'Yes; it's the nearest way.'
'The narrow way that leads to destruction! How on earth are we to get the machine down there?'
'With ropes, man. We 've tested the quality of their ropes already, and the women work so uncommonly fast that they 'll have new ropes the right length in plenty of time. I 'll go and see the chief about it at once. He 's very much preoccupied, and vastly self-important, but he allowed me to send out scouts, as you suggested, and I dare say I can talk him over.'
Flanso was quite willing that the seaplane should form part of his procession. His vanity appeared to be flattered; he was as much pleased as a Lord Mayor of London who has secured some novelty for his show. But when the carriers had been chosen, an unforeseen difficulty arose. The medicine-man, whose office gave him access to the chief at all times, strutted into Flanso's house, where the elders of the community were discussing the details of the approaching ceremony, and vigorously protested against the seaplane being allowed to leave the village. In a vehement oration he declared that the strange bird must have some connection with the totem of the tribe, and that while it remained with them the village would be safe from hostile attack. Some of the elders backed him up, and Flanso, torn between his own superstitions and his sense of loyalty to the white men who had rescued him, sought relief from his perplexities by sending for Trentham, and putting the case before him.
Trentham had sufficient diplomacy to conceal his amusement, and also a certain irritation at the threat to his scheme.
'Tell chief,' he said to the interpreter, 'medicine-man fella he savvy lot. Big bird belongina totem all right; all same big bird he fly long way, bring back lot of white fella; they fight bad white fella this side, eat bad white fella all up.'
At this moment, unluckily, one of the scouts returned with the report that the big ship no longer lay in the cove, and that all the white fellas had disappeared. Grinning with triumph, the medicine-man instantly claimed that this fact proved his case; the loss of the big bird had evidently rendered the enemy helpless, and there was nothing further to be feared from them. Trentham, surprised as he was at the departure of the Raider, and suspecting that the Germans were probably setting a trap, strained his vocabulary of pidgin to the utmost to counteract the medicine-man's arguments, and ultimately prevailed on the chief to abide by the promise he had given. The medicine-man and his supporters were patently annoyed. They left the hut in undisguised ill-humour, and Trentham had an uneasy feeling that they would still give trouble.
The procession was to start soon after sunset, so that it might reach the wreck in time for the ceremony to take place at the height of the moon. It was late in the afternoon before Hoole had completed his repairs, and after making a good meal the four white men were sitting in their tent, awaiting the moment for starting.
'What's up, Trentham?' asked Hoole. 'You look very sick.'
'I 've been thinking we 're mugs, that's all,' said Trentham. 'With the chief and all his fighting men away, and us too, what defence has the village if the Germans take it into their heads to attack?'