Chapter 9

It was Satan's inexhaustible energy and good spirits that most
impressed them. His teeth seemed perpetually to ache with desire,
and in lieu of black legs he husked the cocoanuts that fell from
the trees in the compound, kept the enclosure clear of intruding
hens, and made a hostile acquaintance with every boss-boy who came
to report. He was unable to forget the torment of his puppyhood,
wherein everlasting hatred of the black had been woven into the
fibres of consciousness; and such a terror did he make himself that
Sheldon was forced to shut him up in the living room when, for any
reason, strange natives were permitted in the compound. This
always hurt Satan's feelings and fanned his wrath, so that even the
house-boys had to watch out for him when he was first released.

Christian Young sailed away in the Minerva, carrying an invitation
(that would be delivered nobody knew when) to Tommy Jones to drop
in at Berande the next time he was passing.

"What are your plans when you get to Sydney?" Sheldon asked, that
night, at dinner.

"First I've heard that I'm going to Sydney," Joan retorted. "I
suppose you've received information, by bush-telegraph, that that
third assistant understrapper and ex-sailorman at Tulagi is going
to deport me as an undesirable immigrant."

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort, I assure you," Sheldon began with
awkward haste, fearful of having offended, though he knew not how.
"I was just wondering, that was all. You see, with the loss of the
schooner and . . and all the rest . . . you understand . . I was
thinking that if--a--if--hang it all, until you could communicate
with your friends, my agents at Sydney could advance you a loan,
temporary you see, why I'd be only too glad and all the rest, you
know. The proper--"

But his jaw dropped and he regarded her irritably and with
apprehension.

"What IS the matter?" he demanded, with a show of heat. "What HAVE
I done now?"

Joan's eyes were bright with battle, the curve of her lips sharp
with mockery.

"Certainly not the unexpected," she said quietly. "Merely ignored
me in your ordinary, every-day, man-god, superior fashion.
Naturally it counted for nothing, my telling you that I had no idea
of going to Sydney. Go to Sydney I must, because you, in your
superior wisdom, have so decreed."

She paused and looked at him curiously, as though he were some
strange breed of animal.

"Of course I am grateful for your offer of assistance; but even
that is no salve to wounded pride. For that matter, it is no more
than one white man should expect from another. Shipwrecked
mariners are always helped along their way. Only this particular
mariner doesn't need any help. Furthermore,