"'Twill be a great thing for thee, Pautoe, this school. Thou wilt be taught much that is good, and the English lady who has the school will be kind----"

"Nay, nay, Tikki," she cried brokenly, "send me not away, I beseech thee. Let me go with thee, and ali and Leota, to those new, wild lands.

Oh, cast me not away from thee. Where thou goest, let me go."

Marsh smiled. "Thou art another Ruth, little one. In such words did Ruth speak to Naomi when she went to another country. Dost know the story?"

"Aye, I know the story, and I have no fear of wild lands. Only have I fear of seeing no more all those I love if thou dost leave me to die in Samoa."

Again the trader smiled as he bade her dry her tears.

"Thou shalt come with us, little one Now, go tell Leota."

For many months Marsh remained in Apia, unable to find a suitable vessel. Then, not caring to remain in such a noisy and expensive port--he rented a native house at a charmingly situated village called Laulii, about ten miles from Apia, and standing at the head of a tiny bay, almost landlocked by verdant hills. So much was he pleased with the place, that he half formed a resolution to settle there permanently, or at least for a year or two.

ali and Leota were delighted to learn this, for although they were willing to go anywhere in the world with their beloved "Tikki," they, like all Samoans, were pa.s.sionately fond of their own beautiful land, with its lofty mountains and forests, and clear running streams.

And Pautoe, too, was intensely happy, for to her Samoa was a dream-land of light and beauty. Never before had she seen mountains, except in pictures shown her by Mr. Copley or Marsh, and never before had she seen a stream of running water. For Motumoe, where she had lived all her young life, was an atoll--low, flat, and sandy, and although densely covered with coco palms, there were but few other trees of any height And now, in Samoa, she was never tired of wandering alone in the deep, silent forest, treading with ecstasy the thick carpet of fallen leaves, gazing upwards at the canopy of branches, and listening with a thrilled delight to the booming notes of the great blue-plumaged, red-breasted pigeons, and the plaintive answering cries of the ring-doves. Then, too, in the forest at the back of the village were ruins of ancient dwellings of stone, build by hands unknown, preserved from decay by a binding net-work of ivy-like creepers and vines, and the haunt and resting-place of the wild boar and his mate, and their savage, quick-footed progeny.

And sometimes she would hear the shrill, cackling scream of a wild mountain c.o.c.k, and see the great, fierce-eyed bird, half-running, half-flying over the leaf-strewn ground. And to her the forest became a deep and holy mystery, to adore and to love.

Quite near to Laulii was another village--Lautonga, in which there lived a young American trader named Lester Meredith--like Marsh, an ex-sailor.

He was an extremely reserved, quiet man, but he and Marsh soon became friends, and they exchanged almost daily visits. Meredith, like Marsh, was an unmarried man, and one day the local chief of the district jocularly reproached them.

"Thou, Tikki, art near to two-score years, and yet hast no wife, and thou, Lesta, art one score and five and yet live alone. Why is it so? Ye are both fine, handsome men, and pleasing to the eyes of women."

Marsh laughed. "O Tofia, thou would-be matchmaker! I am no marrying man.

Once, indeed, I gave my heart to a woman in mine own country of England, but although she loved me, her people were both rich and proud, and I was poor. So she became wife to another man."

Pautoe, who was listening intently to the men's talk, set her white teeth, and clenched her shapely little hands, and then said slowly:--

"Didst kill the other man, Tikki?"

Marsh and Meredith both laughed, and the former shook his head, and then Tofia turned to Meredith:--

"Lesta, hast never thought of Maliea, the daughter of Tonu? There is no handsomer girl in Samoa, and she is of good family. And she would like to marry thee."

Meredith smiled, and then said jestingly, "Nay, Tofia, I care not for Maliea. I shall wait for Pautoe. Wilt have me, little one?"

The girl looked at him steadily, and then answered gravely:--

"Aye, if Tikki is willing that I should. But yet I will not be separated from him."

"Then you and I will have to become partners, Meredith," said Marsh, his eyes twinkling with amus.e.m.e.nt.

A few days after this Meredith returned from a visit to Apia.

"Marsh," he said to his friend, "I think it would be a good thing for us both if we really did go into partnership, and put our little capitals together. Are you so disposed?"

"Quite. There is nothing I should like better."

"Good. Well, now I have some news. I have just been looking at a little schooner in Apia harbour. She arrived a few days ago, leaking, and the owner will sell her for $ 1,800. She will suit us very well. I overhauled her, and except that she is old and leaks badly, from having been ash.o.r.e, she is well worth the money. You and I can easily put her on the beach here, get at the leak, and recopper her at a cost of a few hundred dollars. We can have her ready for sea in three weeks. You, ali and myself can do all the work ourselves."

Marsh was delighted, and in less than an hour the two men, accompanied by ali and Tofia, were on the way to Apia, much to the wonder of Leota and Pautoe, who were not then let into the secret--the newly-made partners intending to give them a pleasant surprise.

On boarding the little craft, Marsh was much pleased with her, and during the day the business of transferring the vessel to her new owners was completed at the American Consulate, the money paid over, and the partners put in possession.

