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About five years previous to his entering the service of Hillingdon and McFreeland, Carr had been mate of a trading vessel whose cruising-grounds were that vast chain of islands known as the Caroline Group, in the North-West Pacific, and there he had made the acquaintance of old John Remington and his family, an acquaintance that in the course of two or three years had deepened into a sincere friendship.
And there is a certain amount of truth in his letter I did say that the firm of Hillingdon and McFreeland were guilty of shady and illegal practices, and that the High Commissioner in Fiji would bring them up with a round turn some day. But, as you know, all the rest is false downright lies." The mate slapped him on the shoulder. "Lies! Of course they are!
I have decided not to take another station from the firm of Hillingdon and McFreeland. I have had enough of them and enough of you." Chard took a threatening step towards him. "Stand back, Mr. Chard. I am not a man to be threatened." Something in his eyes warned the supercargo, whose temper, however, was rapidly taking possession of him. "Very well, Mr.
Hillingdon & McFreeland, "'Sydney." "What do you think of that, Carr?" "It doesn't astonish me, Oliver, for Chard, with all his seeming bonhomie, is as big a black-guard as Hendry.
"'James Oliver, Chief Officer. "'Jos. Atkins, Second Officer. "'Felix Latour, Steward. "'Tom Cleaver, Fireman." The trader held out his hand, "Thank you, Oliver. But I'm afraid that the firm of Hillingdon and McFreeland will be glad to get rid of a man like me. I'm not the sort of trader they want. I took service with them under the impression that they were straight people.
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