“He must come in now, whether he wishes to or not,” Commander Tazewell declared. “I’m going to send a guard after him.”
Lieutenant Morrison and twenty-five men were quickly assembled and departed to rescue the chief justice. Phil and Sydney were permitted to go along.
With their arms at the shoulder and bayonets fixed, the guard marched away, the officers leading. Reaching the Malima road they turned inland.
Hundreds of warriors carrying both guns and head axes made way for them without a thought of raising a hand to stop them.
When they arrived in sight of the judge’s house, nestling among numerous fruit trees, and half hidden from the road, Lieutenant Morrison deployed his men into a single line. Then placing himself and the officers in front they advanced directly toward the low stone wall surrounding the grounds of the house.
Phil noted as they approached that many of the trees had been destroyed, hacked almost in two with sharp axes, or stripped of their fruit to appease the appetite of the hungry warriors.
Suddenly the Americans were confronted by over a hundred natives who had no doubt been apprised of their coming.
Lieutenant Morrison stopped to parley. Chief Tuatele walked forward, holding himself proudly erect. Mary Hamilton had gone along to interpret.
The lieutenant explained his errand and ordered the rebel chief to withdraw from American property at once. The intimidation of the white man’s unspoken threat was sufficient. In spite of protest from his followers Tuatele obeyed, and the band of sailors entered the compound unopposed.
The chief justice met the lieutenant on his door-step. His face was pale, but resolute. He refused to budge, and his plucky wife applauded his brave decision.