man. He remained there for nearly an hour, and then came
out again, and looking about him for a few moments, made direct for
Banderah's house, which stood about three hundred yards back from that
of the American trader.

When close to the chiefs house the captain of the _Starlight_ raised his
head, and Banderah caught sight of his features and recognised him.

"How are you, Bandy?" said the seaman, walking smartly up to the chief,
who was sitting on a mat inside his doorway, surrounded by a part of his
harem and family, "you haven't forgotten me, have you?"

"Oh, no, sir. I no forget you," said the native, civilly enough, but
without warmth. "How are you, Cap'en Bilker?"

"Sh', don't call me that, Bandy. I'm Captain Sykes now."

"Yes?" and Banderah's face at once assumed an expression of the most
hopeless stupidity. "All right, Cap'en Sike. Come inside an' sit down."

"Right, my boy," said Bilker genially, fumbling in his coat pocket, and
producing a large flask of rum, "I've brought you a drink, Bandy; and I
want to have a yarn with you."

"All right," and taking the flask from the captain's hand without
deigning to look at it, he passed it on to one of his wives. "What you
want talk me about, Cap'en? You want me to get you some native for work
on plantation?" and he smiled slily.

"No, no, Bandy. Nothing like that I don't run a labour ship now. I'm a
big fellow gentleman now. I'm captain of that yacht."

The chief nodded, but said nothing. He knew Captain "Sykes" of old, and
knew him to be an undoubted rascal. Indeed, about ten years before the
cunning blackbirder captain had managed to take thirty of Banderah's
people away in his ship without paying for them; and the moment the
chief recognised the sailor he set his keen native brain to work to
devise a plan for getting square with him. And he meant to take deadly
vengeance.

"Banderah, old man," and the captain laid one hand on the chiefs naked
knee, "I meant to pay you for those men when I came back next trip. But
I was taken by a man-of-war," here Bilker crossed his wrists to signify
that he had been handcuffed; "taken to Sydney, put me in calaboose--ten
years."

"You lie," said Banderah quietly, but with a danger spark in his eye,
"man-o'-war no make you fas' for a long time after you steal my men.
Plenty people tell me you make two more voyage; then man-o'-war catch
you an' make you fas'."

"Don't you believe 'em, Banderah," began the ex-blackbirde