"My, how cheap labour does mount up! Thirty-six hundred pounds,
eighteen thousand dollars, just for a lot of
cannibals! Yet the
place is good
security. You could go down to Sydney and raise the
money."
He shook his head.
"You can't get them to look at
plantations down there. They've
been taken in too often. But I do hate to give the place up--more
for Hughie's sake, I swear, than my own. He was bound up in it.
You see, he was a
persistent chap, and hated to
acknowledge defeat.
It--it makes me
uncomfortable to think of it myself. We were
running slowly behind, but with the Jessie we hoped to muddle
through in some fashion."
"You were muddlers, the pair of you, without doubt. But you
needn't sell to Morgan and Raff. I shall go down to Sydney on the
next
steamer, and I'll come back in a
second-handschooner. I
should be able to buy one for five or six thousand dollars--"
He held up his hand in protest, but she waved it aside.
"I may manage to
freight a cargo back as well. At any rate, the
schooner will take over the Jessie's business. You can make your
arrangements
accordingly, and have plenty of work for her when I
get back. I'm going to become a
partner in Berande to the
extentof my bag of sovereigns--I've got over fifteen hundred of them, you
know. We'll draw up an
agreement right now--that is, with your
permission, and I know you won't refuse it."
He looked at her with
good-natured amusement.
"You know I sailed here all the way from Tahiti in order to become
a planter," she insisted. "You know what my plans were. Now I've
changed them, that's all. I'd rather be a part owner of Berande
and get my returns in three years, than break ground on Pari-Sulay
and wait seven years."
"And this--er--this
schooner. . . . " Sheldon changed his mind and
stopped.
"Yes, go on."
"You won't be angry?" he queried.
"No, no; this is business. Go on."
"You--er--you would run her yourself?--be the captain, in short?--
and go recruiting on Malaita?"
"Certainly. We would save the cost of a
skipper. Under an
agreement you would be credited with a manager's salary, and I with
a captain's. It's quite simple. Besides, if you won't let me be
your
partner, I shall buy Pari-Sulay, get a much smaller vessel,
and run her myself. So what is the difference?"
"The difference?--why, all the difference in the world. In the
case of Pari-Sulay you would be on an independent
venture. You
could turn
cannibal for all I could
interfere in the matter. But
on Berande, you would be my
partner, and then I would be
responsible. And of course I couldn't permit you, as my
partner,
to be
skipper of a recruiter. I tell you, the thing is what I
would not permit any sister or wife of mine--"
"But I'm not going to be your wife, thank goodness--only your
partner."
"Besides, it's all ridiculous," he held on
steadily. "Think of the
situation. A man and a woman, both young,
partners on an isolated
plantation. Why, the only practical way out would be that I'd have
to marry you--"
"Mine was a business
proposition, not a marriage proposal," she
interrupted,
coldly angry. "I wonder if somewhere in this world
there is one man who could accept me for a comrade."
"But you are a woman just the same," he began, "and there are
certain conventions, certain decencies--"
She
sprang up and stamped her foot.
"Do you know what I'd like to say?" she demanded.
"Yes," he smiled, "you'd like to say, 'Damn petticoats!'"
She nodded her head ruefully.
"That's what I wanted to say, but it sounds different on your lips.
It sounds as though you meant it yourself, and that you meant it
because of me."
"Well, I am going to bed. But do, please, think over my
proposition, and let me know in the morning. There's no use in my
discussing it now. You make me so angry. You are
cowardly, you
know, and very egotistic. You are afraid of what other fools will
say. No matter how honest your motives, if others criticized your
actions your feelings would be hurt. And you think more about your
own
wretched feelings than you do about mine. And then, being a
coward--all men are at heart cowards--you
disguise your
cowardice