"Oh, I see—good-night—good-night." And away sprang my gentleman, without saying another word.
"He might have waited until we got time to ask him who he was, at any rate," said I.
"Why," said Toby, "that may be a question he may have no joy in answering—-ha, ha, ha!"
"True for you, Tooraloo," said I Benjie.
We arrived in front of the low building, whose windows opened on a small terrace or esplanade, like so many port-holes.
It stood on a ridge of limestone-rock, a saddle, as it is called in the West Indies, or tongue of land, that from fifty or sixty feet high, where the house stood, dropped gradually, until it ended in a low, sandy spit, covered with a clump of cocoa-nut trees, with tufts of mangrove bushes here and there; forming the cape or foreland of the bay on the right hand as you stood in. This low point trended outwards like a hook, so as to shut in the entrance of a small concealed cove or natural creek, which lay beyond it, separated from the bay we lay in by the aforesaid tongue of land, so that the house commanded a view of both anchorages.
From one side, as already related, the acclivity was easy; but towards the creek the ground fell away sudden and precipitously; and on the very edge of this rugged bank the house was perched, like an eagle's nest, overhanging the little land-locked cave.
There was a group of fishermen negroes in front of the house, talking and gabbling loudly as usual, one of whom carried a net, while three others followed him with broad-bladed paddles on their shoulders, as if they had been pursuing their calling, and were now retiring to their houses for the night.
"Is Mr *** at home?" said Tooraloo—really I can no longer be bothered jotting down his absurd ho, ho, he.
"Yes, massa," said the negro addressed; and without waiting to knock, or give any sign of our approach, the skipper and I entered the hall, or centre room of the building.