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"Did you ever hear of Lucy Mokunui?" he asked. "Lucy Mokunui?" I repeated, haunted by some familiar association. I shook my head. "It seems to me I've heard the name, but I've forgotten it." "Never heard of Lucy Mokunui! The Hawaiian nightingale! I beg your pardon. Of course you are a malahini, and could not be expected to know.
When they continued out past the steel diving-stage where a few of the hardiest divers disported, he muttered vexedly under his breath "damned malahinis!" Now malahini means new-comer, tender-foot; and, despite the prettiness of their stroke, he knew that none except malahinis would venture into the racing channel beyond the diving-stage. Hence the vexation of the captain of Number Nine.
An hour later Hermann pointed to her. Her for'ard bitts, foremast, and most of her bow were gone, having been jerked out of her by her anchors. She swung broadside, rolling in the trough and settling by the head, and in this plight was swept away to leeward. Five vessels now remained, and of them the Malahini was the only one with an engine.
"Some engine that of ours," Grief approved, as the lagoon opened before them and the course was changed across it to the anchorage. Captain Warfield was visibly cheered, though he merely grunted, "It'll pay for itself, never fear." The Malahini ran well into the centre of the little fleet ere she found swinging room to anchor.
What other uses he might have found for it were never given, for at that moment all the men in the cabin, as well as the gasoline being strained, were smashed forward against the bulkhead as the Malahini took an abrupt, deep dive. For the space of several minutes, unable to gain their feet, they rolled back and forth and pounded and hammered from wall to wall.
There were no boats left to the Malahini, and they watched him swim ashore and climb the tree. When he came back, they helped over the rail a young native girl of Parley's household. But first she passed up to them a battered basket. In it was a litter of blind kittens all dead save one, that feebly mewed and staggered on awkward legs. "Hello!" said Mulhall. "Who's that?"
Like the Malahini, those that had third anchors were preparing to drop them when the wind showed what quarter it was to blow from. The roar of the big surf continually grew though the lagoon lay in the mirror-like calm. There was no sign of life where Parlay's big house perched on the sand. Boat and copra-sheds and the sheds where the shell was stored were deserted.
"You're the only skipper in the group that steals other men's sailors," He sat down, and in lowered voice queried: "Now what's Tai-Hotauri up to? He's on to something, but what is it?" As the boat came alongside the Malahini, Hermann's anxious face greeted them over the rail. "Bottom out fall from barometer," he announced. "She's goin' to blow. I got starboard anchor overhaul."
The Malahini had begun shoving her bow and fo'c'sle head under the bigger ones, and at times her waist was filled rail-high with water. "Now's the time for your engine!" Grief bellowed; and Captain Warfield, crawling over to where the engineer lay, shouted emphatic commands. Under the engine, going full speed ahead, the Malahini behaved better.
She's got ten horse, and she's a little skimming dish. She could skate across the froth of hell, but just the same she can't buck this current. It's running ten knots right now." And at the rate of ten knots, buffeted and jerkily rolled, the Malahini went out to sea with the tide.
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