"Certainly! The arrangement is that you up anchor and away inside--seventy-nine minutes," with a glance at his watch. "I guess you'll pay for this 'fore you're done, mister. I'm an American citizen." "Sorry to hear it." "And an American citizen don't stand bein' fired out like this and no reasons given--not by a long sight!" "There are our reasons," said Blair, pointing to the heavy sleepers, "and there are yours," and he pointed to the half-emptied case of rum. "Seventy-eight minutes more!" The American citizen looked him over for a moment but found no hope of amelioration in his face. "Well, I'm----" and he turned to the door and whistled shrilly to his ship, and presently a boat came slouchily across to the shore. "Carry them things aboard," he ordered, and saw it done, and then followed his men into the boat. Then he stood up in the stern and delivered himself luridly on missionaries in general, and on this new kind, as represented by Blair and Cathie, in particular. "You'll hear of me again, my sons, sure as my name's Hartford Crawley. Yes, by thunder, you will, and don't you forget it!" was his valediction with threatening fist, and they could hear him cursing all the way to the ship. Blair and Cathie returned to the _Torch_. At half-past ten Long Tom thundered a reminder to Mr. Crawley that his time was up, and before the echoes died away, the trader's anchor was apeak and his sails were dropping sulkily to the breeze. He headed slowly out to sea, and was surprised to find the _Torch_ do the same. He took a notion towards the south. Long Tom barked angrily at him. He tried a move towards the north. Long Tom barked again. Due west was his course, and they would permit him no other. All day long the _Torch_ followed him like a sheep dog, and at night drew in so close that they could hear Mr. Crawley still swearing at large. Fortunately, the moon was almost at the full, and he had no chance of slipping away in the dark. For three days they dogged him and kept him to his course. Then they ranged up within speaking distance and delivered their final word, "These islands are not open to traders. If you ever return you do so at your peril." Then they turned and laid their course for Kanele. Arbitrary action, undoubtedly, but Kenneth Blair was the last man in the world to shirk what he deemed his duty from any fear of possible after consequences. Maru and the rest were in their right minds when they got back to the island. They were full of excuses and explanations, but Blair said little to them beyond emphasising the fact that these were the men he had warned them against, and that their coming would make for evil times among them. And old Maru, in the keen recollection of the very bad head he had had the day after the trader's supper party was disposed to think he was right. CHAPTER XXIX THE ACT OF GOD A full year of quiet progress left no monumental happenings to record.