"I took my spy-glass and looked and saw that there really were some big creatures moving about among the cocoanut palm trees. They seemed to be peeping at us but trying to keep out of our sight and I could not see them plainly at all.
"'They look like savages dressed in skins of wild beasts,' I said; 'but they cannot do us any harm so long as we are on the sea and they are on the land. We will go to our cabins and sleep and leave one of the little cabin boys to watch.'
"So we went downstairs and left a little pirate whose name was Reginal Cyrel Adolphin Seymour to watch. He was a little boy who had run away from school to be a pirate, and very often he had been heard to remark that now he really was a pirate he would rather learn the multiplication table. He was as hot and tired as any of us that day, and what he did was to fall asleep the minute the rest of us had gone to lie down." The pirate Captain stopped and cleared his throat and mopped his forehead with his red handkerchief.
"What happened then?" asked Barty. He saw Baboo Bajorum leaning forward with his big hairy hands on his knees and listening attentively. The pirate Captain began again:
"The sun got hotter and hotter and we slept and slept and slept. You know how heavily one sleeps on a hot day and how hard it is to get awake when you try. We did not try, but suddenly we all wakened at once. We were wakened by a great roaring which we thought was a sudden storm. But it was not a storm. It was a Baboo Bajorum sound, which you have never heard and which I hope you will never hear. It is louder than lions and fiercer than tigers and more piercing than panthers and leopards. Baboo Bajorums never make it unless they are very angry indeed, and when you hear it you had better look out."
"Are there more Baboo Bajorums than one?" Barty asked. "I thought this gentleman was the only one in the world."
The pirate Captain opened his mouth very wide and drew a long breath. Then he said in a solemn voice:
"When we waked up there were forty-two Baboo Bajorums on our ship and one was sitting by each man's hammock and roaring the angry roar."
"Ah," said Barty, "how frightening!" and he felt quite alarmed.
"It was frightening," replied the pirate Captain, "but we deserved it—for our unpoliteness. We had disturbed the Captain of the merchant ship at his dinner when we cut his head off, and we had disturbed the whole crew when we blew the ship up. Books about politeness always say that you must have quiet and unassuming manners. We deserved all that happened. We had been loud and assuming."