I hastily picked up the cloth which always went with the cage, and which had covered the bird on its voyage ashore, threw it over the wire top, and covered the cage. I refastened the catch, and came stumbling down to the beach with my two burdens.
"Miss Archer, you had better sit in the stern," said I, as I proceeded to place the cage in the bow.
"I prefer the bow, thank you," said Cynthia.
I waded out in the water and set the cage in the stern sheets. At this Cynthia began to climb over the seats. She reached the stern just as I removed the cage and waded with it back to the bow. At this Cynthia stood up, preparing to move again.
"Sit down, Cynthy; you can't crawl over me."
"But, Uncle Tony, I want to hold Solomon," said Cynthia. "He gets so frightened without me."
"He won't this time," I said. "Besides, the yellow girl will have to come in here." We had left the stranger on the beach purposely until the last. She watched our preparations with interest, crouching on the beach, staring at every movement of Cynthia's, and occasionally turning a look of horror in the direction of the men. When she was sure that Cynthia was seated in the boat, and that she had no intention of returning, the girl stretched out her arms and said something which we could not understand. Without more ado I took her up from the beach and placed her beside Cynthia. A flock of parrots had settled in the mango tree, and Cynthia looked at them with interest. I pushed the boat from shore and jumped in. As I did so I heard from the tree the words, "Damn those Britishers!"
"How far off that sounds, Mr. Jones! Was that Solomon?"
"I think it was, undoubtedly," said I.
"It sounded up in that tree. Do you think that perhaps while we were in hiding some wild parrots have come around and learned to speak as he does?"