The magistrate now deigned to become aware of their presence. "Who are these who have dared to approach me?" he asked in a big, off-hand way, but all the while he was nervously regarding Mr. Reid and Clarence. Foreigners, he knew from experience, were not always the chicken-hearted people they were declared to be.
The runners told him.
"Well, what is you name, and whence do your come?" was asked of Mr. Reid.
The replies came readily.
"How old are you? Has your father gone and left you? and was he an honorable man?"
To each of these, in turn, was given a cheerful response.
"Well, what are you doing in the country, anyhow? Do they know you are away? Do you get a salary? How much is it?"
After all these queries and many more had been answered to the magistrate's satisfaction, he deigned to hear the case that had been brought before him. When each detail had been gone over again and again, the magistrate put his head to one side, looked as wise as an owl for a few moments, and then proceeded to deliver himself of his decision.
By paying five Japanese yen (a yen is one dollar), the man could be left ashore; but none of the rest could depart until he, the magistrate, visited the sampan and inspected its contents. He further added that he might come that evening if business permitted. If it did not, he would wait until morning. In the meantime they were to remain tied up where they were under the supervision of the runners.
On Mr. Reid's protesting against the injustice of having to pay such an amount for the mere privilege of putting a native ashore who had concealed himself in his sampan, the magistrate retorted by assuring him that he would then charge him, the missionary, that amount for having come ashore himself without first having communicated with him, the magistrate. Mr. Reid knew very well that such a proceeding was far from legal, as he had his passport which he had shown, but at the same time he felt it would be better for many reasons to pay the amount than to contest the point.