The four white men on the beach at Rarotayo watched the trim, white-painted schooner feel her way carefully through the opening in the reef and drop her anchor with a splash in the blue, crystal-clear water of the lagoon near to where the “Vandal” swung gently at her moorings.
“It’s the Sea Eagle, Sven Ericson’s schooner,” announced Sandy to Biggles. “It’s about his time. He’s a good old scout, one of the old-timers, who has spent his life in the Islands. Plenty of money, always going home, but can’t tear himself away. You’ll like him. Well, here he comes,” he went on, as a boat was lowered and rowed vigorously towards them by two stalwart natives. “You’ll have to stay and meet him if only to hear the latest gossip.”
Sea Eagle“We’re in no hurry,” observed Biggles; “tomorrow will suit us
