Tooner Schooner by Mary Lasswell

thought somethin’ had happened to you.” The girl stood shivering in her thin cotton print dress. Her brown legs were bare and somehow pitiful rising out of cheap white wedgies. She clung desperately to a cardboard suitcase which had to be very light weight from the way she held it. She flung back her long, dark hair from her face and her eyes were red and swollen.
    “’Y God, gettin’ to the point where a man can’t go ashore for a beer ’thout somebuddy movin’ in on him!”
    “Her?” Mrs. Feeley pointed.
    “The patty had a real good time, plenty fish, everythin’ goin’ fust rate an’ they decided nothin’ would do ’em but to go over to the tavern, that joint on San Clemente, ’fore we statted for home. I didn’t think nothin’ of it an’ we come back in on sail an’ engine. Rougher than a bastard, it was. I went up forrard for somethin’ an’ damn if I don’t hear the sound o’ barffin’ in the chain locker! There she was, crouched down on the anchor chain, heavin’ her guts out! I made her clean it up. Give the boat a bad name, a thing like that could!”
    “Did they see her?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
    “Nah. I told her to stay there an’ not budge. I’ll turn her over to the immigration people.”
    “Can’t she talk?” Mrs. Feeley said. “She Mexican? Coamer see yammy?”
    Miss Tinkham shook her head and went to the frightened girl. She put her hand on her shoulder gently.
    “Who are you, dear?”
    “I am Sunshine.” The girl’s voice was barely audible. Her English was clear and very slightly accented.
    “You are chilled to the bone. Wouldn’t you like something to eat?” The girl shook her head and turned her face away. “At any rate, come and sit down.” Miss Tinkham led her to the couch and tried to take the suitcase from her but the girl clung fiercely to it. “No one is going to hurt you here, and you are not going to be turned over to the immigration officers. Try to control yourself and tell us what happened. Can you?”
    “He said he was going back to Pago Pago,” Sunshine said.
    Miss Tinkham gestured towards Elisha Dowdy. “The captain?”
    Sunshine nodded. “They were sitting under the pass-through window where I washing dishes in the peea-saloon and he said ‘Let’s get out of here and go back to Pago Pago.’ I saw them come off the big schooner. While they pay the money, I ran very fast and jumped through a big open hole and stayed quiet until the sea became very motion and I frow up all my pea-soupo.”
    “Why did you want to go to the Pago Pago, of all places?” Miss Tinkham said.
    “It is my village. I want to go home,” Sunshine sobbed.
    “Ah,” Miss Tinkham said. “The dark woman in your hand from across the seas.”
    “She ent no Sam-moan,” the captain growled. “She turned down grub, didn’t she? Sam-moans can eat any hour of the day or night, even if they just finished a whole roast pig.”
    “I am taupó of my village.” Sunshine pulled herself up straight. “My father is high chief of my village and I am taupó.”
    “In that case,” Miss Tinkham was running through the card index of her mind, digging out Polynesian lore and stalling for time until the pieces fell into place, “what were you doing in San Clemente?”
    “I came to Ameleeka with a Navy family from Honolulu to look after their children. When they had to send me back because his orders is Europe, they bought my ticket on the Matson. I tear it up and hide in the back of buildings for many days.”
    “And then?”
    “I got money for washing dishes in a Greasy Spoon. Two weeks ago the woman who own it bought the bar in San Clemente and took me also to wash dishes.”
    “You wish you hadn’t torn up the ticket.” Miss Tinkham smiled. “Does your father know where you are?”
    Sunshine shook her head.
    “I will have a hard time to make him believe I am still taupó.”
    “She is the virgin for her village,” Miss Tinkham said.
    Mrs. Feeley and Jasper let out a