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The years passed, and, one sunny morning, the Snark poked her nose into a narrow opening in a reef that smoked with the crashing impact of the trade-wind swell, and beat slowly up Papeete harbour. Coming off to us was a boat, flying a yellow flag. We knew it contained the port doctor. But quite a distance off, in its wake, was a tiny out rigger canoe that puzzled us. It was flying a red flag.
"Lied for me?" said Garrison very quietly. "That's the word. But I'll start from the time the fur commenced to fly. In the first place, there's no doubt about your identity. I was right. I've proved that. I couldn't find Snark I guess the devil must have called him back home. So I took things on my own hook and went to Cottonton, where I moseyed round considerable.
We even took in the trysail, hoisted the full mizzen in its place, and hauled the full mizzen down flat, and the Snark wallowed in the trough and dragged the sea-anchor behind her. Don't believe me. I don't believe it myself. I am merely telling you what I saw. Now I leave it to you. Who ever heard of a sailing-boat that wouldn't heave to? that wouldn't heave to with a sea-anchor to help it?
She was in charge of a sergeant of the Inland Water Transport, with an Indian pilot and miscellaneous crew, and my adventurous cruise called to mind both the travels of Ulysses and the Hunting of the Snark. The sergeant could not speak Hindustani and the pilot could not speak a word of English.
It did not alter the Snark's course a tenth of a degree. We slacked the mainsail off with no more result. We set a storm trysail on the mizzen, and took in the mainsail. No change. The Snark roiled on in the trough. That beautiful bow of hers refused to come up and face the wind. Next we took in the reefed staysail. Thus, the only bit of canvas left on her was the storm trysail on the mizzen.
"They usually make a big catch," Allicot, a half-caste trader, told us. "At the finish the water is fairly alive with fish. It is lots of fun. Of course you know all the fish will be yours." "All?" I groaned, for already the Snark was loaded down with lavish presents, by the canoe-load, of fruits, vegetables, pigs, and chickens. "Yes, every last fish," Allicot answered.
At last came the gun that started off the Snark, the Bonita and the Albacore, which were all of about the same speed. "Our turn next," said Rob, who had previously received his instructions from the committee. "Well, I'm all ready," said Merritt, nervously twisting a grease cup. "Bang!"
Schoolgirls are irreverent beings, and though to her face her pupils showed her all respect, behind her back they spoke of her familiarly as "The Bantam," in allusion to her small size but plucky disposition, or sometimes, in reference to her sarcastic powers, as "The Sark," which by general custom became "The Snark."
Clouds came and went, rising up over the rim of the circle, flowing across the space of it, and spilling away and down across the opposite rim. The world faded as the procession of the weeks marched by. The world faded until at last there ceased to be any world except the little world of the Snark, freighted with her seven souls and floating on the expanse of the waters.
A five-horse power engine ran the pumps when it was in order, and on two occasions proved capable of furnishing juice for the search-light. The storage batteries worked four or five times in the course of two years. The fourteen-foot launch was rumoured to work at times, but it invariably broke down whenever I stepped on board. But the Snark sailed. It was the only way she could get anywhere.
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