A curiously-built native boat was now seen approaching swiftly from the shore, having suddenly shot out of a creek. It was very long, very low, and was paddled by two men.
"Hollo, ladies!" cried Noah Gawthrop, who was busy in the remaining quarter-boat, getting the fall-tackles clear; "look at this swell coming along-side in a cocked hat, like a wice-admiral o' the fleet! But I beg parding, marm," he added, suddenly, as Ethel adjusted the screw of her lorgnette, "you mustn't look at him, for he ain't nothin' on but the cocked hat and a necklace."
"Sheep 'hoy!" cried a shrill voice, as the boat rose and fell on the waves.
"What do you want, darkey?" asked Noah.
"You savey me?" cried the Malay.
"No, I am blow'd if I do," was the surly reply.
"What for you no savey me?" remonstrated the other; "yam, yam—sell, sell—nice, nice, nice."
Then he held up an inverted bottle, to show that it was empty.
"By Jove! 'tis old Captain Puffadder!" exclaimed Captain Phillips, as the native boat came sheering alongside, and a white-headed Malay, who literally had no other attire than a necklace of crystal beads and an old battered naval cocked hat, which some man-o'-war wag had given him, relinquishing his carved teak-wood paddle, caught with great dexterity a line which was cast to him, and made it fast to a round knob at the prow of his boat, which, as the line became taut, fell at once into the ship's wake astern.
"It is old Radama Puffadder, whom we saw on our two last voyages. He sells vegetables and fruit to any ship that comes close enough in shore," said Heriot, looking round for the young ladies; but when the boat had come nearer, the utter want of attire displayed by the two Malays had fairly driven the Misses Basset and Nance Folgate down the stair of the companion, where the merry but half-stifled laugh of Rose could be heard from time to time.