the east) and had been badly
beaten, losing sixteen men. But, they proudly added, they had been able
to carry off eleven of the enemy's dead, and had only just finished
eating them. The chiefs brother, they said, had been badly wounded by
a bullet in the thigh (the Tupinier natives had a few muskets) and was
suffering great pain, as the "doctors" could not get it out.

Now here was a chance for me--something which would perhaps lead to our
getting a number of these cannibals to recruit for Samoa. I considered
myself a good amateur surgeon (I had had plenty of practice) and at once
volunteered to go on shore, look at the injured gentleman and see what
I could do. My friend Bobaran in New Britain I had cured of an eczemic
disorder by a very simple remedy, and he had been a grateful patient.
Here was another chance, and possibly another grateful patient; and this
being a case of a gunshot wound, I was rather keen on attending to it,
for the Polynesians and Melanesians will stand any amount of cutting
about and never flinch (and there are no coroners in the South Seas to
ask silly questions if the patient dies from a mistake of the operator).

Morel (the captain), the interpreter and myself went on shore. The beach
was crowded with women and children, as well as men--a sure sign that
no treachery was intended--and nearly all of them tried to embrace my
interpreter. The clamour these cannibals made was terrific, the children
being especially vociferous. Several of them seized my hands, and
literally dragged me along to the house of the wounded man; others
possessed themselves of Morel and the interpreter, and in a few minutes
the whole lot of us tumbled, or rather fell, into the house. Then, in an
instant, there was silence--the excited women and children withdrew and
left the captain, the interpreter, some male cannibals and myself with
my patient, who was sitting up, placidly chewing betel-nut.

In ten minutes Morel and I got out the bullet, then dressed and bandaged
the wound, and gave the man a powerful opiate. Leaving him with his
friends, Morel and I went for a walk through the village. Everywhere the
natives were very civil, offering us coco-nuts and food, and even the
women and children did not show much fear at our presence.

Returning to the house, we found our wounded friend was awake, and
sitting up on his mat He smiled affably at us, and rubbed noses with
me--a practice I have never before seen among the Mela