Chapter 4. Mr. Billy Warner, Of Ponape

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_ CHAPTER IV. MR. BILLY WARNER, OF PONAPE

Ten days after leaving Sydney the _Mahina_ had rounded the south-eastern end of New Caledonia, and was steering a northerly course between the New Hebrides Group and the great archipelago of the Solomon Islands for Arrecifos Lagoon. During these ten days Barry had had time to study Captain Rawlings and the rest of the ship's company, and had come to the conclusion that there was some mystery attached to both ship and crew. The latter, with the exception of the boatswain, who was a dark-faced, ear-ringed Greek, and the four new hands brought on board by the captain, were all natives of various islands of the Equatorial Pacific. Seven of the twelve, with two of the white men, were in Barry's watch; Barradas had the rest. Among Barry's men was a stalwart young native, much lighter in colour than the others, very quiet in his demeanour, but willing and cheerful. His name, so he told Barry, was Velo, and he was a native of Manono, in the Samoan Group. For the past four or five years he had been wandering to and fro among the islands of the Pacific, his last voyage being made in a luckless Hobart Town whaleship, which he had left at Sydney in disgust and without a penny in his pocket. Like Barry, he had been attracted to the _Mahina_ by the fact of her being engaged in the island trade, and indeed had only joined her two days before Barry himself. His cheerful, ingenuous manner, combined with his smart seamanship, made the chief officer take a great liking to him, and even Barradas, gruff and surly and ever ready to deal out a blow, admitted that Velo was, next to the boatswain, the best sailorman of all the crew.

On the second day out the strong westerly had failed, and was succeeded by light and variable airs, much to Rawlings' anger. Walking the poop one day with Barry, he gave vent to such a sudden outburst of rage and blasphemy at the little progress made by the brig that the chief officer gazed at him in astonishment. However, on the morning of the fourth day, a steady breeze set in, and Rawlings' equanimity was restored. His anxiety to make a quick passage was very evident, and when the vicinity of the Northern Solomons was reached, and continuous and furious squalls were experienced almost every night, he would refuse to take in sail till the very last moment, although both his mates respectfully pointed out the risk of carrying on under such circumstances, for, besides the danger to the spars, the islands of the Solomon Group were but badly charted, and the currents continually changing in their set. But to these remonstrances he turned an impatient ear.

"We must push her along through the Solomons," he had said one dark night to Barry as the _Mahina_ was tearing through the water under the hum of a heavy squall, quivering in every timber, and deluging her decks with clouds of spray which, from there being a head sea, leapt up from her weather bow as high as the foretopsail. "I want to get into Arrecifos Lagoon as quickly as I can, even if we do lose a light spar or two. I'm no navigator, as you know, but I know the Solomons as well as any man, for I've been trading and nigger-catching there for six years at a stretch--a long time ago; and out here, where we are, we're safe; there's a clear run of six hundred miles, free of any danger. So the old skipper of the _Black Dog_ used to tell me--and he knew these parts like a book."

Presently, as he leant back on his elbows against the weather rail, he added in an indifferent tone of voice, "At the same time, I believe there is no cause for hurry. But perhaps Tracey has imbued me with some of his fears that some one else might get there before us, and either get the pick of the shell, or perhaps skin the whole lagoon out altogether."

Northward from the lofty, verdure-clad Solomons the brig sped steadily onward, leaving behind her the fierce, sweeping rain squalls, and the swirling currents, and mighty ocean tide-rips, whose lines of bubbling foam, seen far away, often caused even the native look-outs to call out "Breakers ahead?" and then she sailed into the region of the gentle, north-east trade wind, till the blue mountain-peaks of Ponape the beautiful showed upon the sunlit sea far to windward. And here the scarcely won trade failed, and by nightfall the Mahina lay floating upon a sea of glass, and Rawlings paced the deck the best part of the night, savagely chewing at his cigar and cursing at the delay.

Both Barry and Velo knew from the appearance of the sky that the calm was certain to last three days at least, and possibly ten days or a fortnight; so on the following morning, when at breakfast, the former suggested to Rawlings that the hands might give the ship a coat of paint outside.

"Hardly worth beginning it," said the captain. "We're bound to get a breeze some time this morning."

Barry shook his head. "I'm afraid not, sir. I know of calms about these parts lasting three solid weeks, and judging from the look of the sky and the thick haze hanging over Ponape I think we can safely count on this one lasting for three days at the very least. But even if it runs into a week or ten days there is one good thing about calms here--the current sets north-east at a great rate, two knots an hour at least."

