Adventure by Jack London

“And I’d seen her think before,” cried Sparrowhawk, “and I knew at

wunst that the thing was as good as done.”

Munster lighted his cigarette and resumed.

“‘You see that spit,’ she says to me, ‘with the little ripple

breaking around it? There’s a current sets right across it and on

it. And you see them bafflin’ little cat’s-paws? It’s good

weather and a falling tide. You just start to beat out, the two of

you, and all you have to do is miss stays in the same baffling puff

and the current will set you nicely aground.'”

“‘That little wash of sea won’t more than start a sheet or two of

copper,’ says she, when Munster kicked,” Sparrowhawk explained.

“Oh, she’s no green un, that girl.”

“‘Then I’ll rescue your recruits and sail away–simple, ain’t it?’

says she,” Munster continued. “‘You hang up one tide,’ says she;

‘the next is the big high water. Then you kedge off and go after

more recruits. There’s no law against recruiting when you’re

empty.’ ‘But there is against starving ’em,’ I said; ‘you know

yourself there ain’t any kai-kai to speak of aboard of us, and

there ain’t a crumb on the Martha.'”

“We’d all been pretty well on native kai-kai, as it was,” said

Sparrowhawk.

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“‘Don’t let the kai-kai worry you, Captain Munster,’ says she; ‘if

I can find grub for eighty-four mouths on the Martha, the two of

you can do as much by your two vessels. Now go ahead and get

aground before a steady breeze comes up and spoils the manoeuvre.

I’ll send my boats the moment you strike. And now, good-day,

gentlemen.'”

“And we went and did it,” Sparrowhawk said solemnly, and then

emitted a series of chuckling noises. “We laid over, starboard

tack, and I pinched the Emily against the spit. ‘Go about,’

Captain Munster yells at me; ‘go about, or you’ll have me aground!’

He yelled other things, much worse. But I didn’t mind. I missed

stays, pretty as you please, and the Flibberty drifted down on him

and fouled him, and we went ashore together in as nice a mess as

you ever want to see. Miss Lackland transferred the recruits, and

the trick was done.”

“But where was she during the nor’wester?” Sheldon asked.

“At Langa-Langa. Ran up there as it was coming on, and laid there

the whole week and traded for grub with the niggers. When we got

to Tulagi, there she was waiting for us and scrapping with Burnett.

I tell you, Mr. Sheldon, she’s a wonder, that girl, a perfect

wonder.”

Munster refilled his glass, and while Sheldon glanced across at

Joan’s house, anxious for her coming, Sparrowhawk took up the tale.

“Gritty! She’s the grittiest thing, man or woman, that ever blew

into the Solomons. You should have seen Poonga-Poonga the morning

we arrived–Sniders popping on the beach and in the mangroves, war-

drums booming in the bush, and signal-smokes raising everywhere.

‘It’s all up,’ says Captain Munster.”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” declared that mariner.

“Of course it was all up. You could see it with half an eye and

hear it with one ear.”

“‘Up your granny,’ she says to him,” Sparrowhawk went on. “‘Why,

we haven’t arrived yet, much less got started. Wait till the

anchor’s down before you get afraid.'”

“That’s what she said to me,” Munster proclaimed. “And of course

it made me mad so that I didn’t care what happened. We tried to

send a boat ashore for a pow-wow, but it was fired upon. And every

once and a while some nigger’d take a long shot at us out of the

mangroves.”

“They was only a quarter of a mile off,” Sparrowhawk explained,

“and it was damned nasty. ‘Don’t shoot unless they try to board,’

was Miss Lackland’s orders; but the dirty niggers wouldn’t board.

They just lay off in the bush and plugged away. That night we held

a council of war in the Flibberty’s cabin. ‘What we want,’ says

Miss Lackland, ‘is a hostage.'”

“‘That’s what they do in books,’ I said, thinking to laugh her away

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from her folly,” Munster interrupted. “‘True,’ says she, ‘and have

you never seen the books come true?’ I shook my head. ‘Then

you’re not too old to learn,’ says she. ‘I’ll tell you one thing

right now,’ says I, ‘and that is I’ll be blowed if you catch me

ashore in the night-time stealing niggers in a place like this.'”

