different nature. Still, as Golding says, the look of those ovens made
him glad to get down to the beach, lest the Indians should again change
their minds about him.

Two days after this we sight another island. Again Golding goes on
shore with Taro, and the captain, and Tony Hinks.

I cannot be surprised if some day Golding is cut off by the savages. He
is bold and daring, and far from cautious. Aitutaki is the name of the
island. Natives come off to us in great numbers singing and shouting.
They are tattooed from head to foot. Never have I seen wilder savages.
Some of their faces are smeared with ochre, others with charcoal, and
are frightful to behold. We keep on our guard, for we know not any
moment that they may venture to attack us. As Taro is on shore we
cannot understand what they say. Festing and I allow only a few at a
time to come on board. They attempt to climb up the sides, but we keep
them off by striking at their hands with boarding pikes, and pointing to
the gangway, showing that they may only enter there, a few at a time.
Still they persist, when Festing taking up a musket ready at hand, fires
it over their heads. They look around for a moment, as if not certain
whether they are standing on their heads or their feet, and then leap
headlong, some into their canoes and some into the water. They paddle
to a distance, but then stopping, look back and threaten us. Festing
insists that the only way to make these countries of any use is to sweep
the people off into the sea. As to civilising them, that, he says, is
impossible. I differ from him. We wait anxiously as before for the
return of the captain and our other shipmates. Hour after hour passes
by. However great the danger in which they may be placed, we cannot go
to their assistance. We begin to fear that they have fallen victims to
the savages.

"You and I, Harvey, will have to take the ship home, I suspect,"
observes Festing; "I am sorry for the old man especially, as we can do
nothing to revenge his death."

"That were small consolation," I observe; "nor is that as God wills it."

Festing looks astonished. He would be very angry if he were accused of
not being a Christian, and yet, it seems to me, that he encourages
feelings and ideas very much opposed to the rules Christ our Master laid
down for the government of His disciples.

Evening approaches. With thankfulness I see the boat putting off from
the beach. We stand in as