Part I.

Chapter 1. NIGHT ON THE BEACH

Throughout the island world of the Pacific, scattered men of many

European races and from almost every grade of society carry activity and

disseminate disease. Some prosper, some vegetate. Some have mounted the

steps of thrones and owned islands and navies. Others again must marry

for a livelihood; a strapping, merry, chocolate-coloured dame supports

them in sheer idleness; and, dressed like natives, but still retaining

some foreign element of gait or attitude, still perhaps with some relic

(such as a single eye-glass) of the officer and gentleman, they sprawl

in palm-leaf verandahs and entertain an island audience with memoirs of

the music-hall. And there are still others, less pliable, less capable,

less fortunate, perhaps less base, who continue, even in these isles of

plenty, to lack bread.

At the far end of the town of Papeete, three such men were seated on the

beach under a purao tree.

It was late. Long ago the band had broken up and marched musically home,

a motley troop of men and women, merchant clerks and navy officers,

dancing in its wake, arms about waist and crowned with garlands. Long

ago darkness and silence had gone from house to house about the tiny

pagan city. Only the street lamps shone on, making a glow-worm halo in

the umbrageous alleys or drawing a tremulous image on the waters of the

The Ebb-Tide