On the beach a curious scene took place. Whaleboat after whaleboat was
being hurriedly manned and shoved off. It had grown still darker. The
stagnant calm continued, and the sand shook under their feet with each
buffet of the sea on the outer shore. Narii Herring walked leisurely
along the sand. He grinned at the very evident haste of the captains and
buyers. With him were three of his Kanakas, and also Tai-Hotauri.
“Get into the boat and take an oar,” Captain Warfield ordered the
latter.
Tai-Hotauri came over jauntily, while Narii Herring and his three
Kanakas paused and looked on from forty feet away.
“I work no more for you, skipper,” Tai-Hotauri said insolently and
loudly. But his face belied his words, for he was guilty of a
prodigious wink. “Fire me, skipper,” he huskily whispered, with a second
significant wink.
Captain Warfield took the cue and proceeded to do some acting himself.
He raised his fist and his voice.
“Get into that boat,” he thundered, “or I'll knock seven bells out of
you!”
The Kanaka drew back truculently, and Grief stepped between to placate
his captain.
“I go to work on the _Nuhiva_,” Tai-Hotauri said, rejoining the other
group.
“Come back here!” the captain threatened.
“He's a free man, skipper,” Narii Herring spoke up. “He's sailed with me
in the past, and he's sailing again, that's all.”
“Come on, we must get on board,” Grief urged. “Look how dark it's
getting.”
Captain Warfield gave in, but as the boat shoved off he stood up in the
sternsheets and shook his fist ashore.
“I'll settle with you yet, Narii,” he cried. “You're the only skipper in
the group that steals other men's sailors,” He sat down, and in lowered
voice queried: “Now what's Tai-Hotauri up to? He's on to something, but
what is it?”