“Haul the boat up, we’ll wait and receive these natives on board,” says the captain; and in a few minutes one of the canoes was under the bows of the ship.
“Come alongside,” shouted a sailor, trusting that his signs and gestures would explain the meaning of his English words.
“We have no boat-hook to hold on by,” cried in answer the foremost of their visitors.
No words can explain the surprise with which the captain and the whole crew listened to these words spoken in pure English by the supposed savage. They looked at him and at each other, but no one spoke till the eager voice was again heard from the boat.
“Won’t you heave us a rope now?”
A sailor seized and flung one end of a coil of rope, and in a moment their strange visitor had seized it and climbed fearlessly on deck.
He was a tall man, young, and almost English-looking, save that his complexion was tinged by the hot sun of his country; and his whole face and bearing were those of an educated and civilized man. His dress was a light vest and short trousers, while his palm-leaf hat was adorned with a bunch of brilliant feathers.
“Who are you?” asked the astonished captain, gazing at this strange and unexpected apparition.
“I am Thursday October Christian, the son of the mutineer, and there,” pointing to the other canoe, now close to the ship, “is Edward Young.”
The mystery was now explained: the ships had anchored at the island where the mutineers, long sought in vain, had taken refuge.