“Thank you kindly, sir,” said Dick, touching his hat sailor-fashion. “If you will treat this boy well, it’s all I care for. I speak him fair, Charley, for your sake,” he said to me, “and by the cut of his jib, I think he will be as good as his word.”
The chief, whose name we found was Motakee, or “The good-looking one,” now addressed his people, who had been casting somewhat threatening glances at us, and, I suspect, had we been left to their tender mercies, would very soon have knocked us on the head. Our new friend having appointed several of his people to guard us, told us to follow him along the shore. After going a short distance, we reached another much larger beach, on which a number of canoes were drawn up and a large concourse of people assembled. We looked about for the captain and our shipmates, who had at first landed. On going a little farther, what was our horror to see the greater number of them lying dead on the shore, with their heads so battered that we could scarcely recognise them. We knew the captain, however, by his figure and dress; we had, therefore, too much reason to suppose that we were the only survivors of the Dolphin’s crew, with the exception of those who had escaped in the boat and the men who had been saved on the mast. We saw the latter alive in some of the canoes still afloat. Whether the captain had been killed before the destruction of the ship, we could not at first ascertain, but I believe he and the rest were murdered after the accident.
The chief held a long consultation, while Dick and I stood at a little distance watching them, uncertain what was to be our fate.
“Cheer up, Charley,” said Dick. “I would fight for you as long as there’s life in me, if it would be of any use; but I don’t think, savages as they are, that they will have the heart to kill you; and as for me, as I said before, they may do as they like, though I wish I was sure they would not eat me afterwards.”
“Oh, Dick, Dick!” I cried out, “don’t think of anything so horrid! I will ask the young chief not to hurt you, and I will tell him he had better kill me first.”
Just then the consultation came to an end, and Motakee, coming up to us, made signs that we need not be afraid, and that he would protect us.
I afterwards found, when I came to know their language, that he had told the other chiefs that on seeing me he had been reminded of a little boy he had lost, and that he had saved Dick on my account, supposing that he was my father, or, at all events, my friend.
Six men, one of whom was a Sandwich Islander, named Tui, who had been saved on the mast, were now brought on shore. As we watched them, we fully believed that the savages would put them to death, as they had the other poor fellows. Tui, however, stepped forward and addressed the natives in a language which they appeared to comprehend. They again consulted together, the unhappy men standing apart, uncertain whether they might not at any moment find the clubs of the savages crashing through their brains. Trusting to Motakee’s protection, I felt inclined to rush forward and plead for them, but Dick held me back.
“You will do no good, Charley,” he said, “and one of those savages may in a moment give you a tap with his club, and kill you, as an idle boy does a fly.”
The five poor fellows stood collected together, looking pale as death, but they were as brave as any of the men on board. Among them I recognised Tom Clode, the armourer, and Mat Davis, the carpenter’s mate.