“I doesn’t fear,” cried the little sailor maiden, “and I’se going, so that’s settled. Sailor men, s’ove off.”
They laughed and obeyed.
Lolo was to be their guide and safeguard. He was evidently facile princeps in this beautiful isle of the sea.
Perhaps there was a good deal of the martinet or tyrant as well as savage about Lolo. He was a finely formed man; tall, brown-skinned, and rather handsome. Probably he belonged to some other and distant island, for he possessed not the large mouth and thick lips that, as a rule, distinguish the natives of Polynesia.
But every muscle in his body stuck out like knots and cords, and seemed as hard as the mainstay of a full-rigged ship.
Pride is a characteristic of nearly all savages, more particularly if they are chiefs. Lolo was no exception.
While passing through the beautiful canal-like opening that led into the broad blue lagoon, Lolo regaled his listeners with stories of his own deeds of valour and prowess.
Barclay and Davie, though they pretended to be listening, were more taken up with the beauties of nature. The narrow inlet was—
“O’erhung with wild woods thickening green.”
In every branch or leaf of feathery palm, in every frond of great tree fern that bent down to kiss the water, there was one bird or more. Kingfishers of the most gorgeous hues flitted silently here and there, or, like chips of rainbow, they suddenly darted from their perches, and dived into the water, to be seen no more.