“In that case we may have some fun yet,” laughed Jack, lashing the turtle with the rope's end, as if anxious to be in time for the anticipated sport.
By the time the creek was reached, however, not a native was to be seen; so, congratulating themselves on having given their pursuers the slip, they reached the cutter.
Here the old sailor, to say nothing of Puggles, was most anxiously watching for their return.
“Shiver my mizzen!” shouted he, as they ran under the cutter's stern; “ha' ye gone an' took a mermaid in tow, lads?”
“No; one of Spottie's turkles has taken us in tow, captain,” replied Jack, setting the turtle free with a slash of his knife, in spite of Spottie's protestations that the creature would make “bery nice soup.”
“Ugh, you cannibal!” he added, with a glance of disgust at the black's chagrined face, “you wouldn't eat the beast after he has saved your life, would you?”
“Belay there! what's this 'ere yarn about the warmint a-savin' o' your lives, lads?” sang out the captain. “Hours ago,” continued he, as the two young men, leaving Spottie to beach the canoe, scrambled on board the cutter, “hours ago I says to myself, 'Mango, my boy,' says I, 'may I never set tooth to salt junk agin if they younkers ain't all dead men afore this.' says I. Howsomedever, here ye be safe an' sound; so let's hear the whole on it, lads.”
In compliance with this request Don began to relate the adventures which had befallen them since morning; but scarcely had he got fairly launched upon his narrative, when:
“Sharks an' sea'-sarpents!” interrupted the captain, rising to his feet with a lurch, and pointing up the creek, “what sort o' craft's this 'ere a-bearin' down on us? I axes.”
A canoe, laden to the water's edge with natives, appeared round a bend in the creek. Presently other canoes, to the number of half-a-dozen, hove in sight in rapid succession, whose occupants, perceiving their approach to be discovered, set up a shout that made the cliffs ring.