or
at best a severe trial, if so hardened a stomach as Vliet's hadn't
been able to keep you down. Worse; he guessed you for a spy.

"--Here, Sir Roderick and Mr. Collingwood, I must tell you that Vliet
and Hales, as masters in this knock-about off-island trade, had grown
to be rival kings in their way, and Hales in his brooding fashion as
jealous as fire. From all I've heard, Vliet hadn't the ambition to
be properly jealous: all _he_ objected to was his business being cut.

"--Vliet was an old man--a regular hoary sinner, who kept his trade
secrets by a very simple method. He stocked his crews entirely with
lads of his own begetting. White, black, he didn't care how many
wives he carried to sea, or how much of a family wash he carried in
the shrouds on a fine day. He ran his trade on secrecy and close
family limitations. He had no range. His joy was to have a corner
unknown to a soul else in the world. Fat, lazy, wicked, and sly--
that was Vliet. He belonged to the old school.

"--Now, for years, Hales--of the new school, and challenger--had been
chasing after a rumour that chased after Vliet from port to port--a
rumour that Vliet drew on an uncharted island, in those latitudes,
known only to himself and to so much of his progeny as the old
Solomon didn't mistrust enough to lose overboard. . . . Well, the
belief at Valparaiso is that old Buck Vliet, with his schooner--on
which he grudged a penny for repairs--had found an ocean grave at
last, somewhere. The guess is that he overdid the _Two Brothers_ in
the end, being careless of warnings, with a top-hamper of wives.
There is also a legend--likely invented to account for the name of
his schooner--that he left all his money to a twin brother in
business in Salt Lake City, and that the brother and his brother's
wives had fitted out a new schooner to hunt for the island's
whereabouts.

"--Listen, you Foe! While I was lying sick, and you neglecting the
look-out, Hales made our island, and anchored in the bay. While I
was lying sick, and you neglecting the look-out, Hales made our
island, that had been his dream for years; landed there, or on the
far side, took its bearings to a hair, of course, and went ashore
with a party to prospect. What do you say to that?"

"I say," answered Foe, still languidly, shifting his head a little on
the cushion, "that I always told you we were on the wrong side of the
island, and that you would never listen."

"They landed