“The feller didn't seem to understand much of this, but he looked more worried than ever. The crew looked frightened, and jabbered.
“'Ooman, senors,' says Whiskers, in half a whisper. 'Ooman, she here?'
“'Hammond,' says I, 'what's a ooman?' The feller seemed to be thinkin' a minute; then he began to make signs. He pulled his nose down till it most touched his chin. Then he put his hands to his ears and made loops of his fingers to show earrings. Then he took off his coat and wrapped it round his knees like make-b'lieve skirts. Hammond and me looked at each other.
“''Edge,' says Hammond, ''e wants to know w'at's become of Lobelia 'Ankins.'
“'No, senor,' says I to the feller; 'ooman no here. Ooman there!' And I p'inted in the direction of our island.
“Well, sir, you oughter have seen that Malay gang's faces light up! They all bust out a grinning and laffing, and Whiskers fairly hugged me and then Hammond. Then he made one of the Malays take the wheel instead of me, and sent another one into the fo'castle after something.
“But I was curious, and I says, p'inting toward Lobelia's island:
“'Ooman your wife?'
“'No, no, no,' says he, shaking his head like it would come off, 'ooman no wife. Wife there,' and he p'inted about directly opposite from my way. 'Ooman,' he goes on, 'she no wife, she—'
“Just here the Malay come up from the fo'castle, grinning like a chessy cat and hugging a fat jug of this here palm wine that natives make. I don't know where he got it from—I thought Hammond and me had rummaged that fo'castle pretty well—but, anyhow, there it was.