The newcomers had now approached within hailing distance. At a command from the man who appeared to be the leader they halted. Frank saw that they were all heavily armed. A man stepped forward and shouted:
"Who are you and what do you want here?"
"Castaways!" Frank shouted back. "We're the sole survivors of an
American merchant ship."
This reply seemed to lend courage to the others, who, at a command from the leader, advanced boldly.
"Throw down your rifles men," said Frank in a low voice, "but keep your hands on your revolvers. These fellows seem all right, but there is no need taking unnecessary chances."
They stood quietly as the men approached. As they drew nearer, Frank made out that they were indeed a motley crew. Spanish faces—or South American, to be more exact—predominated, but there were a few who seemed to be English or Americans. Also, there were two plainly of African descent and three who seemed to be Chinese or Japanese.
Frank whistled softly to himself.
"If I didn't know the days of pirates are over…" he said, and then shrugged again.
The leader of the party—a young man, he could not have been more than twenty-four, although he was exceedingly large and powerful looking—spoke in English. Frank was not wrong when he placed him as an American, though of German descent.
"What's your name?" he demanded of Frank.