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DUCHESS lay hove to for three weeks； when I pulled myself together and we
jogged on with her to Sydney。 Anyway those niggers of Malu learned the
everlasting lesson that it is not good to monkey with a white man。 In their
case； Saxtorph was certainly inevitable。〃
Charley Roberts emitted a long whistle and said：
〃Well I should say so。 But whatever became of Saxtorph？〃
〃He drifted into seal hunting and became a crackerjack。 For six years he was
high line of both the Victoria and San Francisco fleets。 The seventh year his
schooner was seized in Bering Sea by a Russian cruiser； and all hands； so the
talk went； were slammed into the Siberian salt mines。 At least I've never
heard of him since。〃
〃Farming the world；〃 Roberts muttered。 〃Farming the world。 Well here's to
them。 Somebody's got to do itfarm the world； I mean。〃
Captain Woodward rubbed the criss…crosses on his bald head。
〃I've done my share of it；〃 he said。 〃Forty years now。 This will be my last
trip。 Then I'm going home to stay。〃
〃I'll wager the wine you don't；〃 Roberts challenged。 〃You'll die in the
harness； not at home。〃
Captain Woodward promptly accepted the bet； but personally I think Charley
Roberts has the best of it。
THE SEED OF McCOY
The Pyrenees； her iron sides pressed low in the water by her cargo of wheat；
rolled sluggishly； and made it easy for the man who was climbing aboard from
out a tiny outrigger canoe。 As his eyes came level with the rail； so that he
could see inboard； it seemed to him that he saw a dim； almost indiscernible
haze。 It was more like an illusion； like a blurring film that had spread
abruptly over his eyes。 He felt an inclination to brush it away； and the same
instant he thought that he was growing old and that it was time to send to San
Francisco for a pair of spectacles。
As he came over the rail he cast a glance aloft at the tall masts； and； next；
at the pumps。 They were not working。 There seemed nothing the matter with the
big ship； and he wondered why she had hoisted the signal of distress。 He
thought of his happy islanders； and hoped it was not disease。 Perhaps the ship
was short of water or provisions。 He shook hands with the captain whose gaunt
face and care…worn eyes made no secret of the trouble； whatever it was。 At the
same moment the newcomer was aware of a faint； indefinable smell。 It seemed
like that of burnt bread； but different。
He glanced curiously about him。 Twenty feet away a weary…faced sailor was
calking the deck。 As his eyes lingered on the man； he saw suddenly arise from
under his hands a faint spiral of haze that curled and twisted and was gone。
By now he had reached the deck。 His bare feet were pervaded by a dull warmth
that quickly penetrated the thick calluses。 He knew now the nature of the
ship's distress。 His eyes roved swiftly forward； where the full crew of
weary…faced sailors regarded him eagerly。 The glance from his liquid brown
eyes swept over them like a benediction； soothing them； rapping them about as
in the mantle of a great peace。 〃How long has she been afire； Captain？〃 he
asked in a voice so gentle and unperturbed that it was as the cooing of a
dove。
At first the captain felt the peace and content of it stealing in upon him；
then the consciousness of all that he had gone through and was going through
smote him； and he was resentful。 By what right did this ragged beachcomber； in
dungaree trousers and a cotton shirt； suggest such a thing as peace and
content to him and his overwrought； exhausted soul？ The captain did not reason
this； it was the unconscious process of emotion that caused his resentment。
〃Fifteen days；〃 he answered shortly。 〃Who are you？〃
〃My name is McCoy；〃 came the answer in tones that breathed tenderness and
compassion。
〃I mean； are you the pilot？〃
McCoy passed the benediction of his gaze over the tall； heavy…shouldered man
with the haggard； unshaven face who had joined the captain。
〃I am as much a pilot as anybody；〃 was McCoy's answer。 〃We are all pilots
here； Captain； and I know every inch of these waters。〃
But the captain was impatient。
〃What I want is some of the authorities。 I want to talk with them； and blame
quick。〃
〃Then I'll do just as well。〃
Again that insidious suggestion of peace； and his ship a raging furnace
beneath his feet！ The captain's eyebrows lifted impatiently and nervously； and
his fist clenched as if he were about to strike a blow with it。
〃Who in hell are you？〃 he demanded。
〃I am the chief magistrate；〃 was the reply in a voice that was still the
softest and gentlest imaginable。
The tall； heavy…shouldered man broke out in a harsh laugh that was partly
amusement； but mostly hysterical。 Both he and the captain regarded McCoy with
incredulity and amazement。 That this barefooted beachcomber should possess
such high…sounding dignity was inconceivable。 His cotton shirt； unbuttoned；
exposed a grizzled chest and the fact that there was no undershirt beneath。
A worn straw hat failed to hide the ragged gray hair。 Halfway down his chest
descended an untrimmed patriarchal beard。 In any slop shop； two shillings
would have outfitted him complete as he stood before them。
〃Any relation to the McCoy of the Bounty？〃 the captain asked。
〃He was my great…grandfather。〃
〃Oh；〃 the captain said； then bethought himself。 'my name is Davenport； and
this is my first mate； Mr。 Konig。〃
They shook hands。
〃And now to business。〃 The captain spoke quickly； the urgency of a great haste
pressing his speech。 〃We've been on fire for over two weeks。 She's ready to
break all hell loose any moment。 That's why I held for Pitcairn。 I want to
beach her； or scuttle her； and save the hull。〃
〃Then you made a mistake； Captain； said McCoy。 〃You should have slacked away
for Mangareva。 There's a beautiful beach there； in a lagoon where the water is
like a mill pond。〃
〃But we're here； ain't we？〃 the first mate demanded。 〃That's the point。 We're
here； and we've got to do something。〃
McCoy shook his head kindly。
〃You can do nothing here。 There is no beach。 There isn't even anchorage。〃
〃Gammon！〃 said the mate。 〃Gammon！〃 he repeated loudly； as the captain signaled
him to be more soft spoken。 〃You can't tell me that sort of stuff。 Where d'ye
keep your own boats； heyyour schooner； or cutter； or whatever you have？ Hey？
Answer me that。〃
McCoy smiled as gently as he spoke。 His smile was a caress； an embrace that
surrounded the tired mate and sought to draw him into the quietude and rest of
McCoy's tranquil soul。
〃We have no schooner or cutter；〃 he replied。 〃And we carry our canoes to the
top of the cliff。〃
〃You've got to show me；〃 snorted the mate。 〃How d'ye get around to the other
islands； heh？ Tell me that。〃
〃We don't get around。 As governor of Pitcairn； I sometimes go。 When I was
younger； I was away a great dealsometimes on the trading schooners； but
mostly on the missionary brig。 But she's gone now； and we depend on passing
vessels。 Sometimes we have had as high as six calls in one year。 At other
times； a year； and even longer； has gone by without one passing ship。 Yours is
the first in seven months。〃
〃And you mean to tell me〃 the mate began。
But Captain Davenport interfered。
〃Enough of this。 We're losing time。 What is to be done； Mr。 McCoy？〃
The old man turned his brown eyes； sweet as a woman's； shoreward； and both
captain and mate followed his gaze around from the lonely rock of Pitcairn to
the crew clustering forward and waiting anxiously for the announcement of a
decision。 'mcCoy did not hurry。 He thought smoothly and slowly； step by step；
with the certitude of a mind that was never vexed or outraged by life。
〃The wind is light now；〃 he said finally。 〃There is a heavy current setting to
the westward。〃
〃That's what made us fetch to leeward；〃 the captain interrupted； desiring