There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. James Boyle O'Higgins knew little or nothing of the South Seas, but he knew human beings, all colours. Like a petulant child he snapped. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. O'Higgins did not confide in me. I need scarcely ask whether you've executed your appointed task, my dear? You're never behindhand.
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