“You sure have, all by yourself, if what they tell me is true. I’m flattered.” He changed to his best fatherly-executive style, which was pretty sad. “How are things on Tafahi?”
The old chief shook his head slowly. “Not good. Since He came.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Poplar in what he hoped was a convincing display of sincerity. Privately he didn’t give much of a damn about daily life on Tafahi. “Uh … who is ‘He’?”
“I have heard over the television that you are a Doctor to the Sea. Is this true?”
Poplar smiled condescendingly. “I can’t cure storms or improve fishing, if that’s what you mean.” Educational television had performed miracles in reaching and teaching the widely scattered Polynesian and Mel-anesian peoples throughout the Pacific.
It was Ha’apu’s turn to smile. “I still think we may be better at that than you.” He turned somber again. “By Sea-Doctor, I mean that it is your business, your life, to study what the ocean is, what lives in it, and why Tangaroa does the things he does.”
“That’s a very astute summation,” replied the director. He felt the sea-god himself would have approved, and his estimation of this man’s intelligence went up a notch.
Ha’apu seemed satisfied. “So I believed. I wanted to make certain I understood. My mind takes longer to think things than it once did. What I have brought to show you . . .” he indicated the small package in his
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WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . .
lap, *’. . . could be understood and believed only by such a person.”
“Of course,” said Poplar, sneaking a fast glance at his watch. He wished the chief would come to the point. Then Poplar could haggle, politely refuse, kindly suggest the chief try the usual tourist markets downtown and wharfside, and he could get to work. He’d found one new shell this morning that . . . But he didn’t want to be rude by hurrying the conversation. Some Matai were easily insulted. And he wasn’t famous for his diplomatic manner.