[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

172 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

Presently some one announces that the cargo is all
aboard, whereupon the supercargo puts down his
paper and remarks that they are in a hurry. A
famous soprano’s wonderful high C is ruthlessly
broken off short, and we all run to the beach and
jump on the backs of boys, who carry us dry-shod
to the boat. We are rowed to the steamer, and
presently descend to the storeroom, which smells of
calico, soap, tobacco and cheese. Anything may be
bought here, from a collar-button to a tin of meat,
from perfumery to a shirt, anything—and sometimes
even the very thing one wants. We provide for the
necessities of life for the next month or two, hand
over our mail and end our visit with a drink. Then
the whistle blows, we scramble into the boat, and
while my host waves his hat frantically and shouts
“good-bye,” the steamer gradually disappears from
sight. My friend has “a bad headache ” from all the
excitement of the morning. I guide him carefully
between the cases and barrels the steamer has
brought, and deposit him in his bunk; then I retire to
my own quarters to devour my mail.

Some days after this we went to see a “ sing-sing ”
up north. We rowed along the shore, and as my
host was contributing a pig, we had the animal with
us. With legs and snout tightly tied, the poor beast
lay sadly in the bottom of the boat, occasionally
trying to snap the feet of the rowers. The sea and
the Wind were perfect, and we made good speed; in
the evening we camped on the beach. The next day