Sacre bleu! those scoundrels of English to menace the uniformed patriots of the French republic!  The second in command drew a revolver, and pointing at the hairy breast of the leader of the Noa-Noans, shouted:  “Au le vapeur!  Diable!  What, you whisky-filled pigs, you will resist the law?”

He took off his helmet and handed it to one of the native policemen while he unlimbered the revolver more firmly in the direction of the seamen.  The sailor shrank back in bewilderment.  Guns were unknown in shore squabbles.

“I’ll ’ave the British Gov’ment after ye,” roared the leader.  “I’ll write to the Sydney papers.  Ye’ve pulled a gun in me face.”

Steadily and with some good nature the Tahitian officers pushed the trio toward the gangway and up it.  Once aboard, the gangway was hoisted, the pilot clambered up the side, and it seemed as if the liner was away.  But no; the three recalcitrants jumped on the bulwarks, and joined by a dozen others, yelled defiance at the authorities.  As the Noa-Noa gradually drew out these cries became more definite, and the honor of France and of all Frenchmen was assailed in the most ancient English Billingsgate.  Gestures of frightful significance added to the insults, and these not producing retorts in kind from the second in command and the populace, a shower of limes began to fall upon them.

Sacks of potatoes, lettuce-heads, yams, and even pineapples, deck cargo, were broken open by the infuriated crew to hurl at the police.  The crowd on the wharf rushed for shelter behind posts and carriages, the horses pranced and snorted, and M. Lontane leaped to the fore.  He advanced to the edge of the quay, and in desperate French, of which his adversaries understood not a word, threatened to have them dragged from their perches and sent to New Caledonia.

A well-aimed lime squashed on his cheek, and with a “Sapristi!” he fled behind a stack of boxes.  The riot became general, the roustabouts heaving iron bars, pieces of wood, and anything they could find.  No officer of the Noa-Noa said a word to stop them, evidently fearing a general strike of the crew, and when the missiles cut open the head of a native stevedore and fell even among the laughing girls, the courtesies began to be returned.  Coal, iron nuts, stones, and other serious projectiles were thrown with a hearty good-will, and soon the crew and the passengers of the Noa-Noa were scuttling for safety.

The storm of French and Tahitian adjectives was now a cyclone, Tahitian girls, their gowns stained by the fruity and leguminous shot of the Australasians, seized lumps of coal or coral, and took the van of the shore legions.  Atupu struck the leader of the Noa-Noa snipers in the nose with a rock, and her success brought a paean of praise from all of us.

The entente cordiale with Britain was sundered in a minute.  The melee grew into a fierce battle, and only the increasing distance of the vessel from shore stopped the firing, the last shots falling into the lagoon.