“All right, let her go,” he shouted and both boats fairly flew, cutting the water with clean, sharp strokes as they sped along.
Roberts put on all the sail he had; the customs man did the same and gained rapidly.
“Whew,” muttered Roberts, “not much of a chance for us, Ah Pung, if we were in a pinch now. But wait a moment, I’ll fix him.” He veered slightly to the left and took advantage of a sudden puff of wind. That was all the Moi Wahine needed; her masts fairly groaned under the spread of canvas and soon the customs man was out of sight.
“I understand her now,” Roberts said, “I’ll guarantee to beat anything in these waters. But let’s go to Waiau. I want to see what kind of a harbor they have there.”
“Nothing decent,” was his verdict. “Catch us here easy. I have it,” he said finally, “there’s Ford’s Island off there,” jerking his thumb in the direction of the island, “that’ll help us alright. Now let’s go back to the harbor and get those drinks the captain owes us.”
The captain was found pouring a drink from a demijohn in his office. “It’s on me,” he called as Roberts passed by. He entered and took the mug which the captain filled for him.
“By the way,” he asked, “what were you doing out by Diamond Head this afternoon?”
“Looking for the Fanny. I can’t imagine what’s become of the boat.”
“What’s so wonderful on the Fanny that makes you so anxious to meet her?”
“Opium.”