Dag Daughtry drank a seventh quart as he listened, so carried away was he by the sombre sense of romance of this dark jungle event wherein men killed even strangers because a pig was dead.

Scouts out on the runways, Kwaque continued, brought word of the coming of the two bereaved pig-owners, and the village had fled into the jungle and climbed trees—­all except Kwaque, who was unable to climb trees.

“My word,” Kwaque concluded, “me no make ’m that fella pig sick.”

“My word,” quoth Dag Daughtry, “you devil-devil along that fella pig too much.  You look ’m like hell.  You make ’m any fella thing sick look along you.  You make ’m me sick too much.”

It became quite a custom for the steward, as he finished his sixth bottle before turning in, to call upon Kwaque for his story.  It carried him back to his boyhood when he had been excited by tales of wild cannibals in far lands and dreamed some day to see them for himself.  And here he was, he would chuckle to himself, with a real true cannibal for a slave.

A slave Kwaque was, as much as if Daughtry had bought him on the auction-block.  Whenever the steward transferred from ship to ship of the Burns Philp fleet, he always stipulated that Kwaque should accompany him and be duly rated at ten shillings.  Kwaque had no say in the matter.  Even had he desired to escape in Australian ports, there was no need for Daughtry to watch him.  Australia, with her “all-white” policy, attended to that.  No dark-skinned human, whether Malay, Japanese, or Polynesian, could land on her shore without putting into the Government’s hand a cash security of one hundred pounds.

Nor at the other islands visited by the Makambo had Kwaque any desire to cut and run for it.  King William Island, which was the only land he had ever trod, was his yard-stick by which he measured all other islands.  And since King William Island was cannibalistic, he could only conclude that the other islands were given to similar dietary practice.

As for King William Island, the Makambo, on the former run of the Cockspur, stopped there every ten weeks; but the direst threat Daughtry ever held over him was the putting ashore of him at the place where the two active young men still mourned their pig.  In fact, it was their regular programme, each trip, to paddle out and around the Makambo and make ferocious grimaces up at Kwaque, who grimaced back at them from over the rail.  Daughtry even encouraged this exchange of facial amenities for the purpose of deterring him from ever hoping to win ashore to the village of his birth.

For that matter, Kwaque had little desire to leave his master, who, after all, was kindly and just, and never lifted a hand to him.  Having survived sea-sickness at the first, and never setting foot upon the land so that he never again knew sea-sickness, Kwaque was certain he lived in an earthly paradise.  He never had to regret his inability to climb trees, because danger never threatened him.  He had food regularly, and all he wanted, and it was such food!  No one in his village could have dreamed of any delicacy of the many delicacies which he consumed all the time.  Because of these matters he even pulled through a light attack of home-sickness, and was as contented a human as ever sailed the seas.