An unexpected discovery, and a bold, reckless defiance, with its consequences—Plans of escape, and heroic resolves.  
When we returned to the shore and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads.
 
We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us.
 
“And what, is it that my friends wish to say to me?” he inquired.
 
The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared.
 
“Tell him,” said Jack, “that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl’s life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians.”
 
While this was being translated the chief’s brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy and at some length.
 
“What says he?” inquired Jack.
 
“I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge.”
 
Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. “Tell Tararo,” he exclaimed with a flashing eye, “that if he does not grant my demand it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea if he does not give up the girl.”
 
“Nay, my friend,” said the teacher gently, “I will not tell him that. We must ‘overcome evil with good.’”
 
“What does my friend say?” inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack’s looks of defiance.
 
“He is displeased,” replied the teacher.
 
Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile.
 
“What are they doing there?” I inquired.
 
“I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one,” said the teacher.
 
At this moment a couple of men appeared, leading a young girl between them, and going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl, Avatea.
 
We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick-coming fears.
 
“Oh my dear young friend!” whispered the teacher in a voice of deep emotion; while he seized Jack by the arm, “she is to be made a sacrifice even now!”
 
“Is she?” cried Jack with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, “Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!”
 
It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and doubtless would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod had not the teacher rushed in between them, and raising his voice to its utmost, cried:
 
“Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter! It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live or die!”
 
The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack’s former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and waving his hand, said to his people, “Desist. The young man’s life is mine.” Then turning to Jack, he said, “You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one: why should you die?”
 
“Villain!” exclaimed Jack passionately. “I may die, but assuredly I shall not perish alone! I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured!”
 
“You are very bold,” replied the chief haughtily, “but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away—at least, for three days.”
 
“You had better accept these terms,” whispered the teacher entreatingly. “If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having.”
 
Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast and hung down his head in silence.
 
Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and therefore would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter.
 
While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who, during the whole of the foregoing scene, had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet.
 
Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away; while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner.
 
On reaching the deck we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said:
 
“Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are in our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment; we must act—”
 
“Act!” cried Jack, raising himself and tossing back his hair wildly. “It is mockery to talk of acting............