Of course Swank, Whinney and I were objects of much curiosity—and admiration. Hundreds of times my radiant Daughter of Pearl and Coral repeated:
"Ahoa tarumea—Kapatooi Naani-Tui"—"I should like to make you acquainted with my husband, Face-of-the-Moon."
Hundreds of times did I press my chin against soft ears and submit to the same gentle greeting. Hundreds of times did I raise the welcoming hoopa-shell with the usual salutation—"Lomi-lomi,"—"May you live for a thousand years and grow to enormous size."
In a rest period Kippy and I swam to the reef where the younger set were sporting among the coral, diving for pearls which rolled on the purple floor. As I think now of the value of those milky globes, the size of gooseberries, I marvel that not a thought of covetousness crossed my mind. What were pearls to us?
"Catch!" cried Kippy, and threw a fish-skin beauty in my direction. I admired its lustre for an instant and its perfect roundness acquiredfrom the incessant rolling of the tides—then carelessly tossed it back. It slipped between Kippy's fingers.
"I'll get it," I cried, making ready to dive, but she shouted a warning.
"Arani electi. Oki Kutiaa!"-"Look out! The snapping oysters!"
Gazing down through the crystal depths into which our bauble had fallen I saw a great gaping kutiaa, the fiercest of crustacea, its shelly mouth slightly ajar, waiting for the careless hand or foot that might come within its grasp. We let the pearl go and amused ourselves by sucking the eggs of the liho, a bland-faced bird which makes its nest in the surface coral branches. [Footnote: The liho is in many respects the most remarkable fowl in existence. It is of the gallinaris or hen-family crossed with the male shad which causes the bird to produce eggs in unheard of quantity.] Here, too, we laughed over the ridiculous ratatia, that grotesque amphibian who is built like a ferry-boat, with a head at either end and swivel fins so that however he may move he is always going forward.
From these diversions the sound of singing summoned us. The Judgment was about to take place. At top speed we swam ashore and joined the crowd. For once I was glad that literature had no place in the competition, so that Kippy and I were free to watch the proceedings.
Years ago I saw the ceremonial by which the British Government conferred on the Bahia of Persia the title of "The Bab of Babs," but it was nothing compared to what I now gazed upon.