And while Levy and Toriki drank absinthe and chaffered over the pearl,
Huru-Huru listened and heard the stupendous price of twenty-five
thousand francs agreed upon.

It was at this time that both the OROHENA and the Hira, running in
close to the shore, began firing guns and signalling frantically. The
three men stepped outside in time to see the two schooners go hastily
about and head off shore, dropping mainsails and flying jibs on the
run in the teeth of the squall that heeled them far over on the
whitened water. Then the rain blotted them out.

"They'll be back after it's over," said Toriki. "We'd better be
getting out of here."

"I reckon the glass has fallen some more," said Captain Lynch.

He was a white-bearded sea-captain, too old for service, who had
learned that the only way to live on comfortable terms with his asthma
was on Hikueru. He went inside to look at the barometer.

"Great God!" they heard him exclaim, and rushed in to join him at
staring at a dial, which marked twenty-nine-twenty.

Again they came out, this time anxiously to consult sea and sky. The
squall had cleared away, but the sky remained overcast. The two
schooners, under all sail and joined by a third, could be seen making
back. A veer in the wind induced them to slack off sheets, and five
minutes afterward a sudden veer from the opposite quarter caught all
three schooners aback, and those on shore could see the boom-tackles