CHAPTER VIII
Frewen seemed to think for a moment or two ere he replied; then he looked at Raymond inquiringly.
“How long would it take to send to Falealili,{*} and ask Tom Morton, the trader, to come with his two boats and help the captain?” he asked.
* A large native town on the south side of Upolu.
“A day at least—too long altogether with such a strong current setting the ship towards the reef.”
“Ah, yes, I daresay it would,” he said meditatively; then, as if struck with a sudden inspiration, he added quickly, “What about Malië? He has any number of boats—a dozen at least.”
“Just the man!” replied Raymond. “He will let the captain have all the boats and men to man them that are wanted—but he'll want to be paid for it.”
“Certainly,” interrupted the mutineer, who little imagined how adroitly he was being meshed. “I'll pay anything reasonable. Who is he?”
“Oh, he is a big chief living quite near me, and a decent enough fellow. He has a number of large native-built boats. The natives call them taumualua, which means sharp at both ends.{*} They seat from six to eight paddlers on each side. Five, or even four such boats, well manned, would make the ship move along. Three or four hours' towing will put her into the edge of the counter current setting to the south and eastward away from the land, and then she'll be out of danger, no matter how long the calm lasts.”