Chapter 19

CHAPTER XIX--THE LOST TOY

"Well," Joan said with a sigh, "I've shown you hustling American
methods that succeed and get somewhere, and here you are beginning
your muddling again."

Five days had passed, and she and Sheldon were standing on the
veranda watching the Martha, close-hauled on the wind, laying a
tack off shore. During those five days Joan had never once
broached the desire of her heart, though Sheldon, in this
particular instance reading her like a book, had watched her lead
up to the question a score of times in the hope that he would
himself suggest her taking charge of the Martha. She had wanted
him to say the word, and she had steeled herself not to say it
herself. The matter of finding a skipper had been a hard one. She
was jealous of the Martha, and no suggested man had satisfied her.

"Oleson?" she had demanded. "He does very well on the Flibberty,
with me and my men to overhaul her whenever she's ready to fall to
pieces through his slackness. But skipper of the Martha?
Impossible!"

"Munster? Yes, he's the only man I know in the Solomons I'd care
to see in charge. And yet, there's his record. He lost the
Umbawa--one hundred and forty drowned. He was first officer on the
bridge. Deliberate disobedience to instructions. No wonder they
broke him.

"Christian Young has never had any experience with large boats.
Besides, we can't afford to pay him what he's clearing on the
Minerva. Sparrowhawk is a good man--to take orders. He has no
initiative. He's an able sailor, but he can't command. I tell you
I was nervous all the time he had charge of the Flibberty at
Poonga-Poonga when I had to stay by the Martha."

And so it had gone. No name proposed was satisfactory, and,
moreover, Sheldon had been surprised by the accuracy of her
judgments. A dozen times she almost drove him to the statement
that from the showing she made of Solomon Islands sailors, she was
the only person fitted to command the Martha. But each time he
restrained himself, while her pride prevented her from making the
suggestion.

"Good whale-boat sailors do not necessarily make good schooner-
handlers," she replied to one of his arguments. "Besides, the
captain of a boat like the Martha must have a large mind, see
things in a large way; he must have capacity and enterprise."

"But with your Tahitians on board--" Sheldon had begun another
argument.

"There won't be any Tahitians on board," she had returned promptly.
"My men stay with me. I never know when I may need them. When I
sail, they sail; when I remain ashore, they remain ashore. I'll
find plenty for them to do right here on the plantation. You've
seen them clearing bush, each of them worth half a dozen of