'I can't beg!' he screamed, and again threw himself prone.
'This thing's got to come to an end,' said the captain with an intake of the breath.
'Looks like signs of an end, don't it ?' sneered the clerk.
'He's not so far from it, and don't you deceive yourself,' replied the captain.

'Well,' he added in a livelier voice, 'you fellows hang on here, and I'll go and interview my representative.' Whereupon he turned on his heel, and set off at a swinging sailor's walk towards Papeete.
It was some half hour later when he returned.

The clerk was dozing with his back against the tree: Herrick still lay where he had flung himself; nothing showed whether he slept or waked.
'See, boys!' cried the captain, with that artificial heartiness of his which was at times so painful, 'here's a new idea.' And he produced note paper, stamped envelopes, and pencils, three of each.

'We can all write home by the mail brigantine; the consul says I can come over to his place and ink up the addresses.' 'Well, that's a start, too,' said the clerk.

'I never thought of that.' 'It was that yarning last night about going home that put me up to it,' said the captain.
'Well, 'and over,' said the clerk.