"Me good missionary boy," he said rather humbly.

"McGuffey, my _dear_ boy," protested Captain Scraggs, "don't be
so doggone rude. You might hurt this poor lad's feelin's. Of
course he's only a simple native nigger, but even a dawg has
feelin's. You----"

"A-r-r-rh!" snarled McGuffey.

"You two belay talkin' and snappin' at each other," commanded Mr.
Gibney, "an' leave all bargainin' to me. This boy is all right
and we'll get along first rate if you two just haul ship and do
somethin' useful besides buttin' in on your superior officer.
Come along, Tabu-Tabu. Makee little eat down in cabin. You talkee
captain."

"Gib, my _dear_ boy," sputtered Captain Scraggs, bursting with
curiosity, following the commodore's reappearance on deck,
"whatever's in the wind?"

"Money--fortune," said Mr. Gibney solemnly.

McGuffey edged up and eyed the commodore seriously. "Sure there
ain't a little fightin' mixed up in it?" he asked.

"Not a bit of it," replied Mr. Gibney. "You're as safe on Kandavu
as if you was in church. This Tabu kid is sort of prime minister
to the king, with a heap of influence at court. The crew of a
British cruiser stole him for a galley police when he was a kid,