Much entertained by the reception and satisfied that our black friends were having a good time, we patiently awaited their return, listening the while to the monotonous “chug-chug” of the pumps as they drove out the water that persistently rushed into the hold.
After a couple of hours the procession reappeared, Bry and Nux again at the head. They marched down to the shore and while the chief and his cousin reëntered the gig, accompanied by two other blacks, three canoe loads of favored individuals clung to their wake and followed them to the ship as invited guests. At a respectful distance a swarm of other canoes came toward us, but they kept their distance from the ship and had no disposition to intrude.
We received the visitors with great ceremony. Nux told us that the tall black—he who had first embraced them—was his own brother. When the old chief, Bry’s father, had passed away, this man became the successor to the rule of the island, as all thought that the legitimate heir, Louiki, had perished in the battle with the Faytans. So Nux’s brother had been chief until Bry’s return when, being a good fellow at heart, he welcomed the long lost one and gladly resigned the royal office in his favor.
In this party were the principal men and officials of the island, and Bry showed them all over “his” ship, afterward giving them a plentiful feast in the main cabin. Joe and I waited upon them, and it was fun to see Bry at one end of the table and Nux at the other, posing as the ruling spirits of the Seagull. My father and Uncle Naboth kept out of sight, as did all our passengers, although Alfonso and Lucia hid on deck and looked through the cabin windows at the savage feasters. The natives of Tuamotu were duly impressed by the magnificent surroundings of their chief, and when, he told them his ship needed repairs and tinkering they gladly volunteered to render him every assistance in their power.
So his Majesty dismissed them and sent them back to land, and when they were gone he put on his apron and cooked our dinner.
At five o’clock it was high tide, so we ran the Seagull as far upon the sandy beach as she would go, using the engines to propel her, and then the natives swarmed into the water and braced her sides securely with long poles. As the tide receded it left us high and dry, and by daybreak our men were able to begin work. They found several planks badly sprung and one gaping hole torn in the bottom by the sharp rocks as we slid into the sea during the earthquake at Faytan. It would take several days to repair the damage, because we could only work part of the time, while the tide was out.
Meantime, we were entertained by Bry in the chief’s house. It was the best in the village, or on the island, but made of logs with a palm thatched roof and far inferior in all ways to the houses of Faytan. Bry gave us a native repast, consisting mainly of roast goat and cheese, with a variety of delicious fruits. There was constant feasting and a succession of dances and ceremonies in honor of the chief’s return, and I was curious to know how all this would affect Bry, and whether he would leave us to rule over his native island, or not.
But when the repairs were completed Bry announced his intention of sailing with us.
“Allola, who is the brother of Nux, will make my people a good chief,” he said, “and my life with you has spoiled me to be now an ignorant islander. I could not be contented here any more; so I will go with you, and stay with you always.”
There had never been any question about Nux. He had always said he preferred the life on our ship to being a big man in Tuamotu.