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The
bay
,
as
he
remembered
it
,
was
magnificent
,
with
water
deep
enough
to
accommodate
the
largest
vessel
afloat
,
and
so
safe
that
the
South
Pacific
Directory
recommended
it
to
the
best
careening
place
for
ships
for
hundreds
of
miles
around
.
He
would
buy
a
schooner
—
one
of
those
yacht
-
like
,
coppered
crafts
that
sailed
like
witches
—
and
go
trading
copra
and
pearling
among
the
islands
.
He
would
make
the
valley
and
the
bay
his
headquarters
.
He
would
build
a
patriarchal
grass
house
like
Tati
’
s
,
and
have
it
and
the
valley
and
the
schooner
filled
with
dark
-
skinned
servitors
.
He
would
entertain
there
the
factor
of
Taiohae
,
captains
of
wandering
traders
,
and
all
the
best
of
the
South
Pacific
riffraff
.
He
would
keep
open
house
and
entertain
like
a
prince
.
And
he
would
forget
the
books
he
had
opened
and
the
world
that
had
proved
an
illusion
.
To
do
all
this
he
must
wait
in
California
to
fill
the
sack
with
money
.
Already
it
was
beginning
to
flow
in
.
If
one
of
the
books
made
a
strike
,
it
might
enable
him
to
sell
the
whole
heap
of
manuscripts
.
Also
he
could
collect
the
stories
and
the
poems
into
books
,
and
make
sure
of
the
valley
and
the
bay
and
the
schooner
.
He
would
never
write
again
.
Upon
that
he
was
resolved
.
But
in
the
meantime
,
awaiting
the
publication
of
the
books
,
he
must
do
something
more
than
live
dazed
and
stupid
in
the
sort
of
uncaring
trance
into
which
he
had
fallen
.
He
noted
,
one
Sunday
morning
,
that
the
Bricklayers
’
Picnic
took
place
that
day
at
Shell
Mound
Park
,
and
to
Shell
Mound
Park
he
went
.
He
had
been
to
the
working
-
class
picnics
too
often
in
his
earlier
life
not
to
know
what
they
were
like
,
and
as
he
entered
the
park
he
experienced
a
recrudescence
of
all
the
old
sensations
.
After
all
,
they
were
his
kind
,
these
working
people
.
He
had
been
born
among
them
,
he
had
lived
among
them
,
and
though
he
had
strayed
for
a
time
,
it
was
well
to
come
back
among
them
.
"
If
it
ain
’
t
Mart
!
"
he
heard
some
one
say
,
and
the
next
moment
a
hearty
hand
was
on
his
shoulder
.
"
Where
you
ben
all
the
time
?
Off
to
sea
?
Come
on
an
’
have
a
drink
.
"
It
was
the
old
crowd
in
which
he
found
himself
—
the
old
crowd
,
with
here
and
there
a
gap
,
and
here
and
there
a
new
face
.
The
fellows
were
not
bricklayers
,
but
,
as
in
the
old
days
,
they
attended
all
Sunday
picnics
for
the
dancing
,
and
the
fighting
,
and
the
fun
.
Martin
drank
with
them
,
and
began
to
feel
really
human
once
more
.
He
was
a
fool
to
have
ever
left
them
,
he
thought
;
and
he
was
very
certain
that
his
sum
of
happiness
would
have
been
greater
had
he
remained
with
them
and
let
alone
the
books
and
the
people
who
sat
in
the
high
places
.
Yet
the
beer
seemed
not
so
good
as
of
yore
.
It
didn
’
t
taste
as
it
used
to
taste
.
Brissenden
had
spoiled
him
for
steam
beer
,
he
concluded
,
and
wondered
if
,
after
all
,
the
books
had
spoiled
him
for
companionship
with
these
friends
of
his
youth
.
He
resolved
that
he
would
not
be
so
spoiled
,
and
he
went
on
to
the
dancing
pavilion
.
