Shark Island Read Online Free Page B

had turned out to be courtly, civilized, and interesting, they still considered themselves extremely daring to have invited him.
    â€œThey say he’s a chief at home,” Keith said uncertainly, and then went on more strongly, “And he is only half a savage. His father is a respectable Salem shipmaster.” Though it was not really respectable to father a son out of wedlock in a far-off, barbaric land, and then take the lad home to New England to meet his Yankee folks—folks who included Captain William Coffin’s legal, childless wife, who, according to gossip, hadn’t known about the child until he appeared at her kitchen door. “They say Captain Coffin has made a fortune out of trading with the Orient,” he added as a kind of excuse.
    â€œI wonder why Wiki Coffin don’t sail with his father, then?”
    â€œHe sailed on whaleships, so I hear—out of choice, because it’s the best apprenticeship a cove can have. Now, he’s a first-rate seaman, they tell me,” Keith said, and mused that he might even find Mr. Coffin a fount of seafaring lore. “I could learn a lot from him!” he exclaimed bracingly. “Fascinating facts of human nature can be learned even from a savage—and especially from a half -savage. I shall apply myself to it—I shall cultivate his company!”
    â€œThey also say his folks eat people,” Dicken ghoulishly warned.

Three
    On detailed inspection, the big cutter of the Peacock turned out to be just six inches under thirty feet in length, eight feet wide, and with a three-foot draft; she was of lap strake construction, with the ends of the nails that held her light planks together clinched over. Shallow runners—bilge-keels—were fixed on the outside to keep the boat upright if hauled out onto the beach, and also serve as grab-rails for anyone swimming alongside. Because they would also prevent the boat from rolling heavily or making too much leeway, Forsythe knew he would be able to sail fast close-hauled, something suited to his dashing style. Damn it, he thought, he was in love with the dashing little craft before he’d even tried her out on the water.
    However, Forsythe was far too shrewd to betray this. Instead, with Midshipman Kingman, he went over the boat and her accoutrements with nitpicking care. Sails, masts, and rigging were inspected and either approved or condemned: the first officer of the Peacock was so pleased that neither Forsythe nor Kingman was going to be a fixture on the sloop of war (a nasty thought that had occurred to him as he had watched the big Virginian and his crony arrive) that he sent for new canvas and the sail maker without the slightest demur. Then Forsythe raided the Peacock ’s armory, requisitioning a bristling array of dirks, cutlasses, Bowie knives, and Hall breech-loading rifles, plus an assortment of the famous Elgin combination cutlass-pistols that had been designed expressly for the expedition.
    By the time the cutter was ready to be lowered into the water, the six cutter’s men who had been assigned to him had arrived, sea bags over their shoulders and noncommittal expressions on their faces. Casting an equally critical stare over them, Forsythe was just as gratified. All were able seamen, and looked strong, sturdy, and nimble. Too, they were men in their prime—like all the seamen on the exploratory expedition, they were on the young side of forty.
    Having taken their names and assigned them to their places, Forsythe gave the cutter a thorough workout to assess her sailing qualities. For an hour or more he dashed back and forth through the fleet, and the sun was lowering to the horizon when he finally turned for the Swallow.
    On board the brig, Wiki watched the smart cutter tack toward them. He was with the two other Polynesians of the crew— “Kanakas,” as the American seamen called them—and at his ease on the foredeck. Named Sua and