While they were still talking, the gate in the wall was once more thrown open, and to the white men's utter amazement, Grinson marched in at the head of a procession of his captors. His arms were unbound, his face was wreathed in smiles, his body was bare to the waist.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GRINSON MARCHED IN AT THE HEAD OF A PROCESSION.]

'Ahoy, messmates!' he cried at the top of his voice, rather hoa.r.s.ely.

'Beg pardon, young gents, but I mean to say--oh, cripes! Ephraim, me lad, I never thought I 'd see you again, 'cept as a ghost. Am I drunk?

No, but I 'm darned merry, which I mean to say--I say, old c.o.c.k,'

turning to a Papuan, 'get me a drink--get us all a drink, and we 'll drink your health and say no more about it.' He raised his arm, and kissed a spot just below his shoulder. 'Kiss it too, ugly mug! Come on, all you lubbers, kiss it, or I 'll never love you no more!'

And to his friends' amazement the Papuans came to him one by one, and reverently kissed the spot, Grinson beaming on them.

'That's right! It tickles, and I don't like your ugly nose bones, but you 've good 'earts. No, you don't--once is enough,' he cried to a man who offered the salute a second time.

'"When I was young and had no sense!"--no, blamed if it wasn't the most sensiblest thing ever I did, and that's saying something.' He had now come up to his amazed companions. 'There it is--that's what done it.

"A sweet little cherub what sits up aloft,"--beg pardon, sir, I feels like singing all the time. That's what done it!' He displayed his arm, on which was the blue tattooed effigy of a bird of paradise. 'They peeled off my shirt, and there was I looking for 'em to plunge the knife into my bare bussum, when dash me if they didn't start back with horror like as if I 'd the smallpox--and me vaccinated, too, twice, on this very arm. 'Twas the bird what done it, like the strawberry mark what proved to the Marchioness of Mayfair that the dustman was her long-lost son and heir, stole from his cradle by the lady's maid she 'd sacked for swilling of her eau de colony. The ugly mugs take me for a long-lost brother, and dash me if I ain't the best-looking of the family, Ephraim, me lad.'

While the hilarious mariner was reeling off his yarn, the Papuans had explained to the chief that, having discovered on his arm the image of the totem of their tribe, they had brought him back, to exchange him for one of the other prisoners, unless they too should prove to be sacrosanct. To their intense discontent, the chief had refused to allow them even to examine the arms of the three men; and while Trentham and his companions were still digesting the astounding story told by Grinson, the crestfallen savages stole out of the gate in sullen ill-humour.

CHAPTER VII

REMINISCENCES

'A most fortunate coincidence, Grinson, that you happened to be tattooed with the totem mark of these strange people,' said Trentham. 'But for that we might all have gone into the pot in turn.'

The four men were seated in a hut placed at their disposal by the chief, appeasing their famishment with a variety of more or less unfamiliar foods.

'Ay, ay, sir!' returned the boatswain; 'though I never heard it called a totem mark afore. True, my head was spinning like a teetotum when 'twas done, and if I 'd been a teetotaller--upon my word, sir, 'tis the remarkablest thing I ever heard on. Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out: wasn't that the only time you ever saw me squiffed?'

'Which time was that, Mr. Grinson?' asked Meek.

'Why, the time I had this 'ere teetotum mark p.r.i.c.ked into my biceps.'

'I 'm bound to say as how that was one of the times you was a trifle overcome, though nothing to what you might have been.'

'True, if I 'd been overripe they couldn't 'a done it, nor if I 'd had nothing at all, which it shows the good o' moderation, gentlemen. I was just comfortable; you know--when you 're pleased with everything and everybody. 'Twas like this. I was never like most sailormen, as gets tattooed their first voyage, and ever after has the sins o' their youth staring 'em in the face--like Ephraim, poor lad.'

Meek looked guiltily at his long bony wrists and tried to draw his sleeves down over the blue anchors tattooed on them.

'No,' Grinson went on, 'I was never a man for show. Well, some messmates of mine didn't understand my modest spirit, and laid their heads together for to give me the hall-mark as proves a seaman sterling, you may say. Ben Trouncer was at the bottom of it: the slyest sea-dog of a fellow you ever set eyes on. He come to me one night when I happened to be alone, all but Ephraim, in the bar-parlour of the "Jolly Sailors," and says, "Going to the meeting on Wednesday, Josy?" says he.

"What meeting?" says I. "You don't mean to tell me you don't know!"

says he. "I 'd never have believed it. All the others are going; meeting to form a sailors' goose club," says he. "Fust I heard of it,"

says I. "What's a goose club?" "Why," says he, "you pay so much a week, and at Christmas every sailor-man gets a goose, wherever he is--Melbourne, Shanghai, Buenos Ayres, anywhere you like. Fancy you not knowing of it! Why, they all expect you to be made treasurer of the club. Let's have another pot, and I 'll tell you all I knows."

