We swam ashore dejectedly, each, I know, contemplating suicide. For an hour we visited our friends. For them it was but a friendly call, for us the agony of parting. Gentle, dignified Baahaabaa, shall I ever forget you as you stood with your hands resting on my shoulder, confidently expecting to see me on the morrow!--Merry Hitoia-Upa, kindly Ablutiluti, and Moolitonu, oh! that I might send some message across the waste of waters to tell your loving hearts of the love which still kindles in mine. We did not dare visit our wives. At dusk, that our conference might be unnoticed, we found our way to the William Henry Thomas family tree. He came down instantly. All his old deference was gone. Something in the straight look of his eye told me that his christening had worked a tremendous moral change in the man, but I was not prepared for its extent. "Not me," he said briefly, when we explained the necessity of our departure. "Not by a damn sight." In vain we reasoned, urged and argued. "Don't you want to go back to your own people?" asked Swank weakly. A mocking laugh was the reply. "My own people! Who was I among my own people? Just a bunch of first names--no last name at all. William Henry Thomas! That's a hell of a bunch of names. Who am I here? Fatakahala--Flower of Darkness--I guess that'll be about all. Good night, gentlemen." With the agility of a monkey he bounded up his tree and disappeared. I stood at the foot of the tree and tried to argue further with him. "Remember Henry James," I shouted. "Think of Charles Henry George." It was in vain. Swank started after him, but as he reached the floor-level a large _hola-nut_ struck him squarely on the top of the head and he fell back, stunned. Still further depressed we made our way back to the Kawa, our hearts aching as with the hurt of burns, a dull, throbbing torture. "Drink?" said Captain Triplett in his most treacly manner. He held out a cup of _lava-lava_, the most deadly beverage of the islands. It is mixed with phosphorus and glows and tastes like hell-fire. I saw his plan and for once was grateful. We took the bowl from his hands and filed into the tiny cabin--each picking out a corner to fall in. In silence we filled our shells and raised them to our lips, the last thought of each of us for our lost loved ones! Hours--perhaps days--later I was dimly aware of a soft sobbing sound near my ear. Was it Swank crying? And then I realized that it was the chuckling of water under the Kawa's counter as manned by the intrepid Triplett she merrily footed it over the wrinkled sea. CHAPTEK X Once more the "Kawa" foots the sea. Triplett's observations and our assistance. The death of the compass-plant. Lost! An orgy of desperation. Oblivion and excess. The "Kawa" brings us home. Our reception in Papeete. A celebration at the Tiare.