Keith sounded the great gong noisily. For at least a mile in either direction it broke the silence. Under ordinary circumstances that would have fetched the men at a jog trot to the clearing near their sleeping hut, which was visible from the veranda. But not a solitary figure appeared.
"There's no doubt they're around, somewhere," Keith said to Joan.
"Let Peter Pan go and talk to them," the girl suggested.
The sailor turned to the black, who was squatting on the steps.
"You go tell um niggers to round up plenty quick," Keith said. "Tell um big Marster Trent he angry along of um and if they don't start work one time he tell gunboat to blow um up, my word!"
Peter Pan grimaced, nodded and ambled away, delighted at the distinction of having been chosen to bear such a pleasing message. Keith and the girl remained on the veranda, troubled but hopeful. This was the last card they could play. If it failed nothing remained but to clear out on the Kestrel to seek reinforcements, for if the blacks were still to maintain a belligerent state the position of the white residents of Tao Tao would be impossible.
Presently, however, two or three natives skulked on to the parade ground, and others, doubtful of the consequences of disobedience, followed suit. When they had all assembled Keith stalked among them.
