“Oh! bother the danger,” cried Peterkin; “I wonder to hear you, Jack, talk of danger. When a fellow begins to talk about it, he’ll soon come to magnify it to such a degree that he’ll not be fit to face it when it comes, no more than a suckin’ baby!”
“Nay, Peterkin,” replied Jack, gravely, “I won’t be jested out of it. I grant you, that, when we’ve once resolved to act, and have made up our minds what to do, we should think no more of danger. But, before we have so resolved, it behoves us to look at it straight in the face, and examine into it, and walk round it; for if we flinch at a distant view, we’re sure to run away when the danger is near. Now, I understand from you, Ralph, that the island is inhabited by thorough-going, out-and-out cannibals, whose principal law is—‘Might is right, and the weakest goes to the wall?’”
“Yes,” said I, “so Bill gave me to understand. He told me, however, that, at the southern side of it, the missionaries had obtained a footing amongst an insignificant tribe. A native teacher had been sent there by the Wesleyans, who had succeeded in persuading the chief at that part to embrace Christianity. But instead of that being of any advantage to our enterprise, it seems the very reverse; for the chief Tararo is a determined heathen, and persecutes the Christians,—who are far too weak in numbers to offer any resistance,—and looks with dislike upon all white men, whom he regards as propagators of the new faith.”
“’Tis a pity,” said Jack, “that the Christian tribe is so small, for we shall scarcely be safe under their protection, I fear. If Tararo takes it into his head to wish for our vessel, or to kill ourselves, he could take us from them by force. You say that the native missionary talks English?”
“So I believe.”
“Then, what I propose is this,” said Jack: “We will run round to the south side of the island, and cut anchor off the Christian village. We are too far away just now to have been descried by any of the savages, so we shall get there unobserved, and have time to arrange our plans before the heathen tribes know of our presence. But, in doing this, we run the risk of being captured by the ill-disposed tribes, and being very ill used, if not—a—”
“Roasted alive and eaten,” cried Peterkin. “Come, out with it, Jack; according to your own showing, it’s well to look the danger straight in the face!”
“Well, that is the worst of it, certainly. Are you prepared, then, to take your chance of that?”
“I’ve been prepared and had my mind made up long ago,” cried Peterkin, swaggering about the deck with his hands thrust into his breeches’ pockets. “The fact is, Jack, I don’t believe that Tararo will be so ungrateful as to eat us; and I’m quite sure that he’ll be too happy to grant us whatever we ask: so the sooner we go in and win the better.”
Peterkin was wrong, however, in his estimate of savage gratitude, as the sequel will show.