'Good-bye, old ugly mug,' he cried as he passed the man who had discovered his totem mark. 'Wait till the clouds roll by. Farewell, sweet maid'--to a hideous old woman; 'for they all love Jack, and you 'll meet us coming back, and there 'll be dancing with the lasses on the green, oh! It pleases 'em, sir,' he said, apologetically, to Trentham, 'though they don't understand, poor heathens. But I 've been told I 've got a very good singing voice.'
'Let's hope you won't sing another tune before the day 's over,' said Trentham.
CHAPTER XI
THE ORDEAL OF EPHRAIM MEEK
Meek's mind worked slowly. For some little time, as he marched shorewards among his fellow captives, he realised merely the fact that he was a prisoner in the hands of the Germans. He did not ask himself why he had been captured, or throw his imagination forward in an effort to forecast his fate. With his usual shambling gait he trudged on, glancing now at the Papuans, now at the Germans, and occasionally stroking his thin whiskers in the manner of one who finds the world a great puzzle.
Presently illumination came to him. Fixing his eyes on the stout figure of the man who led the party, he muttered 'Trousers!' and thought of Mr. Grinson. Yes, to be sure, this was the extraordinary mariner who had swum ashore from a wreck without soiling his trousers, who had been saved from the cannibals' cooking pot, and had mysteriously disappeared when leading his rescuers to Mushroom Hill. His trousers were not so clean as they had been; there were black smudges on them. What would Mr. Grinson say to that?
Before Meek had got much further in his cogitations, he found himself fully occupied in keeping his footing on a rugged zigzag path that scored the surface of a steep downward slope. Then, lifting his eyes, he beheld the sea, and below, in a still cove, a vessel painted bright blue lying close inshore, and moored stem and stern. In shape she resembled the raider which had sunk the Berenisa a few weeks before, but she had had a new coat of paint. Meek saw at a glance that she had steam up, and wondered whether she was short-handed and he had been impressed to make up her complement.
A turn in the path shut the vessel from his view, but opened up another scene. On the left a number of natives were felling small trees, in charge of a European who every now and then cracked a long whip. 'I don't hold with nigger-driving!' thought Meek, shaking his head as he passed on.
The path becoming easier, he was now able to think of something more than his feet. ''Tis the Raider,' he said to himself, 'though never did I see a ship of her tonnage painted sky blue afore. Trousers is a German, without a doubt. Now what 's he think he 's going to do with me? I 'll not sign on with a German pirate--never!'
Another turn brought the cove again into view. The seaplane had just risen from the surface, and was now soaring towards the western horn. A few seconds afterwards Hahn and his party reached the sentry, who saluted, looking curiously at Meek. Hahn struck to the left, and presently, after another steep descent, came to the broad ledge on which natives were moving up and down, carrying baskets out of a shallow tunnel. The full baskets were tipped over on to the beach, then taken back to the tunnel to be refilled. In charge of the toilers was a sturdy German seaman, who had a rifle slung over his back and held in his right hand a long, evil-looking whip.