which he
had paid thirty shillings advance. They went over the side along with
the shore-dwelling folk and followed by him who trailed the sizzling
chlorodyne bottle.

Bertie did not see the bottle go off; but the mate opportunely
discharging a stick of real dynamite aft where it would harm nobody,
Bertie would have sworn in any admiralty court to a nigger blown to
flinders. The flight of the twenty-five recruits had actually cost the
Arla forty pounds, and, since they had taken to the bush, there was no
hope of recovering them. The skipper and his mate proceeded to drown
their sorrow in cold tea.

The cold tea was in whiskey bottles, so Bertie did not know it was cold
tea they were mopping up. All he knew was that the two men got very
drunk and argued eloquently and at length as to whether the exploded
nigger should be reported as a case of dysentery or as an accidental
drowning. When they snored off to sleep, he was the only white man left,
and he kept a perilous watch till dawn, in fear of an attack from shore
and an uprising of the crew.

Three more days the Arla spent on the coast, and three more nights the
skipper and the mate drank overfondly of cold tea, leaving Bertie
to keep the watch. They knew he could be depended upon, while he was
equally certain that if he lived, he would report their drunken conduct
to Captain Malu. Then the Arla dropped anchor at Reminge Plantation, on
Guadalcanar, and Bertie landed on the beach with a sigh of relief and
shook hands with the manager. Mr. Harriwell was ready for him.

"Now you mustn't be alarmed if some of our fellows seem downcast," Mr.
Harriwell said, having drawn him aside in confidence. "There's been talk
of an outbreak, and two or three suspicious signs I'm willing to admit,
but personally I think it's all poppycock."

"How--how many blacks have you on the plantation?" Bertie asked, with a
sinking heart.

"We're working four hundred just now," replied Mr. Harriwell,
cheerfully; "but the three of us, with you, of course, and the skipper
and mate of the Arla, can handle them all right."

Bertie turned to meet one McTavish, the storekeeper, who scarcely
acknowledged the introduction, such was his eagerness to present his
resignation.

"It being that I'm a married man, Mr. Harriwell, I can't very well
afford to remain on longer. Trouble is working up, as plain as the
nose on your face. The niggers are going to break out, and there'll be
another Hohono horror