“Cook people. That’s the spot, safe.”
“Nonsense!” said Don laughing.
“Ah! You may call it nonsense, Mas’ Don; but if them sort o’ things is done here, I think we’d better stop on board.”
Just at that moment the captain, who was busy with his spyglass examining the place and looking for a snug anchorage, suddenly gave an order, which was passed on, and with the rapidity customary on board a man-of-war, the stout boarding nettings, ready for use on an emergency, were triced up to the lower rigging, so that before long the vessel, from its bulwarks high up toward the lower yards, presented the appearance of a cage.
While this was going on, others of the men stood to their arms, guns were cast loose and loaded, and every precaution taken against a surprise.
The reason for all this was that quite a fleet of long canoes, propelled by paddles, suddenly began to glide out from behind one of the islands, each canoe seeming to contain from eighty to a hundred men.
The effect was beautiful, for the long, dark vessels, with their grotesque, quaintly carved prows and sterns, seemed to be like some strange living creatures working along paths of silver, so regularly went the paddles, turning the sea into lines of dazzling light.
The men were armed with spears and tomahawks, and as they came nearer, some could be seen wearing black feathers tipped with white stuck in their hair, while their dark, nearly naked bodies glistened in the sun like bronze.
“Are they coming to attack us, Jem?” said Don, who began to feel a strange thrill of excitement.
“Dessay they’d like to, Mas’ Don; but it strikes me they’d think twice about it. Why, we could sail right over those long thin boats of theirs, and send ’em all to the bottom.”