I came to the Solomons to work, not to be escorted about like
a doll. For that matter, here's my escort, and there are seven more like
him."
Adamu Adam stood beside her, towering above her, as he towered above the
three white men. The clinging cotton undershirt he wore could not hide
the bulge of his tremendous muscles.
"Look at his fist," said Tudor. "I'd hate to receive a punch from it."
"I don't blame you." Joan laughed reminiscently. "I saw him hit the
captain of a Swedish bark on the beach at Levuka, in the Fijis. It was
the captain's fault. I saw it all myself, and it was splendid. Adamu
only hit him once, and he broke the man's arm. You remember, Adamu?"
The big Tahitian smiled and nodded, his black eyes, soft and deer-like,
seeming to give the lie to so belligerent a nature.
"We start in an hour in the whale-boat for Guvutu, big brother," Joan
said to him. "Tell your brothers, all of them, so that they can get
ready. We catch the _Upolu_ for Sydney. You will all come along, and
sail back to the Solomons in the new schooner. Take your extra shirts
and dungarees along. Plenty cold weather down there. Now run along, and
tell them to hurry. Leave the guns behind. Turn them over to Mr.
Sheldon. We won't need them.
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