“Good-night, good-night,” I shouted, swaying our boat lantern in farewell. “Tiâkâpo, Tematau. May you all sleep well.”
They made some merry laughing response, in which they were joined by their hosts, and then Tepi and I were alone.
We put on the cabin hatches, spread out our sleeping mats and made ourselves comfortable for the night, and after half an hour's smoke, we fell asleep too tired to talk.
À little after midnight the cool breeze suddenly died away, and both Tepi and myself awoke almost at the same moment.
“The air hath grown hot, and is hard to breathe, master,” said the big man “I fear a storm is near.”
It had indeed become very hot and stifling, but on looking at the barometer, I saw there was no change, and so felt no concern, for we were in an excellent position, no matter how hard, and from where it might blow. In half an hour or so, a few heavy splashes of rain fell, then a sudden shower, which necessitated us lifting off the hatch and going into the cabin, and it was then that Tepi complained to me of a severe headache, from which I was also beginning to suffer.
I had just struck a match to take another look at the glass, when suddenly the boat began to tremble violently, and then gave such a sudden jerk at her cable that I fell forward on my face.
“Mafuie! Mafuie!” (“Earthquake! earthquake!”) cried Tepi in terror-stricken tones, as he clutched the coamings and looked seaward. “Oh, Simi, look, look! The sea, the sea! We perish!”
May God spare me from ever seeing such another sight! A black towering wall of water was rushing towards the boat, and ere I could frame my lips to utter an appeal for mercy to the Almighty it was upon us, and lifting us up on the summit of its awful crest, hurled us shoreward to destruction. Then I remembered no more.