February 17, igib. 
LAND AND WATER 
CHAYA. 
A Romance of the South Seas. 
By H. de Vere Stacpoole. 
[Synopsis : Macquart, who describes himself as lucky 
when adventuring, hut unlucky as Satan when speculating, finds 
himself in Sydney down on his luck. He has a wonderful 
story of gold hidden up a river in 'New Guinea and a chance 
acquaijitance, a sporting man about town, Tillman, offers to 
introduce him to an apparently sporting and really wealthy 
wool-broker, Curlewis, with a view to financing his scheme. 
The night before the interview Macquart, sleeping in a park, 
not having the price of a bed on him, makes the acquaintance 
of Houghton, a well-educated Englishman, also out of a job. 
Tillman, Macquart and Houghton go to Curlewis' office, and 
Macquart tells Ms story ; Screed the partner of Curlewis, is 
also present, but takes no part in the conversation, going on 
steadily with his work. They resent his presence, and when 
Curlewis turns down their proposition, tJiey feel it is due in an 
uncanny way to Screed's antagonism. Macquart's story of 
how the gold came to be hidden and deserted is most thrilling 
but conveys the impression that he himself took an active part 
in the work, though he talks of a dead man named Smith. 
Macquart walks out of the office with a bold air, remarking 
that it needs a great man like Rhodes, not " a sane business 
man," to grasp the proposition. Soon after the three have left 
Screed leaves the office telling his partner he will not be long. 
He finds the three adventurers at a well-known bar ; he mentions 
lothem Macquart's story has interested him, and asks them to his 
house that evening. They go. He provides them with cigars 
and whisky and sodas, and together they pore over maps and 
charts of New Guinea. Screed finds Macquart's chart is 
confirmed by an Admiralty chart. He agrees to put up £1,000, 
having first carefully tied up Macquart and his friends by a 
cleverly worded letter of promise. He also undertakes to find 
them a ship, he himself having secured an option on a suitable 
vessel — a yawl. They are to meet next Monday to go over the 
"Barracuda," as the yawl is called.'] 
CHAPTER V. 
Captain Hull. 
SAN FRANCISCO might have possessed the greatest 
harbour in the world, the chance was thrown away 
for want of a genius who would have included all 
the great waterways known now as San Francisco 
Bay, San Pablo Bay and Suisun Bay under the generic name 
Harbour. Sydney was wiser and gave the great bay which 
Nature presented to her its ''proper name, it is really a nest 
of harbours ; all sorts of creeks and coves give wht riage and 
anchorage to all sorts of craft. 
Farm Cove is the naval anchorage, and beyond Farm 
Cove, in the direction of the Heads, lies a narrow bay used 
mostly for fishing boats and yachts of small tonnage. The 
Barracuda was anchored here, and here next morning at seven 
o'clock, Screed and his companions turned up to inspect the 
yawl. They hired a boat and Tillman sculled them across 
to her. There was no watchman on board, and so whilst 
making their survey they could talk unhindered. 
Tillman was at once taken with the craft. He was a 
born sailor and his life in Sydney had not dimmed the 
instinctive eye that told him at a glance the worth of the 
Barracuda as a sea boat. She was, as Screed had said, a fifty- 
footer, decked over all, possessing a cabin aft that woul give 
accommodation to five at a pinch, a tiny fo'c'sle forward and a 
caboose where one could scarcely swing a cat, but which was 
good enough for all their purposes. She had two boats, a 
collapsible and a four-oared clinker-built scow, possessing 
mast and lug sail. She was white painted and the brass-work 
had been polished up till it shone in the morning light, the 
rigging both standing and running was in perfect condition, 
as were the spars, including the spare booms and gaffs stowed 
on deck ; the blocks were in perfect order, the narrow white 
planking of the deck holy-stoned and scrubbed till each 
teak dowel showed, and there was not a scrap of raffle or 
canvas bucket out of place or a loose rope end to be seen. 
" She's a peach," said Tillman. 