Jimmy
,
the
plumber
,
he
met
there
,
in
the
company
of
a
tall
,
blond
girl
who
promptly
forsook
him
for
Martin
.
"
Gee
,
it
’
s
like
old
times
,
"
Jimmy
explained
to
the
gang
that
gave
him
the
laugh
as
Martin
and
the
blonde
whirled
away
in
a
waltz
.
"
An
’
I
don
’
t
give
a
rap
.
I
’
m
too
damned
glad
to
see
’
m
back
.
Watch
’
m
waltz
,
eh
?
It
’
s
like
silk
.
Who
’
d
blame
any
girl
?
"
But
Martin
restored
the
blonde
to
Jimmy
,
and
the
three
of
them
,
with
half
a
dozen
friends
,
watched
the
revolving
couples
and
laughed
and
joked
with
one
another
.
Everybody
was
glad
to
see
Martin
back
.
No
book
of
his
been
published
;
he
carried
no
fictitious
value
in
their
eyes
.
They
liked
him
for
himself
.
He
felt
like
a
prince
returned
from
excile
,
and
his
lonely
heart
burgeoned
in
the
geniality
in
which
it
bathed
.
He
made
a
mad
day
of
it
,
and
was
at
his
best
.
Also
,
he
had
money
in
his
pockets
,
and
,
as
in
the
old
days
when
he
returned
from
sea
with
a
pay
-
day
,
he
made
the
money
fly
.
Once
,
on
the
dancing
-
floor
,
he
saw
Lizzie
Connolly
go
by
in
the
arms
of
a
young
workingman
;
and
,
later
,
when
he
made
the
round
of
the
pavilion
,
he
came
upon
her
sitting
by
a
refreshment
table
.
Surprise
and
greetings
over
,
he
led
her
away
into
the
grounds
,
where
they
could
talk
without
shouting
down
the
music
.
From
the
instant
he
spoke
to
her
,
she
was
his
.
He
knew
it
.
She
showed
it
in
the
proud
humility
of
her
eyes
,
in
every
caressing
movement
of
her
proudly
carried
body
,
and
in
the
way
she
hung
upon
his
speech
.
She
was
not
the
young
girl
as
he
had
known
her
.
She
was
a
woman
,
now
,
and
Martin
noted
that
her
wild
,
defiant
beauty
had
improved
,
losing
none
of
its
wildness
,
while
the
defiance
and
the
fire
seemed
more
in
control
.
"
A
beauty
,
a
perfect
beauty
,
"
he
murmured
admiringly
under
his
breath
.
And
he
knew
she
was
his
,
that
all
he
had
to
do
was
to
say
"
Come
,
"
and
she
would
go
with
him
over
the
world
wherever
he
led
.
Even
as
the
thought
flashed
through
his
brain
he
received
a
heavy
blow
on
the
side
of
his
head
that
nearly
knocked
him
down
.
It
was
a
man
’
s
fist
,
directed
by
a
man
so
angry
and
in
such
haste
that
the
fist
had
missed
the
jaw
for
which
it
was
aimed
.
Martin
turned
as
he
staggered
,
and
saw
the
fist
coming
at
him
in
a
wild
swing
.
Quite
as
a
matter
of
course
he
ducked
,
and
the
fist
flew
harmlessly
past
,
pivoting
the
man
who
had
driven
it
.
Martin
hooked
with
his
left
,
landing
on
the
pivoting
man
with
the
weight
of
his
body
behind
the
blow
.
The
man
went
to
the
ground
sidewise
,
leaped
to
his
feet
,
and
made
a
mad
rush
.
Martin
saw
his
passion
-
distorted
face
and
wondered
what
could
be
the
cause
of
the
fellow
’
s
anger
.
But
while
he
wondered
,
he
shot
in
a
straight
left
,
the
weight
of
his
body
behind
the
blow
.
The
man
went
over
backward
and
fell
in
a
crumpled
heap
.
Jimmy
and
others
of
the
gang
were
running
toward
them
.
