two men went out into the cold morning air.

"No," said Tahuna, "it's no good--there's a north-east gale. We had
better go back to the _pa_ when the day has well dawned."

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when a sudden veering of the
wind drew the scud from the sea and confined it to the crest of the
rocky, wooded cliff under which the Maoris stood. The sea lay exposed,
grey and foaming; but it was not on the sea that the men's eyes were
riveted. There, in the roaring, rushing tide, a ship lay helpless on the
rocks.

Enoko peered, as though he mistrusted the sight of his eye--he had but
one. Tahuna ran to the hut, and called, "Come out, both of you. There's
a ship on the rocks!"

From the hut issued two sleepy female forms, the one that of the chief's
wife, the other that of a pretty girl. The former was a typical Maori
_wahine_ of the better class, with regular features and an abundance of
long black hair; the latter was not more than eighteen years old, of a
lighter complexion, full-figured, and with a good-natured face which
expressed grief and anxiety in every feature. "Oh!" she exclaimed, as a
great wave broke over the helpless ship, "the sailors will be drowned.
What can we do?"

"Amiria," said the chief to her, "go back to the _pa_, and tell the
people to come and help. We three,"--he pointed to his wife, Enoko and
himself--"will see what we can do."

"No," replied the girl, "I can swim as well as any of you. I shall stay,
and help." She ran along the beach to the point nearest the wreck, and
the others followed her.

Tahuna, standing in the wash of the sea, cried out, "A rope! A rope! A
rope!" But his voice did not penetrate ten yards into the face of the
gale.

Then all four, drenched with spray, shouted together, and with a similar
result.

"If they could float a rope ashore," said the chief, "we would make it
fast, and so save them."

The vessel lay outside a big reef which stretched between her and the
shore; her hull was almost hidden by the surf which broke over her,
the only dry place on her being the fore-top, which was crowded with
sailors; and it was evident that she must soon break up under the
battering seas which swept over her continually.

"They can't swim," said the chief, with a gesture of disgust. "The
_pakeha_ is a sheep, in the water. _We_ must go to _them_. Now,
remember: when you get near the ship, call out for a rope. We can
drift back easily enough."

He walked sea