The pilot wanted to take them in at once.  He spoke some English, and carried an air of confidence.  He could guide them through the reefs in the most complete of safety, and he could guarantee fine openings for trade, once inside.

“I dare say,” grunted Kettle under his breath, “but you’re a heap too uncertificated for my taste.  Why, you don’t even offer a book of forged logs to try and work off your humbug with some look of truth.  No, I know the kind of pilot you are.  You’d pile up the steamboat on the first convenient reef, and then be one of the first to come and loot her.”—­He turned to Murray:  “Now, look here, Mr. Mate.  I’ll leave you in charge, and see you keep steam up and don’t leave the deck.  Don’t let any of these niggers come on board on any pretence whatever, and if they try it on, steam out to sea.  I’ll get through Mr. Wenlock’s business ashore as quick as lean, and perhaps pick up a ton or two of cargo for ourselves.”

Below, in the dancing boat which ground against the steamer’s side, the pilot clamored that a ladder might be thrown to him so that he might come on board and take the Parakeet forthwith into the anchorage; and to him again Kettle turned, and temporized.  He must go ashore himself first, he said, and see what offer there was of trade, before he took the steamer in.  To which the pilot, though visibly disappointed, saw fit to agree, as no better offer was forthcoming.

“Now, sir,” said Kettle to Wenlock, “into the boat with you.  The less time that’s wasted, the better I shall be pleased.”

“All right,” said Wenlock, pointing to a big package on the deck.  “Just tell some of your men to shove that case down into the boat, and I’m ready.”

Kettle eyed the bulky box with disfavor.  “What’s in it?” he asked.

“A present or a bribe; whichever you care to call it.  If you want to know precisely, it’s rifles.  I thought they would be most acceptable.”

“Rifles are liked hereabouts.  Is it for a sort of introductory present?”

“Well, if you must know, Captain, it’s occurred to me that Teresa is probably an occupant of somebody’s harem, and that I shall have to buy her off from her husband.  Hence the case of rifles.”

A queer look came over Captain Kettle’s face.  “And you’d still marry this woman if she had another husband living?”

“Of course.  Haven’t I told you that I’ve thought the whole thing thoroughly over already, and I’m not inclined to stick at trifles?  But I may tell you that divorce is easy in these Mohammedan countries, and I shall take care to get the girl set legally free before we get away from here.  You don’t catch me getting mixed with bigamy.”

“But tell me.  Is a Mohammedan marriage made here binding for an Englishman?”

“It’s as legally binding as if the Archbishop of Canterbury tied the knot.”

“Very well,” said Kettle.  “Now let me tell you, sir, for the last time, that I don’t like what you’re going to do.  To my mind, it’s not a nice thing marrying a woman that you evidently despise, just for her money.”