"I would. By God! I would!"
"Ah!—you say so now—"
"I said so before—"
"Oh! what's the use, Chris? You can't now, so there's an end. Be sensible. I'm going on board again. Come on."
They passed on. I thought to myself, there was a nice little comedy—or tragedy—going on aboard the schooner. But there, it wasn't my picnic; so I knocked the ashes out of my pipe, jumped down off the rock, and strolled quietly and slowly back to the schooner. When I got aboard all was silent, but I noticed the light in the mate's room was not yet out.
Next day, after taking in stores and water, we let go from the wharf about noon, and getting a good slant of wind, stood out to sea and headed north. Captain Dane headed for Lizard Island, and then through one of the breaks in the Great Barrier reef, with which he seemed quite familiar, and instead of coming our way through the coral we soon found ourselves breasting the broad roll of the Pacific, which thundered behind us as it broke with terrific force and grandeur on the barrier. With glorious weather and a fair wind we stood to the northeast, and made an uneventful passage amongst the islands of those seas that make up the great fairyland of the Far East.
No one who has not seen the South Pacific can realize the beauty of it from reading books. So I will not attempt in my little way to describe those southern glories. To me every hour of daylight was a joy, though I own the anxiety of keeping clear of the sunken coral at night was intense. By day one hand was always aloft looking out for the coral, which could be easily detected by the apparent change of color of the water into pale green where it shallowed. But Captain Dane and Mr. Chris seemed to know every reef and exactly where it was, and the schooner never touched a bit of coral all the way.
