Tariro stood for a moment beside the captain, indulging in the usual broad “chaff,” and then leaning over the rail she called out to Hekemanu: Ta mai te taga tupe (“give me the bag of money”).
The man for'ard hauled on the line to bring the boat alongside the schooner, and Hekemanu stood up with the heavy bag in his hand.
“Hold on there, you fool! If you drop that bag I'll knock your head off,” said the skipper. “Here, Mr. Bates, just you jump down and take that money from that native, or he'll drop it, sure.”
Before Hekemanu had time to let it fall over the side the mate had jumped into the boat and taken it.
Lannigan, putting his head up out of the little cabin, groaned inwardly as he saw the mate step over the rail with the fateful bag and hand it to the supercargo.
“Be the powers, ye're in a mighty hurry for the money,” said Lannigan, roughly, taking it from him, “ye might ax me if I had a mouth on me first.”
The supercargo laughed and put a bottle of gin on the table, and Lannigan's fertile brain commenced to work. If he could only get the supercargo out of the cabin for a minute he meant to pick up the bag, and declaring he was insulted get it back into his boat and tell him to come and count it ashore. Then he could get capsized on the reef and lose it. They were always having “barneys,” and it would only be looked upon as one of his usual freaks.
“What the deuce is that?” he said, pointing to a hideous, highly-coloured paper mask that hung up in the cabin.
The supercargo handed it to him. “It's for a man in Samoa—a silly, joking body, always playing pranks wi' the natives, and I thoct he would like the thing.”