He raised Harvey up in his mighty arms as if he were a child, his right hand still grasping the Snider carbine, and carried him carefully to the beach. There he laid him down for a while.
“Stay not here with me, Roka of Manhiki,” said Harvey, trying hard to speak calmly, though he was suffering the greatest agony from his wound—“stay not here, but run, run quickly, so that there may be no more murder done. Leave me here.... Tell the sua alii{**} to get the people together and hunt and slay those two men. Give them no mercy.”
* I.e., one who writes—a supercargo or clerk.
** The mate, chief officer—one next in command to a
captain.
“No mercy shall they have,” said the Manhikian grimly; “so rest thee content for a little while.... Aue!”
He sprang to his feet, carbine in hand, for from out the thickset jungle there emerged a thing of horror to look upon.
Chard, leaning upon his Winchester, was staggering down to the beach, with his lower jaw shot away. He came blindly on towards the man he had sought to murder, gasping and groaning. Then he saw Roka, dropped his Winchester, threw up his hands, and tried to speak.
Roka walked up to him.
“'Tis better for thee to die quickly,” he said.
The supercargo swayed to and fro, and mutely held out both hands to Harvey as if imploring help or forgiveness.
Roka drew back, and planted his left foot firmly in the sand, as he placed the muzzle of his carbine against Chard's breast, and Chard, grasping the barrel in his left hand to steady himself, bent his dreadful face upon his chest.