Waylao crept by Ken-can with her face half averted; like a terror-stricken child she rushed by him, entered the doorway and nearly fell into her mother’s arms. I could easily understand Waylao’s fright, for I had often felt that way myself, in the dark. Old Benbow embraced his daughter. His pride at seeing her developed beauty was immense. He held her in his arms as he sat there in the old chair surrounded by his ragged, impecunious courtiers. Old Lydia opened her mouth with astonishment and pride as Benbow told of his wonderful deeds.
Grimes became quite sentimental as he gazed at Waylao: it was he who suggested that the crew should arise and drink her health. His voice, as he sang beside me, sounded quite sweet as he joined in each old English song that the wild men of the sea yelled.
Benbow ordered Waylao out of the room ere he began to tell the latest Tahitian love stories. He prided himself on being a wise and just parent. “Mates,” he said, as he gave a knowing wink, “it’s best to keep such tales from young ears, and so let a girl remain innocent of such ribaldry.”
Grimes and I saw her that night. We were just off home to the hulk when she came out of the little room. Grimes hiccupped, and gave her a flower, falling forward gallantly on one knee and kissing her hand as he presented the innocent gift. Waylao looked very pleased, as I held Grimes’s arm tightly and helped him away, and she waved her hand till we got out of sight. When I look back and reflect, I feel how much better it would have been for her to have died that night, so dark was the morrow and the many morrows to come.
In a week Benbow had sailed away; he was off to New Caledonia. The rum barrel was empty, and the shellbacks were blessing his name for all the joy he had brought them.
After that night Grimes and I secured a berth on a tramp steamer. We went to Honolulu and to Samoa on a trip that lasted three months.
When we returned things were much about the same. Many of the old faces were still there. Some had left and had been replaced by others who were as wonderful in their way as my former friends. Uncle Sam was delighted to see me again. The old Scotsman’s face beamed with pride as Grimes treated them all to saloon drinks, and Mrs Ranjo put on her holiest smile and even blushed at times. Of course one must bear in mind that I seldom drank strong liquor. I have explained that this one virtue of mine was due to a weak stomach. But it was no good offering those old shellbacks religious tracts and olive oil to make them smile. I wanted to see them happy, and so I had to treat them to the juice of the grape: it was the golden key to the temples of their dreams.