Mills and McKoy were leaning against a fence discussing their crop of corn when they heard shots and the distant sound of groaning. McKoy looked puzzled then stared at Mills and said, "Surely someone is dying?"
         Always, reluctant to give credence to bad news, Mills replied, "It is only Mantua calling her children to breakfast." Neither are alarmed by the sounds of firearms as they were used to persons shooting at birds or wild pigs. A little uneasily McKoy shrugged and accepted the explanation and they resumed their conversation. Neither had any idea they were the next Europeans marked down for killing.
         The Polynesian men's plan, made in much secrecy the night before, was to separate Mills and McKoy. A short time later, Titahiti ran by them shouting. "I have seen the runaway's Teimua and Niau. They are stealing pigs from your farm Mister McKoy's."
         More angry than alarmed McKoy turned and ran toward his house.

Meanwhile Teimua and Niau had carefully hidden themselves along the trail McKoy would take. The ambush was effected when McKoy came running towards them. They both stood and shot at him ... and both missed. McKoy turned and ran the way he had come only to find Manarii, who was waiting for just such an eventuality, blocking his escape. They grappled, McKoy's brawny arms circled Manarii's waist and, with a strength born of realisation and desperation, he lifted the smallest of the Polynesians into the air and threw him over a fence into a pigsty. He backed away and looked for more attacks, but before the others could close in he doubled back and ran along the path towards Mill's plantation. His legs pumped and he breathed hard thinking his pursuers were gaining. His intention on reaching Mill's plantation was to warn him and raise the alarm among the rest of the settlers. Make some defence. But Mills, forever the trusting soul unbelievably still doubted his loyal servant Manarii would do anything to harm him. McKoy became agitated to the extreme.

       "For God's sake Mills believe me!"
         Mills stroked his chin and shook his head – a picture of indecision.
         "You fool!" McKoy, angry and ill-prepared to waste more time, took off along the path towards Christian's house. On the way he passed another garden where he discovered William's mutilated corpse and immediately understood everything. A massacre was in progress and none of the Englishmen were safe. As if in confirmation a shot echoed from the direction of Mill's plantation. "Aye, Mills," he muttered under his breath, "believe me now, eh?" He took off again. This time towards Quintal's house in the hope of warning him before the Tahitians arrived. Unlike Mills, and always suspicious, Quintal did not hesitate and the two of them ran into the jungle and up into the mountains. This effectively cut them off from the rest of the settlement.
         Meanwhile the Polynesians made their way confidently to the American, Isaac Martin's house who observed their approach and noticed the blood on them. Appearing unconcerned Manarii called out to him, "Do you know what we are doing?"
         "No," replied Martin backing away.
         "We are killing pigs." They closed on him. Mananii lifted his musket and shot Martin dead.
         Next they took the path to William Brown's plantation. 'Bounty's' assistant botanist, lived near the edge of the cliff. Teinua liked Brown and ran ahead of the others. He explained the situation and shot the botanist with powder but no lead. He told him to lie very still in the long grass and display the powder burns on his black.
         The others arrived but were not duped by this simple and hopeful ruse. The prone Brown was clubbed to death. His face was buried in the earth as his head was split wide open by the first powerful blow. He died instantly.

Crouching and in slow-motion came the four men. They came with murder in their minds and spilt blood still sticky between their fingers and toes. So careful and silent was their approach even the jungle refused to sound any warning. Nothing betrayed them as they passed like waifs along the trail; not a bird's shrill call or a leaf's silent whisper, nothing but the smell of blood to warn of their grim mission.          They were small men for Tahitian's but they were agile and fired with purpose. Niau, the joker, fierce but always with a ready smile held a club and led the way. Then came Manarii, the tallest with long oily hair and broken nose. He carried an axe. Tstahiti and Teimura were in charge the loaded guns, a musket and a pistol. Tstahiti, waspish in looks, was the cleverest yet the most fickle in a fight. Mostly he held back waiting to find a weakness. (portrait left)

