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“That’s done,” said Davis, coming up with the other. “Penhill and Jarvis are highballing it at the club, and their Kanakas are playing hopscotch with the hula-hula girls. What’s the matter with you? Don’t go saying you’ve got cold feet.”

“It’s not my feet,” said Mr. Harman, “but I’ve never run off with a ship before and that’s the fact, it’s not like sinkin’ her or pilin’ her. I’ve done most things, but I’ve never run off with a ship before, that’s a fact. I’ve never——”

“Oh, close up!” said Davis. “Didn’t I tell you that Penhill can’t move against us, once I get his ship out, his feet are cut off. I’m the one man living that he’s afraid of, because I’m the one man living that can put him in quod without hurting myself. This thing isn’t running off with a ship. It’s Providence.”

“How do you get at that?” asked Billy doubtfully.

“Well, look at it,” said Davis. “In he comes with the Araya, sees me, remembers the trick he played me, tries to pal up, gets a snub on the nose, puts it in his pocket, and then goes on the jag, him and Jarvis, leaving his schooner with a parcel of damn fool Kanakas in charge and me layin’ about dangerous. Kanakas, why they’re worse than that! Island boys that’ll take any white man’s bidding s’long as he feeds them with fried bananas. It’s lovely, that’s what it is, lovely——” Linking his arm in that of Harman, he was walking him along the sand towards a boat beached and left almost high and dry by the ebbing tide. To the right lay the lights of the town, and almost on the beach sand the long amber glow of the lit club. Harman, walking between the beauty of Papaleete by night and the glory of the moon upon the sea, showed no sign of haste to reach the boat.