autifully calm,
but dark, and as I was not well acquainted with the inner part of Asaua
Harbour and could not see my way, I several times ran the boat on
to submerged coral boulders; and, finally, lost the narrow channel
altogether.

Then I told one of my men, a sturdy, splendid specimen of a native of
the Gilbert Islands named Te Manu Uraura ("Bed Bird") to come aft
and take the steer oar, knowing that his eyesight, like that of all
Polynesians, was better than that of any white man.

"Come here, Te Manu, and steer, I'll take your oar. Your eyes are better
than mine."

The poor fellow laughed good-naturedly, and I little thought that this
simple request of mine would be the cause of his being a cripple for
life. He came aft, took the steer oar from me, and I, seating myself on
the after thwart, began to pull. We were at this time about thirty yards
from the beach, and between it and the inner reef of the harbour. We
sent the boat along for two or three hundred yards without a hitch,
and I was thinking of what my cook would have for my supper, when we
suddenly plumped into a patch of dead coral and stuck hard and fast.

Knowing that the tide was falling, we all jumped out, and pushed the
boat off into deeper water as quickly as possible, just as half a dozen
bright torches of coco-nut leaves flared up on the shore and revealed
the boat dimly to those who were holding them.

At first I imagined that the chief of the village had sent some of his
people to help us through the channel, but I was quickly undeceived when
I heard "Flash Harry's" voice.

"I've got you now, my saucy young quarter-deck-style-of-pup. Slew round
and come ashore, or I'll blow your head off."

One glance ashore showed me that we were in a desperate position. "Flash
Harry," who was all but stark-naked--he had only a girdle of _ti_ tree
leaves round his waist--was covering the boat with his Winchester rifle,
and his followers, armed with other guns, were ready to fire a volley
into us, although most of them were pretty well drunk.

"They can't hit us, Te Manu," I cried to the Gilbert Islander, whose
inborn fighting proclivities were showing in his gleaming eyes and
short, panting breaths, "most of them have no cartridges in their guns,
and they are all too drunk to shoot straight. Let us go on!"

Te Manu gripped the haft of the steer oar and swung the boat's head
round, and then I and the other native at the bow oar--a mere boy of
sixteen--p