“I foresaw that,” said the King. “Everything in that way that could be got together in the few minutes that we had to spare has already been brought ashore in my canoes. If there is anything further that you would like, another canoe will go out to the schooner as soon as it is practicable.”
“Thanks so much,” said Hilda, fervently.
They retraced their steps to the clearing, for the path by which Bassett had taken them led only into the scrub. Many natives were in waiting, full of smiles and excitement. To one group after another the King gave rapid yet careful directions. Some sped inland and others down to the beach. Presently some twenty of the native boys were racing on bicycles up the road to the King’s house. Soon only two of the natives remained, two girls of surpassing beauty, chosen by the king from many aspirants. The King turned to Hilda.
“Miss Auriol, these two girls wish to be your friends, and to do everything that you want while you are on the island. They will be in attendance upon you while you are at my house, if you will let them come. They are of my kin, and they speak a little English. If you will have them, you will make them very happy.”
Hilda had already been watching the girls with frank admiration. “Oh, yes, please,” she said eagerly. “There is nothing I should have liked better.”
Tiva and Ioia flew to her side at once. Hilda made in them pleasant discoveries of shyness, naïveté, curiosity, the utmost friendliness, and a delicious sense of humour. Their questions were many and amazing, their broken English made her laugh, and their laughter echoed her own. Even in the short descent to the beach, these fascinating people made her forget how near she had been to tragedy. The beautiful island of Faloo that had begun to be dark and hateful to her took up its charm again.
Behind the group of girls walked Mr Lechworthy in placid converse with the King.
“Events happen quickly here,” said Lechworthy. “A bogus missionary—a meeting with an absconding solicitor, whom I knew in his better days—an attempt to murder me—my escape, for which I thank you, sir, and, unhappily, the sentence of death.” He hesitated, and then ventured to point out that in England an attempt to murder was punished less severely.
To the ignorant native the English practice seemed to be illogical and to put a premium on bad shooting. But he did not raise this point. He said that he had never pronounced sentence on a white man before, though the white men in his island had done much wrong. This was not the only offence that Bassett had committed, and it was necessary that he should die. “Here, you see, I am the King and the law—and my island is not England. It is all different. You will see later.”