ng?"

"Oh no, I don't think they will trouble us in that way. If they do we
can easily beat them off. But there's not much chance of their letting
us land on the big island and making that our headquarters."

"Then what shall we do?" asked Rawlings, chewing his cigar, and angrily
pacing the deck.

"Stay where we are and work the lagoon from this end," replied the
mate; "we have three months' work here, within as many miles of us, and
I believe we can fill the ship about here, without going near the lee
side of the lagoon. Yesterday afternoon we could see the shell lying
on the bottom anywhere in from four to six fathoms." (This part of
Barry's story was quite true.) "And," he added, "that low, sandy
island astern of us will do splendidly for a rotting-out station. Our
boys will soon put up some coconut leaf houses. It's handy too--almost
within hailing distance."

Rawlings' equanimity was at once restored. "Ah, that is good news
about the shell anyway. Ready for breakfast, Mr. Barry?"

During breakfast Barry, with a secret delight at the fiction, gave
Rawlings, Barradas, and the Greek an account of the manner in which he
and his men were attacked. The Greek, who had been examining the boat,
and who would have the job of repairing the damage done by the bullets
of the savages (fired at the boat when she was empty by Joe and Velo),
suggested to Rawlings that later on the whole crew should make a night
attack on the native village, and, as he expressed it, "wipa outa the
whole lota of the ---- niggers."

"What's the use of our doing that?" said Barradas gloomily; "as long as
they don't interfere with us again, we might as well leave them alone."

The Greek snapped his jaws together like a shark, and then grinned.

"I tella you the God's trutha. I would as soona shoota a kanaka as I
would shoota a rat."

"So would I, mister," broke in Warner; "and if the skipper gives the
word, I guess these niggers of mine can jest wipe out the whole
hell-fired lot of crawlers that beat you off. Give my crowd fifteen
Sniders and a hundred rounds each and you see and smell more dead and
stinkin' kanakas lyin' around on these here beaches in forty-eight
hours than you ever saw in your life. I'm right in for this sort of
work."

Barry looked at him, trying to veil his contempt and disgust for the
ruffian under the guise of indifference.

"There'll be no need, I think, Captain Rawlings, for you to employ Mr.
Warner's