Thus far we had succeeded in carrying on the work of refitting, with no interruption whatsoever,--unless you might reckon it a disturbing influence to have a crowd of Typees on a hill-top two or three miles away shaking their clubs at us,--and, so far as any one could say, we might be able to continue at the task until it was finished. At all events, so Phil argued, it would be wiser if we kept at work as long as possible, and knocked off to fight only when it was absolutely necessary to do so in order to save our lives or protect our property. It was not reasonable to suppose that our sailormen would be able to make much of a fist at fighting amid the thickets and on the cliffs against those who had been accustomed all their lives to such work, even though ours might be superior weapons; and should we gain the victory, the cost might be greater than we could afford. When a commander lacks a sufficient number of men to handle all the vessels of his fleet, it surely seems like taking a great risk to run the chance of having that number made less by the spears of an enemy, to vanquish whom can be no very great honor. Thus Phil and I argued; but there was another phase of this war which struck us more keenly, although we did not talk about it very much. Suppose any of us should be taken prisoners! There appeared to be no question but that the natives were cannibals, and the idea of being cooked and eaten was something so horrible that we did not venture to so much as speak of it. The possible fact remained in our minds more clearly, perhaps, because we did not put the thoughts into words. It did not afford any great relief to know that Master Hackett had very much the same mental trouble. After we three had done our share in bringing on shore a 6-pounder to be used in the battle on the mountain, and were lying in the grove taking a short rest, the old man said musingly, as if speaking to himself:-- "I don't reckon him as serves for the roast at one of these 'ere feasts knows very much about what's goin' on, seein's how he's dead an' baked; but it has always struck me that I'd rather have a grave in the ground, than inside one of these 'ere niggers." "Do you suppose they eat all who are killed in battle?" Phil asked, his voice trembling perceptibly. "It would come to that in the end, lad; though if the fight was a big one, I reckon some of them as were dead would have to be salted down." "I wish we were to get under way to-morrow, instead of going out through that tangle of trees and vines to prove that Captain Porter is no coward," Phil said with a sigh. "So do I, lad. I reckon we could refit our ships without doin' very much fightin', an' what little trouble might be necessary could be carried on here in the open, where we sailormen would have a fair show."