s soon as the night was dark enough, Chris loudly complained of not feeling well—of being hot and dizzy, and in no time Captain Blizzard had, as loudly, told him he was to go to bed on a cot in the Captain's cabin. Captain Blizzard closed the door behind him, and in Amos's and Ned Cilley's hearing, told Mr. Finney that he was much afraid that Chris had a touch of the sun and was coming down with a tropical fever.
Chris remained alone in the cabin from that time. Soon, in the cool of the night, the sailors of the Mirabelle set out in dinghies to a cascade of fresh water that emptied itself into the cove at its farther end, taking with them casks and barrels to replenish the ship's water supply. Their deep voices swept back over the water to where Chris stood by the open port of the Captain's cabin. He was forcing himself toward the moment when he must board the Vulture. His resolve was held back by his mounting anxiety as to how best to carry out what would be necessary, and a strong natural reluctance to leave the Mirabelle.
Leave it he must. He stood pondering on what shape to assume, and when he heard the cry of a belated night bird, and saw it coast by on silent wings to vanish in the night, he decided to take that shape. It took all his courage and determination, but this was the first step toward what he had trained for so long to do, and he knew he must do it, and at once. The boy looked a last time around the cabin, then spoke the magic formula in his mind, and, with a sudden enjoyment in the sense of flight, he soared away from the ship out over the cove.
The bird swept twice around the Mirabelle, rising higher as it went. Below, the few lights of the ship had been carefully hooded away from the sea, and the bird, spiraling lightly on air currents, drifted out from land.
The black bulk of the Vulture was easy to find in the clearness of the night. She was riding at anchor close inshore farther down the coast, and final boatfuls of men were returning from the merchantman carrying the last of the spoils. Sweeping by toward the beach Chris saw that most of the bandit crew were already drunk, shouting and carousing around fires where they roasted wild creatures they had earlier killed. He noticed that a few Tahitians stood apart at the joining of the palm forests and the sand, watching the coarse faces of the drunken men. The Tahitians, fitting so well into the beauty of their island, gold of skin and crowned with flowers, carrying themselves with dignity, were as far removed as could be imagined from the idea of pagan men. They contrasted sharply at that moment with those from "civilization," who in filthy rags of clothes and wild disorder of gestures and voices staggered about aimlessly gorging food and drinking. The watching pagans glanced from the brawling pirates back a short distance down the beach where already a few bodies had been washed ashore from the fight. Their distaste and bewilderment were plain.
Chris soared high above the din and the smoke of the fires, and then seeing Osterbridge Hawsey being rowed back to the Vulture, followed after.
Osterbridge Hawsey had two baskets at his feet. One was filled with carefully chosen fruits, and the other with the exotic flowers of the island. Hastily changing himself into a green parakeet, Chris alighted on the rail of the Vulture just as Osterbridge Hawsey reached the top of the ladder. Determined to make a good impression and perhaps catch Osterbridge's fancy, Chris, in his bright parakeet plumage, bobbed his head and sidled up and down the ship's rail, eyeing Osterbridge Hawsey with his head on one side as he had seen parakeets do.
The maneuver succeeded, for Osterbridge, with a little cry of pleasure, declared himself enchanted.