"I do," returned Jack slowly, with a deep note of sternness in his voice.
"Know no good, I'll be bound; but he's ashore here somewheres. His blighted crew o' yellow-skinned beachcombers got fed up with him, an' they just popped the three of us ashore 'ere—marooned us, as they say."
"Who was the third, do you say?" broke in Jack again, a strange excitement in his eyes.
"Why, that pretty little wife o' his to be sure, who's a mighty sight too good and 'andsome for the likes of 'im. We've been 'ere more'n a week now. That's my yarn, an' when you've had your siesta, I'll hear yours. Your landin' party was a kind o' surprise-packet to me, an' I just piped to clear decks for action when I see'd you fust; an' you can bet I just sweated pure joy when you hailed back in the old chin-chin."
"Wall," said Broncho slowly, sitting up and looking round, "you shore had us shorthorns some fretted an' scared likewise when you jumps out on the scenery so gay an' easy; but it's that 'ere flag o' yours which has us some distrustful an' on the scout for ambushes at the first turn of the kyards."
"Oh, that's my pocket 'andkercher. I shinned up that old palm, trimmed his spars offen him, an' nailed it wi' wooden pegs to the masthead, when I fust takes possession o' the island in the name of 'Er Majesty, so as there shouldn't be no international hankypanky diplomatin' round later," the navy man explained calmly.
"Where's this Hawksley gone to, do you say?" asked Jack, trying hard to hide the excitement in his voice.
"Why, I h'expec' he's divin' in the lagoon fishin' up oysters, a-lookin' for pearls; 'e puts in mos' of his time that way."
"And his wife?" queried Jack again, his voice shaking for all his efforts to control it.