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“Hey, Will!” called Smith. “Here’s a bit of fish for ’ee.”

McCoy and Quintal appeared in the doorway. “Thank ’ee, Alex, ye’re a lucky loon. Albacore!”

“Aye,” put in Quintal. “Next best to a collop of beef!”

After a stop at the house of Mills, Smith dismissed the two natives at his own door and went on to Christian’s house, Balhadi accompanying him. She carried a gift of a taro pudding, done up in fresh green leaves.

“For Maimiti,” she explained. “This may tempt her to eat.”

“When does she expect her child?”

“Her time is very close—to-day or to-morrow, I think.”

Christian met them at the door and Balhadi carried the fish and her pudding to the cookhouse.

“A fine albacore, Smith!”

“I reckon he’d go a hundredweight, sir!” said Smith with a fisherman’s pride. “And Tetahiti got one might have been his twin brother. All hands’ll have a feed of ’em.”

“Stop to dine with us.”

“I hate to bother ye, sir, at a time like this.”

Christian shook his head. “No, no! Jenny’s here, and Nanai, to lend a hand. They’ll make a little feast of it, with your girl. They’re funny creatures, brown or white; birth and death are what they love. Come in.”