The Chief smiled, and said:
“White girl always ora-aii on Atafu. I help you go, but sorry. Some day come back again?”
I would have promised that Chief anything just to get off the island. He gave us an outrigger and we shoved out for the schooner. I saw the red distress flares from the ship light up the sky—Father was in earnest, and the moon was so bright I could plainly see the hull of the ship from the beach. Without much difficulty we got beyond the surf and were soon alongside. I let the sailors go aboard first. They threw over a bowline and hauled the water kegs on deck. Father was at the Jacob’s ladder leaning over the side, smoking his pipe. The smoke was coming out of it in fast jerks, and I needed no barometer to tell me a storm was coming.
Leisurely I climbed the rope ladder, for I was in no hurry to get aboard. Halfway up Father called:
“Where in hell is the dinghy?”
“I was going to explain to you about that, Father. We were trying to ride the surf and we capsized and. . . .”
I got no further. Father had me by the neck and seat of the pants, hurrying me up to the poop.
“I can understand these so and so landlubbers upsettin’ a boat, but you’re my daughter and I won’t believe any yarn like you losin’ control of a dinghy.”
Along about dawn I was comfortable enough to sit down without too great pain! We were sailing along under full canvas, and Father, evidently content that I could get into no further deviltry, had turned in for a nap.
Swede and the sailors were sitting on the hatch near the mizzen mast. From my place at the wheel I heard Swede saying: