I noticed, too, that he spoke with a slight accent, which I afterwards found was Scandinavian.
Every one called him "Mr. Chris," his full name, I believe, was Christian Christiansen.
Poor Chris! We became great friends. He's dead, too! How they all seem to die but me! I suppose there is a "little cherub" with an eye on me somewhere "up aloft." But I cannot help thinking there are a lot of good men gone before their proper time—or anyway long before their job was half done.
We were all fond of Chris on board the schooner—all but the captain—for somehow Mr. Chris fell in love with the captain's wife, and that's a great mistake on board ship—or on shore either if it comes to that—at least they say so. I don't think the captain knew it—not really—but anyway there was no cordiality between the two men. We had trouble on board the schooner, though it did not begin with Mr. Chris, but with the captain's wife and another girl they called the "Blackbird"—her name really was "Loalia."
Nearly all the names amongst the Islands are soft-sounding and beautiful. I often wonder people don't use them for their children instead of "Harriet," "Susan," or the common or garden "Jane." Jane! Great Scott! say it over to yourself twice out loud and listen!
Loalia had been caught on a former voyage by the skipper before he married his Wooloomooloo wife. She was enticed to the schooner's side by a tempting red shawl, took the bait, but instead of being sold for labor, Captain Dane installed her as his wife pro-tem, and established her on one of the islands in the New Britain group, where a child was born to her and there were no missionaries.
So Loalia was happy.
She was a beauty, passionate—fond of Paul, but, like her kind, jealous and revengeful.
