The Beachcomber of tradition parades his coral islet barefooted, bullying guileless natives out of their copra, coco-nut oil and pearl-shell; his chief diet, turtle and turtle eggs and fish; his drink, rum and coco-nut milk—­the latter only when the former is impossible.  When a wreck happens he becomes a potentate in pyjamas, and with his dusky wives, dressed in bright vestiture, fares sumptuously.  And though the ships from the isles do not meet to “pour the wealth of ocean in tribute at his feet,” he can still “rush out of his lodgings and eat oysters in regular desperation.”  A whack on his hardened head from the club of a jealous native is the time-honoured fate of the typical Beachcomber.

Flotsam and jetsam make another class of Beachcomber by stimulating the gaming instincts.  Is there a human being, taking part in the rough and tumble of the world, who can honestly make confession and say that he has completely suffocated those inherent instincts of savagedom—­joy and patience in the chase, the longing for excitement and surprise, the crude selfishness, the delight in getting something for nothing?  Society journals have informed me that titled dames have been known to sit out long and wearisome evenings that they may obtain some paltry favour in a cotillon.  And when the sea casts up its gifts on these radiant shores, I boldly and with glee give way to my beachcombing instincts and pick and choose.  Never ever up to the present have I found anything of real value; but am I not buoyed up by pious hopes and sanguine expectations?  Is not the game as diverting and as innocent as many others that are played to greater profit?  It is a game, too, that cannot be forced, and therefore cannot become demoralising; and having no nice feelings nor fine shades, I rejoice and am glad in it.

And then what strange and varied things one sees!  Once a “harness-cask,” hostile to every sense, came trundled by waves eager to expel it from the vicinity of these oxless but scented isles.  It overcame us as we sailed by, 20 yards off, and the general necessity for temperate diet and restricted dishes came as a sweet and a comforting reflection.  No marvel if the ship whence it was ejected was in bad odour among the sailors.  Leaving, as it lurched along, a greasy, foul stain on the sea, it may have poisoned multitudes of uncomplaining fishes during its evil course.

Occasionally a case of fruit, washed from the decks of a labouring steamer, drifts ashore.  One was the means of introducing a valuable addition to the products of the island.  It gave demonstration of how man may unwittingly, and even in opposition to his wit, assist in scattering and multiplying blessings on a smiling land—­blessings to last for all time, and perhaps to amend or ameliorate the environment of a budding nation.