We could not stay longer in Tesbel Bay, as our boys were too much frightened, and the natives might turn against us at any moment. We could hardly get the boys to go ashore for water and firewood, for fear of an ambush. In the evening we fetched Belni out of the hold. He was still doleful and ready to cry, but seemed unconscious of any fault; he had killed a man, but that was rather an honourable act than a crime, and he only seemed to regret that it had turned out so unsatisfactorily. He did not seem to have much appetite, but swallowed his yam mechanically in great lumps. The boys shunned him visibly, all but Macao, who squatted down close before him, and gave him food with wild hatred in his eyes, and muttering awful threats. Icy-cold, cruel, with compressed lips and poisonous looks like a serpent's, he hissed his curses and tortured Belni, who excused himself clumsily and shyly, playing with the yam and looking from one dark corner to the other, like a boy being scolded. The scene was so gruesome that I had Belni shut up again, and we watched all night, for Macao was determined to take the murderer's life. It was a dry, moonlit night; one of the boys was writhing with a pain in his stomach, and we could do nothing to help him, so they were all convinced it was caused by Belni's relatives, and wanted to sail immediately. A warm breeze had driven mosquitoes to the cutter; it was a most unpleasant night. Next noon the natives appeared, about twenty strong, but without the second murderer. They said the shot had hit him, and that he had died during the night. This might have been true, and as we could do nothing against the village anyway, we let the matter drop, especially as they had brought us Bourbaki's rifle and two tusked pigs. The chief said he hoped we were satisfied with him, and would not trouble anyone but the murderers. We returned to the cutter, and the pigs were put in the hold, where they seem to have kept good company with Belni, after a little preliminary squealing and shrieking. Then we sailed northward, with a breeze that carried us in four hours over the same distance for which we had taken twenty-four last time. It was a bitterly cold night. We decided to return home, fearing the boys would murder Belni in an unwatched moment, as they had asked several times, when the sea was high, whether we would not throw Belni into the water now. The passage to Santo was very rough. The waves thundered against the little old cutter, and we had a nasty tide-rip. We were quite soaked, and looking in through the portholes, we could see everything floating about in the cabin--blankets, saucepans, tins and pistols. We did not mind much, as we hoped to be at home by evening.