THE DREAM SHIP 



and came to the conclusion that, with the 

 present atrocity called a motor auxiliary 

 and the weather conditions of the group, 

 we might take three days over the busi- 

 ness and we might take three months ; 

 that the chances of finding something 

 were outweighed by the risk of losing 

 the ship, and that we were in pursuit of 

 something sufficiently visionary, anyway, 

 so we had better get on with it. 



The voting went two to one against, 

 and I leave you to guess who's was the 

 deciding voice. 



I give this interview with "Dad" for 

 what it is worth, and simply because I 

 see no prospect of undertaking the search 

 as it should be undertaken. I am aware 

 that it reads like the purest romance, but 

 it is true in every particular, as any one 

 will soon discover on visiting Wreck Bay, 

 San Cristobal, Galapagos Islands. 



The old man still waits there on the 

 beach for a ship and some one he can 

 trust ; but judging by his frail appearance 

 (he is seventy-seven), he will not wait 

 much longer. 



Often during the days that followed I 

 found myself standing at the Dream 

 Ship's rail, looking seaward to a dim out- 

 line of mountains against the blue, and 

 wondering. . . . But only the ash- 

 heap knows. 



^ s|s ^ %. % * :fc 



Tomorrow the owner of Cristobal, the 

 accountant of the elongated thumb nails, 

 and the exquisite comisario are to dine 

 with us (on Heaven and our cook alone 

 know what), the next day we hunt the 

 wily duck among the lagoons and marshes 

 of the island, and the day after that, 

 D. V., we continue the pursuit of our 

 dream across three thousand miles of 

 South Pacific Ocean, west-sou'west, to be 

 exact. 



Chapter III 



More nonsense has probably been writ- 

 ten about the South Sea Islands than 

 any other part of the world. The library 

 novelist, the globe-trotting journalist, and 

 a reading public athirst for exotic ro- 

 mance have all contributed to this end ; 

 so that at the very outset of this paper 

 I find myself at a loss. In short, "these 

 few remarks" may be taken as an apology 

 and a warninsr. 



I have nothing to offer on a par with 



the standard article, such as struggles 

 with sharks, conflicts with cannibals, or 

 philandering with princesses. My line, I 

 fear, consists of facts as I find them. 



THE COMISARIO PLEADS FOR PASSAGE OX 

 THE DREAM SHIP 



The Dream Ship lay in Wreck Bay, 

 Galapagos Islands. Her crew had just 

 finished watering, or rather transferring 

 300 gallons of a doubtful-looking fluid 

 from the beach reservoir to the ship's 

 tanks by means of kerosene tins, a rickety 

 landing stage swarming with sand flies, 

 and an equally rickety dinghy. 



We were, in fact, enjoying a spell to 

 the accompaniment of vast quantities of 

 coconut milk before setting sail for the 

 Marquesas Islands, 3,000 miles distant, 

 and were in no mood for an interruption, 

 which is probably why it came. A pigmy 

 figure on the landing was apparently 

 dancing a hornpipe and emitting strange 

 cries. 



"Who is it, and what the — does he 

 want?'' I queried with customary amia- 

 bility. 



"It's the comisario/' said Steve, with 

 binoculars upheld in one hand and a 

 brimming coconut shell in the other, "and 

 he's probably found that we need a bill 

 of health or clearance or something." 



I believe I sighed. I have a notion that 

 Steve swore, and I am quite sure that we 

 rowed ashore and interviewed the comi- 

 sario, the handsome youth whose silk 

 socks and passionate tie contrasted 

 strangely with his surroundings. He still 

 danced. 



"He says that it is necessary that he 

 should accompany us," Steve translated. 



"To the Marquesas ?" 



"To anywhere." 



"Really, and where does the necessity 

 come in?" 



After still further variations of the 

 hornpipe and a prodigious outflow of 

 Ecuadorian Spanish, the following was 

 evolved : 



They were after him — a trifling in- 

 discretion in the matter of issuing grog 

 licenses to the peons. The Ecuadorian 

 Government was to blame. They ex- 

 pected an official to live on $20 a month 

 and nothing else! How was it possible? 

 Moreover, the President himself, elected 

 on a wage basis of $40 a month and bring 



