This, they say, was the beginning. He tried very hard to sell his
feathers, and, if possible, get a tomahawk. Failing, he went home,
quietly arranged a party, slept in the bush, and before daylight went off
to the vessel. On nearing the vessel, Dr. James called out--"You must
not come alongside: you are coming to kill me." They said, "We are not
going to kill you, but want to sell yams." The yams were taken on board,
and whilst Dr. James was counting the beads to pay for them he was struck
with a club, and afterwards speared, but not quite disabled, as he drew
his revolver and shot the man who attacked him. Mr. Thorngren was struck
at from aft, fell overboard, and was never again seen. They say, when
the people in the village heard of it, they were very sorry, and that
ever since they have been looked upon with anger, as they have been the
cause of keeping the white man away with his tobacco, beads, and
tomahawks. I asked them, "What now?" "Let us make friends, and never
again have the like.
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