"Yes, we are married," cried Tera; "and we go to Koiau to punish Niga."
"I go to Koiau also," said Brand, resolutely folding his arms; "you can't put me ashore now."
"Can't we?" growled Shackel, savagely. "There's two words to that, my lad; we drop Pharaoh here down Channel, and you'll go with him. A nice square time you'll have; for he knows you killed his gal, and he'll knife you, sure as a gun."
"I'll hold my own. If you won't take me to Koiau, at least I'll have a chance of escape now I'm out of Grimleigh."
"How do you know we won't hand you over to the police?"
"What good will that do?" retorted Brand, doggedly, "you can't prove that I killed the girl."
"Three of us can. Johnson, myself, and Tera. But I don't care if you swing or not. All I wish for is the truth. Here are pen, ink, and paper, so you sit down and write a confession."
"I won't," said Brand, desperately.
"Won't you, by gum!" roared the skipper; "then I'll clap you in irons, and send you ashore at the nearest port in charge of the police."
The missionary looked round. He saw no gleam of mercy on the faces before him. He reflected that if he was only put ashore away from Grimleigh, he might contrive to escape. It would not be difficult to catch a ship bound for America; then he could make for 'Frisco, and pick up a schooner for Koiau. Once on the island, and Niga, for his own sake, would protect him.