An hour afterwards the chief was in the bush, talking to the deserters, and taking in an account of the vast amount of trade lying on board the barque.
“See,” said he, to the only man among them who spoke his dialect—a Fijian half-caste from Loma-loma—“this is my scheme. The captain of the ship and those that come with him will I entice into the bush and kill them one by one, for the path is narrow——”
“Good,” said Sam the half-caste, “and then ten of us, with our hands loosely tied, will be taken off to the ship by two score of your men, who will tell the mate that the captain has caught ten of us, and has gone to seek the other four. Then will the ship be ours.”
“Halloa!” said the mate of the barque to the carpenter, “here's a thundering big crowd of niggers coming off in our two boats, and none of our white chaps with 'em. Stand by, you chaps, with your muskets. I ain't going to let all that crowd aboard with only six men in the ship.”
The men left on board watched the progress of the two boats as they were pulled quickly towards the ship. They hardly apprehended any attempt at cutting-off, as from the ship they could discern the figures of some of their shipmates on shore stacking the sandalwood on a ledge of rock, handy for shipping in the boats.
“It's all right,” called out the mate presently, “the niggers have collared some of our native chaps. I can see that yaller-hided Fiji Sam sitting aft with his hands lashed behind him. Let 'em come alongside.”
“Cap'en been catch him ten men,” said the native in charge to the mate, “he go look now find him other fellow four men. He tell me you give me two bottle rum, some tobacco, some biscuit.”