Mackintosh turned to the natives.
"Stay where you are. He wants you. But be silent."
A faint smile came over the old man's white face.
"Come nearer," he said.
Mackintosh bent over him. His eyes were closed and the words he said were like a wind sighing through the fronds of the coconut trees.
"Give me another drink. I've got something to say."
This time Mackintosh gave him his whisky neat. Walker collected his strength in a final effort of will.
"Don't make a fuss about this. In 'ninety-five when there were troubles white men were killed, and the fleet came and shelled the villages. A lot of people were killed who'd had nothing to do with it. They're damned fools at Apia. If they make a fuss they'll only punish the wrong people. I don't want anyone punished."
He paused for a while to rest.
"You must say it was an accident. No one's to blame. Promise me that."