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•
Ro . .A I r
La ren ce B. Rosen eld
1
R ell F. Pro1c or II
CONTENTS ••
VII
For Instructors
• The Ancillary Resource Center (ARC) at www.oup-arc.com is a conve-
nient, instructor-focused, single destination for resources to accompany
Interplay. Accessed online through individual user accounts, the ARC
provides instructors with up-to-date ancillaries at any time while guar-
anteeing the security of grade-significant resources. In addition, it allows
OUP to keep instructors informed when new content becomes available.
The ARC for Interplay contains a variety of materials to aid in teaching:
• An enhanced Instructor's Manual and Computerized Test Bank
provides teaching tips, exercises, and test questions that will
prove useful to both new and veteran instructors. The Instruc-
tor's Manual includes teaching strategies, course outlines,
chapter exercises, discussion questions, and unit windups. The
comprehensive Test Bank offers approximately 100 class-tested
exam questions per chapter in multiple-choice, true/false, essay,
and matching formats.
• Newly revised PowerPoint-based lecture slides.
• Links to supplemental materials and films.
• NEW! A YouTube channel of video clips to launch lectures and
provide examples tied to the text.
For Students
• Now Playing: Leaming Communication through Film, available as an
optional printed product, looks at contemporary and classic feature
films through the lens of communication principles. Authored by Darin
Garard of Santa Barbara City College, Now Playing illustrates a variety
of both individual scenes and full-length films, highlighting concepts
and offering discussion questions for a mass medium that is interactive,
familiar, and easily accessible.
• The companion website at www.oup.com/us/adler offers a wealth of
resources including exercises, flashcards for key terms in the book,
interactive self-tests, and links to a variety of communication-related
websites such as Now Playing online.
J ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The book you are reading wouldn't have been possible without the help of
many talented people. We are grateful to the many colleagues whose sug-
gestions have helped make this book a far better one:
'
'
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•
,
,,'
•
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• .
·-
chapter
ersona rocess
- -~ CHAPTER OUTLINE
Why We Communicate 4 FEATURES
• Physica l Needs • Dark Side of Communication: Loneliness and the
• Identity Needs Internet: A Delicate Balance 8
Communication Competence 19
• Communication Competence Defined LEARNING OBJECTIVES
• Characteristics of Competent Communication
1.1 Recognize the needs that communication
Social Media and Interpersonal satisfies.
Communication 24
1.2 Explain the relational, transactional nature of
• Characteristics of Social Media
interpersonal communication.
• Socia l Media and Relational Quality
1.3 Identify characteristics of effective
• Communicating Competently with Social Media
communication and competent communicators.
1 .4 Understand the advantages and drawbacks of
CHECK YOUR UNDERSTANDING 33
various social media communication channels in
KEY TERMS 34 relation to face-to-face communication.
ACTIVITIES 34
3
4 PART 1 FOUNDATIONS OF INTERPERSONAL COMMUNICATION
~ WHY WE COMMUNICATE
Research demonstrating the importance of communication has been
around longer than you might think. Frederick II, emperor of the Holy
Roman Empire from 1220 to 1250, was called stupor mundi "wonder of
the world" by his admiring subjects. Along with displaying administra-
tive and military talents, Frederick was a leading scientist of his time, al-
though some of his experiments were dramatically inhumane. A medieval
historian described one:
He bade foster mothers and nurses to suckle the children, to bathe and wash
them, but in no way to prattle w ith them, for he wanted to learn whether they
wou ld speak the Hebrew language, which was the oldest, or Greek, or Latin,
or Arabic, or perhaps the language of their parents, of whom they had been
born. But he labored in vain because all the children d ied. For they could not
live w ithout the petting and joyful faces and loving words of their foster moth-
ers. (Ross & Mclaughlin, 1949, p. 366)
participants were paid to remain alone in a locked room. One lasted for 8
days. Three held out for 2 days, one commenting "Never again." The fifth
participant lasted only 2 hours (Schachter, 1959).
The need for contact and companionship is just as strong outside the
laboratory, as individuals who have led solitary lives by choice or necessity
have discovered. W. Carl Jackson, an adventurer who sailed across the At-
lantic Ocean alone in 51 days, summarized the feelings common to most
loners in a post-voyage interview:
I found the loneliness of the second month almost excruciating. I always
thought of myself as self-sufficient, but I found life w ithout people had no
meaning. I had a definite need for somebody to talk to, someone rea l, alive,
and breathing. (Jackson, 1978, p. 2)
You might claim that solitude would be a welcome relief from the ir-
ritations of everyday life. It's true that all of us need time by ourselves, often
more than we get. On the other hand, each of us has a point beyond which
we do not want to be alone. Beyond this point, solitude changes from a
pleasurable to a painful condition. In other words, we all need people. We
all need to communicate.
PHYSICAL NEEDS
Communication is so important that its presence or absence affects health.
