It seemed an age before he fired.  The bullet missed the side of the boat by about three inches, and I shrieked my defiance.  The devil had my nerves on edge, but the green tongue of land was close, and I pulled as never man pulled before.

A bullet lodged in the stern of the boat, another splintered the end of an oar, and then the rifleman’s nerves must have got the better of him.  The succeeding shots fell wide, and I whooped like a madman as I drove the boat on to the green tongue of land.  Springing out hastily I made a dash across the white strip of sand, and dived into the moist creeper growth.

I lay there panting, watching the yacht to see what Newmarch would do.  It was impossible for him to leave the yacht to follow me, but I guessed that he would make an attempt to communicate with Leith.  And I guessed rightly.

I had not been five minutes in the bushes when a boat put off for the shore.  It contained three of the crew, two Tannese and the Fijian that I had found mourning the death of Toni, his “all same brother who had worked with him at Suva.”  They pulled for the spot where I had left the dory, and here the Fijian sprang out, while the others proceeded to tow the dory back to The Waif.  I surmised that Toni’s “all same brother” had been sent to carry a message to Leith, and I lay in the bushes waiting as he raced toward me.

Cautiously he clawed his way through the undergrowth, and when he was certain that the creepers had completely veiled him from the eyes of watchers on the yacht he picked up a small flat stone from the ground, drew a yachting knife from his belt and crouching on his heels started to sharpen the blade.  As he rubbed industriously he sang a weird tune in his native tongue, rounding off each verse with five words in English that explained his industry.  The words were:  “Now I’ll kill you, Soma,” and the chant was a poem of consolation to the spirit of the dead Toni, assuring it that the hour of vengeance was at hand, and that Soma would go to the great unknown the moment he got within reach of the yachting knife.

I poked my head from my hiding place, and the Fijian turned quickly.

“I think the captain told Soma to kill your brother,” I said softly.  “If the captain didn’t tell him, Leith did, Kaipi.”

Kaipi stopped sharpening the blade and fixed his big eyes upon me.  “I not to speak to you,” he said.  “Kapitani tell me not to.  I go catch up Leith, give him one piece of paper the Kapitani gave me.”

“But Soma?” I asked.

“I kill Soma when chance comes,” muttered Kaipi.

“Well, we’re of the same mind, Kaipi,” I said pleasantly.  “Soma is no friend of mine and I’ll help you as much as I can if you turn over the note which the captain gave you and do just what I tell you.  Otherwise, Kaipi, I have a revolver, and a knife is no match for a revolver.”

The Fijian considered the matter for a few moments, his dreamy eyes watching me the while.  At that moment duty was forgotten in the thirst for vengeance upon Soma, and the debate with his conscience was of short duration.  He pulled a note from the folds of his pareo and tossed it to me with a short laugh.