South Sea Tales. Джек Лондон
fin reappeared she resumed her swimming. The monster was lazy—she could see that. Without doubt he had been well fed since the hurricane. Had he been very hungry, she knew he would not have hesitated from making a dash for her. He was fifteen feet long, and one bite, she knew, could cut her in half.
But she did not have any time to waste on him. Whether she swam or not, the current drew away from the land just the same. A half hour went by, and the shark began to grow bolder. Seeing no harm in her he drew closer, in narrowing circles, cocking his eyes at her impudently as he slid past. Sooner or later, she knew well enough, he would get up sufficient courage to dash at her. She resolved to play first. It was a desperate act she meditated. She was an old woman, alone in the sea and weak from starvation and hardship; and yet she, in the face of this sea tiger, must anticipate his dash by herself dashing at him. She swam on, waiting her chance. At last he passed languidly by, barely eight feet away. She rushed at him suddenly, feigning that she was attacking him. He gave a wild flirt of his tail as he fled away, and his sandpaper hide, striking her, took off her skin from elbow to shoulder. He swam rapidly, in a widening circle, and at last disappeared.
In the hole in the sand, covered over by fragments of metal roofing, Mapuhi and Tefara lay disputing.
“If you had done as I said,” charged Tefara, for the thousandth time, “and hidden the pearl and told no one, you would have it now.”
“But Huru-Huru was with me when I opened the shell—have I not told you so times and times and times without end?”
“And now we shall have no house. Raoul told me today that if you had not sold the pearl to Toriki—”
“I did not sell it. Toriki robbed me.”
“—that if you had not sold the pearl, he would give you five thousand French dollars, which is ten thousand Chili.”
“He has been talking to his mother,” Mapuhi explained. “She has an eye for a pearl.”
“And now the pearl is lost,” Tefara complained.
“It paid my debt with Toriki. That is twelve hundred I have made, anyway.”
“Toriki is dead,” she cried. “They have heard no word of his schooner. She was lost along with the Aorai and the Hira. Will Toriki pay you the three hundred credit he promised? No, because Toriki is dead. And had you found no pearl, would you today owe Toriki the twelve hundred? No, because Toriki is dead, and you cannot pay dead men.”
“But Levy did not pay Toriki,” Mapuhi said. “He gave him a piece of paper that was good for the money in Papeete; and now Levy is dead and cannot pay; and Toriki is dead and the paper lost with him, and the pearl is lost with Levy. You are right, Tefara. I have lost the pearl, and got nothing for it. Now let us sleep.”
He held up his hand suddenly and listened. From without came a noise, as of one who breathed heavily and with pain. A hand fumbled against the mat that served for a door.
“Who is there?” Mapuhi cried.
“Nauri,” came the answer. “Can you tell me where is my son, Mapuhi?”
Tefara screamed and gripped her husband's arm.
“A ghost!” she chattered. “A ghost!”
Mapuhi's face was a ghastly yellow. He clung weakly to his wife.
“Good woman,” he said in faltering tones, striving to disguise his vice, “I know your son well. He is living on the east side of the lagoon.”
From without came the sound of a sigh. Mapuhi began to feel elated. He had fooled the ghost.
“But where do you come from, old woman?” he asked.
“From the sea,” was the dejected answer.
“I knew it! I knew it!” screamed Tefara, rocking to and fro.
“Since when has Tefara bedded in a strange house?” came Nauri's voice through the matting.
Mapuhi looked fear and reproach at his wife. It was her voice that had betrayed them.
“And since when has Mapuhi, my son, denied his old mother?” the voice went on.
“No, no, I have not—Mapuhi has not denied you,” he cried. “I am not Mapuhi. He is on the east end of the lagoon, I tell you.”
Ngakura sat up in bed and began to cry. The matting started to shake.
“What are you doing?” Mapuhi demanded.
“I am coming in,” said the voice of Nauri.
One end of the matting lifted. Tefara tried to dive under the blankets, but Mapuhi held on to her. He had to hold on to something. Together, struggling with each other, with shivering bodies and chattering teeth, they gazed with protruding eyes at the lifting mat. They saw Nauri, dripping with sea water, without her ahu, creep in. They rolled over backward from her and fought for Ngakura's blanket with which to cover their heads.
“You might give your old mother a drink of water,” the ghost said plaintively.
“Give her a drink of water,” Tefara commanded in a shaking voice.
“Give her a drink of water,” Mapuhi passed on the command to Ngakura.
And together they kicked out Ngakura from under the blanket. A minute later, peeping, Mapuhi saw the ghost drinking. When it reached out a shaking hand and laid it on his, he felt the weight of it and was convinced that it was no ghost. Then he emerged, dragging Tefara after him, and in a few minutes all were listening to Nauri's tale. And when she told of Levy, and dropped the pearl into Tefara's hand, even she was reconciled to the reality of her mother-in-law.
“In the morning,” said Tefara, “you will sell the pearl to Raoul for five thousand French.”
“The house?” objected Nauri.
“He will build the house,” Tefara answered. “He ways it will cost four thousand French. Also will he give one thousand French in credit, which is two thousand Chili.”
“And it will be six fathoms long?” Nauri queried.
“Ay,” answered Mapuhi, “six fathoms.”
“And in the middle room will be the octagon-drop-clock?”
“Ay, and the round table as well.”
“Then give me something to eat, for I am hungry,” said Nauri, complacently. “And after that we will sleep, for I am weary. And tomorrow we will have more talk about the house before we sell the pearl. It will be better if we take the thousand French in cash. Money is ever better than credit in buying goods from the traders.”
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