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So he sat beside Cerita and her two children, with a long knife in his hand and waited. He covered his face with a mat and waited. It was right for him to do this, for Letya was a great man; and his wife, although she was a foreigner, was an honoured woman. Therefore though Nená might not look upon her face at other times, he could kill her if Letya said she must die.
The boats were quickly pulled up, and the ships sailed away, for those on board were terrified when they heard that all the white men they had sent to fight were dead. "Letya did not die at once not for two days. Cerita his wife and two white men watched beside him all this time.
This was quite right and proper, and showed he knew what was correct to do before he died. We buried him on the little islet over there called Bèsi. "The two white men and Cerita and her two children went away in the little ship. But they did not go to Cerita's country: they remained at Ponapé, and there the tall man of the two the officer married Cerita.
But North and the harpooner were too excited to eat, and, seated opposite their host, they listened eagerly to him as he told them of his plans to repel the attack; of the bitter hatred that for ten years had existed between the people of Leassé and the old king; and then he set his teeth how that Sé, the friendly sister of the young king, had once sent a secret messenger to him telling him to guard his wife well, for her brother had made a boast that when Leassé and Môut were given to the flames only Cerita should be spared.
We had no rum, but we had great love for Letya and his wife, and his two children, and great hate for Charlik. So we said, 'If this is death, it is death, and every man went to his post some to the barrier at the foot of the cliff, and some to the thicket of oap on the summit. Cerita, the wife of Letya the Englishman, was weeping.
Blackett, finding it impossible to make old Hutton drunk or get him to turn in, resigned himself entirely to the old pirate, who, glancing to the far end of the room, to where Cerita and his own wife, a tall, lithe-limbed Aoba woman, were lying together on a mat smoking cigarettes, proceeded to pour out the story of his countless murders and minor villainies.
Of this latter person, however, neither Blackett nor Cerita, his wife, were over-proud he was a notorious old scamp and ex-pirate, even for that part of the Pacific, and Cerita knew that Blackett had simply bought her from him as he would buy a boat, or a bolt of canvas.
And Blackett, whose patience had quite worn out, filled the glasses, and passed one to his visitor, who uncouthly apologised. Then the two shook hands and laughed. The night was close and sultry, and Cerita was lying on the cane-framed bed, fanning herself languidly.
He wanted to see the people of Leassé and Môut driven into the water, so that he might shoot at them with a new rifle which Késa or the other ship captain I forget which had given to him. But he wanted most of all to get Cerita, the wife of Letya, the white man. Only Cerita was to live. These were Charlik's words. He did not know that her husband had returned from the sea.
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