Page:Barbour--Joan of the ilsand.djvu/53

Rh Keith accepted a few shirts, some duck trousers, a pair of canvas shoes and a hat, all he needed for the present.

"I say, it's mighty decent of you to offer to help us out," said Trent.

"That's nothing. One must do something, and it promises to be exciting. Now, tell me, how many can we muster and depend on? Most niggers of the South Seas aren't worth ten cents a dozen when fighting starts."

"Let's see. There's Joan. She's as good a recruit as any. Besides the three of us there are three Kanakas I use on the ketch as sailors. They're fairly sensible, and could be relied on, I believe. One diver is left. He's either to be trusted or he's now in Moniz's pay. It's impossible to say which. That's seven. Then there's Taleile, the boss boy. I believe he realizes it would pay him best to stick to us. That makes eight. Also there's Peter Pan. We could count on him to stand by us to the end of time."

"Peter Pan?" Keith repeated, puzzled. Joan, who had joined them, smiled.

"He's quite grown up in one way," she said. "For an islander he is a perfect giant. Maybe he is thirty years old. He certainly is the most cheerful black I ever knew. They are all very simple in a way, though it is simplicity tempered with cunning as a rule. But Peter Pan is just a huge child.