He had no idea in which direction to go first, and finally decided to go north along the shore, hoping that he had picked the correct direction. His running around the island had so confused him that he had no idea in which direction the sloop might lie, so he wasted no time in idle wondering. Finding the sand hard down near the water he walked rapidly along, occasionally breaking into a run. In this way he had covered a mile when he was halted by the sight of a small hut with a light streaming out of a window.
It was the hut of a fisherman, as Jim could tell from the nets which were stretched out on a huge windlass to dry. His first thought was to pass by without going near the house, for he had no idea who the lone fisherman was, or how friendly he might be to the men in the house. It might even be one of the gang, and in that case he had no desire to fall into his hands. But on the other hand it might be a man he could trust, a man who would help him to find the Lassie, and in that case the find would be one of intense value. Acting under an impulse Jim walked to the door of the hut and knocked.
A chair banged down on the wooden floor and a voice that was a trifle sharp cried out: “Who is it, eh?”
“I’m lost and I’d like to find my way around the island!” Jim called.
There was a moment’s hesitation and then the door was opened by a tall old man clad in boots, rough fishing clothes, and an old red sweater. He had white hair and his sharply defined face was tanned by the brisk sea air. Two deep brown eyes glowed from under shaggy locks. In his hand he had a newspaper.
He looked sharply at Jim for a minute and then waved his paper. “Come inside,” he bellowed, and Jim felt an instant friendliness in his voice.
Jim stepped inside, to find himself in a room which was a hodge-podge of jumbled furniture, from fishing rods and nets to shells and flower pots filled with strange plants. A single oil lamp burned on the table and the old man pointed to a box near the door, on which Jim sat down. Picking up a battered black pipe, the sea captain lit it and studied Jim.
“Lost, eh?” questioned the old man, unexpectedly.
“Lost, eh! Ha, ha, ha!”
The words, harsh and rasping, came from back of Jim, and the boy whirled around, to find a brilliantly colored parrot standing on a short perch back of him. The captain addressed the parrot shortly.