e distance from the beach, "but ye must not land. Steer to the
west, and a little to the south, where there is a great land--many, many
islands which trend north and south."{*}

* The New Hebrides Group.

"Is it far?" asked Manaia scornfully.

"Four days for a ship, longer for a boat," replied Loli shamefacedly;
"the gods go with thee, farewell."

Once again we sailed towards the setting sun, steering by the stars at
night time, and for seven days all went well. Then after that there came
calms, and the hot sun beat upon us and ate its way into our hearts, and
we saw no sign of land, and only now and then did a seabird come near
us. And then came the time when all our food was gone, and we waited for
death to come. Manaia had eaten no food for five days when it came to
this, for he said he was feeling quite strong, and divided his share
between us. Once as he and I slept Selema put a little piece of old
coconut--the last that was left--into my hand, and slipped over the side
to die, but Manaia heard her, and, although he was very weak, he roused
and caught her as she sank.

Two days before that on which the ship found us Manaia shot a small
shark which was following the boat. It was not as long as a man's arm
nor as thick as a woman's, but it kept us alive. Manaia gave us all the
flesh, and kept only the head and skin for himself; after that all the
world became dark to me, and we lay together in the boat to die.

The captain of the whale-ship was very kind to us, and when he found
that the sailor named Falaoa did not wish to part from us on account of
Selema, whom he wished to marry, he gave his consent, and said he would
land us all here at Nufilole, where there was a white man who would be
kind to us.

That is all, and now my husband Manaia and I, and Falaoa and his wife
Selema are well content to live here always. For even now, after many
months have passed, do Selema and I cry out in our slumbers, and when
we awaken our hair lies wet upon our foreheads; but soon all these bad
dreams will pass away from us for ever.

End of Project Gutenberg's A Memory Of The Southern Seas, by Louis Becke

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