Then the stars began to take their places in heaven to do their duty toward the poor of earth, and I saw the bright and inspiring faces of many I knew.  The wind shifted and freshened, the sail was drawn nearer, and our speed became perilous.  The waves grew, but Tetuahunahuna, seeing nothing, but feeling with sheet and helm the temper of changing air and water, kept the canoe’s prow steady, and the men, in emergencies, threw themselves half over the starboard gunwale.  I was on the edge of the steersman’s perch, enjoying the mist of the flying spray and watching the stars appear one by one.

Tetuahunahuna pointed toward the northern sky.

“Miope! I steer by the star the color of the rosewood tree,” he said.  There was our own Mars, redder than the sunsets over Mariveles.  Northwest he was, this god of war and fertility, and our bow beacon.  Turning and gazing toward Fatu-hiva I saw the Southern Cross, low in the sky, brilliant, and splendid.

“Mataike fetu!” Ghost Girl named the constellation.  “The Small Eyes.”

“Miope has rivers like Taka-Uku and Atuona,” I said, relying on the alleged canals of Mars to save my soul.  “I have seen through a karahi mea tiohi i te fetu, the Mirror Thing Through Which One Looks At The Stars, long as a tree and big around as a pig.  Miope has people upon it.”

“Are they Marquesans?”

“They must be Marquesans for there are islands,” I replied.

“And popoi and pigs?” demanded the ena-perfumed one.

“Namu? Have they rum?” whispered the Ghost Girl, and nestled closer, remembering that soon we would be at my own house.

I had confidence in Tetuahunahuna’s stars.  The Polynesians have always had an excellent working knowledge of the heavens and were deeply interested in astronomy.  They knew the relative positions of the stars, their changes and phases.  They predicted weather changes accurately, and kept in their memories periodicity charts so that they are able to form estimates of what will be, by considering what has been.  They had a wonderful art of navigation, considering that they had no compass, sextant, or other instrument, and that their vessels were always comparatively small.  The handling of canoes, like swimming, is instinctive with them, and no white ever compares with them in skill.

Our boat doubled Point Teachoa, and we were in the Bay of Traitors.  The wind suddenly fell flat, and we rowed several miles to the beach.  A score of lights moved about on the dark waters of the bay, and fishermen shouted to us to come to them.  We found Great Fern, my landlord, with Apporo, Broken Plate with the Vagabond, and they had several canoes full of fish.  They were delighted at my return, and rubbed noses with me over the gunwales.