the nigger first shot, or else the government calls it murder and you go to Fiji. That's why there's so many drowning accidents."
Dinner was called, and Bertie and the skipper went below, leaving the mate to watch on deck.
"Keep an eye out for that black devil, Auiki," was the skipper's parting caution. "I haven't liked his looks for several days."
"Right O," said the mate.
Dinner was part way along, and the skipper was in the middle of his story of the cutting out of the Scottish Chiefs.
"Yes," he was saying, "she was the finest vessel on the coast. But when she missed stays, and before ever she hit the reef, the canoes started for her. There were five white men, a crew of twenty Santa Cruz boys and Samoans, and only the supercargo escaped. Besides, there were sixty recruits. They were all kai-kai'd. Kai-kai?—oh, I beg your pardon. I mean they were eaten. Then there was the James Edwards, a dandy-rigged—"
