the inhabitants as well as
a party of nearly a score of visitors from the town of Salimu, on the
west side of the bay. So sudden was the onslaught of the rebels that
no one in the doomed village escaped except a boy of ten years of age.
After being decapitated, the bodies of the victims were thrown into the
houses, and the village set on fire.

The people of Samamea hurriedly set out to pursue the raiding rebels,
and an engagement ensued, in which the latter were badly beaten, and
fled so hurriedly that they had to abandon all the heads they had taken
the previous day in order to save their own.

The chief of Samamea, in whose house I had my supper, gave me many
details of the fighting, and then afterwards asked me if I would come
and look at the heads that had been recovered from the enemy. They
were in the "town house" and were covered over with sheets of navy blue
cloth, or matting. A number of natives were seated round the house,
conversing in whispers, or weeping silently.

"These," said the chief to me, pointing to a number of heads placed
apart from the others, "are the heads of the Salimu people--seventeen in
all, men, women and three children. We have sent word to Salimu to the
relatives to come for them. I cannot send them myself, for no men can be
spared, and we have our own dead to attend to as well, and may ourselves
be attacked at any time."'

A few hours later messengers arrived from Salimu. They had walked along
the shore, for the bay was very rough--it had been blowing hard for two
days--and, the wind being right ahead, they would not launch a canoe--it
would only have been swamped.

Taken to see the heads of their relatives and friends, the messengers
gave way to most uncontrollable grief, and their cries were so
distressing that I went for a walk on the beach--to be out of hearing.

When I returned to the village I found the visitors from Salimu and the
chief of Samamea awaiting to interview me. The chief, acting as their
spokeman, asked me if I would lend them my boat to take the heads of
their people to Salimu. He had not a single canoe he could spare, except
very small ones, which would be useless in such weather, whereas my
whaleboat would make nothing of it.

I could not refuse their request--it would have been ungracious of
me, and it only meant a half-hour's run across the bay, for Salimu was
exactly abreast of Samamea. So I said I would gladly sail them over in
my boat at sunset, when