The height of the hurricane endured from eleven atnight till three in the morning， and it was at eleven thatthe tree in which clung Mapuhi and his women snappedoff. Mapuhi rose to the surface of the lagoon， stillclutching his daughter Ngakura. Only a South Sea islandercould have lived in such a driving smother. The pandanustree， to which he attached himself， turned over and overin the froth and churn； and it was only by holding on attimes and waiting， and at other times shifting his gripsrapidly， that he was able to get his head and Ngakura’s tothe surface at intervals sufficiently near together to keepthe breath in them. But the air was mostly water， whatwith flying spray and sheeted rain that poured along atright angles to the perpendicular.
It was ten miles across the lagoon to the farther ring ofsand. Here， tossing tree trunks， timbers， wrecks of cutters，and wreckage of houses， killed nine out of ten of themiserable beings who survived the passage of the lagoon.
Half-drowned， exhausted， they were hurled into this madmortar of the elements and battered into formless flesh.
But Mapuhi was fortunate. His chance was the one in ten；it fell to him by the freakage of fate. He emerged upon thesand， bleeding from a score of wounds.
Ngakura’s left arm was broken； the fingers of her righthand were crushed； and cheek and forehead were laidopen to the bone. He clutched a tree that yet stood， andclung on， holding the girl and sobbing for air， while thewaters of the lagoon washed by knee-high and at timeswaist-high.
At three in the morning the backbone of the hurricanebroke. By five no more than a stiff breeze was blowing.
And by six it was dead calm and the sun was shining. Thesea had gone down. On the yet restless edge of the lagoon，Mapuhi saw the broken bodies of those that had failed inthe landing. Undoubtedly Tefara and Nauri were amongthem. He went along the beach examining them， and cameupon his wife， lying half in and half out of the water. Hesat down and wept， making harsh animal noises after themanner of primitive grief. Then she stirred uneasily， andgroaned. He looked more closely. Not only was she alive，but she was uninjured. She was merely sleeping. Hers alsohad been the one chance in ten.
Of the twelve hundred alive the night before butthree hundred remained. The mormon missionary and agendarme made the census. The lagoon was cluttered withcorpses. Not a house nor a hut was standing. In the wholeatoll not two stones remained one upon another. Onein fifty of the cocoanut palms still stood， and they werewrecks， while on not one of them remained a single nut.
There was no fresh water. The shallow wells that caughtthe surface seepage of the rain were filled with salt. Outof the lagoon a few soaked bags of flour were recovered.
The survivors cut the hearts out of the fallen cocoanuttrees and ate them. Here and there they crawled into tinyhutches， made by hollowing out the sand and coveringover with fragments of metal roofing. The missionarymade a crude still， but he could not distill water for threehundred persons. By the end of the second day， Raoul，taking a bath in the lagoon， discovered that his thirst wassomewhat relieved. He cried out the news， and thereuponthree hundred men， women， and children could havebeen seen， standing up to their necks in the lagoon andtrying to drink water in through their skins. Their deadfloated about them， or were stepped upon where they stilllay upon the bottom. On the third day the people buriedtheir dead and sat down to wait for the rescue steamers.
In the meantime， Nauri， torn from her family by thehurricane， had been swept away on an adventure of herown. Clinging to a rough plank that wounded and bruisedher and that filled her body with splinters， she was thrownclear over the atoll and carried away to sea. Here， underthe amazing buffets of mountains of water， she lost herplank. She was an old woman nearly sixty； but she wasPaumotan-born， and she had never been out of sight ofthe sea in her life. Swimming in the darkness， strangling，suffocating， fighting for air， she was struck a heavy blowon the shoulder by a cocoanut. On the instant her planwas formed， and she seized the nut. In the next hour shecaptured seven more. Tied together， they formed a lifebuoythat preserved her life while at the same time itthreatened to pound her to a jelly. She was a fat woman，and she bruised easily； but she had had experience ofhurricanes， and while she prayed to her shark god forprotection from sharks， she waited for the wind to break.
But at three o’clock she was in such a stupor that she didnot know. Nor did she know at six o’clock when the deadcalm settled down. She was shocked into consciousnesswhen she was thrown upon the sand. She dug in withraw and bleeding hands and feet and clawed against thebackwash until she was beyond the reach of the waves.
She knew where she was. This land could be no otherthan the tiny islet of Takokota. It had no lagoon. No onelived upon it.
Hikueru was fifteen miles away. She could not seeHikueru， but she knew that it lay to the south. The dayswent by， and she lived on the cocoanuts that had kepther afloat. They supplied her with drinking water andwith food. But she did not drink all she wanted， nor eatall she wanted. Rescue was problematical. She saw thesmoke of the rescue steamers on the horizon， but whatsteamer could be expected to come to lonely， uninhabitedTakokota？
From the first she was tormented by corpses. The seapersisted in flinging them upon her bit of sand， and shepersisted， until her strength failed， in thrusting them backinto the sea where the sharks tore at them and devouredthem. When her strength failed， the bodies festooned herbeach with ghastly horror， and she withdrew from them asfar as she could， which was not far.