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Williams sat gazing at his bare feet for a long time before he spoke. “Aye, sir, I’ll go back,” he said reluctantly, without raising his head. “I’ve done my best. If trouble comes o’ this, let no man hold me to account.”

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From now on Williams spent most of his time away from the settlement. On a lonely wooded plateau, on the western side of the island, he set to work to clear a plot of land and to build a cabin. Through the cold months of July, August, and September, he left the house each morning before the others were awake, returning at dusk. Mills respected his silence, and Martin, after one or two rebuffs, ceased to question him. In early October he announced that he was leaving for his new home, and, with Mills to help him, he carried his belongings over the ridge and down to the distant clearing where his cabin stood.

Though small, the cabin was strong and neatly built, with walls of split pandanus logs, set side by side. The floor alone was of plank, and the few articles of furniture had been put together with a craftsman’s skill. Mills had not seen the place before. He glanced around admiringly.