“I’m afeard, yer honour, that I must leave the country to look after itself,” answered Pat, with one of the broadest of his grins; “and as to axing the chief about the matter, I’m after thinking it will be better to take French leave, lest he may try to stop me. The weather, I see, is moderating, and if yer honour will take my advice, you’ll shove off as soon as it is calm enough to put to sea.”
“We can’t go without food, and it will take us some time to collect enough to last till we find the ship,” said Green.
“Then I’ll tell my friends that they must bring us some, for not a rap of salary have I had since I became prime minister, and if they were to load the boats up to the thwarts, I shouldn’t be overpaid for the good I have done the state,” said Pat; and, flourishing his axe in the fashion he had found so effective, he made his way back to where the blacks were now seated on the ground, discussing apparently some important matter or other. The chief listened to him for some time, and he and his people then getting up disappeared among the trees in the distance.
“I’ve done it, yer honour,” said Pat, who quickly returned; “they’ll soon be back with as much we can require for some days to come.”
While the savages were away, a fire was lighted, and the remainder of the shell-fish and the birds which Tom had shot were cooked. The boats were also got ready, so that they might put to sea as soon as the provisions arrived, or, in case the natives after all should prove treacherous, shove off at a moment’s notice. Green knew well the danger of an encounter with savages armed with poisoned arrows; a shower of such arrows might wound every one of the party, and he was aware that even slight hurts might prove fatal. At length the blacks made their appearance, carrying baskets containing taro, cocoanut, several other roots and fruits, and some fish of various sizes. By Pat’s directions they were placed on the ground, when Green, not wishing to take them without payment, collected some handkerchiefs and clasp-knives and a few other articles, which he desired Pat to convey to the chief. This unexpected gift afforded intense satisfaction to the savages, who would have rushed forward and rubbed noses with the strangers, had not Pat hinted to his friends that such a proceeding would not be appreciated by the white men. The blacks, having set down their baskets, retired, and they were forthwith conveyed to the boats. While the natives were absent, Tom had wisely refilled the breakers.
“Now’s your time, yer honour,” cried Casey, who feared that his friends might suspect his intention of leaving them. The men, by Green’s directions, retired quietly to the boats, Pat trying to keep himself concealed among them; and while they were embarking, he also jumped in and stowed himself away in the sternsheets of Green’s boat.
“Shove off, yer honour,” he shouted out, “or they’ll be coming down to stop me.”
Before the boats had got half a cable’s length from the shore, the chief discovered that his prime minister had disappeared, and, suspecting that he had gone off with the white men, he and his tribe came rushing down to the beach, shouting vociferously to him to come back.
“That same is more than I intend doing,” cried Pat, from the bottom of the boat.
The surf had by this time considerably gone down, and the sea was sufficiently smooth to enable the boats to steer a direct course for Santa Cruz; Green could, therefore, only hope that the ship might not have left the harbour to look for them, as, in that case, they would in all probability miss each other.