"Don't know how answer. English Chief talk too fast—ask too many questions all same time. Go slow—then Joane hear right—tell him right." And she smiled up into his face while she touched the slender forefinger of her left hand with the fingers of the right, as if waiting to enumerate his questions.
"Thy grandmother sent thee?"
The girl nodded, and touched a second finger.
"She thinks the men on the ship may do us harm?"
"Say don't like looks—got bad black faces," replied Joane, scowling as though to illustrate her meaning.
"Have any of them come ashore yet?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes—so many," holding up seven brown fingers, "come 'shore. Get water to drink—then go back to ship when sun shines. But no go 'way yet—no mean to go. Tell gran'mudder want somethin' eat. Take our corn, and pay no money."
"Pirates!" John Devereux exclaimed, now starting to his feet, while he looked at his wife, whose face paled.
He hurried across the room, bolted and barred the stout door, and examined the window fastenings, the Indian girl still crouching by the hearth and watching him placidly, as if a pirate raid were a matter of small moment.
But her sparkling eyes, and the heaving bosom agitating the many bead necklaces hanging from throat to waist, betrayed her.