“Yes,” said the lieutenant looking toward the group, “well-drilled, well-armed righting men, who would drive your people like leaves before the wind. But I don’t want to quarrel. I am right, though; you are an escaped convict from Norfolk Island?”
“Yes, I am,” said the man boldly; “but I’ve given up civilisation, and I’m a Maori now, and the English Government had better leave me alone.”
“Well, I’ve no orders to take you.”
“Oh! Oh!” came again from the group: and Tomati turned sharply round, and said a few words indignantly in the Maori tongue, whose result was a huddling closer together of the men in the group and utter silence.
“They’ll be quiet now,” said Tomati. “They understand an English word now and then.”
“Well, I’ve no more to say, only this—If those two men do come ashore, or you find that they have come ashore, you’ve got to seize them and make them prisoners. Make slaves of them if you like till we come again, and then you can give them up and receive a good reward.”
“I shall never get any reward,” said Tomati, grimly.
“Poor lads! No,” said the boatswain; “I’m afraid not.”
Just then there was a sharp movement among the Maoris, who set up a loud grunting noise, which drew the attention of the lieutenant, and made the men laugh.
“It’s only their way,” said the Englishman gruffly.