106 MYSTIC ISLES 



the group. He referred to "my family" with honest 

 pride. 



The captains of the Lurline and the O. M. Kellogg 

 were at the club. The Lurline was twenty-seven years 

 old, and the Kellogg, too, high up in her teens, if not 

 twenties. Their skippers were Americans, the Kel- 

 logg's master as dark as a negro, bm'ned by thirty years 

 of tropical sun. 



"I used to live in Hawaii in the eighties," he said. "I 

 used to pass the pipe there in those days. There'd be 

 only one pipe among a dozen kanakas, and each had a 

 draw or so in turn. They have that custom in the Mar- 

 quesas, too, and so had the American Indians." 



I walked with the Kellogg's skipper to his vessel, 

 moored close to the quay in front of the club. He gave 

 an order to the mate, who told him to go to sheol. The 

 mate had been ashore. 



"Come aboard," cried the mate, "and I will knock 

 your block off." 



The whole waterfront heard the challenge. Stores 

 were deserted to witness the imminent fight. 



The dark-faced captain ascended the gang-plank, and 

 walked to the forecastle head, where the mate was di- 

 recting the making taut a line. 



"Now," said the skipper, a foot from the mate, 

 "knock!" 



The mate hesitated. That would be a crime; he 

 would go to jail and the captain would be delighted. 



The master taunted him : 



"Knock my block off! Touch my block, and I '11 

 whip you so your mother would n't know you, you dirty, 

 drunken, son of a sea-cook !" 



