“I am little fright he might shoot with revolver.  I pull up to schooner; make fast line.  Go on board.  Boss he say quiet, nice, like gentlemen, ’Hello, Hassan!  Good-day.  Why you no come when I sing out first time.’  I say ‘I hab that water for lugger.’  He say, ’Well, my boy, you come quick when I call out.  No good hang back.  How you getting on?  You come down my cabin.  I no see you long time.  Come down below.’  ’All up,’ I say myself.  Hello!  Nother man.  Bottle rum on table.  Plenty biskeet on plate, glasses—­eberything.  Boss he say, ’Come, my boy; come, Hassan, make yourself happy.  Gib yourself glass rum.  Take good nip.’  That very good rum, strong too.  I gib myself one good rum.  I eat biskeet.  Boss he say, ‘Come, my boy, gib yourself nother rum.’  I gib myself nother good rum; eat plenty of that sweet biskeet.  We three fellow very good friend.  I feel happy.  Boss shake hand, he say—­’Hassan, very good boy.’  I gib myself nother good rum.  We talk.  Just now Boss he look straight.  He say quiet—­’Hassan, my boy, you hab something belonga me.’  He look sharp like a knife.  ‘No, Boss, I hab nothing of you.’  He talk loud—­’Hassan, you hab something belonga me.  Gib it up quick!’ That other white man he stand longside gangway.  I look straight.  I feel cold.  I say, ‘No, Boss, I hab nothing.’  He talk more loud—­gib up that pearl!’ I fright.  I put my hand to my pucket.  I pull out pearl.  I am all fire now.  I shove ’em longa table.  I shout—­’There you blurry pearl!’ Boss catch ’em quick.  He say ’Get out my cabin, you dirty Arab!  You dam thief.  Subpose you gib my pearl first time I gib you something.  Now I gib you kick!’ I go.

“You see, Mister my good friend, my countryman, he tell Boss about my white pearl.  I lorse him now.”

“But you got two more in your pocket”

“Yes, very good pearl; but not good like my snow pearl.  I am sick now.  Boss he sack me.  I land Thursday Island.  I gamble fantan.  I no care.  Soon I hab no pearl at all.  I hab no work.  I am hard up.

“Now, Mister, subpose I no say nothing to my good friend I am reech man of my country.  I drink Mocha coffee.  I am too poor.  Suppose I go to my country, back from Aden, I carn drink coffee I am too poor, I drink coffee from outside.  Inside coffee, we sell for reech people—­you Inglesh, and Frinch, and Turkey men.”

“What do you mean by outside coffee?”

“When you pick coffee, you Inglesh chuck away outside.  We poor Arab dry that outside, smash ’em up like flour, boil ’em for coffee.  All inside coffee we hab to sell, so poor that country.  Mister, I bin tell true my yarn—­neber tell you good friend nothing.”

CHAPTER VI

IN PRAISE OF THE PAPAW

Properties varied and approaching the magical have been ascribed to one of the commonest plants of North Queensland; and yet how trivial and prosaic are the honours bestowed upon it.  That which makes women beautiful for ever; which renews the strength of man; which is a sweet and excellent food, and which provides medicine for various ills, cannot be said to lack many of the attributes of the elixir of life, and is surely entitled to a special paean in a land languishing for population.