"Do you believe that? Don't talk like a fool! I tell you, his pearls are

in those casings there! But, son, I'm glad to have you back. And you've

found a proper mate."

"Isn't she glorious?"

"Better than that. She's the kind that'll always be fussing over you, and

that's the kind a man needs. But mind your eye! Don't take it for granted!

Make her want to fuss over you."

When the oncoming tramp reached a point four hundred yards to the

southwest of the yacht she slued round broadside. For a moment or two the

reversed propeller--to keep the old tub from drifting--threw up a

fountain; and before the sudsy eddies had subsided the longboat began a

jerky descent. No time was going to be wasted evidently.

The Haarlem--or whatever name was written on her ticket--was a picture.

Even her shadows tried to desert her as she lifted and wallowed in the

long, burnished rollers. There was something astonishingly impudent about

her. She reminded Dennison of an old gin-sodden female derelict of the

streets. There were red patches all over her, from stem to stern, where

the last coat of waterproof black had blistered off. The brass of her

ports were green. Her name should have been Neglect. She was probably full

of smells; and Dennison was ready to wager that in a moderate sea her

rivets and bedplates whined, and that the pump never rested.

But it occurred to him that there must be some basis of fact in

Cunningham's pearl atoll, and yonder owner was game enough to take a

sporting chance; that, or he had been handsomely paid for his charter.

An atoll in the Sulu Archipelago that had been overlooked--that was

really the incredible part of it. Dennison had first-hand knowledge that

there wasn't a rock in the whole archipelago that had not been looked over

and under by the pearl hunters.

He saw the tramp's longboat come staggering across the intervening water.

Rag-tag and bob-tail of the Singapore docks, crimp fodder--that was what

Dennison believed he had the right to expect. And behold! Except that they

were older, the newcomers lined up about average with the departing--able

seamen.

The transshipping of the crews occupied about an hour. As the longboat's

boat hook caught the Wanderer's ladder for the third time the crates and

casings were carried down and carefully deposited in the stern sheets.

About this time Cunningham appeared. He paused by the rail for a minute

and looked up at the Cleighs, father and son. He was pale, and his

attitude suggested pain and weakness, but he was not too weak to send up

his bantering smile. Cleigh, senior, gazed stonily forward, but Dennison

answered the smile by soberly shaking his head. Dennison could not hear

Cunningham's laugh, but he saw the expression of it.




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