'Ah,' the skipper suavely returned, 'I no likee stop long from my ship. You see, sun him nearly go sleep now, an' me no find way back. S'pose you come with me, I give plenty biskit and chop-chop, all same Singapore.'
Much to his surprise the invitation was promptly accepted. The boat's nose touched the beach, and without the slightest sign of hesitation or suspicion the Malay took a seat in the stern.
Captain Thorne was quite aware that he and his companions were completely at the mercy of the people, who looked a thoroughly unprincipled crowd, and to whose ferocity many a defenceless and unsuspecting crew may have owed their destruction. He was not long left in doubt respecting the character of those among whom he had fallen. Before the boat had again got under way many canoes, as if by magic, had been dragged from their places among the adjacent scrub, and only the sharp, resounding voice of their leader prevented the crews from making short work of their victims.
'You no 'fraid of them,' the Malay exclaimed. 'Me all same big man next to the chief. Me likee you, an' go Singapore. S'pose dem feller no go 'shore, me kill them. Savvee?' He sang out again, and the whole fleet of canoes disappeared.
On reaching the overhanging screen of foliage, a clear passage for the boat was kept by many canoes, and on clearing it others were seen to be paddling out toward the 'Alert.'
In the most natural manner Captain Thorne laughed and chatted with his guest, a dark-skinned, low-browed, keen-eyed, and active Malay of about thirty years.
He also readily answered every question respecting the size of the barque, her armament, and the strength of the crew.
The stranger appeared satisfied, and the skipper, having duly impressed on his hearer the fighting capabilities of the 'Alert,' felt almost confident that he would yet emerge unscathed from what seemed a somewhat awkward position.
Escape unharmed he did, and in a most extraordinary and praiseworthy manner.