'Well, Ben went on talking like a gramophone as won't run down--about subscriptions and foreign agents, and what a heap of money there 'd be to take charge of, and he hoped I 'd be made treasurer, because some of 'em wanted a scag called Joe Pettigrew, a fellow you wouldn't trust with the price of a pot of four-half, which I agreed with, and said if Joe was made treasurer he 'd get no subscriptions out of me. "Well," says Ben, "Joe 's the only man I 'm afraid of, and I 'll tell you why. Them as wants him are going to propose that no one as ain't tattooed is to be edible for membership--see? Just to keep you out, 'cos they know there ain't a speck of blue about you." "Ho!" says I. "That 's their game.

Well, they can make Joe treasurer, and he 'll pinch all your money, but not mine, 'cos I can't join, not if I want to."

'Well, he calls for another pot and goes on talking, and by long and short he worked me up to believe as how the whole thing would bust up if I wasn't treasurer, and the picture he drored of the sailorman going without his Christmas goose was worse than onions for tickling your eyeb.a.l.l.s. Then he told me how I 'd take the wind out o' Joe's sails if I had a nice fat goose tattooed on my shoulder out of sight, and spring it on 'em when they was c.o.c.ksure I wasn't edible for membership. Having had three or four pots, the notion tickled my fancy, and I had it done by a j.a.p as was the cleverest hand at tattooing you ever set eyes on.

Ben had left him in the bar till he talked me over.

'Well, I went to the meeting, and Joe and his mates sn.i.g.g.e.red when they saw me. Ben proposed the club; carried unanimous. Some one else proposed about the tattooing; carried unanimous. Then Ben proposed me for treasurer. Up jumps one of Joe's friends and said I couldn't be treasurer, 'cos I couldn't even be a member, not being tattooed. "Ho!"

says I, "who says I ain't tattooed?" They laughed. "Who don't know that?" says they. "Ho!" says I, "you knows a lot," and I stripped and showed 'em the finest goose as ever hung in Leadenhall Market.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'WHO SAYS I AIN'T TATTOOED?']

'Well, after that they made me treasurer, unanimous, even Joe voting for me, which it surprised me at the time. Then Ben said that, me being treasurer, 'twas for me to propose what the subscription should be.

"Right," says I. "Then I propose three-pence a week." I was fair flabbergasted when Ben got up and spun a long yarn which I couldn't make head or tail on, and ended by proposing they didn't have no subscription at all. Carried unanimous. It was a plant, you see, gentlemen. I was fair done. There never was no goose club, and only one goose, and that was me, my mother said when I told her all about it.'

'And your goose is a bird of paradise,' said Trentham.

'A bird of---- Ho, here 's ugly mug! What might he want now?'

In the open doorway stood the interpreter.

'Chief he say white man fella come alonga him,' said the man, looking at Trentham.

'A royal command,' remarked Trentham, rising. 'I 'll try to get him to provide us with guides to Wilhelmshafen.'

Some ten minutes after Trentham's departure the rest were startled by a long-drawn howl, like the sound of hundreds of men hooting an unpopular speaker.

'Blue murder!' exclaimed Grinson, as he hurried with the others to the doorway. The noise came from beyond the stockade. The gate was shut, and the natives within the enclosure were strolling about with no appearance of concern. Trentham was not visible.

'I 'm afeard they 've took Mr. Trentham instead,' said Meek lugubriously.

'Nonsense!' cried Hoole. 'That wasn't a cry of delight. But I 'll just run across to the chief's house; Mr. Trentham is probably there.'

At the entrance of the house he was stopped by two natives, armed with spears, who stood there on guard.

'You there, Trentham?' he called into the interior.

'Yes; I 'll be with you shortly,' came the answer.

Rea.s.sured, Hoole returned to the hut.

'It's all right, Meek,' he said. 'Don't get the wind up.'

'No, Ephraim, me lad,' said Grinson, 'don't strain at your anchor. 'Tis your great fault.'

It was half an hour or so before Trentham rejoined them.

'The strangest story I 've ever heard,' he said. 'It wasn't easy to make out that fellow's pidgin English, but I 'll tell you what I understand of it. Long ago, soon after the beginning of the world, a big ship came ash.o.r.e after a great storm. (That's our wreck, of course.) The ship's white chief, a great medicine-man, had come to a.s.sist the forefathers of this tribe, then at war with many powerful neighbours. By the power of his fire magic--blunderbusses, no doubt--their enemies were defeated; but I suppose his ammunition gave out, for, as the chief put it, the fire magic was lost.

'The ship's captain was evidently a Frenchman. Finding it impossible to leave the island, he and his crew settled down and took wives among the tribe, and became the ruling caste. The present chief is probably the great-grandson of the Frenchman; he has no idea how old he is, or how many generations come between him and his ancestor. From the portrait of Louis XVI. we saw in the cabin, it's pretty clear that this happened a hundred and twenty odd years ago. In that time, of course, the French stock has degenerated; as you heard, they 've retained a word or two of the French language, and they 've tried to keep themselves select by banishing from their inner enclosure all who take after the aborigines in feature, retaining only those who have something of the European cast of face. That, as I understood the story, has led to trouble. It's a case of plebs and patricians over again. The patricians are gradually weakening, the plebs becoming stronger; and the chief seems to be decidedly jumpy; his authority is waning. You heard that howl just now?'

'We did,' replied Hoole. 'Meek made sure you 'd been thrown to the dogs.'