Recent studies confirm that people who process a negative experience by
talking about it report improved life satisfaction, as well as enhanced men-
tal and physical health, compared with those who think privately about it
(Francis, 2003; Sousa, 2002). A study conducted with police officers found
that being able to talk easily with colleagues and supervisors about work-
related trauma was linked to greater physical and mental health (Stephens
& Long, 2000). And a broader study of over 3,500 people ages 24- 96 re-
vealed that as little as 10 minutes of talking, face to face or by phone, im-
proves memory and boosts intellectual function (Ybarra et al., 2008).
In extreme cases, communication can even become a matter of life or
death. When he was a Navy pilot, U.S. Senator John McCain was shot down
over North Vietnam and held as a prisoner of war (POW) for 6 years, often
in solitary confinement. POWs set up clandestine codes in which they sent
messages by tapping on walls to laboriously spell out words. McCain de-
scribes the importance of keeping contact and the risks that inmates would
take to maintain contact with one another:
The punishment for communicating could be severe, and a few POWs, hav-
ing been caught and beaten for their efforts, had their spirits broken as their
bodies were battered. Terrified of a return trip to the punishment room, they
would lie still in their cells when their comrades tried to tap them up on the
wal l. Very few would remain uncommunicative for long. To suffer all this alone
was less tolerable than torture. Withdrawing in silence from the fellowship of
other Americans ... was to us the approach of death. (McCain, 1999, p. 12)
Braithwaite et al., 2010; Cole et al., 2007; Fitzpatrick & Vangelisti, 2001;
Holt-Lunstad et al., 2010; Mendes de Leon, 2005; Parker-Pope, 2010;
Uchino, 2004) has shown that satisfying relationships can literally be a
matter of life and death for people who lead normal lives. For example
• A meta-analysis of nearly 150 studies and over 300,000 participants
found that socially connected people those with strong networks of
family and friends live an average of 3. 7 years longer than those who
are socially isolated.
• People with strong relationships have significantly lower risks of coro-
nary disease, regardless of whether they smoke, drink alcoholic bever-
ages, or exercise regularly.
• Divorced, separated, and widowed people are 5 to 10 times more likely
to need mental hospitalization than their married counterparts. Hap-
pily married people also have lower incidences of pneumonia, surgery,
and cancer than single people. (It's important to note that the quality
of the relationship is more important than the institution of marriage
in these studies.)
• Pregnant women under stress and without supportive relationships
have three times more complications than pregnant women who suffer
from the same stress but have strong social support.
• Socially isolated people are four times more susceptible to the com-
mon cold than those who have active social networks.
• College students in committed relationships experience fewer mental
health problems than those not in committed relationships.
• Close relationships offer opportunities for meeting touch needs from a
pat on the back to sexual intimacy that provide mental, emotional, and
physiological benefits (we explore this topic in detail in Chapter 6).
Research like this demonstrates the importance of meaningful personal
relationships, and it explains the conclusion of social scientists that commu-
nication is essential. Not everyone needs the same amount of contact, and
the quality of communication is almost certainly as important as the quan-
tity. Nonetheless, the point remains: Personal communication is essential for
our well-being.
IDENTITY NEEDS
Communication does more than enable us to survive. It is the way indeed,
the major way we learn who we are (Fogel et al., 2002; Harwood, 2005).
As you'll read in Chapter 3, our sense of identity comes from the way we
interact with other people. Are we smart or stupid, attractive or ugly, skillful
or inept? The answers to these questions don't come from looking in the
mirror. We decide who we are based on how others react to us.
Deprived of communication with others, we would have no sense of
identity. Consider the case of the famous "Wild Boy of Aveyron," who spent
his early childhood without any apparent human contact. The boy was dis-
covered in January 1800 while digging for vegetables in a French village
garden. He could not speak, and he showed no behaviors one would expect
in a social human. More significant than this absence of social skills was his
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The tired, hard-lined features of the men softened as they watched
her, then hardened again at the sight of the on-coming boats. The
bosun's mate hissed a sea-blessing through his sternly compressed
lips as he glared at the persevering dago; then, bringing his eyes
back to the toiling shoulders of the blind man before him, he bent to
his work with a queer expression of pity twisting up his face.
As for Jack, since their short meal he had rowed in inscrutable
silence, his eyes closed, and only the fierce, unnatural strength
which he put into the sweep of his oar-blade gave any indication of
how deeply this blindness was cutting into his very soul. And,
indeed, it was a bitter position to be in for one of such a self-reliant
and masterful nature as Jack. The weak man whimpers when taxed
by fate beyond his strength, but there was little weakness in Jack.
Whimpering was not the method his wilful spirit thought of taking to
ease its agony; no, he preferred action, and as a sharp report broke
in upon his ears and the soft "Theeu!" of a bullet hummed over his
head, he braced up with a queer laugh which had little mirth in it. No
better tonic could have been dealt out to the man; the light of battle
leaped into his sightless eyes, and washed away the misery—all
gone, forgotten.
"Now for it," he muttered to himself grimly.
A man was standing up in the sternsheets of the leading boat, a
smoking rifle in his hand.
"It's Dago Charlie," cried Loyola, looking over her shoulder, and she
gave an irrepressible shudder.
