Free Sister of the Sun by Clare; Coleman Page B

I will signal if I want you nearer." Then she stood on the deck while the pahi was quietly paddled toward the outsiders' vessel.  
    She came far closer than she had on the previous day, almost close enough to climb aboard. In the bottom of the boat, between the thwarts, lay slender paddles, coils of rope, and other gear. In the stern, a long seat held uneaten coconuts and leaf-wrapped packets of food. She saw round, drumlike constructions of wood, but none seemed large enough for a man to crawl into. Where were the sailors?  
    Then the faint sound of snoring made her look again.
    "They sleep hanging!" exclaimed a paddler.
    When Tepua saw what he meant, she began to laugh. A long bundle of cloth hung just above the thwarts, one end tied to the mast, the other to a pole that was lashed upright. A sailor's arm dangled from the bundle. From a second, similar sling she saw a foot protruding, but neither man stirred.  
    "All you paddlers—out of the way," she ordered, motioning them toward the stern of her own boat. She did not want the waking sailors to see a crowd peering at them.  
    While the outsiders continued dozing, her attention returned to the drumlike containers. Most lay turned on their sides, reminding her of the hollowed logs used in Tahiti for holding valuables. The walls of these foreign boxes were of thin planks, tightly joined, but with no sennit binding. What kept them from falling apart?  
    One container stood on end in the stern. The top was open and she caught a tantalizing glimpse of bright colors within. She leaned closer. While the men slept, she thought, she might easily step aboard and look inside....  
    No. She remembered what had happened to Paruru. She would have to wait for Faka-ora to tell her when she could safely go aboard.
    Then she noticed another thing that made her cautious. Near the suspended bed lay a pole with a blade lashed to one end. The tip was made of some lustrous material—perhaps a kind of shell—that she had never seen before.  
    This was surely a weapon, though it appeared to be something that the men had hastily put together. The handle was short for a spear and lacked a proper grip, but the blade looked extremely sharp. Each of the men had one.  
    Her concern grew as she searched the boat for anything else that might be dangerous. The strangers might have lost one weapon, but they knew how to improvise others. Her first impulse was to command her warriors to go aboard and confiscate the crude spears, but Faka-ora had forbidden any contact. Uneasily, she gave an order to the paddlers, widening the gap between herself and the foreign craft.  
    "Life to you!" she shouted from a safe distance, hoping to wake the two sleepers. A hand stirred. The light-haired sailor swung his legs out and got down from his hanging bed. His appearance was less shocking now than when she had first seen him, certainly less bristly. Evidently he had scraped the whiskers from his face. The ointments of the tahunga had helped his skin.  
    She pointed to the sailor's spear, trying to make clear her displeasure. Then she pointed to her own vessel, showing that her men had put aside their weapons. This seemed to relieve the sailor, for he set his implement behind him, its blade facing away from her. He did this hastily, as though something else was on his mind.  
    The sailor made signs, first pointing his finger at Tepua, then making a motion with his arms. When she did not respond, he put his hands over his eyes, then pointed once more at her. Was this a game? she wondered. Or an insult? Among her people, pointing with the forefinger was considered rude.  
    The foreigner seemed in distress, making odd grimaces and shifting his weight from side to side in an impatient dance. Shaking his head and frowning, he finally turned his back to her and urinated noisily over the side. When he returned, his face was even redder than before.  
    Tepua wished that she could