The Savage Islander stepped forward, and raised his hand in salute, with a smile of pride upon his lips.
“I been kill him,” he said in his broken English; “I was come along back to meet Mr. Harvey, when I hear the guns. And then I see the captain come, running quick. He have Winchester in his hand, and when he see me he stop. He fire two, three times at me. Then I run up to him, and I drive my turtle spear through him, and he fall down and I put my foot on his mouth, and he die.”
Atkins slapped him on the shoulder. “Good man you, Huka! Stay here a moment, and I'll bring you a big drink of rum. Then we must go and bury both the swine.”
Three weeks later the Sikiana sailed into the lagoon, and the “good little Dutch skipper,” of whom Harvey had spoken, had him brought on board and placed in his bunk for the voyage to Ponapé.
“My tear Mees Tessa,” he said, “Mr. Carr haf dold me dat your fader vill gif me five hundred dollar ven ve get to Ponapé. If der Sikiana vas mein own ship I vould dake you und Mr. Carr and der second mate und all your natives to Ponapé for nodings; for your fader vas a good man to me, und Harvey Carr vas a good man to me ven I sailed mit him in the Belle Brandon. But you must invide old Westphalen to the wedding.”
“Indeed we shall, captain.”
“And me too, miss?” asked Atkins, with a sly twinkle in his eye.
“And you too, of course, dear, dear Atkins, so good, brave, and true. There, look, Harvey, I am going to kiss Mr. Atkins.”
“God bless you both, miss,” said the mate huskily.