“Why have they set the ship on fire?” said Sestrina as she stood watching the sparks and the lurid smoke go skyward.
“They are mad with drink, and care only for themselves while the devil-gods and te rom (rum) revel in their souls,” said Hawahee in a bitter voice. Then he told Sestrina that they had fired the wreck so that no passing vessel could sight it, and wonder if any of its late crew were castaways on the isle.
Next day, Sestrina, thinking that all was well since the lepers had burnt the wreck, and so destroyed the rum, crept down to the lagoon by her homestead, wherein she bathed every morning. This lagoon was far away from that part of the isle where Lupo and the rest dwelt. Letting her hair down, she walked into the cool, shallow depths, and paddled about. She behaved like a child. Lifting her torn skirt, which she had patched up with pieces of the red table-cloth of the Belle Isle cuddy, she splashed about in the sparkling water and threw pebbles at the green-winged parrots that perched on the palms that leaned over the lagoon. Suddenly she stood perfectly still; she had observed a movement in the thick jungle fern which grew a little way up the shore. She stared again, and saw two burning eyes staring between the dark green leaves. She gave a startled cry and let her dress drop—it was Lupo who had spied upon her. Seeing her terror he stepped out of the jungle, lifting his hands in an appealing manner.
Sestrina immediately felt ashamed of her fright. Noticing that he had calmed the girl’s evident fear of him, Lupo moved towards her. As he approached her she fancied she saw a terrible look in his eyes. The instinct of womanhood made her realise—she knew not what. In a flash she recalled all that Hawahee had said.
The next second Lupo had fallen on his knees, and with his hands lifted in some appeal, said: “Aloah, wero, kawa, ma Pelé,” as he greedily drank in the beauty of her face and form. He plucked a flower from the bush, and held it towards the girl.
“No! no!” said Sestrina as she shook her head to intimate that neither his gift nor his presence was required. In a moment Lupo’s manner had changed. He glanced hastily around, then rose and staggered towards her. Sestrina, on seeing the wild look in the leper’s eyes, fled.
Returning to her primitive homestead with a flushed face, and the sea-water still sparkling on her tresses, she arrived before Hawahee in a breathless state.
“Wahine, what is the matter?” he said as he stared at her.
“Nothing, only I felt frightened at seeing Lupo come out of the jungle whilst I bathed.”
“Have I not warned thee to keep near to me, and not wander about the isle, wahine?”