III.
One day, a year after his marriage, Lygon found himself alone out on the reef. He had paddled over in a canoe and, leaving her tied up, had taken his seat on a lump of coral. Pipe in mouth, he was watching the breakers coming in, great green rollers filled with the movement of life and the perfume of the heart of the sea.
In contrast with the quiet island beach here, there was uproarious life. The coral shook with the thunder of the breakers and the gulls cried and the wind blew, bringing the spindrift of the ocean, and mixing the voice of the undertow with the bourdon note of the waves.
Lygon who had landed on the island a penniless outcast was to-day rich. Jourdain’s invested money came to nearly ten thousand pounds. There was, besides that, the schooner, the pitch, and a going business. He had for wife one of the most beautiful women in the world, and the island was a paradise.
Was he happy? He was happy, but not quite contented. The call of civilization had come to him. He had begun to hear the roar of streets in the roar of the reef, and to wish for a change. Just a few months’ change. TheHaliotiswas due—overdue by some days—and he had determined to take Kineia with him when the schooner sailed next and, leaving the place in charge of Taro, make the run to San Francisco.
They would only be a few months away, so he told himself.
Kineia had agreed. She showed no enthusiasm over the business. At heart she disliked it, but his wish was her law.
Suddenly Lygon rose to his feet and shaded his eyes. Away, far away against the sky line lay a fleck, spar-white in the sun dazzle, now almost invisible, now clear. It was the top canvas of a ship. It was theHaliotis. He knew that instinctively and at once. He watched, but the speck did not change. He turned away and, walking along the coral, did not look again for five minutes, then when he looked it had grown larger. She was coming with the wind that was breezing up fresh from the nor’east, and leaving the reef he paddled over to the island beach in search of Kineia.
She was seated in the veranda of their house engaged in needlework, and telling her that the schooner was in sight he went off to smarten himself.
He always put on his best clothes to receive theHaliotis. It was part of the ritual which included Californian champagne and palm salad at the dinner given to the captain.
It was after four when theHaliotisentered the lagoon, and spilling the wind from her sails dropped anchor a few cable lengths from the beach.
Then a boat put off.
Lygon, standing beside Kineia, shaded his eyes. He was looking at the man in the stern sheets of the boat.
“That’s not Captain Morris,” said he. “What on earth has happened to the cap?”
The man in the stern sheets was certainly not Morris. He showed a sick, white face under his sun helmet, and as the boat beached and he scrambled out, Kineia instinctively drew back a step. The appearance of the stranger did not please her.
As for Lygon, he stood as if turned to stone. The man before him was Packard, the one man in all the world he dreaded, the man with whom he had gone that night to the gambling house in New York.
He had often wondered what had become of Packard.
The recognition was mutual.
“Hello!” said Packard. “Why, it’s you.”
“This is a surprise,” said Lygon.
Packard glanced round at the trees, at the beach, at Kineia. Then he laughed.
“Well, this is a start,” said he. “I’m your new captain. Morris is down with a dropsy—won’t be any more use for the sea, and I took on the job for one voyage. Never recognized you in the name, though it’s not a common one. Your agents gave me the job. How on earth did you come here?”
“It’s a long story,” said Lygon. “I’ll tell you some time. This is my wife. Kineia, this is Captain Packard.”
Then Lygon led the way up to the house, where the two men sat in basket chairs and talked while Palu, the maid, served them with drinks and Kineia went off to see about preparations for dinner.