“He is Kataafa’s talking man,” Klinger whispered to the count. “He has told them that you are here to help crown their chosen king.”
Captain Scott was becoming restless. These native “fonos” he knew were often long drawn out affairs. He was anxious to be free, to sail away from the Kapuan Islands. He did not relish being stopped by an American war-ship.
“Can’t you cut this short?” he asked Klinger.
Klinger shook his head.
“There’s no danger,” he assured Scott. “I have spies out, and when they bring me news of any movement which may threaten us, there will be time enough. The Kapuan cannot be hurried in his deliberations. We must be sure these people are all on our side before we give them the means to accomplish our purpose.”
“How about my pay for carrying your guns?” Scott asked.
Klinger nodded. “I have your check in my pocket,” he replied quietly. Then he rose to speak to the assemblage. His words were eagerly heard by the chiefs, and after he had finished the talking man in a loud liquid voice gave Klinger’s meaning to the crowd. There was a murmur of disapproval from several quarters. Chiefs arose at many points in the crowd, their talking men beside them. It was considered undignified for a chief to speak for himself.
Klinger’s placid face remained calm. The count showed plainly his anxiety, while Captain Scott smiled grimly.
“A little previous, I’m thinking,” Scott said, shaking his head knowingly.
“What did you say to displease them?” the count demanded of Klinger.