and up to the great altar, where William Bludger, also naked, was lying
more dead than alive.

"William," I said solemnly, "what cheer?" He did not answer me. Even in
that supreme moment it was not difficult to discern that William had been
looking on the wine when it was red, and had not confined himself to mere
ocular observation. I tried to make him remember he was an Englishman,
that the honour of our country was in our hands, and that we should die
with the courage and dignity befitting our race. These were strange
consolations and exhortations for _me_ to offer in such an extremity,
but, now it had come to the last pass, it is curious what mere worldly
thoughts hurried through my mind.

My words were wasted: the natives seized William and forced him to his
feet. Then, while a hymn was sung, they put chains of black and white
figs round our necks, and thrust into our hands pieces of cheese, figs,
and certain peculiar herbs. This formed part of what may well be called
the "Ritual" of this cruel race. May Ritualists heed my words, and turn
from the errors of their ways!

Too well I knew all that now awaited us. All that I had seen and
shuddered at, on the day of my landing on the island, was now practised
on self and partner. We had to tread the long paved way to the distant
cove at the river's mouth; we had to endure the lashes from the switches
of wild fig. The priestess, carrying the wooden idol, walked hard by us,
and cried out, whenever the blows fell fewer or lighter, that the idol
was waxing too heavy for her to bear. Then they redoubled their
cruelties.

It was a wonderfully lovely day. In the blue heaven there was not a