I was so surprised I scarcely knew what to do, but stammered out "Yes'm." I heard the captain's wife mutter, "Curse him!" as I passed, and then I walked forward.
One event followed quickly on another. First, when we had been anchored about half an hour, the little canoe we had passed at sea came in through the reef and made straight for the schooner. As it shot alongside the woman made fast to the main chains and prepared to spring on board. She was an extremely handsome specimen of the native islander, and almost as clear-skinned as a Samoan girl. In the boat with her sat the little child, which clearly was not a full-blooded native.
The mate stopped the girl from coming on board, and she was evidently furious. She kept calling "Captain, Captain!" and Mr. Chris pointed to the shore, where the captain's boat could be seen hauled up on the beach. The woman's face lit up with joy, and she turned to climb down into the canoe again. As she did so, however, her eyes became fixed on one of the windows of the cabin, and she pointed at it and turned eagerly to the mate. Following the indication of her arm, he looked and saw the captain's wife gazing fixedly at the woman.
"What woman's that?" she asked of the mate. "What woman's that? Can't you answer?"
"I don't know, M'm," answered Mr. Chris.
"You lie, you lie!" screamed Mrs. Dane, from the cabin. "You know well enough. Let me out of this! Do you hear? Let me out!"
"The captain is ashore, m'm; he has taken the key with him."
The native woman still hung to the side, staring at Mrs. Dane. At length an idea seemed to strike her, and she jumped down into the canoe, and, picking up the child, held it high above her head and yelled out, "Captain! Captain!"
