The kettle was drained, the basin cleaned; their entertainers, who had waited on their wants throughout with the pleased hospitality of Polynesians, made haste to bring forward a dessert of island tobacco and rolls of pandanus leaf to serve as paper; and presently all sat about the dishes puffing like Indian Sachems.
'When a man 'as breakfast every day, he don't know what it is,' observed the clerk.
'The next point is dinner,' said Herrick; and then with a passionate utterance: 'I wish to God I was a Kanaka!' 'There's one thing sure,' said the captain.

'I'm about desperate, I'd rather hang than rot here much longer.' And with the word he took the accordion and struck up.

'Home, sweet home.' 'O, drop that!' cried Herrick, 'I can't stand that.' 'No more can I,' said the captain.

'I've got to play something though: got to pay the shot, my son.' And he struck up 'John Brown's Body' in a fine sweet baritone: 'Dandy Jim of Carolina,' came next; 'Rorin the Bold,' 'Swing low, Sweet Chariot,' and 'The Beautiful Land' followed.
The captain was paying his shot with usury, as he had done many a time before; many a meal had he bought with the same currency from the melodious-minded natives, always, as now, to their delight.
He was in the middle of 'Fifteen Dollars in the Inside Pocket,' singing with dogged energy, for the task went sore against the grain, when a sensation was suddenly to be observed among the crew.
'Tapena Tom harry my,' said the spokesman, pointing.
And the three beachcombers, following his indication, saw the figure of a man in pyjama trousers and a white jumper approaching briskly from the town.
'Captain Tom is coming.' 'That's Tapena Tom, is it ?' said the captain, pausing in his music.

'I don't seem to place the brute.' 'We'd better cut,' said the clerk.