The same evening, ali, a splendid diver, succeeded in finding and partly stopping the main leak, which was on the bilge on the port side, and preparations were made to sail early in the morning for Laulii.

The partners were seated in the little cabin, smoking, and talking over their plans for the future, when the former master and owner of the schooner came on board to see, as he said, "how they were getting on".

He was a good-natured, intelligent old man, and had had a life-long experience in the South Seas. By birth he was a Genoese, but he was intensely proud of being a naturalised British subject, and, from his youth, having sailed under the red ensign of Old England. Marsh and Meredith made him very welcome, and he, being mightily pleased at having sold _The Dove_ (as the schooner was called), and also having dined exceedingly well at the one hotel then in Apia, became very talkative.

"I can tell you, gentlemen, that _The Dove_, although she is not a new ship, is as strong and sound as if she were only just built. I have had her now for nearly thirteen years, and have made my little fortune by her, and I could kiss her, from the end of her jibboom to the upper rudder gudgeon. But I am an old man now, and want to go back to my own country to die among my people--or else"--and here he twisted his long moustaches and laughed hilariously--"settle down in England, and become a grand man like old General Rosas of South America, and die pious, and have a bishop and a mile-long procession at my funeral."

The partners joined the old sailor in his laugh, and then Marsh said casually, and to make conversation:--

"By-the-way, Captain, where did you buy _The Dove?_"

"I didn't buy her, my bold breezy lads. And I didn't steal her, as many a ship is stolen in the South Seas. I came by her honestly enough."

"A present?" said Meredith interrogatively.

"Wrong, my lad--neither was she a present" Then the ancient squared his broad shoulders, helped himself to some refreshment (more than was needed for his good) and clapping Marsh on the shoulder, said: "I'll tell you the yarn, my lads--for you are only lads, aren't you? Well, here it is:--

"About twelve or thirteen years ago I was mate of a San Francisco trading brig, the _Lola Montez_, and one afternoon, when we were running down the east coast of New Caledonia, we sighted a vessel drifting in sh.o.r.e--this very same schooner. The skipper of the brig sent me with a boat's crew to take possession of her--for we could see that no one was on board.

"I boarded her and found that her decks had been swept by a heavy sea--which, I suppose, had carried away every one on board. I overhauled the cabin, but could not find her papers, but her name was on the stern--_Meta_."

Marsh started, and was about to speak, but the old skipper went on:--

"During the night heavy weather came on, and the _Lola Montez_ and the _Meta_ parted company. The _Lola_ was never heard of again--she was old and as rotten as an over-ripe pear, and I suppose her seams opened, and she went down.

"So I stuck to the _Meta_ brought her to Sydney, and re-named her _The Dove_. And she's a bully little ship, I can tell you. I think that she was built in the Marquesas Islands, for all her knees and stringers are of _ngiia_ wood (_lignum vitae_) cut in the Marquesan fashion, and set so closely together that any one would think she was meant for a Greenland whaler. Then there is another thing about her that you will notice, and which makes me feel sure that she was built by a whaleman, and that is the carvings of whales on each end of the windla.s.s barrel, and on every deck stanchion there are the same, although you can hardly see them now--they are so much covered up by yearly coatings of paint for over a dozen years."

Meredith rose suddenly from his seat. "You'll excuse me, but I feel tired, and must turn in." The visitor took the hint, and did not stay.

Wishing the partners good luck, he got into his boat, and pushed off for the sh.o.r.e. Then Meredith turned to Marsh, and said quietly:--"Marsh, I know that you can trust ali, but what of Tofia?"

"He's all right, I think. But what is the matter?" "I'll let you know presently. But first tell Tofia that he had better go on sh.o.r.e to sleep. You and I are going to have a quiet talk, and then do a little overhauling of this cabin."

Wondering what possibly was afoot, Marsh got rid of the friendly chief by asking him to go on sh.o.r.e and buy some fresh provisions, but not to trouble about bringing them off until daylight, as he and his partner were tired, and wanted to turn in.

Leaving ali on deck to keep watch, the two men went below, and sat down at the cabin table.

"Marsh," began the young American, "I have a mighty queer yarn to tell you--I know that this schooner, once the _Meta_, and now _The Dove_, was originally the _Juliette_, and was built by my father at Nukahiva in the Marquesas. Now, I'll get through the story as quickly as possible, but as I don't want to be interrupted I'll ask ali not to let any chance visitor come aboard to-night."

He went on deck, and on returning first filled and lit his pipe in his cool, leisurely manner, and resumed his story.

"My father, as I one day told you, was a whaling skipper, and was lost at sea about thirteen years ago--that is all I ever did say about him, I think. He was a hard old man, and there was no love between us, so that is why I have not spoken of him. He used me very roughly, and when my mother died I left him after a stormy scene. That was eighteen or nineteen years ago, and I never saw him again.

"When my poor mother died, he sold his ship and went to the Marquesas Islands, and opened a business there as a trader. He had made a lot of money at sperm whaling; and, I suppose, thought that as I had left him, swearing I never wished to see him again, that he would spend the rest of his days in the South Seas--money grubbing to the last.