“It’s true enough, Carey,” said the doctor, gravely. “I’ve seen the bones at one of their camps after a feast.”
The beachcomber laughed hoarsely.
“Now you know what you’ve got to expect, youngster; so behave yourself,” he said. “Now, doctor, you know. Be civil, and I daresay we shall be very good friends; be nasty, and I shan’t keep my black pack quiet, but let ’em do as they like. Hi! Black Jack!”
The savage bounded once more to his side.
“See that the canoe and boat are fast, and then you shall have a feast.”
“All fast. Tie rope,” said the black, pointing to the farther side of the steamer deck. Then, to Carey’s horror, he made a peculiar gesture and pointed at him.
“No. Salt beef. ’Bacco,” growled his leader, and the man once more bounded away.
“Come below,” continued the man, hoarsely, “and get those brutes something to keep ’em quiet; and I want a big drink. You three go first.”
Carey glanced at the doctor and then at Bostock, both of whom avoided his eye and went to the cabin entrance, leaving the boy to follow, feeling half-stunned and wondering whether they ought not to make some effort to drive the intruders overboard.