nger is near. Now, I understand from
you, Ralph, that the island is inhabited by thorough-going, out-and-out
cannibals, whose principal law is--'Might is right, and the weakest goes
to the wall?'"

"Yes," said I, "so Bill gave me to understand. He told me, however,
that, at the southern side of it, the missionaries had obtained a footing
amongst an insignificant tribe. A native teacher had been sent there by
the Wesleyans, who had succeeded in persuading the chief at that part to
embrace Christianity. But instead of that being of any advantage to our
enterprise, it seems the very reverse; for the chief Tararo is a
determined heathen, and persecutes the Christians,--who are far too weak
in numbers to offer any resistance,--and looks with dislike upon all
white men, whom he regards as propagators of the new faith."

"'Tis a pity," said Jack, "that the Christian tribe is so small, for we
shall scarcely be safe under their protection, I fear. If Tararo takes
it into his head to wish for our vessel, or to kill ourselves, he could
take us from them by force. You say that the native missionary talks
English?"

"So I believe."

"Then, what I propose is this," said Jack: "We will run round to the
south side of the island, and cut anchor off the Christian village. We
are too far away just now to have been descried by any of the savages, so
we shall get there unobserved, and have time to arrange our plans before
the heathen tribes know of our presence. But, in doing this, we run the
risk of being captured by the ill-disposed tribes, and being very ill
used, if not--a--"

"Roasted alive and eaten," cried Peterkin. "Come, out with it, Jack;
according to your own showing, it's well to look the danger straight in
the face!"

"Well, that is the worst of it, certainly. Are you prepared, then, to
take your chance of that?"

"I've been prepared and had my mind made up long ago," cried Peterkin,
swaggering about the deck with his hands thrust into his breeches'
pockets. "The fact is, Jack, I don't believe that Tararo will be so
ungrateful as to eat us; and I'm quite sure that he'll be too happy to
grant us whatever we ask: so the sooner we go in and win the better."

Peterkin was wrong, however, in his estimate of savage gratitude, as the
sequel will show.

The schooner was now put before the wind, and, after making a long run to
the south'ard, we put about and beat up for the south side of Mango,
where we arrived be