"Loyola, you used to be a nailing shot with a rifle," declared Jack.
"See if you can't stop that devil's game."
"Oh, Jack, I can't shoot at live men," declared the girl, in great
distress.
"Why not, if they're shooting at you? and it's our only hope. Will you
let that scoundrel win after all this long struggle without an effort to
stop him? No, Lolie, I know you won't; you're too clean-strain to turn
soft like that."
His words had the desired effect. In silence the woman let go of the
steering-oar, and picked up one of the rifles at her feet; then, putting
it to her shoulder in a workmanlike manner, glanced along the sights
and fired.
A hoarse, shrill cheer from Jim announced a hit. The bow of the
leading boat had toppled forward over his oar, and for a moment or
so it ceased pulling, whilst the man was replaced.
Loyola paled to the lips as she watched the result of her shooting,
but a bullet from the dago, which drilled a neat double hole through
the brim of her sombrero, stirred her up afresh.
"Sit down directly you see the smoke of his rifle," counselled the
blind man.
"Hell!" muttered Bill, below his breath. "There's more sand in that gal
than the whole o' Southsea beach."
As for Broncho, his eyes sparkled in keen appreciation, and her
nerve inspired a fresh life in his stroke. Gripping his oar, he lay back
to it with such force as to near upset Jim off the thwart by his side.
And now a strange duel began between Dago Charlie and Loyola,
marooner and marooned; and as the bullets came sizzling over the
whaleboat, a fire of comment and encouragement broke out
amongst the castaways, their fatigue all forgotten in the excitement
of the moment.
If my reader has ever been under fire he will understand the feeling
which fills one in such a position.
It is a difficult one to describe. Indeed, the hum of a bullet overhead
affects most men differently; but unto all who are not cowards is
given a strange uplifting of the spirit, unexplainable in words, but one
which sends the blood coursing through the veins with a speed and
vigour which no other form of excitement is able to rival.
The sensation of the gambler at the roulette table is mild compared
to it; the fighter in the prize-ring has an inkling of it; the keen
mountain climber thinks he has, but is mistaken: no, no one but he
who has been face-to-face with flying bullets has experienced the
mightiest thrill that one's senses can receive.
I have seen men whose nerves were of such steadiness that they
could walk up and down, smoking, under heavy fire; but even they,
when watched closely, exhibited unmistakable signs that this thrill
within gripped them.
They were not smoking like a man does in his armchair by his home
fireside. No; no slow meditative puffs here, but a quick indrawing and
expelling of the smoke in rapid, ceaseless breaths, and there was a
light in their eyes only to be seen in the firing-line.
Such a light could now be seen in each pair of eyes owned by the
occupants of the whaleboat; even the blind ones gleamed with it.
Again the leading pursuer stopped to replace a wounded oarsman.
"Good for you, mum," cried Bill delightedly. "You deserves a
marksman's badge."
"An' I puts down a bet on that," agreed Broncho. "That mutineer can't
buck against you, missy. He finds you has an ace buried every time.
I reckon the baleful effec's o' your cannonadin' puts a diff'rent tint on
his views o' life."
"He thought he was goin' to get us so easy, too," grinned Jim.
"He notes now as how shore things don't exist. Providence, if in the
mood, can beat four aces an' the joker," declared the cowboy.
"Aye, an' a gal out-luck two boat-loads o' hell-scrapin's, easy as
fallin' off a log," added Bill.
But Loyola was not going to have it all her own way: a shot from the
pursuer made a long tear in her white dress, and the next one drew
blood from her left shoulder.
"I can't stand this," declared Jack, his voice shaking. "You must stop
firing, Lolie, and lie down in the bottom of the boat."
"Not I," cried the woman exultantly. "Do you think I'll hide on the
flooring-boards now—now that I am being of some use; no, Jack,
never!" and she shut her mouth with a snap of determination.
Jack fairly groaned in his distress, and with a tragic face bent to his
work in silence.
But Loyola was all remorse in a moment when she saw how her
words had hurt him.
"Oh, Jack," she cried out miserably, her passionate nature jumping
from the heights of exultation to the very depths of self-reproach. "I
didn't mean it, I didn't mean it! I'll do whatever you like, I swear I will.
I'll lie flat in the bottom of the boat and never stir if you wish it."
The sensitive woman was greatly upset when she perceived how her
quick, thoughtless words and refusal to obey Jack's request had
made him feel his helplessness with a heavier weight than ever, and
eagerly she tried to make amends.
But, at her words, Jack regained more of his old self. He knew well
what it would cost her to lie down and take no part in the affray now
that her blood was up, and though the thought of her being hit made
him tremble, he gave in, saying:
"No, Lolie, you're quite right. Go on firing; you're our chief hope now,
and I was a fool to think we could do without you."
"Dear old boy!" muttered the woman softly, below her breath. "I know
what you thought and what you feared."
Then she rose to her feet and fired again, just as Dago Charlie was
lifting his gun to shoot.
The castaways, watching the result of her shot, saw the buccaneer's
gun drop from his hand, and, as he fell back into his seat, they
cheered huskily.
