the whale-boat flew along towards the canoe. When they reached it,
Williams spoke in the dialects of his other islands, but none could
the three savages in the canoe understand. So he gave them some beads
and fish-hooks as a present to show that he was a friend and again his
boat shot away toward the beach.

They pulled to a creek where a brook ran down in a lovely valley
between two mountains. On the beach stood some Erromangan natives,
with their eyes (half fierce, half frightened) looking out under their
matted jungle of hair.

Picking up a bucket from the boat, Williams held it out to the chief
and made signs to show that he wished for water from the brook. The
chief took the bucket, and, turning, ran up the beach and disappeared.
For a quarter of an hour they waited; and for half an hour. At last,
when the sun was now high in the sky, the chief returned with the
water.

Williams drank from the water to show his friendliness. Then his
friend, Harris, swinging himself over the side of the boat, waded
ashore through the cool, sparkling, shallow water and sat down. The
natives ran away, but soon came back with cocoa-nuts and opened them
for him to drink.

* * * * *

"See," said Williams, "there are boys playing on the beach; that is a
good sign."

"Yes," answered Captain Morgan, "but there are no women, and when the
savages mean mischief they send their women away."

Williams now waded ashore and Cunningham followed him. Captain Morgan
stopped to throw out the anchor of his little boat and then stepped
out and went ashore, leaving his crew of four brown islanders resting
on their oars.

Williams and his two companions scrambled up the stony beach over
the grey stones and boulders alongside the tumbling brook for over a
hundred yards. Turning to the right they were lost to sight from the
water-edge. Captain Morgan was just following them when he heard a
terrified yell from the crew in the boat.

Williams and his friends had gone into the bush, Harris in front,
Cunningham next, and Williams last. Suddenly Harris, who had
disappeared in the bush, rushed out followed by yelling savages with
clubs. Harris rushed down the bank of the brook, stumbled, and fell
in. The water dashed over him, and the Erromangans, with the red fury
of slaughter in their eyes, leapt in and beat in his skull with clubs.

Cunningham, with a native at his heels with lifted club, stooped,
picked up a great