Today he was charged with loading and firing the white man's musket. Then there was Teimura, the youngest and most impulsive as he was yet to prove himself as a warrior.
         They out numbered their prey four to one. Even so Niau was uneasy for he and the others greatly feared Mr Christian. He was no easy target. He was a big man whose feats of strength impressed everyone and whose recent compulsion for hard labour meant he had grown hugely strong. Also the whole island knew he had no fear of dying, some even thought he would welcome death. Altogether a combination of circumstances making him particularly dangerous. The Tahitian's knew this just as they knew it was critical to their plan that he be killed. Their grips tightened around their weapons.
         For Fletcher Christian the morning was different. For weeks there had been a strange peace in the village and after breakfast Isabella informed him she was pregnant. For a brief moment the dark cloak of sadness had slipped from his broad shoulders, a ray of hope pierced his usual sombre soul. Now as he laboured and sweated he suspected nothing. He had no idea Williams lay battered and lifeless in his own blood-soaked garden..
         Closer an closer they crept. They changed positions. In the front went Teimua with the musket and beside him Niau wielding the club. Behind them barefoot and sinking in the garden's soft rutted earth came Tstahiti with the pistol and Manarii with the axe. They began to fan out. Niau and Manarii glanced sideways and hoped and prayed the Englishman's strange firesticks would work. Tstahiti knew how to prepare the weapons—the pale-skins had shown him—but then so many times it in the past it failed, no big noise, no killing ball, no magic, nothing. Teimura and paused and took aim while other grips tightened on axe and clubs. But Teimura was not satisfied and dared to creep a little closer. He took two steps and again took aim. He aimed for the biggest target, Mr Christian's broad back. His finger began to squeeze the trigger as he had been taught by Mr Young.
         It is very difficult to explain the innermost workings of Christian's mind. Even he cannot seem to. Suffice to say he was no realist and yearned for the sea and its physical aspects. So hard physical work was its substitution. His hoe arced through the mid-morning light. It's blade worn to silver by overuse glinted as it passed. Exploded clods of soil marked his steady toil and sweat stained his shirt. His mind numbed by the violence of the labour, just as he liked.
         For some reason Teimura waited until the blade struck – then fired. .... or misfired. Flints struck pans and sparks jumped but no lead was sent slapping into Christian's flesh. Then Tstahiti with the pistol, and the same result.
         Christian heard the noises, turned and faced his attackers.
         Teimura advanced face bloody and musket held like a club.
         Teimura hit Christian with the musket but he hunched his shoulders and Teimura hit too low, catching the massed-up trapezius muscles. Niau sprung forward and hung onto Christian's right arm but the biceps flexed and his torso half spun and caught Teimura with the left arm. It struck like the boom coming across on a sailboat, and sent the young Teimura and the musket in different directions. Christian saw Manarii swing the axe and blocked it with his hoe. The hoe handle shattered and Christian grabbed at the axe handle. Manarii was able to feel his grip loosened on the axe. It was the strength of both Manarii's hands against Christian's fingers and Manarii almost lost. Christian twisted the thick forefinger back as hard as he could and the axe hit the earth. Christian grunted and folded Manarii in against him with his right am. He brought the left one around too, but before he could close it around Manarii Niau was back up and got hold of it. Manarii butted Christian under the nose then twisted down and away. Christian flung Niau from him again, and as he did Manarii rolled away from him and back up on his feet.
         Tstahiti stepped well back and frantically tried to reload the musket.
         Manarii watched the smaller Niau moving into the fighters shuffle that he'd seen him use before. There was a bruise swelling along the cheekbone under Niau's right eye. His face was shiny and bright and he was smiling. Christian's breath was quiet, his hands moving slightly in front of him, chest-high. He began whistling a private song, through clenched teeth. He looked at Niau, then at Manarii. Manarii realised he was in almost the some stance as Niau. Christian looked back at Niau. At Manarii. At Niau. Time was with Manarii and Niau. Or so they though. Christian looked at the bigger Manarii again. He knew there was nothing to say. He took a huge breath.
         "Niau!" shouted Manarii.
         And Christian charged. Niau and Manarii both grabbed at him and bounced off. Niau from his right shoulder, Manarii off his left thigh. Manarii tried to get low but Christian was quicker than what Manarii thought he should have been and therefore Manarii didn't get down low enough fast enough. Christian broke through the two bravest warriors and headed for the forest. Manarii tasted blood in his mouth as he got up, and Niau's nose was bleeding.
         They went after Christian. Manarii wiped away some blood with his forearm and said in Tahitian, "We can catch him, but then what?"
         "No more going easy on him," replied Niau whose lip was puffing and was finding it difficult to speak clearly but no matter, he was always the joker. They were running along furrows that led to the trees. He is agile and very fast for a man the size of a mountain thought Niau as he vaulted a wooden fence and landed on Christian's back.
         Niau's weight hitting him made Christian stumble forward, and they both sprawled on the drying earth. Niau managed to get had one hand locked around Christian's neck as they hit, but Christian rolled over on top of him and tore loose. Manarii came up his long oily hair swung back as he kicked Christian the side of the head as the white man started to get up. It didn't stop him and soon he was on his feet and running again.
         Christian knew his only chance was to reach the trees.
         The nimble Niau again got close and hit him with a right hand in the throat. Christian merely grunted, ran over Niau and kept going. Manarii and Niau looked at each other. On the ground, Niau smiled, "he very strong eh?"
         "He run slow," Manarii said, "and we catch him." Together they went after him.
         The blinding tropical sun burnt sweat off Christian as he ran. The trees were only fifty meters away and he quickened his pace.
         "This running will tire him," gasped Niau "Maybe he will be tired when we catch him?"
         "Yes," said Manarii as he glanced down. His sari was wet with blood that he imagined was running from his cut lip. He looked across at Niau. The lower half of Niau's face was covered with blood and his sari was also spattered. One eye had begun to close.
         Up ahead Christian stopped, his chest heaving, his breath rasping through his damaged larynx, the sweat running on his face. Slightly ahead of his pursuers, on a little rise, with the sun behind him Christian stopped. He stood and waited, high and straight, as if he had risen on his hind legs. He realised he wouldn't make the trees. They had him cornered he would fight.

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