"Do you think they will be friendly?" asked Dave, in a low tone.
"I hope so," answered the captain. "They have nothing to gain by being otherwise."
When the natives discovered the whites, they stopped rowing and set up an animated jabbering among themselves. They looked around, thinking a ship must be close by, and, finding none, were much astonished.
"Hello!" called out Captain Marshall, waving a welcome. "Glad to see you!"
To this the natives did not answer. But the canoe was sent closer and finally beached, and the majority of the black men leaped ashore, each carrying his weapons with him.
"How do you do?" went on the captain, extending his hand and smiling. "Glad to see you. Can anybody speak English?"
At the question, one of the natives, a short, thickset fellow with a peculiarly flat nose, came to the front and shook hands.
"Soko speak Inglees," he said, and grinned. "Soko once on Inglees ship."
"I am glad to know you, Soko," replied the captain. "I am Captain Marshall, of the ship Stormy Petrel. What island is this?"
"Dis Yam-kolo Island," answered Soko, still grinning. "How you come dis way? Where he ship?"