“You didn’t say blowed,” Sparrowhawk corrected. “You said you’d be

damned.”

“That’s what I did, and I meant it, too.”

“‘Nobody asked you to go ashore,’ says she, quick as lightning,”

Sparrowhawk grinned. “And she said more. She said, ‘And if I

catch you going ashore without orders there’ll be trouble–

understand, Captain Munster?'”

“Who in hell’s telling this, you or me?” the skipper demanded

wrathfully.

“Well, she did, didn’t she?” insisted the mate.

“Yes, she did, if you want to make so sure of it. And while you’re

about it, you might as well repeat what she said to you when you

said you wouldn’t recruit on the Poonga-Poonga coast for twice your

screw.”

Sparrowhawk’s sun-reddened face flamed redder, though he tried to

pass the situation off by divers laughings and chucklings and face-

twistings.

“Go on, go on,” Sheldon urged; and Munster resumed the narrative.

“‘What we need,’ says she, ‘is the strong hand. It’s the only way

to handle them; and we’ve got to take hold firm right at the

beginning. I’m going ashore to-night to fetch Kina-Kina himself on

board, and I’m not asking who’s game to go for I’ve got every man’s

work arranged with me for him. I’m taking my sailors with me, and

one white man.’ ‘Of course, I’m that white man,’ I said; for by

that time I was mad enough to go to hell and back again. ‘Of

course you’re not,’ says she. ‘You’ll have charge of the covering

boat. Curtis stands by the landing boat. Fowler goes with me.

Brahms takes charge of the Flibberty, and Sparrowhawk of the Emily.

And we start at one o’clock.’

“My word, it was a tough job lying there in the covering boat. I

never thought doing nothing could be such hard work. We stopped

about fifty fathoms off, and watched the other boat go in. It was

so dark under the mangroves we couldn’t see a thing of it. D’ye

know that little, monkey-looking nigger, Sheldon, on the Flibberty-

-the cook, I mean? Well, he was cabin-boy twenty years ago on the

Scottish Chiefs, and after she was cut off he was a slave there at

Poonga-Poonga. And Miss Lackland had discovered the fact. So he

was the guide. She gave him half a case of tobacco for that

night’s work–”

“And scared him fit to die before she could get him to come along,”

Sparrowhawk observed.

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100

“Well, I never saw anything so black as the mangroves. I stared at

them till my eyes were ready to burst. And then I’d look at the

stars, and listen to the surf sighing along the reef. And there

was a dog that barked. Remember that dog, Sparrowhawk? The brute

nearly gave me heart-failure when he first began. After a while he

stopped–wasn’t barking at the landing party at all; and then the

silence was harder than ever, and the mangroves grew blacker, and

it was all I could do to keep from calling out to Curtis in there

in the landing boat, just to make sure that I wasn’t the only white

man left alive.

“Of course there was a row. It had to come, and I knew it; but it

startled me just the same. I never heard such screeching and

yelling in my life. The niggers must have just dived for the bush

without looking to see what was up, while her Tahitians let loose,

shooting in the air and yelling to hurry ’em on. And then, just as

sudden, came the silence again–all except for some small kiddie

that had got dropped in the stampede and that kept crying in the

bush for its mother.

“And then I heard them coming through the mangroves, and an oar

strike on a gunwale, and Miss Lackland laugh, and I knew everything

was all right. We pulled on board without a shot being fired.

And, by God! she had made the books come true, for there was old

Kina-Kina himself being hoisted over the rail, shivering and

chattering like an ape. The rest was easy. Kina-Kina’s word was

law, and he was scared to death. And we kept him on board issuing

proclamations all the time we were in Poonga-Poonga.

“It was a good move, too, in other ways. She made Kina-Kina order

his people to return all the gear they’d stripped from the Martha.

And back it came, day after day, steering compasses, blocks and

tackles, sails, coils of rope, medicine chests, ensigns, signal

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