He led the way down below to the cabin. Though the 
tiny ports were closed and the sky-light, there was no trace 
of must or cockroaches, or that fusty smell that comes to an 
old ship or a vessel that has been neglected ; the bunk bedding 
was good. Tillman, who had taken command of the in- 
specting party, poked his nose everyv/here, into the tiny pan- 
try, which contained everything in the form of crockery ware 
necessary, into the lazarette and the lockers. He opened the 
ports, glanced at the tell-tale compass overhead, then, leading 
the way on deck again, he inspected the fo'c'sle, noted that 
all the cooking arrangements in the caboose were in order, 
that the Rippingille stove was next to new, and the pots and 
pans poUshed and speckless. 
Then he turned to Screed. 
" Well," said he, " all I can say is she is ready for sea, 
and I'd start in her this afternoon if the provisions and water 
were aboard." 
" There's nothing wanting," said Macquart, " except the 
charts and chronometer and the sailing orders." 
" I'm glad you are of my way of thinking," said Screed. 
" I'm not a practical seaman myself, but, as I told you, I have 
some interest in shippving, and I was sure this boat would fill 
the requirements. She is easily handled, I know that from 
Mackenzie, her last skipper." 
" She'll handle herself." said Tillman. " I shouldn't 
mind taking her round the world with only Houghton here 
to help. You could heave her to for a rest whenever you 
wanted, she'd sleep hove to. Well, I will sign on for one, 
and there's no use wasting time asking Macquart or Houghton 
if they object to coming because the dinner napkins haven't 
pink fringes. How long will it take you to get the provisions 
and everything on board ? " 
" A week will do it," said Screed. 
" Let's fix it, then," said Macquart. " To-day is 
Wednesday. We'll start this day week, weather permitting— 
that is to say, unless there's a hurricane blowing." 
" This day week," said Screed, " and now I must get 
back to the office ; unlike you people, I am the slave of Time. 
I will figure out the stores list during the day and put it in the 
hands of Macdermott. He'll do everything, charts — stores — 
everything. However, the three of you might drop in and 
see me to-night after supper to go more closely over details, 
and I will have a duplicate of the stores list to show you." 
They rowed ashore, and Screed went off in a hurry to his 
office, leaving the others to return to the city at their leisure. 
" Screed's ashamed to be seen with us," said Tillman, 
" not that we are so disreputable, but he's an awful old stick, 
or pretends to be, and I suppose I have a reputation, rather, 
for jocularity and high hving ; well, it don't matter as long 
as he stumps up the coin. Come along, you chaps, I'm going 
to have some breakfast." 
The three proceeded from the waterside to the city. It 
was a glorious morning, with a blue and blazing sky and wind 
enough to temper the heat. The white gulls fishing in the 
harbour came drifting on the wind occasionally right overhead 
and their creaky cries mixed with the rumble of traffic and 
the bustle of the wharves ; the spirits of early morning 
and summer, of youth and adventure were abroad, and 
Houghton knew again that it was good to be alive. 
Macquart was in high good humour. That mysterious 
person never smiled, his gaiety only finding expression in a 
certain contained vivacity of manner and movement unmis- 
takable when you knew the man. This morning, as he walked 
side by side with Tillman and the other, it was very noticeable ; 
Macquart was in feather. Everything was going well with 
him, his plans were succeeding to a charm, the ghostly 
treasure he had been carrying about the world for the last 
fifteen years, the phantom treasure that had nearly ruined 
him, was about to materialise, soon he would be touching gold, 
red, warm, chinking gold. 
Macquart, as he walked, scarcely heard the chatter of 
his companions ; he was seeing yellow, his past was forgotten, 
the present scarcely felt and the future entirely absorbing 
his thoughts, when, turning a street corner, a hand clapped 
him on the shoulder and a voice cried : 
" B y Joe, by all the Powers ! " 
Tillman, wheeling round at the sound of the voice, saw 
the questioner with his hand still on Macquart's shoulder. 
A big, sailor-like man he was, rough-looking and badly dressed, 
yet with no touch of the fo'c'sle about him. 
Macquart looked blighted, the blood had left his face, 
leaving it a dingy yellow ; he seemed at a loss for words or 
breath, but only for a moment. 
" Why, it's Captain Hull," said he. Then turning swiftly 
to Tillman : " I'll see you to-night," he cried, " at the place 
— you know. I want to have a word with my friend, Captaiti 
Hull ; haven't seen him for years." He gave Tillman a wink 
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