as if he would have liked to have kicked them all in
turn, and then collectively.

"Never mind," he thought to himself, "I trust they are all reserved for
higher things--they all deserve the gallows, and I sincerely trust they
will get it."

Both Ryan and Foster, he could see, had not the slightest doubt of
his and Raymond's _bona-fides_, and at supper both men were extremely
affable to him. At the same time he thought he could perceive that they
were anxious as to what had become of the captain's boat, for they asked
him casually if there was any shipping at Apia, or at any of the other
ports in the group.

"Only the usual local trading vessels," he replied. "Whenever a stranger
comes in--even if it is only a native craft--I get the news at my place
by runners in an hour or two."

And Almanza's mind, too, was at rest, for when he was groaning in agony
in his bank, and he was told that a boat from the shore was coming
alongside, he had started up and reached for his pistols. But Ryan had
satisfied him completely.

"We could have shot every one of them before the boat came alongside,
had we wanted to, _amigo_," he said.

"Had they no arms?" asked the wounded man.

"None--not so much as a cutlass even. Diego, Rivas, and Garcia, who
helped them to discharge the boat, saw everything taken out of her but
the oars and sails. There was a big man--a half-caste, who was dressed
like a white man--in charge of the four Samoans. I asked him to come on
deck and have a glass of grog; but he said his crew did not want him
to leave the boat. They were frightened, he said, because our men had
pistols in their belts."

Almanza gave a sigh of relief. "And you are sure they will return and
tow us?"

"Sure, _amigo_."

And just as supper was over, and Frewen and Ryan returned to the deck, a
sailor called out that the whale boat and five others were in sight.

"Ah, my partner is not the man to lose time in an important matter like
this, Captain Ryan," said Frewen; "your tow-line will be tautened out
before the three hours we mentioned."

CHAPTER IX

Soon after Raymond and the old chief with his followers had set out for
the ship, and when the swift tropic night had closed in upon the island,
Captain Marston died. He was conscious when his kindly host and Randall
Cheyne had returned, and before he passed away, thanked the planter
sincerely for all that he had done for his wife, his crew, and himself;
for he well knew th