When Jack Jimmy had been saved from drowning, the master and the other rower were transhipped into the canoe. The master, shrewder than his men, thought he observed, in addition to the circumstance of speaking English, other marks in the Indians which resembled disguise. They seemed more assured and less savage than Indians generally are; besides, they had thick beards and mustachios which the savages never wear; and, above all, their arms, instead of being rude bows and arrows, or at best rusty fowling pieces, were beautiful rifles, cutlasses and pikes.
“But who are you?” he inquired after he had detected these appearances, and become justly alarmed by them. “Who are you, and what do you intend to do with us?”
“With regard to the first question,” answered the man at the stern with stoical coolness, “That is not any business of yours;—in answer to the second, be assured that we mean you no harm. I hope you are satisfied. Now, my order to you is, that you ask no further questions.”
“But, sir,—” the master was about to inquire again.
“Silence!” cried the man in a voice that carried authority.
He then took a small telescope that was concealed in a locker formed in the thwart on which he sat, and began to examine the ships and the harbour with seemingly great care and minuteness.
This examination continued for the best part of an hour, after which the man at the stern handed the telescope to the master fisherman and requested him to look also at the ships: “for,” added he, “you will have to answer questions about them.”
“I know them already,” answered the master and returned the telescope.
The latter instrument was carefully replaced, and a small marine compass was taken out of the same locker and placed before the man at the stern.