Off for Hawaii - Stratemeyer Edward

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or the Kanakas rule?"

      "Neither. Of the Caucasian race there are Americans, Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Germans, and these together rule at present. But there are a great number of Kanakas, Chinese, and Japanese, as well as a mixed-up class of no ​particular blood—natives and foreigners having intermarried for several generations. You will see them all when you get there."

      "Are the islands of volcanic formation?" asked Oliver.

      "Both volcanic and coral formation. The soil everywhere is composed of pulverized stone, sand, sea-mud, and ashes, mixed up with broken coral, and constant irrigation is necessary to assure a perfect crop."

      "What of oysters?" asked Oliver suddenly.

      "You want to know about those pearls, don't you?" laughed the doctor. "Well, pearl oysters are about the only kind that thrive around the islands, and the common oyster of America is unknown. Pearls are plentiful, but a good many of them are worthless. In years gone by the pearl industry was monopolized by the king. If those pearls were really hidden as the parchment says they were discovered and gathered without the royal knowledge, you may be sure of that."

      "I reckon the king wanted everything," grumbled Dan. "That's the reason they made the queen step down and out. Onward the Flag of Freedom takes its way!"

      "That's right, Dan. One of these days I expect to see the whole world free, if not under our own Stars and Stripes, then under some banner which shall be equally just to all."

      ​On the fifth day out it began to grow stormy, and by nightfall it was blowing half a gale. We were now in a warm latitude and the stateroom was suffocating.

      "I'm going to stay on deck for some air," said Oliver.

      "I am with you," I returned. "I can't stand it when it is so stuffy."

      "I understand the barometer is falling rapidly," he went on, as we walked to the deck. "I hope the storm doesn't prove too heavy for us."

      "Oh, such a steamer as this can weather almost anything, Oliver. And we have a good many miles of open sea around us, so there is no danger of striking on a rocky coast in the darkness."

      We found a comfortable spot on deck and sat down to view the preparations going on to weather the coming gale, or hurricane, as such things are termed in these latitudes.

      "It's funny Dan don't come up," mused Oliver presently. "Guess I'll take a look for him."

      He sprang up and left me to myself. Satisfied that our seats would still be waiting for us when we should want them, I also arose and strolled to the rail, close to the companionway leading to the steerage.

      I had been standing musing for about five minutes when I heard a footstep behind me. ​Thinking it was Dan or Oliver I turned—to find myself confronted by Caleb Merkin.

      "You've been watching me pretty closely, haven't you?" he hissed into my ear.

      "I don't deny it, Merkin," I answered. "We intend to keep it up, too."

      "Do you," he sneered.

      "Yes, we do."

      "I'll bet you won't! " he snarled, and in a twinkle he hurled himself at me and caught me around the breast with his single arm, pinning my own right arm to my side.

      "Hi! let up there!" I cried.

      "I won't, hang ye," he snarled. "I'm going to heave ye overboard, an' I'll heave your friends over, too—if I get the chance!"

      And then he tried his best to lift me over the rail and fling me into the dark and angry ocean.

      ​

      CHAPTER VI.

      IN WHICH A BAD MAN SUDDENLY DISAPPEARS.

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      We had watched Caleb Merkin closely ever since the encounter in the steerage, but I must confess that I had supposed it was done so secretly that he had not suspected it. His words revealed the truth, and I saw that he was about as angry as he could get, and willing to do anything while in this frame of mind.

      I tried my best to keep my feet and with my left hand held to the rail. But the Mariposa was now tumbling and tossing under the full force of the storm, and it looked very much as if both of us might go overboard.

      "Let go!" I cried. "Let go, or I will cry for help and have you placed under arrest."

      "Keep still!" was his only answer. And then he lifted me again, and both of us struggled as I had never struggled before, not even when in peril in Cuba. Nobody was near, and, strange to say, Oliver failed to come back.

      He had me about halfway over the rail, when, by an almost superhuman effort, I caught him ​by the throat and forced him backward. Then both of us pitched forward and his body slipped outward again, while I tried to draw still further back.

      A sharp flash of lightning at this instant nearly blinded me, and the report which followed was deafening. Caleb Merkin's hold on me loosened and a roll of the steamer sent me flat on the deck. To keep myself from sliding I knew not whither, I grabbed the netting below the rail. I expected to have the one-armed sailor tackle me again, but—he had disappeared!

      Yes, it was true, he had disappeared! Whether he had gone overboard or not I could not tell, but I felt that the chances were nine out of ten that he had landed into the ocean. I strained my eyes in vain to pierce the darkness. I could see absolutely nothing, excepting when another flash of lightning lit up the scene, and then I saw a sight that filled me with horror.

      He was floating in the water, some distance back of the steamer. Evidently he was keeping afloat by treading with his feet, and his single hand was waving frantically for assistance.

      This was what I saw only for a second—then the blackness of the night blotted out everything, and I found myself struggling to reach the cabin, for it was becoming extremely dangerous to remain outside.

      ​"I must do something for that poor wretch!" I thought. "I cannot let him die in this fashion!"

      The thought had scarcely crossed my mind when the Mariposa gave a heavy lurch to starboard. Up went my feet and I flew through the air, to bring up against the cabin side with a bang. I tried to save my head a heavy knock, but could not. A thousand lights flashed before my eyes—and then I knew no more.

      When I recovered my senses I found myself in my stateroom berth with Dr. Barton bending over me. There was a bandage over my forehead, and the first thing that I realized was that my head was aching as if ready to split open.

      "Oh," I groaned, and tried to stare about me.

      "He is coming around," I heard, in Oliver's voice. "Thank heaven for that! I was afraid he was knocked out completely."

      "He must have got an awful rap," came from Dan, and now I saw that both of them stood behind the doctor.

      "I did get an awful rap——" I began, when Dr. Barton placed his hand over my mouth.

      "Keep quiet, my lad; it will be best for the present," he said soothingly.

      "Yes, but that sailor——" I cried, and then my head swam around again, and I fainted dead away.

      ​My second recovery came an hour later, and then I felt much stronger. But the physician would not let me sit up, excepting to swallow some stimulants he had prepared for me. It was now broad daylight and the hurricane was a thing of the past.

      As I lay there flat on my back, I could not get the one-armed sailor out of my mind. Beyond a doubt he must be drowned. Was I responsible for his death?

      The thought made me break out into a cold perspiration, and before night a fever followed, and once more I was at the rail fighting

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