“Ride straight on,” Phil commanded, as they suddenly made a turn, in following the street which now ran at a sharper angle toward the beach, and saw before them Klinger and the count surrounded by natives in chief dress. “I can see the British launch. She’s just at the reef near the entrance to the harbor.”
“There’s Kataafa himself,” O’Neil exclaimed excitedly in a low voice. “The old man with white hair and moustache.”
The midshipmen gazed upon him in awe mixed with admiration. They had not seen him at such close range before. They saw a man straight and sturdy, despite his sixty odd years of age. His countenance was not fierce as they had expected to find it, but instead benevolent and kingly. Every other face turned toward them showed upon it only too plainly distrust, anger and resentment, but the high chief Kataafa alone simply smiled a welcome and as they drew near said “Talofa, Alii, Meliti.”[31]
All three horsemen doffed their caps.
“Talofa, Alii, Kataafa,” Phil returned.
“Call up the boat, O’Neil,” Phil said; his voice was unsteady. “Say Kataafa has guns, and warriors have blackened their faces.” They were now on the sandy beach close to the water.
O’Neil drew from his stirrup leather the red wigwag flag which he had brought along for the purpose of sending news quickly back to Ukula by the steam launch. He began at once to wave it over his head and scarcely a second elapsed before a similar flag appeared in the bow of the tiny launch nearly a mile away.
“They were on the job,” Sydney exclaimed, while O’Neil went to work rapidly to send the signal given him a moment before by Phil.
HE BEGAN AT ONCE TO WAVE IT