“ The boat’s on fire,” Monday said. “We gotta go.”
They stared at each other for an instant, then she ran into his arms and he kissed her.
He pulled away.
“ Really,” he said, “we gotta go.”
The back hatchway, a doorway to the aft cockpit, was open, she saw the flames.
“ It’s through the fire,” he said, “but we’ll land in the water if we keep going.”
“ I’m gone.” She dashed through the doorway, felt the fire as she dove over the side and into the cold sea below.
The Maori men moved away from the galley after they set the fire. They were reluctant to leave the boat. They heard the screams and shooting from below, but these men were not old women, either the pakeha would save the girl, or he would not. They had done everything asked of them. It was in the pakeha’s hands now. Mohi was in agony, wondering if he’d done the right thing. The father in him wanted to rush through the flames and find his daughter, but Monday had convinced him not to do that. Monday was a pakeha, but he was Maori-brave and Mohi respected that.
He clenched his fists and tightened his jaw. Then he smiled as he saw Donna burst out the starboard companionway, dashing through the flames, and he grinned wider as Monday followed in her wake, leaping over the side into the cold sea below.
“ Quickly.” He jumped onto the pier, the three old men followed. “There’s a ladder over here,” he yelled to Monday, and the men silently congratulated themselves for a job well done as they helped the pakeha and Mohi’s daughter out of the sea. Two of the old men removed their coats and offered them to the shivering couple.
And then they all shivered as one long, agonizing scream roared out from the boat, waking up the night. Then all was silent-the only sound the licking flames and the quiet sea, lapping against the pier.
“ Cheeky little bugger,” One of the Maori men said.
“ What?” One of his mates asked.
“ Little green gecko just ran over my foot. See, there it goes.”