H. A. Lamb

“ McKechnie scanned the bulk of the wreck with shrewd eyes.
"Oh aye," he grunted; "I need no word from the saints. If Dixon was swept over the side did all the crew follow him? Out o' love for the man that fed them lousy tucker and strung them up by their thumbs? No, Mr. Gordon; if ye had brains instead o' ballast in your top-hamper, ye would know that if any o' her company had stuck to the Sweet Alice, they would have lived, for she is not broken up. And Dixon was no man to risk his life when others would serve instead."
The Scotchman swept his arm across the vista of the shore. ”

“ Channa glanced from the head of his enemy to the man who held him prisoner. Something like pride replaced the fear in his eyes. Pride and anxiety lest he lose his treasured trophy.
"So ye killed Dixon," McKechnie mused. "What about the crew o' the schooner?"
Channa, his gaze still fastened on the blood-stained head, replied that they had fled in a boat to Guadalcanar when Dixon was killed.
"I believe ye arc telling the truth, Channa," said the white man, "especially as ye offer proof. The killing is none o' my business. But I'll take the big pearl ye found on Dixon—the Mongava pearl." ”

“ The unlettered and benighted heathen is a canny man. Mr. Barclay, and will bear watching. The fellow ye are looking for saw me come aboard the Thor. If ye look ashore, ye will see him, yon."
McKechnie pointed to the beach. To his surprise the officer saw a dark form rise from the water and run ashore. The man ran, leaping in zigzag fashion, as if to dodge possible bullets. Barclay recognized him as the survivor of the Sweet Alice.
"I had a good look at the boy on deck before he slid over the side." McKechnie explained. "He wore a half-moon o' pearl shells, which is a sign o' caste on Savo. ”

“ That scar was Dixon's doing, the time he carried off the king's brother to Queensland. 'Tis bad luck to speak ill o' the dead. But Dixon was overquick to shoot when he was in the labor trade—getting islanders to work in Queensland. And Channa has a long memory. He remembers how Dixon cut a pearl from the mouth o' his brother when the poor man tried to hide it."
"Rot!" Barclay shrugged his shoulders skeptically. "Do you mean to say that Channa has taken to head-hunting again, and that he killed all the men on the Sweet Alice?" ”

“ Nor will ye find the bodies o' Dixon and the rest. Channa has taken care to put them in a canoe filled wi' stones, and sunk the lot at sea."
"Then what's to be done, McKechnie?"
The Scotchman stared thoughtfully at the woods of Savo, which were now void of sign of life.
"If ye will wait for a day, Mr. Barclay." he observed, "I will go ashore and interview Channa. The king is a verra interesting man, with his collection o' skulls—if he can be made to talk." ”

“ Marster Dixon him give me this"—Channa pointed to his scarred cheek. So far McKechnie knew that he spoke the truth.
"Then come schooner along Savo," Channa hurried on, his gaze fastened on the fish as on a deadly snake. "Marster Dixon come along village after hurricane. Him drunk like seven bells, my word! Him tell Channa his good fella mate got drowned along hurricane. Him shoot three times at my hut. My small fella sister she catch bullet and die—"
"And ye speared Dixon, eh?" queried McKechnie.
Channa assented frankly. Reaching over to the pile of skulls, he rolled off the ones on top. ”

“ Gordon," said McKechnie. "The gunboat is headed this way, I heard at Malaita. The British navy is fast becoming curious about the death o' Dixon and the unlettered heathen o' Savo. Then we may do a wee bit investigating for ourselves the while."
"The curiosity of a decrepit Scotchman is a sad thing, to my way of thinking," muttered Gordon. addressing his pipe.
"Curiosity, is it, Mr. Gordon?" McKechnie eyed his mate hostilely. "Aye, it may be that. But what if I tell ye Dixon had on him the Mongava pearl?" ”