On the 13th, we were busy getting the wood we had cut
for the flooring of our house into the sea to be rafted along; got ten
large pieces into the water by breakfast-time.
After breakfast, Mrs. Chalmers and I were at the new house, with the
captain of the _Mayri_, when we heard a noise like quarrelling. On
looking out, I saw the natives very excited, and many of them running
with spears and clubs towards the house where Mrs. Chalmers, about five
minutes before, had left the teachers rising from breakfast. I hastened
over, and pushed my way amongst the natives till I got to the front,
when, to my horror, I was right in front of a gun aimed by one of the
_Mayri's_ crew (who had been helping us with the house) at a young man
brandishing a spear. The aim was perfect: had the gun been fired--as it
would have been had I not arrived in time--the native would have been
shot dead. I pushed the native aside, and ordered the gun to be put
down, and turned to the natives, shouting, _Besi_, _besi_! (Enough,
enough!).
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