"What have they got in those sacks, Captain?" he inquired, as that great being passed them in his never ending parade to and fro on the deck.
The Captain paused in his march, and towered over the travellers—tall, grave, and serenely self-satisfied.
"Fishermen," he explained, "are often passengers in My ship. These five are from Mhruxi—the place we last touched at—and that's the way they carry their money. The money of this island is heavy, gentlemen, but it costs little, as you may guess. We buy it from them by weight—about five shillings a pound. I fancy a ten pound-note would buy all those sacks."
By this time the old man had closed his eyes—in order, no doubt, to concentrate his thoughts on these interesting facts; but the Captain failed to realise his motive, and with a grunt resumed his monotonous march.
Meanwhile the fishermen were getting so noisy over the weighing-machine that one of the sailors took the precaution of carrying off all the weights, leaving them to amuse themselves with such substitutes in the form of winch-handles, belaying-pins, &c., as they could find. This brought their excitement to a speedy end: they carefully hid their sacks in the folds of the jib that lay on the deck near the tourists, and strolled away.
When next the Captain's heavy footfall passed, the younger man roused himself to speak.
"What did you call the place those fellows came from, Captain?" he asked.
"And the one we are bound for?"
The Captain took a long breath, plunged into the word, and came out of it nobly. "They call it Kgovjni, sir."