There was nothing to do but run for safety, and pursued by the sneering foe, they gained the beach.  Thence he sent another messenger to the Typees offering them another chance to surrender and pay tribute.

The Typees returned word that they “had driven the whites before them, that their guns missed fire often, that bullets were not as painful as stones or spears, that they had plenty of men to spare and the whites had not.  They had counted the boats, knew the number they would carry, and laughed at the whites.”

The Hapaas and other allies came down from the hills and began to discuss the victory of the Typees, with fear in their voices and a certain disdain of the whites.  Porter ordered his men into the boats to return to the ship, but scarcely had they reached it when the Typees rushed on the Hapaas and drove them into the water.  Porter returned to Tai-o-hae.

There he saw no alternative but to whip the Typees soundly.  This time he determined to lack no force, and to go without allies.  He selected two hundred men from his ships and prizes, and, with guides, upon a moonlight evening started to march overland to Typee Valley.

At midnight they heard the drums beating in Typee Valley.  They had had a fearful march over mountain and dale and around yawning precipices.  Silently they had struggled on, so as to give no hint of their intention to Typee sentinels or even to a Hapaa village.  Numbers of the Tai-o-hae had followed them, but quietly, and these now told Porter that the songs floating up from the Typee settlements were rejoicings at their victory over the Whites and prayers to the gods to send rain to spoil the guns.

Porter was for descending at once, but the Tai-o-haes warned him that the path was so steep and dangerous that even in daylight it would take all their skill to go down it.  To attempt it at night would be inviting death.

The Americans lay down to rest on this height, which commanded Typee Valley, and shortly rain began to fall in torrents.  Cries of joy and praise to their gods arose from the Typees.  Porter and his men, huddled in puddles, unable to find shelter, and fearful that every blast of the storm might hurl them from their slippery height, tried in vain to keep muskets and powder dry.

At daybreak they found half the ammunition useless, and themselves wearied, while the steepness of the track to the valley, and its treacherous condition after the rain made it wise to seek the Hapaas for rest and food.  But, first, they fired a volley to let friendly tribes know they still had serviceable weapons, and as threat and warning to the Typees.  They heard the echo in the blowing of war-conches, shouts of defiance, and the squealings of the pigs which the Typees began to catch for removal to the rear.

The Hapaas were none too pleasant to the whites, and had to be forced by threats to bringing and cooking hogs and breadfruit.  All day the Americans rested and prepared their arms, at night they slept, and at the next daybreak they stood again to view the scene of their approaching battle.