By the time they reached the shore a gig, driven through the water by naval oarsmen, with precision such as one only associates with navy men, was grounding on the sand, and a dapper lieutenant jumped ashore.
"Well, sir," said Chester, advancing toward him with outstretched hand. "This does my eyes good, but where have you come from?"
"Just prowling about," replied the officer. "We came to see if you could let us fill up our water-tanks, and—and to say how d'you do, of course," he added with a glance at the girl.
"My name's Trent," the planter explained. "This is my sister, and let me introduce my friend, Mr. Keith."
"Glad to meet you all," the lieutenant said. "It's a pleasure to see a white man. We've bumped up against nothing but niggers for the last two months—come all the way from the Solomons, where we'd been sent to teach a lesson to a black gentleman on Marovo. You don't overdo the social side of things out here, I suppose—I mean too many dances and dinner parties and things!"
"We had to make two niggers dance here yesterday, but they didn't particularly enjoy it," Chester replied with a laugh.
"What was the trouble?" asked the officer.
"Nothing much. They tried to kill us all, only luckily they didn't succeed."
