i66 PICTURING MIRACLES 



and microscopes, with still room for 44 kava bowls, 

 19 tapas, mats, Hula skirts all sorts of things, for 

 Christmas was coming and we were as much, if not 

 more, eager for Island souvenirs than the greenest 

 tourists. Many of our things were Alofas and very 

 highly prized. Our good-bys were all made when I 

 spied among the natives the boy who had worked 

 the air pump for my under-sea work. He was a won- 

 derfully perfect specimen of physical fitness, over six 

 feet in his bare feet. I doubt if he ever wore shoes 

 always singing. One day when the handle came out 

 of the pump and he fell overboard with it, he was 

 back almost in a flash, badly frightened, for fear I 

 would drown if the pump stopped and he would be 

 to blame. He could swim like a duck and dive down 

 in twenty feet of water, tie a rope on a camera or 

 tripod and come aboard, saving me another trip. 

 Once when the gasoline gave out for the outboard 

 motor, he rowed it back alone, singing all the way. 

 I paid him a dollar a day, which was big wages for 

 him. I had forgotten to say good-by, so I hastened 

 ashore, said my farewell to him, passed him my last 

 package of cigarettes. I do not smoke myself. At the 

 same moment he reached down, picked up a small 

 kava bowl, passed it to me and said, "May God be 

 with you on your journey home and ever afterwards. 

 I trust you wish the same for me." It took my breath 



