“My son, look!” he cried. I noticed that his voice trembled.
I could hardly believe my eyes as I looked again and saw that outcast by his side. Notwithstanding the wasted form and the terrible look on the face, I recognised Waylao.
The Father closed the door as I entered.
We never slept a wink that night. The old priest ran his fingers through his beads and went on his knees as Waylao wept and told us all that had happened to her since I had lost sight of her in Samoa, and her experiences seemed incredible. I do not mind confessing that I was a bit overcome as I heard that tale of sorrow. It was something that outrivalled everything I’d read—Louis Beck, Robert Louis Stevenson and all the romances of the South Seas. The surprise of the Father was even greater than my own, for I knew much about the girl’s doings till the time she had arrived at the Matafas’ in Apia.
As I would like to tell the facts of the case, I will revert to the period when Waylao disappeared from the Matafas’.
I can only hope to give the faintest outline of all that really happened, and this I will attempt in the following narrative.
CHAPTER XXV
Waylao leaves the Matafas in Apia—She drifts a Castaway at Sea—Her Sufferings—The Canoe beaches on an Uninhabited Isle—The Natural Guest of her Sorrow arrives—Death—Strange Visits to the Isle—The Strangers tell Waylao of their Sufferings—Sympathy—Aiola the Hawaiian and O Le Haiwa-oe, her Lover—Mrs Matafa’s Shawl as a Distress Signal—Waylao’s Ruse—Castaways in Sorrow
WHEN Waylao decided to leave the Matafas in Samoa she had been in Apia exactly one month.