The dead and
the arms of the fugitives had been deserted in the wild scramble for
life.
[Illustration: The Death of Cook.]
Meanwhile the masts of the _Resolution_, guarded by {206} only six
marines, were exposed to the warriors of the other village at the
cocoanut grove. Protected by the guns of the two ships under the
direction of Clerke, who now became commander, masts and men were got
aboard by noon. At four that afternoon, Captain King rowed toward
shore for Cook's body. He was met by the little leprous priest Koah,
swimming halfway out. Though tears of sorrow were in Koah's
treacherous red-rimmed eyes as he begged that Clerke and King might
come ashore to parley. King judged it prudent to hold tightly on the
priest's spear handle while the two embraced.
Night after night for a week, the conch-shells blew their challenge of
defiance to the white men. Fires rallying to war danced on the
hillsides. Howls and shouts of derision echoed from the shore. The
stealthy paddle of treacherous spies could be heard through the dark
under the keel of the white men's ships.
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