But after a while my uncle and I, in spite of the delightful sensation of being ashore in such a glorious climate, began to feel so very human that we set to and made a fire; then I fetched water from a spring in the rock that ran over in a cascade towards the sea, and after rigging up three pieces of bamboo, gypsy fashion, the kettle soon began to sing, the coffee was measured out, a box dragged outside the hut door to act as a table, and just as the canoes approached the shore we began upon biscuit, a couple of toasted red herrings, of which we got a couple of boxes at Singapore, and what seemed to me the most delicious cup of coffee I had ever tasted.
“There,” uncle said to me at last, “we are regularly launched now, Nat. Those Malays were not savages, but people of law and order. Now we are left alone in the wilds indeed.”
“Yes, uncle, and here come the black fellows,” I said with my mouth full of biscuit.
In fact, as soon as they had run their beautiful canoes up on to the sands they were starting in a body to come and look at us; but there was a loud shout and some gesticulating, and we saw one tall savage flourishing a spear, when they all went off in other directions, while the savage with the spear came sidling towards us in a slow, awkward way, keeping his face turned in the opposite direction, but gradually coming nearer.
“I hope he does not mean to throw that spear at us, Nat,” said my uncle. “Where did the others go?”
“They seemed to go into the woods there,” I said.
“Humph! And they might get round to the back of our hut,” said my uncle, looking rather uneasy. “But we will not show any distrust. Have you recognised that chief this morning?”
“I think this is he, uncle,” I said, “but I can’t see his face.”
“Well, we will soon see,” said my uncle, as we went on with our breakfast, and kept on watching the black till he came about fifty yards away, apparently searching for something amongst the shrubs and plants with the handle of his spear.
“Shout at him, Nat,” said my uncle.