in one, so,” said Sru, joining his closed fists in the dawn light, “they are tied in her hair and the wind lifting her hair I saw them; then I spoke and she told me. Now listen, Ra’tan, we know of this matter, you and I, we two alone will get those pearls—Pete’son, no. He would swallow them all and give us the shells to eat, but how we are to go has not been shown to me, it is for you to see to that matter.”
All this he said in the native and Rantan, listening, tapped out the ashes from his pipe against his heel, and then, pipe in hand, leaned against the rail, his eyes fixed on the deck.
In the increasing light he could see the deck planking clearly even to the dowels. Plunged fathoms deep in thought he said nothing for a while, then raising his eyes he spoke.
“What you say is true, but Pete’son is the wisest of us. How can we find that island again without him? As you know, my life has been spent mostly among the islands—shore along and between island and island as they lie in the Paumotas ten to a space as broad as your palm. I can handle this ship or any ship like this or any canoe, as you know, but to look at the sun at noon as Pete’son looks, and to say ‘I am here, or here,’ that art has not been given me. I have not lived my life on the deep sea, but only in shallow waters. Then again Pete’son is not the full owner of this ship, there is another man who owns a part and without talking to him he cannot break a voyage, he
