“Fires,” answered the Indian.
“You think it is not fire-flies?”
“No; the loengos do not show that way. They are real fires. There must be people there.”
“Then there is land, and we have at last reached terra firma.”
“The Lord be praised for that,” reverently exclaimed the Irishman. “Our throubles will soon be over.”
“May be not, may be not,” answered the Mundurucú, in a voice that betrayed both doubt and apprehension.
“Why not, Munday?” asked Trevannion. “If it be fires we see, surely they are on the shore; and kindled by men. There should be some settlement where we can obtain assistance?”
“Ah, patron! nothing of all that need follow from their being fires; only that there must be men. The fires need only be on the shore, and as for the men who made them, instead of showing hospitality, just as like they make take a fancy to eat us.”
“Eat us! you mean that they may be cannibals?”
“Just so, patron. Likely as not. It’s good luck,” pursued the tapuyo, looking around, “the wind went down, else we might have been carried too close. I must swim towards yon lights, and see what they are, before we go any nearer. Will you go with me, young master?”