"Copped it, the devil! Copped it this time," cried Bill. "Great shootin',
mum. I'll sure cut the badge off my arm an' give it to you," referring to
his marksman's badge.
"I reckon that maroonin' buckaroo's feelin' partic'lar pensif, not to say
some perturbed," drawled Broncho, with a low note of satisfaction in
his voice.
"Broncho, you and Bill cease rowing. Get your breath and come into
the firing-line," broke in Jack sharply. "Tari and I can keep the boat
going, and Jim can take the steering-oar. A little more shooting like
that and the dago will get sick of it," he explained.
The two men unshipped their oars with alacrity, and, with Jim,
clambered aft.
"What are you sightin' at, mum?" asked Bill deferentially. "You sure
'as the range proper."
"Two-fifty. They're not getting any nearer, either; do you think so,
Bill?"
"No, mum, they ain't. They're just doin' a dockyard dip now. They
ain't none eager to shorten your range, I'm reckoning."
Benson's first shot keeled over another man, and the leading boat
stopped pulling again. Anxiously the castaways watched her.
Evidently a heated discussion was going on.
Up got Dago Charlie in the sternsheets, and they noticed that his left
arm was in a sling. A gigantic black faced him, gesticulating furiously
with a windmill motion of his arms.
Then out came the dago's revolver, and the black sat sullenly down
again.
"That ere mutineer gang seems near weakenin'," commented
Broncho. "The lead we-alls deals out to 'em is kinder hard to chew
on. They has four men in the diskyard, countin' the old he-coon, bein'
three notches on Missy Lolie's stock and the hold-up Bill lays out."
The Black Adder's boats now drew together, and the whaleboat's
crew watched them transferring wounded men from the first boat to
the second without firing.
The operation was rushed through without much time lost, and then
on came the first boat again with three new men in her; but a short
cheer burst from the castaways as they noticed the second boat pull
round and head away for the distant schooner.
But now a new man stood up in the sternsheets of the dago's boat
and opened fire, and at his very first shot, over toppled Bill Benson.
Down went Loyola on her knees beside the wounded man, whilst
Broncho snapped hurriedly at the marksman before he resumed his
seat.
"Where's he hit?" asked Jack anxiously.
"He's only stunned, I think," replied Loyola, with a long sigh of relief.
"The bullet has ploughed a groove through his hair, hardly cutting
through the skin."
"Let him lie in the bottom of the boat, Lolie; you can do nothing for
him. He'll come to after a bit, and soon be all right," declared Jack.
Dago Charlie was now only pulling leisurely, keeping up with the
whaleboat, but taking care not to get any nearer.
Noting this, the castaways ceased firing except for an occasional
shot, for their ammunition was beginning to get scarce.
Bill soon recovered his senses, and though at first feeling a bit queer
and shaken, presently quite regained his old self.
All through that long, sweltering afternoon Jack and Tari pulled
stubbornly, with tireless muscles, obstinately refusing to be relieved.
Loyola had been compelled to lie down and rest in the bottom of the
boat at Jack's feet, alongside Benson, and notwithstanding an
occasional shot whistling overhead, so worn out was the woman
from the trying time she had gone through, and lack of sleep, that
she was soon dreaming peacefully in the land of nod.
Broncho, in the sternsheets with Jim, kept a keen watch on their
pursuer, and was ready for him whenever the other man rose to fire.
But the latter seemed to bear a charmed life; once Broncho knocked
his hat off; then a bullet from the cowboy hit his rifle, and he had to
take another; and a third time he was seen to put his hand up to his
cheek, and feel where the lead had grazed his cheek-bone and cut a
red line across his face, passing between his hat and his ear.
This last shot seemed to damp the man's ardour, and he evidently
refused to stand up as a target for Broncho again, not knowing that
he had shot the cowpuncher's belt-buckle away, and twice put lead
into the whaleboat's stern-post.
Towards sunset, cocoanuts were served out again, and, whilst they
refreshed themselves, the pursued discussed the situation.
"Seems to me he don' intend no more attackin'," observed the
bosun's mate. "He's just keepin' station, relyin' on a breeze bringin'
the schooner up presently."
"That's about it," agreed Jack. "Anyhow, bar a graze or two, we are
better off than we were, whilst he's decidedly worse."
"I'm hopin' this sizzlin' sun is chawin' up that wounded arm o' his
some," declared Broncho. "It comforts me a whole lot to think missy
here has done put her mark on him, and I shore corrals in
toomultuous delight if it goes to throbbin' an' achin'——"
Broncho was interrupted by a sort of gasp from Jim, and the next
moment the boy toppled up against him in a dead faint.
Tenderly the cowpuncher took the poor boy in his arms, whilst
Loyola, with big tears in her eyes, sprinkled water over the pale,
drawn little face, saying over and over again to herself,
"Poor Jim! poor little Jim!"
"What's up?" asked the blind man.
"Jim's strength has quit him, an' he's vamoosed into a faint," replied
the cowboy.
