ree. There, we know who we all are: Dungaree, Uncle Ned, Sally Day,
White Man, and Cook. All F.F.V.'s I guess. And now, Mr Hay, we'll up
anchor, if you please.'

'For Heaven's sake, tell me some of the words,' whispered Herrick.

An hour later, the Farallone was under all plain sail, the rudder hard
a-port, and the cheerfully clanking windlass had brought the anchor
home.

'All clear, sir,' cried Herrick from the bow.

The captain met her with the wheel, as she bounded like a stag from
her repose, trembling and bending to the puffs. The guard boat gave a
parting hail, the wake whitened and ran out; the Farallone was under
weigh.

Her berth had been close to the pass. Even as she forged ahead Davis
slewed her for the channel between the pier ends of the reef, the
breakers sounding and whitening to either hand. Straight through the
narrow band of blue, she shot to seaward: and the captain's heart
exulted as he felt her tremble underfoot, and (looking back over the
taffrail) beheld the roofs of Papeete changing position on the shore and
the island mountains rearing higher in the wake.

But they were not yet done with the shore and the horror of the yellow
flag. About midway of the pass, there was a cry and a scurry, a man was
seen to leap upon the rail, and, throwing his arms over his head, to
stoop and plunge into the sea.

'Steady as she goes,' the captain cried, relinquishing the wheel to
Huish.

The next moment he was forward in the midst of the Kanakas, belaying pin
in hand.

'Anybody else for shore?' he cried, and the savage trumpeting of his
voice, no less than the ready weapon in his hand, struck fear in all.
Stupidly they stared after their escaped companion, whose black head
was visible upon the water, steering for the land. And the schooner
meanwhile slipt like a racer through the pass, and met the long sea of
the open ocean with a souse of spray.

'Fool that I was, not to have a pistol ready!' exclaimed Davis. 'Well,
we go to sea short-handed, we can't help that. You have a lame watch of
it, Mr Hay.'

'I don't see how we are to get along,' said Herrick.

'Got to,' said the captain. 'No more Tahiti for me.'

Both turned instinctively and looked astern. The fair island was
unfolding mountain top on mountain top; Eimeo, on the port board, lifted
her splintered pinnacles; and still the schooner raced to the open sea.

'Think!' cried the captain with a gesture, 'yesterday morning I danced
for my b