ran joyously down to
their canoes and swarmed off to the ship. For they all knew Pakenami the
_kapeni_, and Tenisoni the supercargo, and Alan the half-caste bos'un,
and the two mates, and the Chinaman cook, and every one else on board,
and for years past had laughed and joked and sang and hunted the wild
boar with them all; and sometimes lied to and robbed and fought with
them, only to be better friends than ever when the white men came
back again, and the skipper and Denison made the young men presents
of meerschaum pipes and condemned Snider rifles; and Alan the Stalwart
"asked" every fourth girl in the village when he got drunk at a dance
and denied it when sober, yet paid damages like an honourable man (2
dols, in trade goods for each girl) to the relatives.

In a few minutes the first batch of canoes reached the ship, and the
occupants, men, women, and children, clambered up the brig's side, and
then rushed aft to the poop to rub noses with Packenham and Denison,
after the custom of the country, and then for a time a wild babble of
voices reigned.

"Hallo, Iakopo, how are you!" said the skipper, shaking hands with a
fat-faced, smiling native, who was clad in a white duck suit, and was
accompanied by a pretty, dark-eyed girl; "how's the new church getting
on? Nearly finished, is it. Well, I didn't forget you. I've brought you
down the doors and windows from Auckland."

Iakopo (_Anglice_ Jacob), who was the local teacher and rather a
favourite with the _Indiana's_ company, said he was very glad. He
was anxious to get the church finished before the next visit of the
missionary ship, he said. That vain fellow Pita, the teacher at Leone
Bay, had been boasting terribly about _his_ church, and he (Iakopo)
meant to crush him utterly with these European-made doors and windows,
which his good friend Pakenami had brought him from Nui Silani.

"You bet," said the skipper; "and what's more, I'll help you to take the
shine out of Pita. I'll fix the doors and windows for you myself," and
he winked slily at the teacher's daughter, who returned it as promptly
as any Christian maiden, knowing that Nerida wasn't on board, and that
she had nothing to fear.

"I wish to goodness that fellow hadn't come aboard," grumbled Denison to
Packenham, after the missionary and his daughter had gone ashore. "Peter
Deasy and the Dutchman don't like it, I can see, or they would have been
aboard before now. No white man likes boarding a ship _af