Two days later the schooner came sweeping round the western point of Samatau Bay and then hove-to abreast of the house. Villari at once went on shore, found his passengers ready to embark, and in half an hour they were all on board and the Lupetea was spinning along the southern shore of Upolu at a great rate, for the wind was fresh and the sea very smooth. At midnight she was nearly abreast of a beautiful little harbour called Lotofanga, and Villari, who was on deck, told the mate to haul the head sheets to windward and ta lower the boat. This was done so quietly that the only one of the passengers who knew what had been done was the Samoan, Lilo—a bright, intelligent youth of about fifteen years of age. He was lying on the after-deck, and saw the mate and four hands go over the side into the boat, and then a trunk of clothing which belonged to Mrs. Raymond, and which, as the weather was fine, had been left on deck, was passed down. Wondering at this, he rose, and walking to the side, was looking at the boat, when a sailor roughly seized him by the shoulder and ordered him to go for'ard and stay there till he was called. Very unwillingly he obeyed, and then a second man told him to go below into the foc'sle, and made such a threatening gesture with a belaying-pin, that the boy, now beginning to feel alarmed, at once descended, and immediately the fore scuttle was closed and bolted from the deck. The place was in darkness except for one small slush lamp, and Lilo, taking his seat on a sailor's chest, looked round at the bunks. They were all unoccupied, and this fact increased his fears. He, however, was a courageous lad, and his first thought was to provide himself with some sort of weapon, and by the aid of the lamp he began searching the bunks. In a few minutes he found a sheath knife and belt, which he at once secured, and then again sat down to wait events.

Meanwhile Villari was speaking to the mate.

“You are quite sure you know the landing-place?” he asked.

“Course I do. Didn't I tell you I've been at Loto-fanga half a dozen times? It's right abreast of the passage, and no one couldn't miss it on a clear night like this. But it's dead low tide. Why can't I put the woman and girl on the reef, and let 'em walk to the village? Then we don't run no risks of any natives a-seein' us and coming down to the boat.”

“Ha! that's a good idea. But is it quite safe? I don't want them to meet with any accident.”

“There ain't no danger. The reef is quite flat, with no pools in it, and they needn't even wet their feet. I've walked over it myself.”

“Very well then. Now stand by, for I'm going below. As soon as they are in the boat, push off and hurry all you can and get back. We must be out of sight of land by daylight.”

The cabin, which was lighted by a swinging lamp, was very quiet as Villari, first removing his boots, descended softly and bent oyer the sleeping figures of Olivee and Serena, who were lying on mats spread upon the floor outside the two cabins occupied by their mistresses. He touched Olivee on the shoulder, and awakened her.

“Ask Mrs. Raymond to please dress and come on deck for a few minutes,” he said quietly to the girl in English, which she understood. She at once rose, and tapped at her mistress's door, and the Italian returned on deck.

Wondering what could be the reason for such a request, Mrs. Raymond dressed herself as quickly as possible, and was soon on deck followed by the girl Olivee.

“What is the matter, Mr. Villari?” she inquired, and then, as she looked at the man's face, something like fear possessed her. His eyes had the same strange expression that she had often noticed when he was looking at Mrs. Marston, and she remembered what the German doctor had said.

“You must not be alarmed, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, “but I am sorry to say that the schooner has begun to leak in an alarming and extraordinary manner, and the pumps are choked. For your own safety I am sending you and Mrs. Marston and your servants on shore. We are now just abreast of Lotofanga, and I am going to try and work the schooner in there and run her ashore on the beach.”

Mrs. Raymond, now quite reassured, was at once practical. “We can be ready in a minute, Mr. Villari. I will get little LoisÉ, and——”

“Do—as quickly as you can—and I will tell Mrs. Marston. I preferred letting you know first. She is very nervous, and it will allay her alarm when she finds that you are so cool. The boat is already alongside. Have you any valuables in your cabin? If so, get them together.”

“Nothing but a little money. All my other things are on deck in a trunk.”

“That is already in the boat; the mate told me it was yours.”

“Hurry up, please, ladies,” and the mate's head appeared above the rail.

“Just another minute, Hutton,” said Villari, as he, Mrs. Raymond, and the Samoan girl all returned to the cabin together. The latter at once picked up the sleeping LoisÉ, and her mother, as she wrapped her in a shawl, heard Villari rouse the girl Serena and tell her to awaken her mistress, and presently she heard his voice speaking to Mrs. Marston telling her not to be alarmed, but he feared the schooner might founder at any moment, and that he was sending her and Mrs. Raymond on shore.

“Very well, Mr. Villari,” she heard her friend say. “Have you told Mrs. Raymond?”

“Yes,” he replied. “She is getting ready now—in fact, she is ready.” Then he returned to Mrs. Raymond's door, and met her just as she was leaving the cabin with the nurse and child.

“Can I help you, Amy?” asked the planter's wife as she looked into Mrs. Marston's cabin.

“No, dear. I did not quite undress, and I'll be ready in a minute. Baby is fast asleep. Is LoisÉ awake?”

“No, I'm glad to say. Olivee has her.”

“Please come on, Mrs. Raymond,” said Villari, somewhat impatiently; “go on, Olivee, with the little girl.”

He let them precede him, and almost before she knew it, Mrs. Raymond found herself with the nurse and child in the boat, which was at once pushed off and headed for the shore.

“Stop, stop!” cried the poor lady, clutching the mate by the arm. “Mrs. Marston is coming.”

“Can't wait,” was the gruff rejoinder, and then, to her horror and indignation, she saw that the boat's crew were pulling as if their lives depended on their exertions.

“Shame, shame!” she cried wildly. “Are you men, to desert them! Oh, if you have any feelings of humanity, turn back,” and, rising to her feet, she shouted out at the top of her voice, “Captain Villari, Captain Villari, for God's sake call the boat back!”

But no notice was taken, and a feeling of terror seized her when the brutal Hutton bade her “sit down and take it easy.”

As Villari stood watching the disappearing boat Mrs. Marston, followed by the girl Serena carrying her baby, came on deck.

“What is wrong?” she asked anxiously. “Why has the boat gone? What does it mean?” and Yillari saw that she was trembling.

“Return to your cabin, Mrs. Marston. No harm shall come to you. To-morrow morning I shall tell you why I have done this.”

A glimmering of the truth came to her, and she tried to speak, but no words came to her lips, as in a dazed manner she took the infant from Serena, and pressing it tightly to her bosom stepped back from him with horror, contempt, and blazing anger shining from her beautiful eyes.

“Go below, I beg you,” said Villari huskily. “Here, girl, take this, and give it to your mistress when you go below,” and he placed a loaded Colt's pistol in the girl's hand. “No one shall enter the cabin till to-morrow morning. You can shoot the first man who puts his foot on the companion stairs.”