The sailors willingly manned the shafts and dragged the loaded carriage out of the compound. The natives gazed lustfully at its contents. Their blood was boiling for rich loot, and the silverware of the judge’s table whetted their appetites. Phil observed the sudden movement even before he heard Mary Hamilton’s cry of warning, and a sharp command brought a dozen bayonets level with the advancing breasts. “Tell them, Mary, if they come nearer I shall fire,” he cried out earnestly. In his heart he was terrified, for he knew that unless the threat were heeded the Americans must be massacred. Once the Kapuan warriors are aroused, they will kill until no enemy is left to resist them. The fate of the Herzovinian sailors told him by O’Neil flashed into his mind, and the thought was far from comforting. Lieutenant Morrison, scarcely a hundred yards away, realized Phil’s danger, and quickly deployed his men to attack the enemy on the flank. No other solution but fight occurred to any one. A single gun shot must have been the signal for the battle to begin. Tuatele had seen the pantomime from a distance, and heard the excited harangue of the native woman Mary. She had been soundly berating her countrymen. “I’d think they were gods,” he exclaimed in savage admiration as he watched the sailors, their guns at their shoulder and apparently calm, “but I know they die and gods don’t die. But Kataafa order no kill papalangi sailors.” Then he raised his voice and gave an order to retreat, and the entire war party, uttering in unison a savage cry of defiance, suddenly turned away and quickly disappeared into the bush. The judge and his wife were hospitably received by Mr. Lee and his daughters, and their belongings when they all arrived were carefully stored away in the Lee home. At lunch time a flag of truce appeared, carried by a small party of natives approaching from the direction of the town. The guards went out to meet them and escorted them within the lines. A large white envelope was then handed to Mr. Lee. The consul eagerly broke the seal and read the contents; his hands, holding the paper, shook with suppressed indignation. All waited anxiously to hear what it was that was so disturbing. “It’s outrageous,” he declared as he handed the letter to Commander Tazewell. “Kataafa has made Count Rosen his prime minister, and asks the consuls to recognize the new government. The letter’s in English, but signed by the rebel chief.” Commander Tazewell studied the letter thoughtfully. “Well, sir,” he said grimly, “it looks as if it was Hobson’s choice with us.” A footfall on the porch heralded a visitor, and the British consul was soon seated at the lunch table.