“Thanky,” said Bob. “What are these? Manillas?”
“No; from Deli, in Sumatra,” said his visitor. And then they lit-up by the open window of the gun-room, and sat and smoked for a few minutes in silence, each watching the other.
“I say,” said Bob at last, “this is jolly rum, you know. Why you are quite an Englishman, young fellow.”
“I like English ways,” said the young chief, flushing; “some of them. If I were sultan, I’d take to all the best English customs, and make them take the place of all our bad ones. Then we should be great.”
“Yes,” said Bob; “I suppose so.”
“Ah,” said the young man, sadly, “you laugh. But I could improve our people.”
“Yes, of course,” said Bob, hastily. “Now come and see round the ship.”
“No, no, let us sit and talk,” said the young Malay. “I have seen plenty of ships. I know all about them.”
“Just as you like,” said Bob. “Then let’s go and sit on deck, under the awning. It’s awfully hot here.”
“You think it hot?”