"Why, what's this?" cried the girl, in consternation. "Look at his shirt;
it's all soaked with blood."
"Blast me if the youngster ain't been wounded all this time,"
exclaimed Bill.
"An' never tole no one! He's clean-strain, is Jim," muttered Broncho
hoarsely, as Loyola tenderly bathed the place and pulled away the
blood-stained shirt from the wound.
"Where's he hit?" came the strained, husky voice of the blind man
again.
"Bullet's glanced off 'is ribs an' made a nawsty gash," said Bill.
"The son of a gun! the son of a gun! An' he never tole no one!"
repeated Broncho softly.
With quick, gentle fingers Loyola skilfully bound up the wound, using
a strip of flannel torn from Bill's shirt, and Broncho's gay, silk
kerchief, which the cowboy always wore, prairie fashion, round his
neck.
Hardly had she finished her bandaging before the boy opened his
eyes and looked round wonderingly.
"Wha's th' matter?" he asked faintly.
"W'y, you tried to outhold that wound o' yours, sonny, an' it
overplayed you; but Missy Lolie has done bound it up an' blocked its
little game," explained Broncho, smiling on him with a great affection
in his eyes.
"Dear little Jim!" cried Loyola impulsively, flinging her arms round the
boy and kissing him. "You'll feel better soon."
"Lay him down on the blankets," said Jack, in a low voice.
He and Tari still pulled steadily—they did not dare stop—and Tari
kept the boat's head straight, no one being at the steering-oar.
With tender hands the boy was placed full length in the bottom of the
boat, and Loyola insisted on his having a whole extra cocoanut
served out to him.
This the boy drank off with feverish haste, betraying to the others the
torments of thirst he must have been suffering the whole afternoon.
The milky juice put new strength into him, and declaring vehemently
that he felt all right, he wanted to get up and take the steering-oar
again; but this the others would not allow, and he had to remain lying
where he was.
As the sun dropped below the horizon, a ripple was perceived upon
the water right ahead.
"Wind at last!" cried Loyola, "and we'll get it first."
Jack and Tari put all their strength into a last spurt, whilst Bill and
Broncho hastily stepped the mast and hoisted the lugsail, Loyola
taking the helm.
Then darkness, the breeze, and Jack's weird eyesight sprang upon
them together.
Gaily the tired rover pulled in his oar and looked eagerly about him;
then he bent down, and by the light of the bright stars examined
Jim's wound.
"I see you've been in good hands, Jim," he remarked, referring to
Loyola's skilful bandaging.
"It's the touch of her fingers makes me feel better," whispered the
boy, with a quick blush.
"Same here," declared Jack, with a curious smile. Then a sudden
impulse took him, and, stepping aft, he looked deep into the
woman's wavering eyes; and there must have been some magic in
that one look of Jack's, for a flood of dark crimson crept slowly over
Loyola's face.
For one brief second she felt his strong arm round her shoulders and
his lips against her lips; then, with the low, whispered words,
"Bravest and dearest!" he turned and joined Bill and Broncho, who
were sweeping the horizon with the Ocmulgee's glass, searching for
the Black Adder.
CHAPTER XIII
"PAPEETE"
Loyola sank back, shaking all over, her eyes gleaming with a wonderfully tender
light, and fell into a deep reverie, which was rudely awakened by the flapping of the
lugsail.
She had let the whaleboat come up into the wind.
"Now, Lolie," said Jack, stepping aft, "I'm going to relieve the wheel. You're tired out
and must lie down and rest by Jim."
"Why, Jack, I've been asleep all the afternoon, and you've been rowing all day in the
blazing sun."
"Well, anyhow, child, I'm going to steer now; but if you don't want to lie down, you can
sit beside me," said the rolling-stone craftily.
This the woman was nothing loth to do, and slipping her hand into his, she nestled up
against him with a perfect feeling of contentment, notwithstanding the fact that Dago
Charlie still hung doggedly in their wake.
Presently a flare flamed out from the schooner's boat, against the bright light of which
her men showed like little carved images of jet, outlined in red.
"Coyotes!" exclaimed Broncho, "he's afire!"
"Burning a flare to show the Black Adder where we are," explained Jack.
"It'll take the blighter h'all night to come up with us now," declared Bill triumphantly.
"An' his boat ain't got the legs this whaleboat has. The luck's comin' our side o' the
deck at last."
"We'd better set watches. Everybody must get some sleep to-night," observed the
rover.
"Cert," agreed Broncho; "my eyelids is weighin' my eyes down as if they're loaded
pack-saddles."
"An' mine is winkin' like an occultin' light," declared the bosun's mate.
"Of course, you, Lolie, and Jim are out of this," began Jack. "Suppose I take the first
watch, Bill the middle, and Tari the morning."
"An' what about this nigger?" asked Broncho.
"Oh, you're the horse-wrangler; you're not on night-herd."
"And why should I be left out?" exclaimed Loyola, in an injured voice.
After a great deal of argument, in which even Jim joined, it was decided that if she
chose Loyola could keep Jack's watch with him, whilst Broncho joined Tari.
