with me, boy. I can see it," he taunted mockingly. Joel shook his
head. "Will you hear the rest?" Mark asked; and Joel nodded. Mark lighted
his pipe, laughed.... His fingers thrummed on the desk beside him.

"We were a week on the way," he said. "And all pagan, every minute of the
week. Days when we fought a storm--as bad as I've ever seen, Joel. We
fought it, holding to the ropes with our teeth, bare to the waist, with
the wind scourging us. It tore at us, and lashed at us.... And we drove
the three black men with knives to their work. And the three women stayed
below, except my little brown girl. She came up, now and