These islands have got a bad
enough name as it is. It's getting harder every day to sign on white
men. Suppose a man is killed. The company has to pay through the nose
for another man to take the job. But if the man merely dies of
sickness, it's all right. The new chums don't mind disease. What they
draw the line at is being murdered. I thought the skipper of the
_Arla_ had died of dysentery when I took his billet. Then it was too
late. I'd signed the contract."
"Besides," said Mr. Jacobs, "there's altogether too many accidental
drownings anyway. It don't look right. It's the fault of the
government. A white man hasn't a chance to defend himself from the
niggers."
"Yes, look at the _Princess_ and that Yankee mate," the skipper took up
the tale. "She carried five white men besides a government agent. The
captain, the agent, and the supercargo were ashore in the two boats.
They were killed to the last man. The mate and bosun, with about
fifteen of the crew--Samoans and Tongans--were on board. A crowd of
niggers came off from the shore. First thing the mate knew, the bosun
and the crew were killed in the first rush. The mate grabbed three
cartridge-belts and two Winchesters and skinned up to the cross-trees.
Pages:
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450