med whelmed in night
and water.

They fled, groping for their usual shelter--it might be almost called
their home--in the old calaboose; came drenched into its empty chambers;
and lay down, three sops of humanity, on the cold coral floors, and
presently, when the squall was overpast, the others could hear in the
darkness the chattering of the clerk's teeth.

"I say, you fellows," he wailed, "for God's sake, lie up and try to warm
me. I'm blymed if I don't think I'll die else!"

So the three crept together into one wet mass, and lay until day came,
shivering and dozing off, and continually re-awakened to wretchedness by
the coughing of the clerk.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Come here.

CHAPTER II

MORNING ON THE BEACH--THE THREE LETTERS

The clouds were all fled, the beauty of the tropic day was spread upon
Papeete; and the wall of breaking seas upon the reef, and the palms upon
the islet, already trembled in the heat. A French man-of-war was going
out, homeward bound; she lay in the middle distance of the port, an
ant-heap for activity. In the night a schooner had come in, and now lay
far out, hard by the passage; and the yellow flag, the emblem of
pestilence, flew on her. From up the coast, a long procession of canoes
headed round the point and towards the market, bright as a scarf with
the many-coloured clothing of the natives and the piles of fruit. But
not even the beauty and the welcome warmth of the morning, not even
these naval movements, so interesting to sailors and to idlers, could
engage the attention of the outcasts. They were still cold at heart,
their mouths sour from the want of sleep, their steps rambling from the
lack of food; and they strung like lame geese along the beach in a
disheartened silence. It was towards the town they moved; towards the
town whence smoke arose, where happier folk were breakfasting; and as
they went, their hungry eyes were upon all sides, but they were only
scouting for a meal.

A small and dingy schooner lay snug against the quay, with which it was
connected by a plank. On the forward deck, under a spot of awning, five
Kanakas, who made up the crew, were squatted round a basin of fried
feis,[2] and drinking coffee from tin mugs.

"Eight bells: knock off for breakfast!" cried the captain, with a
miserable heartiness. "Never tried this craft before; positively my
first appearance; guess I'll draw a bumper house."

He came close up to where the plank rested on the