Tom grinned and showed the letter to Hayes.  Then he turned to the mate.

“I’ve got the sack, Waters.  You’re in charge of this rotten, filthy old hooker now until the old man is sober.”

He packed up his traps, went ashore, drew his money from Mrs. MacLaggan’s cashier, and bade him goodbye.

“Where’s the goat, Tom?”

“On board Bully Hayes’ ship.  His crool, crool mistress shall see him no more!  Never more shall his plaintive call to his nannies resound o’ nights among the sleeping palm-groves of the Vaisigago Valley; never——­”

The cashier jumped up out of his chair and seized the dismissed supercargo by the collar.

“Stop that bosh, you rattlebrained young ass, and come and take a farewell drink.”

“Never more will he butt alike the just and the unjust, the fat and bloated German merchant nor the herring-gutted Yankee skipper, nor the bare—­ah—­um—­legged Samoan, nor the gorgeous consul in the solar topee.  Gone is the glory of Samoa with Billy MacLaggan.  Goodbye for the present, Wade, old man—­I am not so proud of my new dignity—­I am to be supercargo of the brig Rona—­as to refuse to drink with you, though you are but a cashier.  And give my farewell to the widow, and tell her that I bear her no ill-will, for I leave a dirty little tub of a cockroach-infested ketch for a swagger brig, where I shall wear white suits every day and feel that peace of mind which—­”

“Oh, do dry up, you young beggar,” said the good-natured cashier, whose laughter proved so infectious that Tom joined in.

“Come then, Wade, just another ere we part.”

Now as these two were drinking in the cashier’s office it happened that Thady O’Brien, the policeman (he was chief of the municipal police, and fond of drink) saw them, and invited himself to join them and also to express his sorrow at Denison’s “misfortune,” as he called it, for Denison was a lovable sort of youth, and often gave him drink on board.  So they all sat down, Wade in the one chair, and Tom and the policeman on the table, and had several more drinks, and just then Mrs. MacLaggan came to the door, holding a note in her hand.  She bowed coldly to Tom, whose three stiff drinks of brandy enabled him to give her a reproachful glance.

“Captain Hayes wants to buy one or two of the nanny-goats, to take away with him to Ponape, Mr. Wade,” she said.  “I shall be glad to let him have them.  Please tell Leger and Mataiasi to catch them at once.”

Then Mrs. MacLaggan went away, and Tom and O’Brien went down to the jetty to wait for a boat to take them on board—­Tom to his duty, and O’Brien because he was thirsty again.  Presently Leger and Mataiasi and a large concourse of native children came down, carrying two female goats, who, imagining they were to be cast into the sea, began to cry with great violence, and were immediately answered in a deep voice by Billy MacLaggan from over the water,