“There is Ngau’s boat,” said the priest, with a flash of his eyes towards a sullen-looking old chief. “It is new, and strong like a ship of two masts.”
Ngau’s withered face hardened. A titter ran round the assembled chiefs.
“That is the knot,” said Tuisunga; “it is not the will of Ngau to give his boat, lest it be cast away.”
“Not to save the life of a dying woman?” demanded Father Zosimus.
“Ngau is accustomed to the white man’s way,” said Tuisunga. “He is mean, and his heart is like a stone.”
All eyes turned to Ngau, who stared back, defiant and unabashed.
“If he has a white man’s heart, we will treat him to the white man’s law,” cried Zosimus. “We will take his boat by force.”
“But it is Ngau’s boat,” said Tuisunga.
“It is Ngau’s boat,” echoed the chiefs.
“And thou wilt let the woman die?” cried Father Zosimus.