And now, Mr Hay, we'll up anchor, if you please.' 'For Heaven's sake, tell me some of the words,' whispered Herrick.
An hour later, the Farallone was under all plain sail, the rudder hard a-port, and the cheerfully clanking windlass had brought the anchor home.
'All clear, sir,' cried Herrick from the bow.
The captain met her with the wheel, as she bounded like a stag from her repose, trembling and bending to the puffs.

The guard boat gave a parting hail, the wake whitened and ran out; the Farallone was under weigh.
Her berth had been close to the pass.

Even as she forged ahead Davis slewed her for the channel between the pier ends of the reef, the breakers sounding and whitening to either hand.

Straight through the narrow band of blue, she shot to seaward: and the captain's heart exulted as he felt her tremble underfoot, and (looking back over the taffrail) beheld the roofs of Papeete changing position on the shore and the island mountains rearing higher in the wake.
But they were not yet done with the shore and the horror of the yellow flag.

About midway of the pass, there was a cry and a scurry, a man was seen to leap upon the rail, and, throwing his arms over his head, to stoop and plunge into the sea.
'Steady as she goes,' the captain cried, relinquishing the wheel to Huish.
The next moment he was forward in the midst of the Kanakas, belaying pin in hand.
'Anybody else for shore ?' he cried, and the savage trumpeting of his voice, no less than the ready weapon in his hand, struck fear in all.
Stupidly they stared after their escaped companion, whose black head was visible upon the water, steering for the land.