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I had shaken the dizziness out of my head when she finished, and I had obtained control over my tongue. "You must tell us a lot about the South Seas," she cried. "You have been down here such a long time that you must have many interesting things to relate. Captain Newmarch will not talk, and Mr. Leith refuses to see anything picturesque in the sights he has seen during his wanderings."
The storm being directly from the southwest had not carried us from our course, and Newmarch chuckled when he had taken an observation. "We'll strike it in the morning," he growled. "What? Penrose Island?" I asked. "No, the Isle of Tears," he answered sharply. "The Isle of Tears?" I repeated. "That's what I said," he remarked sourly. "And now you know as much as I know.
Newmarch had evidently discovered that Leith had not been quite successful in the carrying out of his plans, and fearful of his own share in the business, he had bolted with the yacht. The South Sea breeds piratical thoughts, and from our own knowledge of the captain we guessed that in his particular case those thoughts would be easily generated.
Newmarch hailed me from the poop when I came on deck, and there was a peculiar look upon his scrawny features as he addressed me. "Do you know that nigger you rescued?" he asked. "Toni?" "Yes." "What about him?" "You did your heroic stunt for nothing," he remarked. "The fool can't be found, so I guess he went overboard in the night." The news came as a shock to me.
At the head of the companion-stairs I collided heavily with Newmarch, who had just rushed up from the cabin, and the force of the shock nearly threw him off his feet. "Confound it!" he cried. "What's the matter with you?" "One of the Kanakas nearly cut my eye out!" I roared. "He flung a knife at me and ducked for the f'c'stle." I left him standing in angry astonishment and rushed forward.
"Do you know what we're after?" he queried hoarsely. "It's a scientific expedition," I replied. "That's what you and Captain Newmarch told me, and I have not questioned any one else." "But do you know the particular line we are after?" "No," I replied. "Well, we're after skulls. Leith has told the Professor about some ancient boneyard that he knows of, and he's dragging old Herndon down there."
Thus the Priory at Brecon was a cell of Battle Abbey, founded by Bernard of Newmarch, and largely endowed by the Braoses; Ewenny, founded by Maurice de Londres, was a cell to St. Peter's, Gloucester.
The crew and the half dozen islanders that Leith had brought to carry provisions and specimens were also silent. They were grouped for'ard, but not a murmur came from them as The Waif crept slowly ahead, feeling her way cautiously into the little bay on the north side of the island which Leith had suggested to Newmarch as a good anchorage.
"I have a berth for you," he answered. "I'm from The Waif. The mate died on the run down from Sydney, and Captain Newmarch sent me ashore to hunt up some one for his perch. Do you want it?" "Where are you bound?" I asked. "Manihiki group." "What for?" "Science expedition under the direction of Professor Herndon of San Francisco."
Strange stories floated across the Pacific concerning the little islet east of the Suvaroff Group, and out of the reticule of the mind I attempted to drag these stories and piece them together during the minutes that passed after Newmarch had given me the information. They were not pleasant stories as I remembered them at that moment. The island had a "past."
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