So, this knotty point settled, whilst Jack and Loyola shared the sternsheets the others
turned in on the flooring-boards, and were soon sleeping heavily the deep sleep of
exhaustion.
The night passed uneventfully. The breeze held steady with a long, smooth sea, over
which the whaleboat bowled along with the sheet well aft, making good speed and
dropping the dago's boat fast; but slowly and surely the schooner crept up, though it
was four bells in the middle watch before she picked up her boat.
Soon after a small coral reef with a few palms on it was passed to windward.
As the first light of dawn spread high over the east, the sleeping boat's crew were
awakened by the wild, deep cry of the Kanaka:
"Sail-ho! sail-ho!"
In a moment these magic words had roused the tired sleepers into a wide-eyed
wakefulness.
"Whar?" burst out Broncho.
"There she is! There she is, right ahead!" called Loyola breathlessly.
Jack seized the telescope, whilst the others broke out into a babble of exclamations,
questions, and surmises.
"She's heading our way, I'm almost certain," declared Jack. "She's got square topsails,
and her masts are in line, so I can't be certain of her rig; but I think she's an Island
schooner, for a certainty."
"What for of a play would it be to let rip a volley at that paltry marooner. Mebbe it'd act
as a signal-smoke to the stranger?" asked the cowpuncher, indicating the Black
Adder, which was less than three cables' lengths off on their lee-quarter.
"First chop!" agreed Jack, picking up his Winchester.
"Just a sorter 'So long, ta-ta!' to the blighter," hinted Bill.
The schooner was busy sending up a big gaff-headed main-topsail, and the three
musketeers aimed at the group of men tailing on to the fall of the sheet out-haul.
The three reports burst out together, and the group of men disappeared suddenly
behind the bulwarks; a bullet had cut the rope they were hauling on.
"Good shot! good shot!" cried Jim hysterically, clapping his hands.
"That crowd hit the deck some sudden, I'm thinkin'," exclaimed Bill, grimly reloading.
"I guess that dago sharp's moppin' his feachers some, if he ain't fretted to the core an'
grittin' his teeth with frenzy," chuckled the cowboy.
"Now, look out for squalls," cried Jack warningly, as the Black Adder put her helm up
and yawed.
This time every fire-arm on the schooner seemed to have been let off. For a moment
her decks were hidden in smoke, and the boom of heavy metal mingled with the sharp
report of the rifles.
"Snakes an' coyotes, the pole-cat's been and overshooted!" burst out Broncho
exultantly, as the storm of lead sang by above them.
"Thank 'eaven for that," grunted the bluejacket. "It 'ummed overhead like funnel-stays
in a pampero."
Jack seized the telescope again, and looked long and earnestly at the approaching
stranger; and whilst he had the glass up to his eye, the red rim of the rising sun
showed above the horizon. In the excitement of the moment no one gave a thought to
the spreading daylight, Jack least of all; and now he stood gazing, all unconscious that
it was broad daylight and that he could see.
For nearly two minutes he stood there, the glass glued to his eye; then he slowly
collapsed on to the stroke thwart, and blurted out with shaking voice,
"It's the French Government schooner from Papeete, Lolie—I'm sure of it—and
heading this way. You're saved! you're saved!"
The woman stared at him with wide-open eyes, trying in vain to speak, and then fell
back fainting.
The shock of the release from the strain of this desperate fight had proved too much
for her intrepid spirit.
Tenderly they laid her down in the bottom of the boat and sprinkled water over her
face.
"You bruck it too rapid, Jack," observed the bosun's mate slowly. "It's the recoil as
knocks a woman."
"I was a cursed, thoughtless fool," groaned Jack, in bitter self-reproach.
"That 'ere put-upon an' hard-pressed gal has the sand an' grit o' forty of us men-folk,"
declared Broncho, with emphasis. "The way she stands this racket an' plays her hand
has me bulgin' with admiration an' respec'."
"Me too!" gulped Jim, with big tears in his eyes.
Loyola was too wiry a woman to stay long in a faint, and in a very short space of time
she opened her eyes and looked round fearfully.
"It's all right, Lolie, it's all right!" said Jack softly, as he bent over her.
Slowly she raised herself, looking wildly at him; then her eyes grew blurred, and with a
heavy sob she held out her hands.
He seized them in his own and held them firm, his lips quivering.
"Oh, Jack!" she murmured brokenly, fighting for her self-control. "Oh, Jack!"
Nobody who has not experienced it can understand how a sudden unexpected
release from long nerve-strain affects one.
Many are the stories of men rescued when hope of rescue had been almost
abandoned, and of their strange behaviour on realising that they were saved.
One hears of big, strong men crying like babes and hugging each other; of men
behaving as if their brains had been taken from them by the shock; who knew not
what they did, all control being lost for a few wild minutes, of which they had no
recollection whatever afterwards.
Thus, now that relief had come to Loyola's overstrained nerves, it was almost too
severe a shock, and the brave woman felt herself on the verge of hysteria.
Tighter and tighter Jack gripped her hands as he watched her struggles against a
breakdown.
