"Behold thy virgin!" shouted the Papaloi. The two little ones were then seized and thrown upon their backs. We saw the knives descend. If shrieks there were, they were drowned by the noise of the drums and the enthusiastic shouts of the sectaries. I close the scene. It will remain with me until life ends.
Recalling these happenings across the space of many intervening years, I wonder at myself, as you are probably wondering at me, that I did not drop down and die with very horror of such sights. There was but one thing which sustained me. Self-preservation is man's first law; all things become subservient to that end. The one thought that permeated every fibre of my being—and I doubt not that of the Skipper also—was the hope of escape. These dark and dreadful scenes showed us not only what might be our fate, but in so doing urged us on to more strenuous efforts to prevent the ending of our lives as had ended the lives of the wretched little victims. There is sometimes more virtue in telling than in withholding. We send missionaries to Africa. In God's name, let's send them nearer home, where iniquity of the vilest flourishes, and at our very doors!
When the executioners had disappeared with their inanimate victims, the Papaloi raised his hand, commanding silence.
"Say your prayers," said the Skipper; "it's our turn now."
"I'll never believe it," said I. "At least, I'll shoot off the old villain's head first, if you'll take the woman."
"If we but had our pistols!" said the Skipper. And then I, too, remembered that we had been stripped of our weapons in the banqueting hall.
The Papaloi then made an address which I will not repeat. It was concerning us, and spoke of us as imposters and spies. I felt that I had not long to live, and I commended myself to God. Two of the executioners started toward us. I shrank as I saw them approaching. I, watching every movement, with nerves strung to the highest tension, saw that the Mamanloi leaned over and whispered to the Papaloi, whereupon he raised his hand again, and his voice rang through the bare interior.
"The high priestess suggests that these spies shall see one more sacrifice to the serpent god before they, too, die for our faith."
I know that it is not conceit which leads me to assert that I was confident that I caught a significant glance from the eyes of the priestess directed at me. It seemed to me that she wanted to gain time, and certainly every minute gained was a minute in our favour. The Captain turned to me and said in a voice of bravado, which trembled as he spoke:
"I hope you're tender, Jones. Now I fear I'm a little stringy or so. I certainly hope that I'll stick in that old villain's crop and choke him."