Rawlings cursed under his breath, and then moodily assented to Barry's suggestion.

"Very well, Mr. Barry, just as you please. But I hope you are mistaken about the calm continuing. It's too hot to last long, I imagine."

Soon after breakfast the hands set to to paint ship, and worked steadily on until a little before seven bells, when Barry heard one of the crew, a Gilbert Islander named Billy Onotoa, call out excitedly--

"_Te bakwa! Te bakwa! Roria te bakwa bubura!_" ("A shark! a shark! look at the big shark!")

The native (who was one of the smartest men on board), without asking permission from his officer--permission which he knew would be readily granted--jumped on deck and dived below into the fo'c'sle for the shark-fishing tackle which every Gilbert Islander carries with him when at sea. Rawlings and Barry, who were both on the after-deck, went to the rail and looked over and saw that there was a very large grey shark swimming leisurely to and fro under the staging on the port side where the men were painting. Just then Barradas came on deck and joined them.

"Holy mother!" he exclaimed. "What a devil! He's half a fathom broad across his shoulders. And he's hungry, too; look how the pilot fish are running round the ship. That's a sure sign he has an empty belly. If he wasn't hungry they would cruise alongside him, quite close."

As he spoke Billy Onotoa emerged from the forescuttle and was met by the Greek boatswain, who angrily bade him get back to his work again, and tearing the heavy shark hook and its tackle from his hand, flung it overboard.

The dark, expressive eyes of the native, usually so pleasant and smiling, flashed resentfully, and he bent his head in sullen silence as he moved slowly towards the bulwarks.

"Mova quicka, you dam blacka dog!" said the Greek savagely, and raising his foot he gave the man a heavy kick.

Like lightning Billy Onotoa spun round, his sheath knife flashing in his right hand, and the lust of blood in his eyes; in an instant the two were struggling madly together.

Barry, Barradas, and one of the white seamen sprang forward and endeavoured to separate them, but the rest of the Gilbert Islanders leapt to the aid of their countryman, and in less than a minute the deck was filled with a group of struggling men. The Greek, who was a man of enormous strength, had been quicker than his assailant in the use of the knife, and had already stabbed the Islander twice in the shoulder, whilst Billy, who was a much smaller man, had driven his own weapon through the Greek's right arm, his countrymen meanwhile trying their best to use their knives upon the boatswain without hurting either the two mates or the white sailor, who were striking out all round with their clenched fists, shouting to the natives to desist.

At last, however, the two principals in the combat were separated by Velo the Samoan, who, seizing the now maddened Billy Onotoa by both feet, dragged him out of the _melee_, and lifting him in his arms threw him down the forescuttle, whilst Barry quietened the Greek by a blow on the jaw, which sent him reeling across the deck with his blood-stained knife still clutched tightly in his hand.

Barradas, who, like Barry, had kept his temper throughout, had yet managed to receive a terrible knife slash--intended for the Greek--across his temple, and, blinded by the flow of blood, staggered across the deck towards the open gangway, missed his hold of the stanchions, and pitched headlong overboard.

Velo leapt after him with a cry of alarm. "Quick, Mr. Barry! Stand by! The shark!"

Barry and several of the men rushed to the side to assist Velo in rescuing the second mate. They were not a moment too soon, for as the Samoan, who had grasped Barradas by the hair and was holding his head out of water, was swimming toward the staging under the main chains, the shark suddenly appeared under the counter, swimming high up on the surface. Barry saw in an instant that one of the two men in the water was doomed unless swift measures were taken. Jumping on the rail, he leapt overboard, feet foremost, and landed on the monster's back.

There was a swirl and rush of foam, and then a cheer from the crew as the shark darted off in terror, and Barry quietly swam alongside again and clambered on deck, together with Velo and his brother officer.

Then, before dinner, he went forward, examined and dressed Billy Onotoa's wounds, Rawlings standing beside him and eyeing the native in an unsympathetic and forbidding manner.

"The boatswain is badly hurt, Mr. Barry," he said suavely, "and as you are such a good surgeon, perhaps you will leave this damned kanaka and attend to him."

