Atolls of the Sun

by Frederick O'Brien

“I am Hiram Mervin, son of Captain Mervin, owner of the schooner France-Austral. My father is American, and I am half American, though I speak no English. You may have read of me. I repaired his boat, the Shark, for that American author, Jack. His engine was broken down. He wanted me to go to Australia as his mechanician, but my father said no, and when an American says no, he means that, n’est-ce pas, Monsieur?”

“Where were you,” I inquired, “when the last cyclone blew?”

His fine brown face wrinkled. Hiram had a firm chin, a handsome black mustache, and teeth as hard and white as the keys of a new piano.

“Ah, you have heard of how we escaped? Non? Alors, Monsieur, I will tell you. I am a diver, and here I keep a store. We were at Hikueru, my father and I, when it began to storm. Father watched the barometer, and the sea. The mercury lowered fast, and the waves rolled bigger every hour.

“‘The barometer is sinking fast. The ocean will drown the island,’ said my father. ‘Noah built an ark, but we cannot float on one; we must get above the water.’

“There were four cocoanut-trees, solid and thick-trunked, that grew a few feet from one another. Bad planting, oui, but most useful. He set me and some others, his close friends, to climbing these trees and cutting off their heads, so that they stood like pillars of the temple. It was a pity, I thought, for we ruined them. Then we took heavy planks and lifted them to the tops of these trees and spiked and roped them in a platform.

“Attendez, Monsieur! All this time the cyclone increased. My father was not with us. It was the diving season on Hikueru, and people were gathered from all over the atolls, and from Tahiti, hundreds of Maoris, and many whites. My father was directing the efforts of the people to save their property. We had not yet thought of our lives being in great danger. We islanders could not live if we expected the worst.

“A gale from the east, strong but not dangerous, had lashed the water of the lagoon and made it like the ocean, and then, turning to the west, had driven the ocean mad. Now the ocean was coming over the reef, the waves very high and threatening. We knew that if ever the sea and the lagoon met to fight, we would be the victims. Thus, Monsieur, the lagoon surrounded by the island, and the usually calm waters inside the outer reef, were both in a frightful state, and we began to fear what had been in other atolls. My father was wise, but, being a Mormon and also an American, he must not think of himself first. My father came to us and tested the platform, and showed us where to strengthen it.

“‘The island will be covered by the sea and the lagoon,’ he said. ‘Make haste, in the name of God!’

“Some one, a woman, called to him for help, and he ran to her. A sheet of iron from a roof came through the air, and wounded him. I thought his head was almost cut off, from the quantity of blood. Mais, Monsieur, c’etait terrible! We caught hold of my father, and made a sling with our ropes, and lifted him, unconscious, to the platform at the top of the trees. He raised his head and looked around.