“I say, old fellow,” said he, turning to me, “you’re a regular trump. Who left you on shore to get all ready for us?”
“I was born here,” replied I.
“Born here! Well, we’ll hear all about that to-morrow—just now, we’ll make up for lost time, for we’ve had nothing to eat or drink since Wednesday morning. Look alive, my lads! Get up the hurricane-house. Jim, put the pail of water into the kettle, and send the islander here for another pailful, for grog.”
The pail was handed to me, and I soon returned with it full; and, as I did not see that they had a pannikin, I brought one down and gave it to them.
“You’re a fine boy,” said the mate (as I afterwards found out that he was). “And now, I say, where do you hold out? Have you a hut or a cave to live in?”
“Yes,” replied I; “I have a cabin, but it is not large enough for all of you.”
“No, no! We don’t want to go there—we are very well where we are, alongside of the cask of rum; but you see, my lad, we have a woman here.”
“A woman!” said I; “I never saw a woman. Where is she?”
“There she is, sitting by the fire.”
I looked round, and perceived that there was one of the party wrapped up in a blanket, and with a wide straw hat on the head, which completely concealed the form from me. The fact is, that the woman looked like a bundle, and remained by the fire quite as inanimate. At my saying that I never saw a woman, the man burst into a loud laugh.