Barry turned on him with a subdued fierceness. "I'll attend to the scoundrel presently, Captain Rawlings, though he doesn't deserve it. He is a downright sweep--like all his ear-ringed kidney. He had no right to kick this man, who is one of the best and smartest men aboard. I gave him a clip on the jaw, and when I've dressed his arm and he is able to turn to again I'll give him another if he tries to start any of these tricks again."

Rawlings smiled pleasantly. "My dear Barry, don't excite yourself. The boatswain is, no doubt, a bit of a bully, and does not understand these natives as you do. But, at the same time, he is a good sailor man, and erred, as Marryat says in one of his novels, 'through excess of zeal.' So do not be too harsh."

"I have no inclination to be 'harsh' with any man, Captain Rawlings. You are the master of this ship, and I am only your chief officer. I take my orders from you, and I look to you to support me in maintaining the necessary discipline. But I tell you plainly that the native crew on this ship are a different class of natives to which you have been accustomed in the Solomon Group and the New Hebrides. They will not take a blow from any man--white or black. And whilst I know my duty to you as master of this brig, I warn you that there will be bloody doings if the boatswain ever again lays his hands upon one of the Gilbert Islanders. They are ripe for mutiny now."

Rawlings flicked the ash off his cigar.

"We don't want any trouble like that, Mr. Barry, do we? And I shall give Paul a good dressing down, and tell him to be careful in future. I have the utmost faith in your judgment, Mr. Barry, and I want everything to go on pleasantly."

Barry nodded, and then went aft and attended to the Greek's wounded arm. This occupied him for nearly half an hour, and then as he was entering his cabin to change his clothes, which were torn and blood-stained, Barradas stopped him and held out his hand.

"Mr. Barry, you are a brave man. You saved my life, for if you had not jumped on to the shark I should have been taken. Velo told me so just now. He said that he might have been safe, but that I was on the outside and that the shark would have had me in his jaws if you had not jumped overboard."

Barry took the Spaniard's hand, "That's all right, Barradas. There was nothing much in what I did; I've seen natives do the same thing for amusement--it's the best way out of scaring a shark if you haven't a rifle handy. Come in and have a smoke before dinner."

All that day the brig continued to drift steadily to the north and east, and at sunset she was within eight or ten miles of the land. The native crew, although they had continued their work quietly after the fight, were evidently much dissatisfied, and when at six o'clock they all marched aft and demanded to speak with the captain, Barry was not at all surprised. Rawlings, however, was furious when the steward asked him to come on deck and see the men. Seizing his revolver, and calling to Barradas to follow him, he sprang up the companion; Barry met him half way.

"Don't come on deck, sir, with a pistol in your hand, I implore you. The men are certainly angry and discontented, but a few quiet words from you will settle the matter; they simply want you to promise them that the boatswain will not attempt to 'haze' any one of them again. If you appear before them with a weapon in your hand they will take charge of the ship. These Gilbert Islanders are as good men as you will find anywhere in the South Seas, but they are quick-tempered and hot-blooded. I know them--you don't."

With a muttered curse the captain threw his revolver back on to the cabin table, and then followed his chief officer on deck. The native crew were awaiting him. Velo stepped forward as spokesman, and doffing his cap asked that Billy Onotoa, whom Barradas had put in irons, should be set free.

"This man Billy," said the Samoan quietly, but with determination, "mus' not be kep' in irons. The bos'un kicked him and made him get mad. Why is Billy put in irons, and the bos'un who stab him twice no put in irons?"

A murmur of approval came from his dark-skinned companions, who were watching Rawlings' face with intense interest.

"Tell them that you'll have his irons taken off," muttered Barry, in low tones; "if you refuse them there'll be the devil to pay."

The captain appeared to consider for a minute or so, as he walked to and fro; then he turned and faced Velo.

"Well, men, I don't like to have any disturbance on my ship. Billy Onotoa is a good man, but he's no sailor not to take a kick or a lift under the jaw in good part. The bos'un himself told me he was very sorry that he lost his temper, but you must remember that Billy drew his knife on him."

"Yes, sir," answered Velo pointedly, "but that was because the bos'un kicked him--American fashion; if the bos'un had hit him in the eye, English fashion, Billy would not pull out knife."

"Well, that'll do, Velo. I don't want any jaw from you. Mr. Barradas, please set the man free. Go for'ard, men."

The natives obeyed him silently, much to Barry's relief, for he read and understood the danger that lay under their apparently quiet manner. Barradas went for'ard and liberated Billy, who, badly wounded as he was, at once turned to again as if nothing of any importance had occurred.

