"We won't come any way at all," Sid said defiantly. "Not until we're good and ready."
The chief suddenly strode forward, to the edge of the water and then ankle deep in the surf. "Wait," he said, lifting both hands solemnly. "You and these two—you know one another?"
"They're Miz Crowley and Mr. Masters," the corporal shouted back.
"And you know they come here?"
"Heck, yes," said the corporal. "It's why we came. Following them."
"Otherwise you no have come?"
"That's right."
"Then you go," the chief said in a strong, solemn voice. "Tell others. Go! You come close, we hurt these two people. You try to land, take us off—we kill them. We stay here. Our right is to stay. Our Lord Sun no hurt Mandmoorans. Lord Sun for life and growing of crops, not for death. You go."
"You can't keep them for hostages," the corporal shouted across the water. "You can't do that."