He was naked, of course,
and in his hand he held a huge war club.
"That feller'd eat a rattlesnake," gasped Captain Scraggs. "Shoot
him, Gib, if he bats an eye."
"Shut up," said the commodore, a trifle testily; "that's the
number-one nigger, who does the talkin'. Hello, boy."
"Hello, cap'n," replied the savage, and salaamed gravely. "You
likee buy chicken, buy pig? Maybe you say come 'board, I talk. Me
very good friend white master."
"Bless my sweet-scented soul!" gasped the commodore. "What won't
them missionaries do next? Cut off my ears if this nigger ain't
civilized!" He beckoned to the canoe and it shot alongside, and
its brown crew came climbing over the rail of the _Maggie II_.
Mr. Gibney met the spokesman at the rail and they rubbed noses
very solemnly, after the manner of salutation in Kandavu. Captain
Scraggs bustled forward, full of importance.
"Interduce me, Gib," he said amiably, and then, while Mr. Gibney
favoured him with a sour glance, Captain Scraggs stuck out his
hand and shook briskly with the native.
"Happy to make your acquaintance," he said. "Scraggs is my name,
sir. Shake hands with McGuffey, our chief engineer.
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