He brought it on deck where Aioma was waiting for him and they examined it, but could make nothing of it.
“Let it be,” said the canoe-builder, resting it against the coaming of the skylight. “Le Moan will know, or some of those men she has brought with her.”
He looked round. Something was troubling his mind. Knowing nothing of the use of the steering wheel he was looking for the tiller.
Dick looked about also. On boarding the schooner he had noticed the absence of a tiller, the most striking object on the deck of the model, but other things had so seized him that he put the question by for the moment.
“No matter,” said Aioma, “I know not how we will steer (accoumi) when the sails are given to the wind, but Le Moan, she will know.”
CHAPTER II—THE THREE GREAT WAVES
The schooner had two boats, the four-oar and a smaller one black painted, battered by rough usage, but still serviceable. Later that day Aioma brought both boats on to the beach for an overhaul.
The remains of Sru and his companions had been dragged by the women to the outer coral and cast at low-tide mark for the sea to dispose of them. Nothing spoke of the tragedy but the remains of the canoes, the planking of the broken dinghy and the ship swinging idly at her moorings.
It was late afternoon and the crew, released from their wives for a moment, sat round whilst Aioma worked. Le Moan sat close to him but apart from the others, amongst whom was Kanoa.
The eyes of Kanoa might wander here or there, towards the canoe-builder, towards the lagoon, towards the schooner, but they always returned to Le Moan, who sat unconscious of his gaze listening to the talk of the old man and the answering words of Poni, whose dialect was the closest to that of Karolin.