At his suggestion, we carried the articles taken from the boat up to a shady spot among a grove of cocoanut trees but a short distance from the water. This was the trading-ground, or market where the barter was to be carried on. Very few natives had made their appearance, and these few brought nothing to sell. But Bailey gave me to understand that they would not bring their hogs or fruit for sale till after the sun went down more, for it was then but little after noon; and suggested that we should carry the articles up to his house, which he pointed out at no great distance. So we gathered up the "trade," and backed the whole up to the "thatched cottage," where an old man was sitting in the doorway, whom Bailey introduced to me as his father. There was no disputing the family resemblance; I had no doubt that he was Mr. Bailey, senior. We passed all the things into the house; and I entered with Bailey to see that they were all right and ready for market. We had two old flintlock muskets which might have done good service at Bunker Hill or the Cowpens, and could perhaps be discharged now by putting a live coal of fire into the "pan," though I have no doubt the butt was the most dangerous end of them considered as weapons; about a dozen "cast steel" hatchets, three or four pieces of cheap cottons and prints, and some thirty pounds of very ancient "nigger-head" tobacco. I accepted a very cordial invitation from Mr. Bailey to take a seat upon the mat between him and his venerable parent, whose dim eyes were, for the most part, fixed in speechless admiration upon the treasures I have mentioned. Bailey had closed the door after us, and taken a seat on the mat; and now for the first time he threw aside the mask.
"What for cap'n go Hanarora," said he, "with white man?"
"I don't know," said I. "Because he wanted to, I suppose. He has a roving commission, I presume, to go where he likes."
"Well," said Mr. Bailey, pointing to the heap of goods on the floor, "I got these tings, now, I goin' keep 'em."
The old gentleman nodded his head in silent approval.
"I got you here too. I goin' keep you."
"The deuce you are!" said I, without waiting for the old man's opinion on this point. "We'll see about that."
I made a dash for the door; my would-be jailor did the same; we both seized it, pulling opposite ways, but I proved the stronger! I pushed him aside, flung the door open, and bounded out into the footpath. The whole thing had flashed upon me at once! I now understood that his intention had been to capsize the boat in the surf, making it appear accidental; and his vexation arose from his failure to beach her broadside on, as he had meant to do. As I struck into the path leading towards the landing I encountered Peter, the Mani Kanaka, coming out of the bypath through the bushes. He, too, had smelt treachery in the air.
"Where Bailey?" said he.