When they arrived in sight of the judge’s house, nestling among numerous fruit trees, and half hidden from the road, Lieutenant Morrison deployed his men into a single line. Then placing himself and the officers in front they advanced directly toward the low stone wall surrounding the grounds of the house. Phil noted as they approached that many of the trees had been destroyed, hacked almost in two with sharp axes, or stripped of their fruit to appease the appetite of the hungry warriors. Suddenly the Americans were confronted by over a hundred natives who had no doubt been apprised of their coming. Lieutenant Morrison stopped to parley. Chief Tuatele walked forward, holding himself proudly erect. Mary Hamilton had gone along to interpret. The lieutenant explained his errand and ordered the rebel chief to withdraw from American property at once. The intimidation of the white man’s unspoken threat was sufficient. In spite of protest from his followers Tuatele obeyed, and the band of sailors entered the compound unopposed. The chief justice met the lieutenant on his door-step. His face was pale, but resolute. He refused to budge, and his plucky wife applauded his brave decision. “I shall never turn my back upon them,” he exclaimed. “A judge is answerable only to God. I have done my duty by my conscience.” Argument was of no avail. Lieutenant Morrison was in a quandary. A sudden shout of savage triumph broke from the rebels outside the compound. “Tonga-fiti, tonga-fiti,” brought the argument to an abrupt end. The judge’s house was on fire. While the Americans had been attempting to persuade the judge to leave, a small party of rebels had stolen into the house from the rear. That end of the house was now ablaze. The judge and his wife were dumbfounded. “All that we own in the world is in that house,” the judge exclaimed, a dry sob in his voice. Phil and Sydney turned to the lieutenant inquiringly. Much could yet be saved. That officer understood the unspoken question. He flung a glance at the jeering savages. “Yes,” he said, “half of us go in and save all we can.” Within a half hour the beautiful home was a heap of ruins, but on the lawn was piled nearly all the judge’s possessions. His entire library, his most cherished possession, was saved. “Lieutenant,” the judge said as he and his wife gazed mournfully at the ruin of their home, “I’m afraid I must now change my decision and go with you. It should be rare for a judge to have to reverse his decision except on the occasion of new evidence, and in this case the evidence is only too evident.” The midshipmen, O’Neil and some of the sailors had dragged from the stable the judge’s carriage; the horses were gone, stolen by the rebels during the night. “We’ll load it up and come back for a second load,” Lieutenant Morrison decided as he saw the carriage was too small to carry everything. “I’ll remain behind with half the men.”