“Oh, for that matter—­” She tossed her head, opened her mouth to complete the retort, then changed her mind.  “I shall go on with my history.  Dad had practically nothing left, and he decided to return to the sea.  He’d always loved it, and I half believe that he was glad things had happened as they did.  He was like a boy again, busy with plans and preparations from morning till night.  He used to sit up half the night talking things over with me.  That was after I had shown him that I was really resolved to go along.

“He had made his start, you know, in the South Seas—­pearls and pearl shell—­and he was sure that more fortunes, in trove of one sort and another, were to be picked up.  Cocoanut-planting was his particular idea, with trading, and maybe pearling, along with other things, until the plantation should come into bearing.  He traded off his yacht for a schooner, the Miele, and away we went.  I took care of him and studied navigation.  He was his own skipper.  We had a Danish mate, Mr. Ericson, and a mixed crew of Japanese and Hawaiians.  We went up and down the Line Islands, first, until Dad was heartsick.  Everything was changed.  They had been annexed and divided by one power or another, while big companies had stepped in and gobbled land, trading rights, fishing rights, everything.

“Next we sailed for the Marquesas.  They were beautiful, but the natives were nearly extinct.  Dad was cut up when he learned that the French charged an export duty on copra—­he called it medieval—­but he liked the land.  There was a valley of fifteen thousand acres on Nuka-hiva, half inclosing a perfect anchorage, which he fell in love with and bought for twelve hundred Chili dollars.  But the French taxation was outrageous (that was why the land was so cheap), and, worst of all, we could obtain no labour.  What kanakas there were wouldn’t work, and the officials seemed to sit up nights thinking out new obstacles to put in our way.

“Six months was enough for Dad.  The situation was hopeless.  ’We’ll go to the Solomons,’ he said, ’and get a whiff of English rule.  And if there are no openings there we’ll go on to the Bismarck Archipelago.  I’ll wager the Admiraltys are not yet civilized.’  All preparations were made, things packed on board, and a new crew of Marquesans and Tahitians shipped.  We were just ready to start to Tahiti, where a lot of repairs and refitting for the Miele were necessary, when poor Dad came down sick and died.”

“And you were left all alone?”

Joan nodded.

“Very much alone.  I had no brothers nor sisters, and all Dad’s people were drowned in a Kansas cloud-burst.  That happened when he was a little boy.  Of course, I could go back to Von.  There’s always a home there waiting for me.  But why should I go?  Besides, there were Dad’s plans, and I felt that it devolved upon me to carry them out.  It seemed a fine thing to do.  Also, I wanted to carry them out.  And . . . here I am.