wards till the surf was up to his knees. The others
followed his example; the girl standing with the other woman between
the men.

"Now," cried Tahuna, as a great breaker retired; and the four Maoris
rushed forward, and plunged into the surf. But the force of the next
wave dashed them back upon the beach. Three times they tried to strike
out from the shore, but each time they were washed back. Tahuna's face
was bleeding, Enoko limped as he rose to make the fourth attempt, but
the women had so far escaped unscathed.

"When the wave goes out," cried the chief, "rush forward, and grasp the
rocks at the bottom. Then when the big wave passes, swim a few strokes,
dive when the next comes, and take hold of the rocks again."

"That's a good plan," said Enoko. "Let us try it."

A great sea broke on the shore; they all rushed forward, and disappeared
as the next wave came. Almost immediately their black heads were
bobbing on the water. There came another great breaker, the four heads
disappeared; the wave swept over the spot where they had dived, but bore
no struggling brown bodies with it. Then again, but further out to sea,
the black heads appeared, to sink again before the next great wave.
Strong in nerve, powerful in limb were those amphibious Maoris,
accustomed to the water from the year of their birth.

They were now fifty yards from the shore, and swam independently of one
another; diving but seldom, and bravely breasting the waves.

The perishing sailors, who eagerly watched the swimmers, raised a shout,
which gave the Maoris new courage.

Between the Natives and the ship stretched a white line of foam,
hissing, roaring, boiling over a black reef which it was impossible to
cross. The tired swimmers, therefore, had to make a painful detour.
Slowly Tahuna and Enoko, who were in front, directed their course
towards a channel at one end of the reef, and the women followed in
their wake. They were swimming on their sides, but all their strength
and skill seemed of little avail in bringing them any nearer to their
goal. But suddenly Amiria dived beneath the great billows, and when her
tangled, wet mane reappeared, she was in front of the men. They and the
chief's wife followed her example, and soon all four swimmers had passed
through the channel. Outside another reef lay parallel to the first, and
on it lay the stranded ship, fixed and fast, with the green seas
pounding her to pieces.

When the Maoris were some fifty