"Nice prospect for Ella," I thought gloomily. "Heaven help the poor girl!"
I lowered the quarter-boat and sent mother and daughter ashore, for I was determined not to witness Dartmoor's meeting with the girl I loved. Yet the jealous devils in my soul were too strong for my determination. I looked through the glass at Dartmoor assisting Ella ashore, and swore dismally as he took her in his arms, kissed her on the cheek, and turned away from her to the mother.
A scream, either from Ella or her mother, interrupted the second greeting, and I shifted my glass. There was the brute baby, with his huge arms around Ella, attempting to follow the example of Dartmoor. The missionary shouted, and the coolies danced around at a safe distance.
Dartmoor acted. With a bound he had the brute by the throat and pulled him clear. Then I saw them clench, and at this I dropped the glass and sprang into the dingey.
I took only one look behind as I pulled furiously on the oars. They were on the ground in a mad struggle, the brute uppermost. Ella had fainted and her mother was bending over her, while the missionary and the coolies were well up the hill.
As I grounded and sprang out with an oar, the brute slowly rose erect, looking at Dartmoor.
"Get out of here!" I yelled. "Clear out!" and brandished the oar.
He stumbled away a short distance, dropped and crawled a little farther, then lay down on the sand. I made toward Ella.
"Is she hurt?" I asked anxiously.
"Only fainted away," answered the mother. "That creature frightened her so. He is simply terrible."