But Ebo was not satisfied till we had caught five or six times as many as seemed necessary. Then and then only did we paddle ashore.
It was soon evident why Ebo had wanted so many fish, for after cleaning and setting enough for our breakfasts to roast, he prepared the rest and put them to cook while we made a hearty meal.
This being ended my uncle rose.
“Well, Nat,” he said, “this seems a terribly sterile place, but we may as well have a look round; one finds good specimens sometimes in unlikely spots. Let’s get our guns.”
Ebo was watching us intently all the time, evidently trying to comprehend us and directly after he, to our utter astonishment, shouted out: “no gun; no shoot; no gun; no bird. Boat, boat, boat, boat.”
He pointed to the canoe, and then right to sea again, and seeing us laugh he burst into a hearty fit himself, ending by dancing about and putting the freshly cooked fish on board, where we followed him and once more launched upon the tropic sea.
It was plain enough that this was only a resting-place upon our way, for as soon as the sail was hoisted Ebo took the paddle and steered us south-west, leaving larger islands to right and left though nothing was visible ahead.
“I suppose we must trust him, Nat,” said my uncle; “but it does look rather wild work cruising these seas in an open canoe, quite at the mercy of a savage whose language we cannot speak.”
“But I think he must have been here before, uncle,” I replied.
“No doubt about it, my boy.”