e in the dead centre," Grief said. "Now for the shift. It will come
as hard as ever." He looked at the barometer. "29:32," he read.

Not in a moment could he tone down the voice which for hours had battled
against the wind, and so loudly did he speak that in the quiet it hurt
the others' ears.

"All his ribs are smashed," the supercargo said, feeling along Parlay's
side. "He's still breathing, but he's a goner."

Old Parlay groaned, moved one arm impotently, and opened his eyes. In
them was the light of recognition.

"My brave gentlemen," he whispered haltingly. "Don't forget... the
auction... at ten o'clock... in hell."

His eyes dropped shut and the lower jaw threatened to drop, but he
mastered the qualms of dissolution long enough to omit one final, loud,
derisive cackle.

Above and below pandemonium broke out.

The old familiar roar of the wind was with them. The _Malahini_, caught
broadside, was pressed down almost on her beam ends as she swung the
arc compelled by her anchors. They rounded her into the wind, where she
jerked to an even keel. The propeller was thrown on, and the engine took
up its work again.

"Northwest!" Captain Warfield shouted to Grief when he came on deck.
"Hauled eight points like a shot!"

"Narii'll never get across the lagoon now!" Grief observed.

"Then he'll blow back to our side, worse luck!"

V

After the passing of the centre the barometer began to rise. Equally
rapid was the fall of the wind. When it was no more than a howling
gale, the engine lifted up in the air, parted its bed-plates with a last
convulsive effort of its forty horsepower, and lay down on its side.
A wash of water from the bilge sizzled over it and the steam arose in
clouds. The engineer wailed his dismay, but Grief glanced over the wreck
affectionately and went into the cabin to swab the grease off his chest
and arms with bunches of cotton waste.

The sun was up and the gentlest of summer breezes blowing when he came
on deck, after sewing up the scalp of one Kanaka and setting the other's
arm. The _Malahini_ lay close in to the beach. For'ard, Hermann and the
crew were heaving in and straightening out the tangle of anchors. The
_Papara_ and the _Tahaa_ were gone, and Captain Warfield, through the
glasses, was searching the opposite rim of the atoll.

"Not a stick left of them," he said. "That's what comes of not having
engines. They must have dragged across before the big shift came."

Ashor