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Confessions of a Beachcomber

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averse from speech, unless when speech was absolutely vital. The presence of a 10-foot crocodile of unknowledgeable ferocity was a vital occasion. We hastily discussed in staccato whispers our plan of campaign. It was arranged that we should assail the enemy at close quarters. The calibre of the rifle was 22; its velocity most humble, the bullet of soft lead. Unless it entered the eye of the crocodile, and thence by luck its small brain, there was no hope of fatal effects. Yet to take home such a rare trophy as a crocodile's skull, never before known or heard of on the island, was a hope sufficient to evoke and steady the instincts to be called upon as a necessary preliminary. "Paddy" armed himself with weighty stones, and so manoeuvring to cut off the creature's retreat to the sea, we silently and with the utmost caution advanced. Here let me advise readers to call to memory Nathaniel Parker Willis's poem, "The Declaration" beginning-- 'Twas late, and the gay company was gone, And light lay soft on the deserted room, and ending: She had been asleep. The crocodile moved not as we, thirsting for its blood, stealthily approached. Then as I raised the rifle "Paddy" tilted up his much-flattened nose, sniffed, and in tragic whisper said--"Dead!" At all times a crocodile has a characteristic odour, a combination of fish and very sour and stale musk, but Paddy smelt more than the familiar scent--the scent of carrion. Most unworthy of mortals, we had found the rarest of unprecious things--a crocodile that had died a natural death. Apparently a day, or at the most a day and a half, had elapsed since the creature had laid its head under the shadow of the boulder and died, far from accustomed haunts and kin. There was no sign of wound, bruise or putrefying sore. All the teeth were perfect. It seemed like a crocodile taking its rest, with its awful stench around it. With poles we levered the body out of the way of the tide. Months after, when Nature had done her part in the removal of all fleshy taint, we returned for the bones. The teeth are now scattered far and wide as trophies of the one and only crocodile ever acknowledged to have been discovered dead. To account for such a phenomenal occurrence a theory should be forthcoming. This ill-fated crocodile is assumed to have wandered from its proper quarters--the Tully or the Hull River, or one of the unnamed mangrove creeks of the mainland. Having lost its way, it emerged from the sea at pretty Panjoo. So different was the locality from that to which the poor forlorn creature had been accustomed, it was at once seized with a fatal attack of home-sickness. Shedding a few tears natural--to it ("'Tis so, and the tears of it are wet"), it died ("and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates"). Such is the theory, annotated by Mark Antony's immortal after-dinner gossip, on the emotions and natural history of the species. THE ARABS PRECEPT "A Pearl of Great Price" "Mister, I tell you, neber say anything. I hab bin reech once. I lorse my reechness for that I talk a little bit; but I talk too much. I poor man now. I lorse my chants. Suppose I no lorse my chants I am reech man of my country." So said Hassan, the Arab with the pearly teeth, as he sat on the edge of the verandah one steaming January evening. "Yes, Hassan. How did you lose your money?" "I hab no money, Mister. But I hab a pearl. My word, Mister, I tell you my yarn about that pearl. My beauty beeg pearl. White pearl--more white than snow-white! my pearl!" The thin-framed swarthy Arab, with the flashing eyes and glistening teeth, quivered with the intensity of his recollection. "My beauty pearl. My beeg white pearl. My pearl of snow-white," he murmured as in a dreamy reverie he subdued the light of his great black eyes. "But you never saw snow. How can you talk about a snow-white pearl?" "Mister, I bin steward boy on beeg steamer. I been eberywhere. I bin in London, I bin in Antwerp. I bin see snow all over. That how I talk about my snow pearl. I tell you my yarn." Hassan smoothed down his white jacket, lit a lean cigarette, rolled the incense--thrifty smoker that he was--as a sweet morsel under the tongue, permitted it to drift lazily from his lips, and gave his story. "I bin deck hand on pearling lugger. To be spell about with wind pump. Sometimes I work on dinghy. Two or three times I dibe--not much dibe. I carn stand that work. Not strong for that so heavy work. One morning Boss he set me on to clean out dinghy. Too much rotten fish. You see, when diber bring shell up, Boss he open ebery one--chuck meat along dinghy. That dinghy, I tell you my yarn proper--close up half full stinking meat. I chuck that stinking meat ober-board along my hand. Close up I bin finish I catchem stinking meat like this. Hello! I feel 'em something! My heart he stand--he carn go. He stop altogether. I carn look! feel 'em beeg. I look! Ha! Beeg, beeg pearl! Round like anything. White like snow. Pretty--lobley. My heart inside go ponch, quick like that, I hear 'em jump along my shirt. No one look out. My pearl! I whistle for nothing; put my pearl easy like I find nothing in my pucket. Go on my work, steady. Heart jump about all the time. Chuck em out those stinking meat. Ha! First time I feel something--one pearl! Beeg, but no all the same like nother one. One more time chuck stinking meat. Ha! one more pearl! White, long like small finger here. My heart easy now. I think my good luck come. I say my prayer to Allah! I work hard. I finish that boat. Chuck gem out stinking meat, wash her down. My three pearls inside my pucket. "For one week I neber say nothing. My good friend, my countryman from Aden, Ali. I tell 'em I find one pearl. Now, Mister, I tell you straight--neber tell nothing. You hab one good friend, one countryman. You lobe that man, your good friend. But you no tell 'em nothing. I made fool myself when I tell 'em. I big hoombug of myself. Two days, I am pulling dinghy up to lugger. Big Boss he on board schooner. I see him look me. Quick I think, 'Hassan, you make of yourself a fool. You lorse you white pearl!' He sing out 'Hassan!' I gammon I neber hear 'em. Sing out loud 'Hassan! You, boy! Come here!' I pull up to lugger. He sing out. 'Come here quick! I want talk you!' 'All right, Boss, I come, I

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