"Bite on it, Lolie! Be brave!" he whispered hoarsely.
"Dagoman put um hellum down!" The utterance came from aft in the Kanaka's soft
voice.
Tari's words seemed to break the spell. Loyola, with a shudder, snapped her teeth
together and her eyes cleared. Jack drew a deep breath, and relaxing his grip on her
nearly crushed hands, patted them gently.
Jim raised a tear-stained face, and with a sudden impulse seized the cowpuncher's
brown fist and shook it wildly.
His action was catching, and in another moment the castaways were wringing each
others' hands as if for a wager.
"Mercy! mercy!" gasped Loyola, smiling and once more her old self. "Jack's nearly
squashed mine flat already."
All anxiety was now at an end, for already the French war-schooner was within a
couple of miles, surging along under a heavy press of canvas, whilst the Black Adder,
with sheets slacked away and a big square-sail set, was making herself scarce as fast
as ever she could.
"The dago's hittin' it high on the back trail shore enuff," commented Broncho, as he
watched the flying enemy. "That ornery maverick is quittin' the play without a sou-
markee o' profit. He ain't out o' the wood yet, though. I'm allowin' the war-boat'll jump
into his wheeltracks some swift when he savvys the vivid lead-slingin' he done cut
loose on us. It shore oughter poke spurs into him."
As the castaways watched the two schooners with eager eyes, Tari leaned forward,
and stretching out his disengaged hand, tapped Jack gently on the shoulder.
The latter turned round and found the Kanaka fairly beaming upon him.
"My pleni no more blind. Bad eye-debble him go 'way, no likee bullets. Tari heap glad."
Jack stared at him with open mouth, unable to speak, whilst Loyola, a whole world of
tenderness in her big brown eyes, rubbed her cheek caressingly against his shoulder,
whispering brokenly, "Thank God! Oh, thank God!" and her whole heart was in her
voice.
"Hoo-jolly-ray!" screeched Jim, springing wildly on to a thwart. "Three cheers and a
tiger! Hip! hip! hip! hurray!"
Meanwhile, Broncho was pump-handling Jack like a madman.
"You old son of a gun!" he growled; "you old son of a gun!"
Bill was just as excited.
"Blawst me if it ain't a blighted miracle; yes, that's just wot it is. But wot's done it? The
blistered moon, the dago's flyin' lead, or the war-schooner juttin' over the horizon?
Anyways, whatever done it, the dough's your way, Jack."
And now the Tahiti gunboat came swooping down upon them, a row of eager faces
lining her rail.
When within a quarter of a cable she rounded to and backed her fore-topsail, whilst
Tari ran the whaleboat up alongside her lowered gangway ladder, on which stood a
little fat Frenchman in a spotless uniform of snowy duck.
"Qu'est que c'est ce bateau là?" he cried, flourishing a podgy fist in the direction of the
flying pirate.
"Black Adder," replied Jack shortly, and the notorious name drew a buzz of comment
from the schooner's crew.
The next moment Loyola was handed up the ladder, and received, with the politest of
bows and a shower of flowery expressions of delight and greeting, by the little French
captain, who knew her well.
He was soon in possession of all the facts, and gave orders for the chase to be
resumed, vowing with all the extravagant mannerisms of his race to bring madame's
enemies to justice.
He was a kind-hearted little man, this sailor, as Frenchmen generally are, and the
castaways were soon partaking of a luxurious repast in his tastefully arranged and
comfortable cabin, whilst a snowy-aproned French steward waited on them with every
delicacy that he could provide.
For some time questions flew thick, and Jack and Loyola were kept busy replying to
the innumerable inquiries put by the little captain and a grave young man with a small
moustache and gloomy countenance, who was introduced to them as the French
Commissioner of the Paumotus.
It seemed that the castaways were indebted for their rescue to the fact that the
Commissioner was on his way to open a small atoll for the pearl-fishing.
The French war-schooner was no match, however, for the slim-heeled Black Adder,
which was soon hull down, and the impetuous little Frenchman was compelled at last,
with many expressive shrugs of his shoulders at the sluggish speed of his vessel, to
relinquish the chase and resume his course for the atoll.
The following day the island was reached, and the schooner dropped her anchor in
the lagoon amidst a crowd of native boats, all eagerly awaiting her arrival; whilst
ashore, a ramshackle lot of corrugated iron shanties were in course of erection, to act
as stores for the enterprising vendors of grog and dry goods.
In a moment the schooner was surrounded by a clamorous crowd of Paumotu divers,
who are without compare in the South Seas, being able to dive to tremendous depths
and remain under water an extraordinarily long time.
The first person to step on board the schooner was a solemn-faced native Mormon
missionary, whom Broncho eyed with great interest on being told by Jack who he was.
The gloomy young Commissioner was landed, and with a lazy simplicity he declared
the island open for pearl-shell fishing before a mixed crowd of eager people on the
beach.
For a week the schooner stayed at anchor in the lagoon, the whole of which time
Broncho sat playing poker in the store of an old Yankee retired whaleman, from whom
and the gloomy Commissioner he succeeded in taking a nice little pile of Chilian
dollars, to his great delight.
