Despite the heavy clumsiness of her lines， the Aoraihandled easily in the light breeze， and her captain ranher well in before he hove to just outside the suck of thesurf. The atoll of Hikueru lay low on the water， a circle ofpounded coral sand a hundred yards wide， twenty milesin circumference， and from three to five feet above highwatermark. On the bottom of the huge and glassy lagoonwas much pearl shell， and from the deck of the schooner，across the slender ring of the atoll， the divers could beseen at work. But the lagoon had no entrance for even atrading schooner. With a favoring breeze cutters couldwin in through the tortuous and shallow channel， but theschooners lay off and on outside and sent in their smallboats.
The Aorai swung out a boat smartly， into which spranghalf a dozen brown-skinned sailors clad only in scarletloincloths. They took the oars， while in the stern sheets， atthe steering sweep， stood a young man garbed in the tropicwhite that marks the European. The golden strain ofPolynesia betrayed itself in the sun-gilt of his fair skin andcast up golden sheens and lights through the glimmeringblue of his eyes. Raoul he was， Alexandre Raoul， youngestson of Marie Raoul， the wealthy quarter-caste， who ownedand managed half a dozen trading schooners similar to theAorai. Across an eddy just outside the entrance， and in andthrough and over a boiling tide-rip， the boat fought its wayto the mirrored calm of the lagoon. Young Raoul leapedout upon the white sand and shook hands with a tallnative. The man’s chest and shoulders were magnificent，but the stump of a right arm， beyond the flesh of whichthe age-whitened bone projected several inches， attestedthe encounter with a shark that had put an end to hisdiving days and made him a fawner and an intriguer forsmall favors.
“Have you heard， Alec？” were his first words. “Mapuhihas found a pearl—such a pearl. Never was there one likeit ever fished up in Hikueru， nor in all the Paumotus，nor in all the world. Buy it from him. He has it now. Andremember that I told you first. He is a fool and you canget it cheap. Have you any tobacco？”
Straight up the beach to a shack under a pandanus treeRaoul headed. He was his mother’s supercargo， and hisbusiness was to comb all the Paumotus for the wealth ofcopra， shell， and pearls that they yielded up.
He was a young supercargo， it was his second voyagein such capacity， and he suffered much secret worry fromhis lack of experience in pricing pearls. But when Mapuhiexposed the pearl to his sight he managed to suppress thestartle it gave him， and to maintain a careless， commercialexpression on his face. For the pearl had struck him ablow. It was large as a pigeon egg， a perfect sphere， of awhiteness that reflected opalescent lights from all colorsabout it. It was alive. Never had he seen anything like it.
When Mapuhi dropped it into his hand he was surprisedby the weight of it. That showed that it was a good pearl.
He examined it closely， through a pocket magnifying glass.
It was without flaw or blemish. The purity of it seemedalmost to melt into the atmosphere out of his hand. In theshade it was softly luminous， gleaming like a tender moon.
So translucently white was it， that when he dropped it intoa glass of water he had difficulty in finding it. So straightand swiftly had it sunk to the bottom that he knew itsweight was excellent.
“Well， what do you want for it？” he asked， with a fineassumption of nonchalance.
“I want—” Mapuhi began， and behind him， framinghis own dark face， the dark faces of two women and agirl nodded concurrence in what he wanted. Their headswere bent forward， they were animated by a suppressedeagerness， their eyes flashed avariciously.
“I want a house，” Mapuhi went on. “It must have a roofof galvanized iron and an octagon-drop-clock. It mustbe six fathoms long with a porch all around. A big roommust be in the centre， with a round table in the middleof it and the octagon-drop-clock on the wall. There mustbe four bedrooms， two on each side of the big room， andin each bedroom must be an iron bed， two chairs， and awashstand. And back of the house must be a kitchen， agood kitchen， with pots and pans and a stove. And youmust build the house on my island， which is Fakarava.”
“Is that all？” Raoul asked incredulously.
“There must be a sewing machine，” spoke up Tefara，Mapuhi’s wife.
“Not forgetting the octagon-drop-clock，” added Nauri，Mapuhi’s mother.
“Yes， that is all，” said Mapuhi.
Young Raoul laughed. He laughed long and heartily.
But while he laughed he secretly performed problems inmental arithmetic. He had never built a house in his life，and his notions concerning house building were hazy.
While he laughed， he calculated the cost of the voyage toTahiti for materials， of the materials themselves， of thevoyage back again to Fakarava， and the cost of landing thematerials and of building the house. It would come to fourthousand French dollars， allowing a margin for safety—four thousand French dollars were equivalent to twentythousad francs. It was impossible. How was he to knowthe value of such a pearl？ Twenty thousand francs was a lotof money—and of his mother’s money at that.
“Mapuhi，” he said， “you are a big fool. Set a moneyprice.”
But Mapuhi shook his head， and the three heads behindhim shook with his.
“I want the house，” he said. “It must be six fathoms longwith a porch all around—”
“Yes， yes，” Raoul interrupted. “I know all about yourhouse， but it won’t do. I’ll give you a thousand Chilidollars.”
The four heads chorused a silent negative.
“And a hundred Chili dollars in trade.”
“I want the house，” Mapuhi began.
“What good will the house do you？” Raoul demanded.
“The first hurricane that comes along will wash it away.
You ought to know. Captain Raffy says it looks like ahurricane right now.”
“Not on Fakarava，” said Mapuhi. “The land is muchhigher there. On this island， yes. Any hurricane can sweepHikueru. I will have the house on Fakarava. It must be sixfathoms long with a porch all around—”