egan to mend from that moment, so that he was able to be
present for duty when breakfast was served.

"I thought you were sick abed," remarked Jim, opening his eyes with
surprise.

"I was," replied Tom, "until I threw up that shoe, now I feel fine and
fit to eat a square meal."

CHAPTER II

FAREWELL TO HAWAII

Jeems Howell was the only one of the hardy Frontier group who was
unable to be present at breakfast that fine morning.

"How are you feeling, Jeems," inquired Jo, looking in upon the
sufferer a little later. "Don't you think that you could eat a little
something if you were propped up with pillows?"

"No, no, lad," said Jeems sadly. "I feel that I ain't long for this
world."

"I don't know what you call it then," remarked the incorrigible Jo,
"you are six feet four and that seems to me to be pretty long for this
world or any other."

Jeems laughed so heartily at this that he too began forthwith to
recuperate. Then he got out on the land side of the deck and, though
the sun was of a sufficient warmth to satisfy the most exacting, he
kept a heavy shawl wrapped around his shoulders.

"Durned old woman," growled the captain when he caught sight of the
figure seated between the cabin and the rail. "He ought to be for'ard
scrubbing deck."

However, Skipper Jim was more lenient, and only laughed at the
captain's severity, for he knew that the old fellow's bark was much
worse than his bite. In fact, no work was being done aboard ship that
morning, for all hands were given a chance for a long last look at
Hawaii. Never again were they to behold a more beautiful scene than
the panorama that traveled steadily along with the _Sea Eagle_ that
morning.

The soft radiance flooded the deeply azure sea, and the tropic island
of vivid and varied green. The four boys stood leaning lazily on the
ship's rail, gazing in silence at the view that was passing before
them. Their sombreros shaded their eyes, but the glare from the water
shone upon their faces of healthy bronze, and they did not seem to
mind it in the least. The old captain sat upon the bridge in his old
armchair, with his old comrade, the tortoise-shell cat, dozing and
blinking at his feet, a true picture of furry felicity.

So the crew of the _Sea Eagle_ passed in review this coast of Hawaii,
with black precipices, that rose in a continuous line of palisades
from out the sea, with no white beach shelving down. The great green
surges, with the for