“There shall be no mercy shown to Katolikos; for they are of hell and the devil and his works!” and from the people there came a deep growl of approval, which changed into a savage hissing as Macpherson rose and stretched out his hand.
“Let me speak,” he said.
“No,” shouted the teacher. “Who are you? You are a bad man, you are——”
Packenham made two strides over to Lilo and placed his heavy hand on his shoulder—“Sit down, you damned little psalm-singing kanaka hog, or I'll knock your eye out. He shall speak.”
“Get thee hence, thou shielder of the devil's children,” said a young, fat deacon, walking up to the trader and spitting contemptuously at his feet. “We want no such white men as thee among us here in Mâdurô.” In an instant Macpherson struck him between the eyes and sent him flying backwards among his fellow-deacons. Then came an angry roar from the people.
The trader turned to Packenham with a groan, “I'm a ruined man now, Captain Packenham, and all through this auld fule of a Papist.” Then he again tried to speak amidst the uproar.
“Sit down, damn you,” said Denison, the supercargo, “and don't excite them any more. They're ready for any mischief now. Oh, you she-devil,” and he darted into the middle of the room towards Rimé and his grand-daughter. A stout muscular girl had torn the child's arms from the old man's waist, and was beating her savagely in the face with clenched fists. Denison gave her an under-clip on the jaw and sent her down, and in a few seconds the old man and child were the centre of a struggling group—the white men hitting out right and left to save them from being murdered. The teacher's wife, a tall, graceful young woman—with whom Denison had been exchanging surreptitious glances a few minutes before—weeping copiously the while, aided them by belabouring the backs of the women who were endeavouring to get at the prostrate figure of the little girl. But Packenham, Macpherson, and the supercargo were too much for the natives, and soon cleared a space around them.
“Take them to the ship, Captain Packenham,” said the teacher's wife pantingly, in English. “These people are mad now. Go—go at once.”
Picking up the frail figure of the old man, the captain, followed by Macpherson and the supercargo, soon gained the boat through a shower of stones and other missiles. Ten minutes later they were on board the Palestine.