10-Story Book, February 1928 — page 58: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

56 THE SOUTH SEA ISLAND NUMBER (Continued from page 54) The Kanakas had heard the shots and come crowding forward. They seemed disappointed to find that there were any survivors. I wasn’t equal to much in the way of an oration, but Halcyon had a heart-to-heart talk with them, and cleared the air properly. She explained that the great Sebastien was deader than mutton; that the ship was now my sole property —which it certainly wasn’t; that she also was my sole property; and finally that they—the crew—were something lower in the scale of creation than jellyfish, and that their only chance to escape hanging was in abject obedience. As a sort of codicil she mentioned that we were going top speed to Neelonga. “Because,” she explained, “there is a man there who has a gold ring which my lord desires to put on my finger as a charm. It is the white man’s custom.” And afterward? What’s the word used when the best -of a yarn’s told, and yet there’s some more to come? “Anticlimax,” isn’t it? Well, I guess that applies to the rest of Halcyon’s story and mine. I was prepared for a certain amount of trouble over Sebastien’s death— the Ka- nakas didn’t worry me. But when Hal- cyon had told her story, plain and straight and the authorities heard what I’d got to say, and the niggers, separately and collectively, backed up the pair of us, we came in for the congratulations of all concerned. He was an out- and- out skunk and they knew it. Sebastien hadn’t made a will — he wasn’t that sort. But I discovered from the lawyers that he’d a sister living in the States and later on they wrote say- ing that she’d be willing to accept a thou- sand dollars for the two-thirds of the Luck of Samoa that wasn’t mine. I showed the letter to Halcyon—not that she could read it, though she was learn- ing, but as a matter of principle. The gold ring by that time had lost its first burnish, “And you want the ship?” she asked when I’d translated. “It’s a big bargain at that price, but—” “I buy him for you,” says Halcyon, lug- ging out her best necklace. She’d kept it hidden away so long that I’d forgotten it existed. I laughed and kissed her and told her to keep it. But she insisted, and when I examined the thing I found that a good quarter of the stones were pearls. Thev’d had rough handling, but their size and shape were staggering. I sold a dozen of the biggest, edusk an agent who was reasonably honest, for a trifle over forty-five thousand dollars. There are still a good many left, but I reckon we'll keep them as a nest egg for the kiddy when he—or she comes. And Halcyon? Well, she’s mine. And I’m satisfied. COMIC OOOKXS.€