Suddenly the hulk crashed against the reefs by the shore, swerved round and stopped still.
The stricken forms rose from the deck, lifted their skeleton faces and for a moment stood terribly visible as they swayed helplessly by the broken mast.
The moonlight brightened the tattered sails. It streamed down through the branches of the surf palms that grew on the edge of the promontory.
Once again those gaping mouths moaned forth: “Wai! Wai!”
As the hulk swerved and listed towards the rocks, the handsome chief leapt ashore, and the woman who had clung to him immediately followed.
For a moment that handsome stranger stood and gazed at Waylao like one in a dream, as she looked up into his fevered, bright eyes.
Staring hurriedly around, he suddenly rushed forward and prostrated himself at the edge of the lagoon. Placing his mouth into the crystal liquid, he breathed like an animal, and drank, drank, drank! His companion, the native girl, likewise prostrated herself and drank beside him.
As Waylao watched, her fright subsided. They were human. For who but mortals could be so maddened by thirst? Her heart was touched with sorrow.
The chief rose to his feet, filled a large calabash with water and returned to the derelict.
Waylao watched, with her heart in her mouth. The sorrow of others overshadowed her own, as she saw the huddled, loathsome forms on that hulk’s deck struggling for the water, their poor heads wobbling as they sought with their blind eyes to locate the calabash.