"The Typees are your friends."
"Then how does it happen you reckoned so confidently on our being killed?" I asked, grown bolder now the danger appeared to be over.
"The Yankees have beaten them in the battle which was fought this forenoon, and you are to be sent back as a peace offering," Benson said meekly; but it must have cost him an effort to admit the truth of the matter.
"And what about you?" Phil asked curiously.
"I am in more danger than since the first hour after being cast ashore, when my companions were being killed. If the battle had gone in the Typees' favor, then I should have been praised for bringing you in; but now they make a scapegoat of me, and I stand a good chance of being roasted myself before this scrape is over."
The fellow really believed what he said, and I could not keep down a feeling of pity for him; but Phil was less soft-hearted, and said quickly:—
"I think it will be a very nice ending, Master Benson. When you have satisfied the hunger of these natives, you will probably have done the first really good deed of your life. Besides, it will save you from being hanged."
That Benson was thoroughly cowed and terrified could be told from the fact that he made no reply to this cruel speech, and my pity for him increased, although it is doubtful if I would have saved him had it been in my power, unless I knew for a certainty that he would be sent immediately to a prison from which he could not escape.
The Britisher stood before us silently until one of the men prodded him with a sharp point of a knife, and he asked humbly:—