But she did see at that moment, and to Harris's utter dismay she dropped the revolver on the deck and flung her skirt over her head.
"My Gord! she's mad now," cried Harris. The crew paid not the least attention, but continued to weep with lungs of brass. The mate's head went round. He felt as if he was going out of his senses, too. Gray, who seemed to be the only normal person left on board, went up to Vaiti and plucked her dress off her face.
"Now, ma'am, keep 'er 'ead to wind," he remonstrated. "What's got 'old of the Capting? Blest if we ever saw you afraid before."
Vaiti turned on him like a tigress.
"You think me frighten, you parrot-face, bal'-head, humpback pig-monkey! Think some more those thing, and I shoot some hole in you lie-making tongue, learn you talk to me. I tell you——"
The hubbub on deck was calming down a little now, and subsiding into lost and homeless wails. It was possible to make oneself heard.
"I tell you, that thing Alliti see 'long Niué, he one dead man. Captain schooner Ikurangi—same I making tart [chart] all wrong, so he go drown, he and him mate. You think it good thing one dead man he go walk along Niué, looking me?"
"A cat may look at a king," said Harris, who had realised that no fighting was afoot, and therefore was very brave just now. "Besides, that red-head man wasn't no ghost—he borrowed a pouchful of tobacco off of me, and never paid it back."
"What sort that man?" demanded Vaiti. "He small, all same Gray, he ugly all same you, got red hair, cut 'long him nose, tooth all break?"
"That's him," agreed Harris.