“Not one of the native women could answer her.  They were all simply dumbfounded at such a gross insult, and left the cabin in silence.  The mate tried to smooth things over, but one of the women—­Mataafa’s niece—­gave him a look that told him to say no more.  In half an hour the whole lot of them were back on the beach, and came up to the chiefs house, where the skipper and myself were having a final drink of kava with old Mataafa and his faipule.[16] The face of the elder of the two women was blazing with anger, and then, pointing to the captain and myself, she gave us such a tongue-lashing for sending her off to the ship to be shamed and insulted, that made us blush.  Old Mataafa waited until she had finished, and then, with an ugly gleam in his eye but speaking very quietly, asked us what it meant.

“What could we say but that it was no fault of ours; and then, by a happy inspiration, I added that although Miss Weidermann was generally well-conducted enough, she sometimes got blazing drunk, and made a beast of herself.  This explanation satisfied the chiefs, if not the women, and everything went on smoothly.  And as it was then nearly dark, and I was determined that Mataafa should get his rifles, half a dozen of his men took us off in their canoes, and we went on board.  The skipper and I had fixed up as to what we should do with the Weidermann creature.  She was seated at the cabin table waiting to open out on us, but the skipper didn’t give her a chance.

“‘Go to your cabin at once, madam,’ he said solemnly, ’and I trust you will not again leave it in your present condition.  Your conduct is simply astounding. Steward, see that you give Miss Weidermann no more grog.’

“The poor old girl thought that either he or she herself was going mad, but he gave her no time to talk.  The captain opened her state-room door, gently pushed her in, and put a man outside to see that she didn’t come out again.  Then we handed out the rifles through the stern-ports to the natives in the canoes, and sent them away rejoicing.  And that’s the end of the yarn, and Miss Weidermann nearly went into a fit next morning when we told her that no less than thirty respectable native women had taken their oaths that she was mad drunk, and abused them vilely.”

The junior partner laughed loudly at the story, and Otway, with a more amiable look on his face, rose.

“Well, I’ll do what I can for these people.  I’ll make room for them somehow.  Where are they going?”

“Samoa.  They have an idea of settling down there, I think, for a few months, and then going on to China.  They have plenty of money, apparently.”

“Oh, well, tell them to come on board to-morrow, and I’ll show them what can be done for them.”

* * * * *

So the Rev. and Mrs. Lacy did come on board, and Mr. Charles Otway was vanquished by just one single glance from the lady’s violet eyes.