At first they came crowding round me and my companion in misfortune, poor Bill, who cried out, “I say, Sam, d’ye think they’ll eat us alive or kill us first?”—a question to which I could not give any answer, for a big fellow was brandishing a tomahawk close to my eyes, and I was in momentary expectation of having my brains dashed out.
After some minutes the man who had given the orders to the drummers called out a few words, and instantly the noise and confusion ceased, and all the people drew themselves up in small groups around the open space, and in front of each group stood a warrior, who seemed to be a sort of officer.
Again the man who gave orders, and who, we found, was Calla’s father, Wanga, spoke, and the men in the groups squatted on the ground, while the officers came and collected round the posts where we were lashed.
Wanga now called out for Calla, who came out of one of the huts without arms and guarded by six men. Wanga now made a long harangue to the people; and then, turning to Calla, he told him to speak.
We, of course, could not understand a word, but afterwards we learned that Wanga had said that we had done wrong in not giving up the body of Bristol Bob to Calla, and that he was to blame for not having insisted on it.
Calla defended himself by saying that we had saved his life from the people of Paraka, and that it was tabu to touch a white man who had died.
This was objected to, and Calla was told that he should, at all events, have brought us over to the village; and he was then sent back into the hut.
The posts to which we were lashed were now taken out of the ground, and with us laid down, while three fellows, who wore necklaces of finger and toe bones, and had whistles made out of thigh-bones, came and danced round us, all the rest of the people remaining perfectly quiet.
While this was going on we heard a dull, smothered roar as of an explosion, and the dancers, who we afterwards found were priests or sorcerers, as well as all the people who were looking on, rushed down to the beach.
I was lying close to Bill, and said, “I wonder what that is; it sounds like the magazine on Bristol Bob’s island blown up.”