"Hurrah!" cried the mate. "Won't we astonish the king of the Cannibal Islands? Eh?"
It was Frank's turn to cry "Hurrah!"
"But," he added, "will there be real live cannibals, sir?"
"Certainly. What good would dead ones be?"
"And is there a chance of being caught and killed and eaten, and all the like of that?"
"Ay, though it isn't pleasant to look forward to. Only mind this: I may tell you for your comfort that although, after being knocked on the head with a nullah, your Highland cousin would be trussed at once and hung up in front of a clear fire until done to a turn, you yourself would be kept alive for weeks. Penned up, you know, like a chicken."
"But why?"
"Oh, they always do that with London boys, because they are generally too lean for decent cooking, and need too much basting. You would be penned up and fattened with rice and bananas."
"Humph!" said Frank, and after a pause of thoughtfulness, "Well, I suppose there is some consolation in being kept alive a bit; but bother it all, I don't half like the idea of being a side dish."
The weather was more favourable during this voyage, and though bitterly cold, all the boys took plenty of exercise on the quarter-deck, and so kept warm. So, too, did the old minister, who was really a jolly fellow, and did not preach at them nor dilate on the follies of youth. Moreover, this son of the Auld Kirk enjoyed a hearty glass of toddy before turning in.