Through the sparse cocoanuts they gazed seaward. An orderly succession of huge smooth seas was rolling down upon the coral shore. For some minutes they gazed on the strange sight and talked in low voices, and in those few minutes it was manifest to all that the waves were increasing in size. It was uncanny, this rising sea in a dead calm, and their voices unconsciously sank lower. Old Parlay shocked them with his abrupt cackle.
“There is yet time to get away to sea, brave gentlemen. You can tow across the lagoon with your whaleboats.”
“It's all right, old man,” said Darling, the mate of the Cactus, a stalwart youngster of twenty-five. “The blow's to the southward and passing on. We'll not get a whiff of it.”
An air of relief went through the room. Conversations were started, and the voices became louder. Several of the buyers even went back to the table to continue the examination of the pearls.
Parlay's shrill cackle rose higher.
“That's right,” he encouraged. “If the world was coming to an end you'd go on buying.”
“We'll buy these to-morrow just the same,” Isaacs assured him.
“Then you'll be doing your buying in hell.”
The chorus of incredulous laughter incensed the old man. He turned fiercely on Darling.
“Since when have children like you come to the knowledge of storms? And who is the man who has plotted the hurricane-courses of the Paumotus? What books will you find it in? I sailed the Paumotus before the oldest of you drew breath. I know. To the eastward the paths of the hurricanes are on so wide a circle they make a straight line. To the westward here they make a sharp curve. Remember your chart. How did it happen the hurricane of '91 swept Auri and Hiolau? The curve, my brave boy, the curve! In an hour, or two or three at most, will come the wind. Listen to that!”