All that night the calm continued, and when at midnight Barry came on deck, he found the ship had drifted in so close to the land that the breaking surf on the reef was plainly to be heard--not more than three miles away, and too close to be regarded with indifference with such a strong current, and in a dead calm.

He had almost decided to lower and man one of the whale-boats and begin towing the brig to the eastward so as to clear the southern horn of the projecting reef, when he heard the sound of oars through the darkness, and then came a loud hail.

"Ship ahoy, there!"

"Hallo, who are you?" he cried.

"White trader from Ponape."

"All right, come alongside." Hastily calling the captain, Barry showed a light in the waist to the advancing boat, and in a few minutes she came alongside. She was manned by a crew of semi-nude, woolly-haired Solomon Islands natives, and was steered by a big, rough-looking white man with a flowing red beard.

Jumping on board he shook hands with Rawlings and Barry and introduced himself.

"I'm Bill Warner; these chaps here are my Pleasant Island boys. I've had a ---- row and fight with the Ponape natives, and had to clear out to save my ---- skin. Where are you bound to, captain? Give me and my boys a passage. I don't care where the hell you're going to, so long as I git somewhere away. And, say, mister, give me suthin' to drink."

Rawlings smiled pleasantly. "Certainly, Mr. Warner. Come below, and let your men come on deck. They are not dangerous, I hope."

The moment the new arrival heard Rawlings' voice he stared, and then gave a hoarse, snorting laugh as he again grasped the captain's hand.

"God strike me dead, Jim Rawlings! I wouldn't have reckernised yer only for yer voice. Why, what the hell----"

Rawlings laughed boisterously. "Delighted to meet you again, old comrade. Mr. Barry, this is Mr. Bill Warner, an old Solomon Island shipmate and friend of mine. Come below, Warner, and tell me what has gone wrong."

The big man saw a warning glance in Rawlings' dark eyes, which he took in quickly, and the two descended below.

They remained talking together for nearly two hours, and then at four bells Mr. Warner staggered up on deck, and with a vast amount of hilarious profanity and blasphemy called his boat's crew together and addressed them in their own tongue.

"The captain of this ship is my friend. We are going with him to a new land. We must stand by him when the time comes, for there may be throats to cut." Then he added in English, "And now you can all go to hell until the morning. I'm going to sleep."

So saying, he flung himself upon the skylight, and in a few minutes was snoring in a drunken slumber.

Rawlings sauntered up on deck a few minutes later, and stood watching the progress of the brig through the calm and glassy water, for Barry had lowered one of the boats, and the crew were towing her clear of the outlying horn of the reef. The wild, half-naked savages who had just come on board were sitting or lying on the main-deck, smoking or chewing betel-nut, while their boat was towing astern.

"How are we getting along, Mr. Barry?" said the captain pleasantly.

"Pretty well, sir. Once we are clear of that long stretch of reef we need no more towing. But it is just as well to be on the safe side, for there's no bottom here at ninety fathoms."

Rawlings nodded. "Just so. We don't want to get piled up on Ponape, Mr. Barry." He took a turn or two along the deck, and then with his hands in his pockets inclined his head towards the sprawling figure of Mr. Bill Warner.

"Not at all a bad fellow, Mr. Barry; but rather too fond of the wine when it is red, or gamboge, or green, or any other damned colour. He and I were shipmates some years ago in the Solomon Island labour trade. He has, it seems, had a quarrel with the natives of Ponape, who attacked him, and he and his crowd had to clear out to save their lives. I've told him that I'll give him a passage to Providence Lagoon with us. His natives, he tells me, are good men, and I daresay they'll prove useful to us."

The mate gave a curt assent. "I daresay his natives will prove useful, sir. As for the man himself, I don't think he will be much of an acquisition, if he is to be judged by first impressions. He's as drunk as a pig, and I don't wonder at the Ponape natives wanting to get rid of him, for in my opinion he's nothing better than a drunken, swaggering bully. Why, the fellow carries a brace of pistols in his belt. No decent trader does that."

Rawlings held up his hand deprecatingly. "Don't be too hard on poor Warner, my dear Barry. He's not as bad as he looks. I'm sure you'll get to like each other by-and-by. Good-night."

"Good-night, sir," replied Barry courteously. "I think we had better keep on towing until daylight." _

Read next: Chapter 5. Velo, The Samoan, Prophesies

Read previous: Chapter 3. The Brig Mahina

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