This time, crouched in the shelter of the near-by trees, clinging
to the matted _haro_, we were free to watch a stupendous spectacle.
Triplett alone went aboard and lashed himself to the improvised steering
post. Our sail had been stretched and rigged with hundreds of yards
of _eva-eva_, in addition to which four large _taa-taas_ were lashed
along the scuppers.
In less time than it takes to tell, the wind had risen to
super-hurricane force. Suddenly Baa-haabaa let out a yell of warning
and pointed seaward. Rushing toward us at lightning speed was a wall
of white water, sixty feet high! In a trice we were all in the treetops,
my wife hauling me after her with praiseworthy devotion. All, did I
say? All but Triplett. He was sublime. Then for the first time I knew
that he was, in truth, our chief. Waving his free arm at the advancing
maelstrom, he yelled defiance. Then this towering seawall hit him
square in the stern.
I caught one fleeting glimpse of the Kawa gallantly riding the
foam. An instant later she was flung with a tremendous crash far down
the leafy lane.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79