“A message from Jack!” he announced joyfully, when at length the tightly-drawn knot yielded, and a scrap of paper fluttered to the ground.
“Shiver my main-brace!” roared the captain, bringing his hand down on that unoffending member as if about to give a practical demonstration of his words, “ain't I said as much all along, lad? Alive he is, an' alive he remains. An' blow me if ever I see anything to beat this 'ere method o' excommunicating atween friends, says I. So let's hear what Master Jack has got to say for hisself.”
Don had already run his eye over the pencilled writing. “He's all right, thank God!” he exclaimed, in a tone of intense relief. “Wounded, as I feared—a mere scratch, he says—but you shall hear for yourself:—
“'Don't be cut up, old fellow,'” he read aloud, “'it will all come light in the end. The niggers pounced down on me before I heard them. Just had time to let off one of the captain's old kickers, when a crack on the head laid me out. I'm in a village on the sea-shore, and by great good luck I can see the hill and the smoke of what, I suppose, is your fire, from the window of the hut they've stuck me in. It doesn't seem quite so bad when I look at that.... Bosin just turned up. Am writing in hopes he'll carry this safely to you. Close prisoner. Have to scribble when the beggars aren't watching me. Overheard them palavering just now. They take me to the E. R. to-night—'”
“Which he means the Elephant Rock!” cried the captain, interrupting. “Blow me! I knowed as that 'ere Elephant 'ud go an' make wittles of him, d'ye see?”
Don nodded and read on:
“'Old Salambo's work this. He means to make terms for the pearls——'”
“Copper my bottom, lad! Them's the wery identical words as I've stood by all along!” the captain broke in again.
“Wait!” said Don impatiently. “There's something important here. I couldn't make it out before, the writing's so scrawly towards the end. Listen to this: 'There's a streak down the face of the hill, that looks like a path to the village here. If Bosin's in time, come early. Don't let the hdkf.(sp) alarm you; it's a mere scratch.'”
Reading off these last words rapidly, Don pointed to the sun, already half-hidden by the western horizon.