“Why, what does this mean?” said my uncle, and he pointed to the shore.
But Mr Ebony had no intention of going, and if we had not learned much of his language, he had picked up something of ours, for he began to shout, “No, no, no, no, no,” till he was out of breath, and laying himself down he took tight hold of one of the thwarts of the canoe, as if to say that he meant to cling to that if we tried to throw him over.
“This is why he wouldn’t shake hands, Nat,” said my uncle. “He couldn’t swim ashore now, for the sharks, so I suppose he means to come with us. Let’s see.”
My uncle pointed to the shore, but Mr Ebony shook his head, so Uncle Dick pointed right ahead eastward, in the direction we were going, and our black friend nodded, and jumping up danced about, grinning and muttering excitedly the while.
“Well, Nat,” said my uncle, “what’s to be done? He wants to go with us.”
“Can’t we take him, uncle?” I replied.
“Oh yes, Nat, we can take him,” he replied; “and he would be very useful. Only it comes upon me like a surprise. It is, of course, a good thing to have a black with us, for it will teach the people we come across that we are friendly, even if we cannot make them understand, though, I dare say, Ebony here will be able sometimes to act as interpreter.”
“Ebo-Nee, Ebo-Nee, Ebo-Nee,” cried our passenger loudly; and he began to beat his chest to show that he comprehended whom we meant.
Then touching me on the chest he cried with great eagerness, “Nat, my boy—Nat, my boy,” looking delighted when we laughed; and to give further example of his powers as a linguist, he next touched my uncle as he had touched me.
“Ung-go-Dit, Ung-go-Dit,” he cried, finishing off by slapping his naked flesh, and shouting, “Ebo-Nee, Ebo-Nee.”