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Updated: May 10, 2025
Atollo was without any weapon, and this was a disadvantage that might have rendered all his strength and address unavailing, had not the foliage and the lesser branches of the tree, interfered with the swing of the long and heavy weapon of his adversary, and the footing being too insecure to permit it to be used with full effect.
Wakatta now seemed to think that he had brought his foe to bay, and whirling round his club, he delivered a sweeping blow full at his head with such fury, that when Atollo avoided it by dropping upon one knee, the momentum of the ponderous weapon swung its owner half round, and before he had time to recover himself, his watchful adversary, springing lightly up, brought down his keen-edged weapon full upon his grey head, inflicting a ghastly wound.
On the day succeeding, we buried Atollo on the shore opposite Banyan islet, together with one of his followers, who had also been killed or mortally wounded in the conflict with us. Two others of them, who were too badly hurt to accompany the hasty flight to the inlet, are still living in the woods, Wakatta having strictly forbidden his people to injure them.
For several minutes he had been eluding the pursuit of Atollo with a wonderful agility, partly the effect of frantic dread. Just when it seemed as though he could no longer escape, he suddenly uttered this cry, repeating the words, "Wakatta! Wakatta!" then springing to the ground, he ran towards the brook, but was intercepted and seized by one of the savages below.
Atollo now seemed to make some proposition to Wakatta, which was eagerly accepted by the latter. Each then spoke briefly to his followers, who uttered cries of the wildest excitement, and suddenly became silent again.
The old warrior, growing impatient of this indecisive manoeuvring, began to press his adversary harder, and to follow him up with an apparent determination to bring matters to a speedy issue. Atollo retreated before him, until he was driven to the edge of the brook, where he paused, as if resolved to make a stand.
But the night passed without disturbance or alarm of any kind, and in the morning we began to indulge the hope that Arthur had overrated the strength of the feelings by which Atollo was actuated, and to shake off in some degree the profound depression of the preceding evening.
Atollo made no attempt to guard or parry the blows levelled at him which would indeed have been idle but with astonishing agility and quickness of eye, he sprang aside, or leaped back, always in time to save himself. He kept moving around the old man, provoking his attacks by feints and half-blows, but making no serious attack himself.
Atollo, after resisting as long as there remained the slightest prospect of success, had sought refuge among the recesses of the mountains, where he still lurked with a few outlaw followers, as desperate as himself.
The keen-edged, but light weapon of Atollo was better calculated to inflict painful wounds than mortal injuries. Either blow, had it been from a weapon like that of Wakatta, would have terminated the combat. Before Atollo could follow up his success by a third and decisive stroke, the old warrior had recovered himself and though bleeding profusely, he looked more formidable than ever.
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