The men looked at him vacantly.
“Commodore Junk!” said Humphrey.
“El Commodore Yunk; yes. Ship there.”
One of the Indians had caught his meaning, and pointed southward.
“Have you seen the ship?”
The men nodded quickly and pointed again.
“Why have you come here to tell us?”
The Indian stared, then looked at his companion, with whom he rapidly exchanged a few words, ending by turning back, holding out his hands, and exclaiming—
“El Commodore Yunk. Money. Rum.”
“There’s a frankness about this fellow that makes me disposed to believe him,” said Humphrey, grimly, as he smiled at the officer. “‘Commodore Yunk. Money. Rum.’ And the pointing seems to me as effective as the longest speech. Look here, can you understand? Show us—”