It was out at last—the end of this roundabout parleying was in view. Not for nothing had Te Karearea spared the lives of the sailors. Without the crew the ship would have been of little use to him; but by sparing the men he would be enabled to reach New Zealand as speedily as the brig could sail thither. Otherwise, at the mercy of the winds and waves, he might be months in completing the voyage—if, indeed, it ever were completed.
'So that is his little game,' thought George. 'He offers us our lives to bring him and his brother rascals to New Zealand. I must see the mate and talk it over with him. I can't decide upon my own responsibility."
At this moment the door opened and the mate was ushered in.
'Well now, Mr. 'Aughton, this 'ere's a rummy go, and no mistake,' he began. 'And the poor skipper gone, too. I saw it all, Mr. 'Aughton, as you may say, and——'
But George had had too much experience of the mate's garrulity to scruple about cutting it short; so he briefly put before the sailor the proposal of the chief—for it amounted to a proposal—and wound up by asking his opinion as to the best course to pursue.
Mr. Bigham's opinion, tersely stated, was that he hated to give in to a nigger.
'I says, let us seem to agree, but round on the blankety niggers if we see a good chance,' he suggested joyously.
'If we promise, we must perform, Mr. Bigham,' said George gravely. 'Perhaps news of the rising will reach New Zealand before we do, and a cruiser may be sent to intercept us.'
'No chance of it. That smart chief has seen to that,' returned Bigham gloomily. 'The only vessel belonging to the island was a ketch, and the beggar sent her drifting out to sea.' Once again he expressed an extremely uncomplimentary opinion of 'niggers' and all their works and ways.
'Then there is nothing for it but to accept, if we wish to save our lives. But we must play fair,' said George.