"They don't look very friendly," said Frank.
This was true; for though many dug-outs had shoved off from the shore, they kept severely aloof from the little yacht.
Quambo was sent down below to question the two captured savages, whom it was thought advisable for the present to keep out of sight.
The savages assured Quambo that this really was Ota's island, but that he would doubtless not permit the white men to appear. If they could lure the crew of the Island Queen on shore, they would, said they, kill and eat them, but they would not attack the vessel till nightfall.
This was a rather gloomy outlook, and as no white men could be seen on the beach, Fred could only come to the conclusion that they were hidden away somewhere. He determined, however, that he would not be deterred from landing and seeking an interview with the king on the beach.
So Fred, with Quambo and Mac, lowered the boat, and boldly proceeded to row towards the shore. Quambo was to act as interpreter.
The boat was fully armed with revolvers and rifles, with spears also, lest they might have to come into close quarters with the cannibals.
The canoes certainly did not scatter in all directions at the approach of the white men's boat, but they drew sullenly off.
When within thirty yards of the shore they lay on their oars, and immediately afterwards the beach swarmed with spear-armed, wildly-gesticulating savages. Among them was a personage arrayed in an old pilot jacket, and nothing else, so that with his long black legs sticking out from under he had anything but a very imposing appearance.
He had a spear in his right hand, and by a string in the other was leading along a good-sized pig, of all creatures in the world.