When the firing had ceased and the boat had returned to the ship the wretched people hiding amongst the mammee apple had come out and grouped themselves around Aioma and Taori. Taori had saved them for the moment by his act in swimming out to attack the boat; he was no longer their chief, but their god, and yet some instinctive¹ knowledge of the wickedness of man and of the tenacity³ and power of the white men told them that all was not over.  
Amongst them as they waited whilst Aioma and Katafa distributed food, sat two women, Nanu and Ona, each with a dead child clasped in her arms. The child of Nanu had been killed instantaneously by a bullet that had pierced its neck and the arm of its mother. Ona’s child, pierced in its body, had died slowly, bleeding its life away and wailing⁴ as it bled.
 
These two women, high cheeked, frizzy-headed and of the old fierce Melanesian stock which formed the backbone⁵ and hitting force of Karolin, were strange to watch as they sat nursing their dead, speechless, passionless, heedless of food or drink or what might happen. The others ate, too paralysed by the events of the day to prepare food for themselves, they yet took what was given to them with avidity, then, when dark came, they crept back into the bushes to sleep, whilst Dick, leaving Katafa in charge of Aioma, left the trees and under cover of the darkness came along the beach past the bodies, over which the birds were still at work, until he was level with the schooner⁶.
 
She showed no lights on deck, no sign of life but the two tiny dim golden discs of the cabin portholes.
 
Taking his seat on a weather-worn piece of coral, he sat watching her. Forward, close to the foc’sle head, he saw now two forms, Le Moan and Kanoa; they drew together, then they vanished, the deck now seemed deserted⁷, but he continued to watch. Already in his mind he foresaw vaguely⁸ the plan of Rantan. To-morrow they would not use the boat, they would move the schooner, bring her opposite the village and then with those terrible things that could speak so loudly and hit so far they would begin again—and where could the people go? The forty-mile reef would be no protection; away from the trees and the puraka patches the people would starve, they would have no water. The people were tied to the village.
 
He sat with his chin on his clenched⁹ fists staring at the schooner and the two evil golden eyes that were staring him back like the eyes of a beast.
 
If only a single canoe had been left he would have paddled off and, with Aioma and maybe another for help, would have attacked, but the canoes were gone— and the dinghy.
 
Then as he sat helpless, with hatred¹⁰ and the fury of hell in his heart, the golden eyes vanished. Rantan had put out the light.
 
With the rising moon he saw as in a glass, darkly, little by little and bit by bit, the tragedy we have seen in full. He saw the grouping of the foc’sle hands as they came up from below, he saw them disappear as they sat on deck. Then he saw the figure of Le Moan, her halt at the saloon hatch and the following of Kanoa, he heard the scream of the stricken Carlin.
 
Lastly he saw the crowding of the hands aft, Carlin’s body being dragged on deck and cast overboard into a lather¹¹ of moonshine and phosphorus, and something white carried shoulder high to forward of the galley¹² where it was laid on deck.
 
Then after a few moments lights began to break out, lanterns moved on the deck, the portholes broke alive again and again were blotted¹³ out as the cabin lamp lit and taken from its attachments¹⁴ was carried on deck and swung from the ratlins of the main for decorative¹⁵ purposes. The moon gave all the light that any man in his sober senses could want, but the crew of the schooner were not sober, they were drunk with the excitement of the business, and though nominally¹⁶ free men they felt as slaves feel when their bonds are removed. Besides, Rantan and Carlin had plotted to kill them as they had killed Sru and the others. On top of that there was a bottle of ginger¹⁷ wine. It had been stored in the medicine locker—Peterson, like many other seamen¹⁸, had medical fancies of his own and he believed this stuff to be a specific for the colic. It had escaped Carlin’s attention, but Poni, who acted as steward¹⁹, had sniffed²⁰ at it, tasted it and found it good.
 
It was served out in a tin cup.
 
Then, across the water came the sound of voices, the twanging of a native fiddle²¹, and now the whoop-whoop of dancers in the hula dance songs, laughter against which came the thunder of the moonlit sea on the outer beach and an occasional cry from the gulls²³ at their food.
 
Dick, rising, made back towards the trees; his heart felt easier. Without knowing what had occurred, he still knew that something had happened to divide his enemies, that they had quarrelled, and that one had been killed; that, with Sru and his companions, made five gone since the schooner had dropped anchor.
 
Lying down beside Katafa, whilst Taiepu kept watch, he fell asleep.
 
At dawn Taiepu, shouting like a gull²², came racing²⁴ through the trees whilst the bushes gave up their people. They came crowding out on the beach to eastward²⁵ of the trees and there, sure enough, was Le Moan, the schooner against the blaze at the Gates of Morning, and the boat hanging a hundred yards off shore.
 
Kneeling on the sands before Taori, glancing sometimes up into his face, swiftly, as one glances at the sun, Le Moan told her tale whilst the sun itself now fully²⁶ risen blaz............