He leaped up on the deck, and began striking it with the great knob at the end of his waddy, shouting out after every blow.
“Debble, debble—big bunyip debble. Jimmy, Jimmy see big bunyip down slow!”
“Here, youngster, fetch my revolver,” shouted the captain to me. “Here, doctor, get out your gun, that Malay chap’s loose again.”
“A no—a no—a no,” yelled Jimmy, banging at the deck. “Big bunyip—no brown fellow—big black bunyip debble, debble!”
“Get out, you black idiot; it’s the Malay.”
“A no—a no—a no; big black bunyip. ’Gin eat black fellow down slow.”
To my astonishment, long quiet Jack Penny went up to Jimmy and gave him a tremendous kick, to which the black would have responded by a blow with his war-club had I not interposed.
“What did you kick him for, Jack?” I cried.
“A great scuffle-headed black fool! he’ll let it out now about Gyp. Make him be quiet.”
It was too late, for the captain and the doctor were at the hatchway, descending in spite of Jimmy’s shouts and cries that the big bunyip—the great typical demon of the Australian aborigine—would eat them.