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“Childs looked at my father in a queer way.
“ ‘When are you sailing?’ he asked.
“ ‘About six,’ my father said.
“ ‘The Nile sails for China about dusk,’ Childs said. ‘If I were you I’d wait until it goes out. I’d wait—about an hour—or as long as may be necessary.’
“ ‘I’ll do that, Harry,’ said my father. He smiled.
“ ‘You might have a visitor,’ Childs said, and went on his way down the hot street. My father and I went to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel and had lunch.
“Of course, at the time I had no idea what this conversation between Childs and my father meant. I remember standing that evening at the rail of the Edna-May, just before we sailed. The quick tropic dusk had fallen, Tantalus and Punch Bowl Hill were blotted out. From the row of shacks along the water-front came yellow light and laughter and the voices of men singing. My father hap-
