“Ain’t half enjoying themselves!” remarked Grimes.
“Yes, they’re happy enough in their way,” said I, as I thought of their wooden idols grinning from ear to ear, agape with life’s subtle joke. I said: “Grimes, I’m sure those heathens afford the Almighty more amusement than Europeans do.”
“That’s so!” said my comrade, who fell asleep as I philosophised. I poked him in the ribs in sheer disgust.
Then someone twanged a banjo and burst into drunken song. “White wings they neveeer grow wearrrry,” was gurgled out. “Tink-er-ty-pomp—tum-tum-tiddle-te-tum! rrrrrrrrrrrh! ter-ra-te-rrip!” went the banjo strings, till silence came over the slopes, for it was very late. Even the stars were off indoors as the moon rose on the seaward horizon. One by one the beachcombers stole back to the shore, back to the promontory where lay the derelict hulk. Its tattered, arm-like sails seemed to flutter as though with delight at our companionship, as we stole down into its bowels, once more to sleep and dream.
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Benbow’s Return—The Old Blackbirder at Home—The Broaching of the Rum Barrel—A Musical Evening—Benbow and his Daughter—Fatherly Discretion
FOR several days Grimes and I sweated away unloading a schooner that arrived from Papeete with stores and lay in Hatiaeu Bay. Being cashless, we were obliged to work at times. The heat was terrific. I wore white duck pants, a dirty shirt and a native hat made out of a banana leaf, and we both looked like sunburnt niggers. One night as we crept home along the Broom Road, dying for a drink—for we’d been working in the schooner’s coal hold—we heard sounds of wild revelry issuing from the grog shanty. Waylao’s father, Benbow, was back in Tai-o-hae!
The fun had commenced, and the shellbacks had welcomed him home like a lot of expectant, ragged schoolboys.
Benbow was something of a Captain Kidd. I have kept his correct name back, but it will not hurt his posthumous reputation to say that he had been one of the old-time blackbirders, and he was indeed a wonder, if half of his yarns about himself were true. He was a burly, typical Britisher, with a big beard of reddish hue, fiery, like his temper, and very expressive-looking eyes.