nnumerable sea-birds, whose homes were on the cliffs, and who evidently
resented this intrusion of strangers.

"Shall we give 'em a shot, sir?" asked McCoy, laying his hand on a
musket.

"No, time enough for that," replied Christian, shortly.

They pulled right round the island without seeing a single spot more
available for a landing than the place they had first approached.

It was a very little bay, with a small clump of six cocoa-nut trees near
the water's edge on the right, and a single cocoa-nut tree on the left,
about two hundred yards from the others. Above these, on a hill a
little to the westward, there was a grove of the same species.

"We'll have to try it, sir," said John Adams, looking at his leader
inquiringly.

"We're sure to capsize," observed McCoy.

"No matter," said Christian; "we have at last reached _home_, and I'm
bound not to be baffled at the door. Come, Ohoo, you know something
about beaching canoes in a surf; there can't be much difference with a
boat. Get up in the bow and direct me how to steer."

He spoke to one of the native in the imperfect jumble of Otaheitan and
English with which the white men had learned to communicate with the
natives. Ohoo understood, and at once went to the bow of the boat, the
head of which was now directed towards a place in the cliffs where there
seemed to be a small bay or creek. The native gave directions with his
arms right or left, and did not require to speak. Christian steered
with one of the oars instead of the rudder, to give him more power over
the boat.

Soon they began to feel the influence of the in-going wave. It was a
moment of intense anxiety. Christian ordered the men to cease rowing.
Ohoo made a sudden and violent indication with his left arm. Christian
obeyed.

"Give a gentle pull, boys," he said.

They rose as he spoke on the top of a wave so high that they could look
down for a moment on the seething foam that raged between them and the
beach, and Christian was about to order the men to pull hard, when the
native looked back and shook his head excitedly. They had not got
sufficiently into the grasp of that wave; they must wait for the next.

"Back all!" shouted the steersman. The boat slid back into the trough
of the sea, while the wave went roaring inward.

The succeeding wave was soon close astern. It seemed to curl over them,
threatening destruction, but it lifted them, instead, on its high
shoulders. There was