he Chinese half-caste. "Better you
come catch this fella mahster b'long you. He fella plenty too much
drunk, galow."

Karaki left the shade of the copra shed where he had been waiting an
hour or more and came forward to receive the sagging bulk that was
thrust out of doors. He took it scientifically by wrist and armpit and
swung toward the beach. Moy Jack stood on his threshold watching with
cynic interest.

"Hy, you," he said; "what name you make so much bobeley 'long that fella
mahster? S'pose you bling me all them fella pearl; me pay you one dam
fella good trade--my word!"

It annoyed Moy Jack that he had to provide the white man with a daily
drunk in exchange for the little seed pearls with which Pellett was
always flush. He knew where those pearls came from. Karaki did forbidden
diving in the lagoon to get them. Moy Jack made a good thing of the
traffic, but he could have made a much better thing by trading directly
with Karaki for a few sticks of tobacco.

"What name you give that fella mahster all them fella pearl?" demanded
Moy Jack offensively. "He plenty too much no good, galow. Close up he
die altogether."

Karaki did not reply. He looked at Moy Jack once, and the half-caste
trailed off into mutterings. For an instant there showed a strange light
in Karaki's dull eyes, like the flat, green flicker of a turning shark
glimpsed ten fathoms down....

Karaki bore his charge down the beach to the little thatched shelter of
pandanus leaves that was all his home. Tenderly he eased Pellett to a
mat, pillowed his head, bathed him with cool water, brushed the filth
from his hair and whiskers. Pellett's whiskers were true whiskers, the
kind that sprout like the barbels of a catfish, and they were a glorious
coppery, sun-gilt red. Karaki combed them out with a sandalwood comb.
Later he sat by with a fan and kept the flies from the bloated face of
the drunkard.

It was a little past midday when something brought him scurrying into
the open. For weeks he had been studying every weather sign. He knew
that the change was due when the southeast trade begins to harden
through this flawed belt of calms and cross winds. And now, as he
watched, the sharp shadows began to blur along the sands and a film
crept over the face of the sun.

All Fufuti was asleep. The house boys snored in the back veranda. Under
his netting the agent dreamed happily of big copra shipments and
bonuses. Moy Jack dozed among his bottles. Nobody w