“Tamate,” he said, “you must go to-night. At midnight you may have a chance. To-morrow morning when the big star rises they will kill you.”
“Are you sure of it?”
“Yes, I have just come from the chief’s house. That is what they have agreed. They will do nothing till to-morrow morning.”
Tamate told this to his wife, and asked her if she wished to go away. Perhaps he knew what she would say. At any rate she answered as he would have done.
“We will stay. God will take care of us. If we die, we die: if we live, we live.”
Then they asked the wives of the teachers. They were brave too. They said, “Let us live together or die together.”
That night they gathered quietly for evening service in their strange new home. They could not sing lest the sound should bring the natives to attack them. Though the teachers knew English, they were not quite at home in it, so Tamate spoke in Rarotongan, that they might follow every word.
On the hush, broken only by his voice in prayer, a grating sound fell. It was the clank of the chain, on the side of the ship and on the windlass, as the anchor was drawn up.
When they rose from prayer and looked out, the ship was leaving the bay. The last chance of escape was gone. They were alone amongst the fierce and angry natives.
Instead of going to sleep, Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers spent the night making parcels. They tied up large gifts for the near friends of Bocasi and smaller ones for the others.