Ryan was keenly anxious to put as much distance between the land and the Esmeralda as possible, for he was haunted by the fear that the captain's boat had been picked up by some ship which might be sighted at any time. The further away from the land, the safer he would feel.
“I should like them to tow me along for another hour or two, after the rain is oyer,” he said. “I will pay liberally.”
Raymond spoke to the chief in Samoan and told him the captain's request, and Maliè answered in the same language.
“As you will, Lèmonti. But why toil any longer? My men are all ready and anxious. We can take the ship now at any time, once my men are here.”
“And I, too, am ready, Alalia. But it was in my mind to wait and see if, when the bell strikes eight, half of the auva'a (ship's crew) would not go below to sleep, so that we shall have less disturbance.”
“What matters it?” said Alalia with good-humoured contempt; “there are less than a score of them, and when the word is spoken they will be as easily overpowered and bound as a strong man can overpower and bind a child.”
“Then let it be as you say,” said Raymond in the same quiet tones; “let us call the men on board, and, when the bell is struck at midnight, we shall seize those evil men together—as the bell is struck the last time.”
“Good!” said the chief, as he nonchalantly rolled himself a cigarette in a piece of dried banana leaf which he took from his tappa waist cloth. “I will tell them how to act.”
“What does he say?” asked Ryan.
“He is quite willing, but he says his men are really tired now, and want a good long spell. They are not used to such work, and he does not want to give them cause for grumbling. They are very touchy sometimes. However, after the next downpour clears off, they will tow you another two or three miles.” (And Raymond meant this literally, for he, Frewen, and the chief wanted to see the Esmeralda at anchor off Samatau by daylight.)