Carefully putting down the precious liquid, he seized hold of the iron pot, and, with a few strokes of his sheath-knife, soon had it in condition and on the fire. Over such fierce heat, the water did not take long to boil, and a few minutes later the obstreperous crustaceans were on the way to discharge their natural debt to two starving humans.
"What a feast we'll have!" exclaimed Grace, as she eagerly watched his preparations. "If only we had some bread to go with them."
"Here's something just as good," he replied quickly. Stooping down toward the plant he had just brought in he plucked some of the fruit—long, yellow pods with red speckles—and held them out to her.
"What is it?" she asked, in surprise. "I never saw fruit like that before."
"They are plantains—the potatoes of the tropics," he answered.
"They look like bananas," said Grace, starting to peel and eat one.
"Same family," he explained. As if surprised at her ignorance, he went on: "It is a wonderful fruit. It's meat, potatoes, and bread all in one. Its fiber one can use as thread, and its enormous leaves make warm clothing. When the fruit is powdered and baked you would hardly know it from rice. Speke, Stanley, and the other African explorers frequently mention plantains as the staple food of the natives. We're fortunate to find it here, and there seems to be an abundance."
Grace looked at him curiously. She was not aware that seamen were so well versed.
"What do you know about African explorers?" she demanded.
Her question seemed to amuse him, for he showed his teeth in a smile.