Meanwhile Jack Stormalong was missed, but before an hour had passed his manly voice was heard singing aloud, as he came staggering along, bearing the wild pig on his back.
"Catch Jack," he said as he flung it down, "leave a bit o' good food like that to go to waste."
No trace nor trail had the savages left behind, so Jack Stormalong, who was perfectly at home among savages, retreated once more, while at the same time boats were plying hastily twixt ship and shore and a punitive expedition was being formed.
He was not long in finding a beach-man who knew the stronghold of Gobolohlo and his queens. A bargain was soon struck, and that very night sixty fully armed bluejackets and marines with one maxim were on track and trail of the cannibals, and moving eastwards with all possible speed.
Their route however could not be the same direct one which the savages had taken but a longer and easier.
Kivi, the guide, seemed faithful and honest, but he was very well watched indeed, in case he might lead the party into an ambush.
Luckily the weather kept fine and clear. They were making forced marches.
They passed through or up wide valleys, forded rivers carrying the maxim, and clambered over bare hills and plunged into deep, dark forests.
With them they had brought red paint, beads, calico, sugar, and tinned meats, with trinkets of Birmingham gold and silver, so that though the wild natives would take no silver it was easy to barter for fruit, fowls, or whatever they needed.
The villagers usually retired at first into their sago-palm dwellings, but were afraid to attack, but a present brought them to reason, then they swarmed around the British bluejackets and were only too familiar.