“Now, my boys,” said the last mentioned individual, “I think it is time for us to go, we have not had much luck to-day.” With this he began leisurely to draw in his line, gazing listlessly on the Indian canoe, while he did so,—“but these fellows are taking a long time to eat their ripe plantains this morning, Jack Jimmy,” he observed.
“Me tink so foo true, sa,” replied the individual answering to that name.
“An da big Injan in de tern a de canoe da look pan awee berry hard—berry hard—he bin da look pan awee all de manin so,” and then looking anxiously on the canoe, he continued, “an me no da see parrat, me no da see monkey, me no da see notting pan de side a de canoe, an you neber see Injan ya widout parrat an monkey.”
Having delivered himself of this sage opinion, he looked at the canoe again, long and anxiously, shook his head, and moved restlessly on his thwart.
“What is the matter with you, Jack Jimmy,” inquired the master, “you seem to be displeased with these Indians?”
Jack Jimmy made no answer, but gave expression to a sound like “hom!” Then began to look into the bottom of the boat, while he beat time apparently to his own ruminations with his chubby great toe.
“But what is the matter with you, man?” again inquired the master.
“Massa—massa—me—me-me-me no like close, close so to Injans pan big salt water, so, no.”
The first part of the sentence Jack Jimmy pronounced moodily, but he shot out the latter part with such rapidity and earnestness, that the gravity of the master could hold out no longer, and he laughed heartily at his man.
“Bah! you fool,” said he, when the fit was over: “what do you expect these Indians will do to us?”