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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Nor in Samoa?" There was the slightest pause, and then the reply came: "Yes, in Samoa." "Not a missionary, by gracious! Not a mickonaree in Samoa?" "No." He said nothing further. He did not feel bound to incriminate himself. "No? Well, you wasn't a beachcomber, nor trader, I'll swear. Was you there in the last half of the Seventies? That's when I was there." "Yes." The reply was quiet.
"Listen to me, you filthy beachcomber! If you ever dare speak to Miss Norman again or come within ten feet of her I'll kill you with bare hands! There are no guns on board this yacht bare hands. Now go back to your master and say that I'd like to do the same to him."
"But I heard, on my way here, that old John Ward had just been run in for drunken and disorderly conduct and for resisting an officer. Now Abel Ah Yo fine- toothcombs the police court. He loves nothing better than soul- snatching a chronic drunkard." Colonel Chilton looked at Lask Finneston, and both looked at Gary Wilkinson. He returned to them a similar look. "The old beachcomber!"
There was, however, to be no hand-cuffing and carrying off to the justice of man, for the spirit of Dan Mallam the beachcomber had passed out that morning, as the old sailor said, with the tide.
"If he really sells, this will be the biggest year's output of pearls in the Paumotus," Grief said. "I say, now, look here!" Mulhall burst forth, harried by the humid heat as much as the rest of them. "What's it all about? Who's the old beachcomber anyway? What are all these pearls? Why so secretious about it?" "Hikihoho belongs to old Parlay," the supercargo answered.
Some beachcomber in Honolulu had whispered to you, and you'd written to the Governor to find out. And that was his answer Lee Goom carried out to you. Why didn't you come to me like a man! No, you must play underhand with me, knowing that this billet was the one chance for me to get on my feet again. And as soon as you read the Governor's letter your mind was made up to get rid of me.
He was wrecked on the Peruvian coast and became a beachcomber, and then got a berth in a whaler. He married at New Bedford and sailed with Captain Tucker this was his second whaling trip, he said, and he wanted no more. I told him I was glad to learn that he was a countryman of mine, but not surprised.
"Hank," began the captain, "speak me fair and above board, mate who give yer that letter ter bring ter me ter-night?" "What letter?" blankly responded Hank, a look of vacancy in his shifty eyes. "Oh, yer know well enough; that letter yer give me at supper time." "Captain, I'll give you my davy I don't know what you're talking about," returned the beachcomber.
Their first hint of what was afoot they had when Rolldown Nickerson, the beachcomber, came running in, shining with the wet of the autumn gale that began that night. He wanted Joshua to look out for his brother. Being innocent of what had happened at the party, he thought Andrew had gone out of his head.
This was the long-deferred funeral oration of Macy O'Shea, sometime member of the chain-gang of Port Arthur, in Van Dieman's Land, and subsequently runaway convict, beachcomber, cutter-off of whaleships, and Gentleman of Leisure in Eastern Polynesia. And of his many known crimes the deed done in this isolated spot was the darkest of all. Judge of it yourself.
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