“I reckon he will not resist us, Stump,” Phil said confidently. “We represent the law, you see, and if he hurts any one, he’ll be liable to a long term in jail.” Stump laughed mirthlessly. “He’s entitled to that already,” he exclaimed. “That’s why he wants to lay his hands on me. And if he should,” the mate added with an involuntary shiver, “the ‘Talofa’ would arrive at its next port and ‘Bully’ Scott with tears in his eyes would tell of the loss of his dear friend Stump, drowned at sea.” “What’s the plan, Phil?” Sydney asked some time later. “We go first to Fangaloa Bay. If the ‘Talofa’s’ there we simply seize her and every one on board and take her back to Ukula harbor,” Phil replied. “That sounds simple enough,” O’Neil declared, “and, Mr. Perry, it’ll be just as easy as saying it. Only,” he added jokingly, “we’ll have to keep our eyes on Stump. He’s likely to get mixed up with his old friend and shipmate ‘Bully’ Scott.” The night was extremely dark, but the thunder of the surf on the reef guided them in keeping beyond that peril. The land loomed dark on the starboard hand, while overhead a brilliant starry sky accentuated the blackness of the night. Ashore, bright lights sprang up from time to time, revealing the location of native villages along the beach. Tuamana, a cape of native cloth slung picturesquely over his shoulders, stood silently beside O’Neil. The chief’s eyes were continually upon the shore line. He was for the most part silent, but would occasionally turn to Phil, pointing to a group of lights ashore or to a deeper shadow against the loom of the land and inform him shortly of their bearings. “Saluafata,” he said as the thunder of the breaking surf grew louder and a ghastly whiteness appeared on the bow. Phil glanced at his watch. “Eleven thirty,” he said. “We’re about half-way.” Most of the crew had curled themselves down in the bottom of the boat and lay motionless. Phil envied them. Even with the prospect of a hand to hand fight, against what odds they could not know, their healthy minds were wrapped in sleep. “What brought Captain Scott back, Stump?” Phil asked after an unbroken silence of some minutes. “He was supposed to have left the islands after landing the guns.” “Klinger said Scott heard that the Herzovinians owned the government, and that he was therefore safe to come and get his copra,” Stump answered. “But I know that he’s looking for me. I know too much. I’ve seen more than one poor black boy kicked overboard when Scott was in one of his wild fits of anger.” “Why have you stayed so long with such a brute?” Sydney asked.