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The arm of one Kanaka hung helpless and broken at his side. The other man bled freely from a hideous scalp wound. "Narii did that?" Mulhall demanded. Grief shook his head. "No; it's from being smashed along the deck and over the house!" Something suddenly ceased, leaving them in dizzying uncertainty. For the moment it was hard to realize there was no wind.
Along the beach they saw a man walking. He moved casually, as if out for a morning stroll. Captain Warfield gritted his teeth. It was Narii Herring. "Hello, skipper!" Narii called, when he was abreast of them. "Can I come aboard and get some breakfast?" Captain Warfield's face and neck began to swell and turn purple. He tried to speak, but choked.
Tai-Hotauri came over jauntily, while Narii Herring and his three Kanakas paused and looked on from forty feet away. "I work no more for you, skipper," Tai-Hotauri said insolently and loudly. But his face belied his words, for he was guilty of a prodigious wink. "Fire me, skipper," he huskily whispered, with a second significant wink.
"He's a free man, skipper," Narii Herring spoke up. "He's sailed with me in the past, and he's sailing again, that's all." "Come on, we must get on board," Grief urged. "Look how dark it's getting." Captain Warfield gave in, but as the boat shoved off he stood up in the sternsheets and shook his fist ashore. "I'll settle with you yet, Narii," he cried.
The stagnant calm continued, and the sand shook under their feet with each buffet of the sea on the outer shore. Narii Herring walked leisurely along the sand. He grinned at the very evident haste of the captains and buyers. With him were three of his Kanakas, and also Tai-Hotauri. "Get into the boat and take an oar," Captain Warfield ordered the latter.
"Narii... damn robber... He want steal... pearls... Kill Parlay... One man kill Parlay... No man know what man... Three Kanakas, Narii, me... Five beans... hat... Narii say one bean black... Nobody know... Kill Parlay... Narii damn liar... All beans black... Five black... Copra-shed dark... Every man get black bean... Big wind come... No chance... Everybody get up tree... No good luck them pearls... I tell you before... No good luck."
It surged along the poop gangways, poured over the top of the cabin, submerging and bruising those that clung on, and went out over the stern-rail. Mulhall saw him first, and drew Grief's attention. It was Narii Herring, crouching and holding on where the dim binnacle light shone upon him. He was quite naked, save for a belt and a bare-bladed knife thrust between it and the skin.
He owes so much that there isn't a merchant in Papeete who isn't interested in his welfare. They go out of their way to throw work in his way. They've got to, and a dandy stunt it is for Narii. Now I owe nobody. What's the result? If I fell down in a fit on the beach they'd let me lie there and die. They wouldn't lose anything. But Narii Herring? what wouldn't they do if he fell in a fit?
Their best wouldn't be too good for him. They've got too much money tied up in him to let him lie. They'd take him into their homes and hand-nurse him like a brother. Let me tell you, honesty in paying bills ain't what it's cracked up to be." "What's this Narii chap got to do with it?" was the Englishman's short-tempered demand. And, turning to Grief, he said, "What's all this pearl nonsense?
But the schooner could not hold her lead. The little cutter made three feet to her two and was quickly alongside and forging ahead. Only natives were on her deck, and the man steering waved his hand in derisive greeting and farewell. "That's Narii Herring," Grief told Mulhall. "The big fellow at the wheel the nerviest and most conscienceless scoundrel in the Paumotus."
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