UP ANDJAWAY 



"Man is the merriest species of creation; all above and below 

 him are serious." ADDISON. 



"LET'S up and away, Bill," said Breezy Jim, as he 

 started to his feet. "I'm dog tired of this game. 

 We're just working for tucker for the boys and nothing 

 not even a smoke for ourselves." 



"Don't be in such a flurry. We might drop on a 

 patch yet. I vote we stay for another week. The 

 anchorage is all right, and the season's young. The 

 little bit of fish we've got ain't too stinking. It'll pay 

 expenses." Placid and patient, the half-caste Solo- 

 mon Islander, Billy Boolah, kept check on his impetuous 

 partner, whose restless disposition forbade him to 

 continue long in one stay unless circumstances were 

 essentially favourable. 



Certainly fish were not too plentiful, but the aboriginal 

 crew worked well, and were light-hearted almost to a 

 fault. They had had no credit to pledge for the season's 

 stores. They had merely to pick up inert and unre- 

 sisting beche-de-mer from among the coral five fathoms 

 down, where the deceptive sea looked no more than ten 

 feet deep under the squalid flatties; to smoke and 

 jabber in idle moments; to eat and to sleep, and to 

 listen to Mammerroo's version of the opening phrases of 

 "The Last Rose of Summer" on a mouth-organ worn 

 with inveterate usage to the bold brass. The tune was 



257 17 



