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consciousness： SO THIS WAS A HURRICANE。 That one idea persisted
irregularly。 It was like a feeble flame that flickered occasionally。 From a
state of stupor he would return to itSO THIS WAS A HURRICANE。
Then he would go off into another stupor。
The height of the hurricane endured from eleven at night till three in
the morning； and it was at eleven that the tree in which clung Mapuhi and
his women snapped off。 Mapuhi rose to the surface of the lagoon； still
clutching his daughter Ngakura。 Only a South Sea islander could have
lived in such a driving smother。 The pandanus tree； to which he attached
himself； turned over and over in the froth and churn； and it was only by
holding on at times and waiting； and at other times shifting his grips
rapidly； that he was able to get his head and Ngakura's to the surface at
intervals sufficiently near together to keep the breath in them。 But the air
was mostly water； what with flying spray and sheeted rain that poured
along at right angles to the perpendicular。
It was ten miles across the lagoon to the farther ring of sand。 Here；
tossing tree trunks； timbers； wrecks of cutters； and wreckage of houses；
killed nine out of ten of the miserable beings who survived the passage of
the lagoon。 Half…drowned； exhausted； they were hurled into this mad
mortar of the elements and battered into formless flesh。 But Mapuhi was
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fortunate。 His chance was the one in ten； it fell to him by the freakage of
fate。 He emerged upon the sand； bleeding from a score of wounds。
Ngakura's left arm was broken； the fingers of her right hand were
crushed； and cheek and forehead were laid open to the bone。 He clutched a
tree that yet stood； and clung on； holding the girl and sobbing for air； while
the waters of the lagoon washed by knee…high and at times waist…high。
At three in the morning the backbone of the hurricane broke。 By five
no more than a stiff breeze was blowing。 And by six it was dead calm and
the sun was shining。 The sea had gone down。 On the yet restless edge of
the lagoon； Mapuhi saw the broken bodies of those that had failed in the
landing。 Undoubtedly Tefara and Nauri were among them。 He went along
the beach examining them； and came upon his wife； lying half in and half
out of the water。 He sat down and wept； making harsh animal noises
after the manner of primitive grief。 Then she stirred uneasily； and groaned。
He looked more closely。 Not only was she alive； but she was uninjured。
She was merely sleeping。 Hers also had been the one chance in ten。
Of the twelve hundred alive the night before but three hundred
remained。 The mormon missionary and a gendarme made the census。
The lagoon was cluttered with corpses。 Not a house nor a hut was standing。
In the whole atoll not two stones remained one upon another。 One in fifty
of the cocoanut palms still stood； and they were wrecks； while on not one
of them remained a single nut。
There was no fresh water。 The shallow wells that caught the surface
seepage of the rain were filled with salt。 Out of the lagoon a few soaked
bags of flour were recovered。 The survivors cut the hearts out of the fallen
cocoanut trees and ate them。 Here and there they crawled into tiny
hutches； made by hollowing out the sand and covering over with
fragments of metal roofing。 The missionary made a crude still； but he
could not distill water for three hundred persons。 By the end of the second
day； Raoul； taking a bath in the lagoon； discovered that his thirst was
somewhat relieved。 He cried out the news； and thereupon three hundred
men； women； and children could have been seen； standing up to their
necks in the lagoon and trying to drink water in through their skins。 Their
dead floated about them； or were stepped upon where they still lay upon
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the bottom。 On the third day the people buried their dead and sat down to
wait for the rescue steamers。
In the meantime； Nauri； torn from her family by the hurricane； had
been swept away on an adventure of her own。 Clinging to a rough plank
that wounded and bruised her and that filled her body with splinters； she
was thrown clear over the atoll and carried away to sea。 Here； under the
amazing buffets of mountains of water； she lost her plank。 She was an old
woman nearly sixty； but she was Paumotan…born； and she had never been
out of sight of the sea in her life。 Swimming in the darkness； strangling；
suffocating； fighting for air； she was struck a heavy blow on the shoulder
by a cocoanut。 On the instant her plan was formed； and she seized the nut。
In the next hour she captured seven more。 Tied together； they formed a
life…buoy that preserved her life while at the same time it threatened to
pound her to a jelly。 She was a fat woman； and she bruised easily； but
she had had experience of hurricanes； and while she prayed to her shark
god for protection from sharks； she waited for the wind to break。 But at
three o'clock she was in such a stupor that she did not know。 Nor did she
know at six o'clock when the dead calm settled down。 She was shocked
into consciousness when she was thrown upon the sand。 She dug in with
raw and bleeding hands and feet and clawed against the backwash until
she was beyond the reach of the waves。
She knew where she was。 This land could be no other than the tiny
islet of Takokota。 It had no lagoon。 No one lived upon it。
Hikueru was fifteen miles away。 She could not see Hikueru； but she
knew that it lay to the south。 The days went by； and she lived on the
cocoanuts that had kept her afloat。 They supplied her with drinking water
and with food。 But she did not drink all she wanted； nor eat all she wanted。
Rescue was problematical。 She saw the smoke of the rescue steamers on
the horizon； but what steamer could be expected to come to lonely；
uninhabited Takokota？
From the first she was tormented by corpses。 The sea persisted in
flinging them upon her bit of sand； and she persisted； until her strength
failed； in thrusting them back into the sea where the sharks tore at them
and devoured them。 When her strength failed； the bodies festooned her
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beach with ghastly horror； and she withdrew from them as far as she could；
which was not far。
By the tenth day her last cocoanut was gone； and she was shrivelling
from thirst。 She dragged herself along the sand； looking for cocoanuts。 It
was strange that so many bodies floated up； and no nuts。 Surely； there
were more cocoanuts afloat than dead men！ She gave up at last； and lay
exhausted。 The end had come。 Nothing remained but to wait for death。
Coming out of a stupor； she became slowly aware that she was gazing
at a patch of sandy…red hair on the head of a corpse。 The sea flung the
body toward her； then drew it back。 It turned over； and she saw that it had
no face。 Yet there was something familiar about that patch of sandy…red
hair。 An hour passed。 She did not exert herself to make the identification。
She was waiting to die； and it mattered little to her what man that thing of
horror once might have been。
But at the end of the hour she sat up slowly and stared at the corpse。
An unusually large wave had thrown it beyond the reach of the lesser
waves。 Yes； she was right； that patch of red hair could belong to but one
man in the Paumotus。 It was Levy； the German Jew； the man who had
bought the pearl and carried it away on the Hira。 Well； one thing was
evident： The Hira had been lost。 The pearl buyer's god of fishermen and
thieves had gone back on him。
She crawled down to the dead man。 His shirt had been torn away； and
she could see the leather money belt about his waist。 She held her breath