Meanwhile, the rest of the castaways roamed the island, watched the diving, or whiled
away the days in hammocks under the schooner's awning.
But at length the schooner was headed back for Papeete.
With a fair wind, a quick run was made to the famous island, and at sunrise one
morning Jack and Loyola found themselves gazing eagerly at the well-known
mountain ridges behind Papeete, with their bright green foliage and scattered cocoa-
palms, and the magnificent Diadem rising rugged and glorious above them.
The schooner, running in through the Little Pass, brought up opposite the little islet of
Motu Uta, once the residence of a queen, and afterwards a leper station.
Little more remains to be told.
Jack and Loyola were married about a month after their arrival, Bucking Broncho
officiating as best man, whilst Bill Benson and a crowd of his shipmates—for the Dido
had turned up unexpectedly—gave a go to the proceedings such as only British
bluejackets are capable of.
As Jack and Loyola were so well known at Papeete, and had a host of friends in this
Paradise of the Pacific, as it is so rightly called, the wedding went off with great éclat,
natives, whites, and the French officials attending en masse.
Shortly after these festivities Bill Benson was carried away in his little gunboat on a
hunt for Dago Charlie and his slippery schooner.
Jack and Loyola settled down at Papeete, the rover intending, directly he could
arrange his money matters in far-off England, to start in the Island trade with a
schooner of his own.
Jim and Tari remained with the happy couple as a kind of bodyguard, but after several
lazy months in this happy land, Broncho began to long for the more active life of his
beloved plains; and though the others did their best to persuade him to remain with
them, he one day took his passage in the barquentine Tropic Bird for San Francisco,
and, as he put it, "hit the trail for his own pastures."
It was a sad parting between the old shipmates.
Broncho's last words to Jack as they wrung each other's hands at the gangway, the
San Francisco packet already heeling to the breeze, with the old original whaleboat
splashing and bobbing at the foot of the ladder, were:
"So long, old bunkie. We've camped around together quite a spell. I jest loathes leavin'
the outfit, but pull my freight I must. This old longhorn is jest itchin' to paw the earth
again, an' lock horns in the old game. I hungers for the feel of a pony 'tween my legs,
an' the smell o' the cattle. It's natur', pard, an' that's all thar is to it, though it shore
twangs my heartstrings in toomultuous discord. Adios!"
Postscript 1.—Of the Yankee hell-ship Silas K. Higgins no more was heard, and as
time went by she was at last posted on the black list of missing ships. Who can say
what her real end was? Did she fall a victim to the terrible Cape Horn surges, or was it
that word which the bosun spelt with a big M which caused her disappearance from
the great ocean highway? The deep sea hid her and the deep sea does not blab.
Postscript 2.—Notwithstanding Bill Benson's statement as to the sailing qualities of his
little gunboat, she proved to be no match for the Black Adder, and years of desperate
doings intervened before Dago Charlie was at last brought to book for his many
misdeeds.
Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
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BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
ROUND THE HORN BEFORE THE MAST.
By BASIL LUBBOCK.
A Cheap Edition. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s.
"Mr. Basil Lubbock has written a book that Clark Russell could hardly have given us in
his palmiest days.... Not the least remarkable feature of this fascinating 'yarn' is its
obvious truthfulness. Who takes up Mr. Lubbock's tale of the sea, and puts it down
before finishing it, must be a dull individual."—Sunday Special.
"We can most unhesitatingly recommend this book to all who love the sea, and
especially to youngsters who intend to become sailors.... One of the best books of
actual life on board ship that has been published for years."—Field.
"No book that I know of has appeared since the days of Dana so absolutely
compounded of marine elements, so entirely salt in savour, as Mr. A. Basil Lubbock's
'Round the Horn before the Mast.' Nothing, I am sure, could exceed the thrilling
interest of Mr. Lubbock's description of how they weathered the Horn. But the whole
book, which is well illustrated with original drawings and fine photographs, is full of
fascination."—Westminster Gazette.
"We have seldom read a more entertaining book.... The veriest landsman cannot fail
to be charmed with Mr. Lubbock's simple graphic story and its faithful picture of the
deep-sea mariner's life."—Pall Mall Gazette.
"Here is a stirring narrative, a thing to quicken the pulses and fire young blood with a
healthy spirit of emulation."—Athenæum.
"... The tragic incidents of this voyage Mr. Lubbock describes with a verve, vigour, and
vividness that keep you breathlessly interested."—Truth.
"A vivid narrative, in which you may hear the thunder of the waves and the creaking of
the timbers, and through which blows the salt wind of the sea."—Spectator.
"A capital tale of the sea."—Standard.
"... A delightful book.... The very thing to put into the hands of any youth who thinks
that he would like to go to sea."—World.
"... All is so simply told, with such an unmistakable stamp of reality in every word, that
readers will close the book with a sort of strange impression that they have been
actual sharers in the scenes described."—Guardian.
SIX-SHILLING NOVELS.
THE HATANEE. Arthur Eggar.