"Don't talk that way," he replied nervously, and waved the native soldier away. The crowd followed us to the landing. A small rowboat picked us up. "You won't keep me with you?" the resident asked again. I assured him that we would not. So we rowed over and climbed into my boat, impelled less by his own desire than by the attitude of the natives. "Here is the log," Kircheiss, with an impassive face, handed him a log we had taken from one of our captured ships. He perfunctorily turned the pages and came upon a chronometric diary we kept in the book. Above was stamped in fat type: KAISERLICHE MARINE. "What is that?" he stammered. "Something in Norwegian," Kircheiss grinned sardonically. "I don't understand it." The resident saw: GAND UND STAND. "What language is that?" This time he was a trifle ironical. "Oh, Norwegian, of course," said Kircheiss. The resident raised a tarpaulin, but dropped it quickly. He had seen rifles. He raised another. There were neat rows of hand grenades, as easy to pick up as apples. "Keep those covered," he exclaimed, as pale as ashes. "Well," I asked, "how do you find everything?" "Quite all right--quite all right." He smiled a very acid smile. "Won't you tell your people here that everything is all right?" I suggested. He turned to the crowd on the pier. "Everything is in order," he called. "These gentlemen are Norwegian sportsmen, as they say." "And now the certificate," I reminded him. He wrote a note just as the resident at Aitu had done. "You don't intend to take me with you?" he repeated. "No," I responded, "but I should like to have your company until we can get some fruit and tobacco." I stood chatting with him on the pier while Kircheiss went to procure the fruit and tobacco. Hadn't we better take the island and wait for a ship instead of sailing off? I debated the question with myself, and then decided we had better go. The last scene of this little drama was played as the resident and I shook hands and bade each other an apparently cordial farewell. He was a decent fellow, even if he had been suspicious, and I had eaten an excellent dinner at his house. I was glad that we didn't have to humiliate him before the natives, a dreadful fate for an Englishman. As we hoisted anchor and raised sail, a cheer went up from the natives lined along the shore. They were trying to make amends for having treated us so shabbily and for having taken us for Germans! But there at Aitutaki I had made the great mistake of our cruise. We should have captured that island. Three days later a schooner arrived. We could have taken it, rejoined our comrades, and continued our raids. Instead, the resident told the officers the story of our visit. The schooner sailed the next day and in a little while met a steamer to which it transferred the news about us. The steamer in turn radioed a warning to the whole South Seas. So we were now in for a warm welcome. XXVII