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Various

"The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story"

Our copra was of the best; there were pearls to
be had in certain waters if you could bribe or fight your way to them;
and large groups of natives occasionally disappeared over night from one
of the surrounding islands. Naapu was, you might say, the clasp of a
necklace. How could we be expected to know what went on in the rest of
the string--with one leaky patrol-boat to ride those seas? Sometimes
there were fights down by the docks; strangers got arrested and were
mysteriously pardoned out; there were always a good many people in the
landscape who had had too much square-face. We were very far away from
everything, and in spite of all these drawbacks we were happy, because
the climate was, most of the year, unexceptionable. When you recall what
most civilized climates are like, "unexceptionable," that cold and
formal word, may well take your breath away. Lest any one should suspect
me of blackbirding or gin-selling, I will say at once that I had come to
Naapu by accident and that I stayed because, for reasons that I will not
go into here, I liked it. I lived in a tiny bungalow with an ex-ship's
cook whom I called Joe, and several thousand cockroaches. I had hired
Joe to cook for me, but his chief duty soon became to keep the
cockroaches out of my bedroom. As a matter of fact, I usually dined at
Dubois's hotel or at some private house.


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