The native repeated the reply, putting the verb where it ought to be.
"He was a naturalist," added Louis.
"Yes; that was what they called him in the town."
"I think we all know the animals of which you speak, Achang, except one," said Louis. "I never heard of a mias."
"That is what Borneo people call the orang-outang," replied the native.
"Orang means a man, and outang a jungle, and the whole of it is a jungle man," Louis explained, for the benefit of his companions; for he was better read in natural history than any of them, as he had read all the books on that subject in the library of the ship. "In Professor Hornaday's book, 'Two Years in the Jungle,' which was exceedingly interesting to me, he calls this animal the 'orang-utan,' which is only another way of spelling the second word."
"Excuse me, Louis, but I think we will get under way, and hear your explanations at another time," interposed Captain Scott.
"I have finished all I had to say."
"Take the wheel, Achang," continued the captain.
The sampan was sent ashore to cast off the fasts. The river at the town is over four hundred feet wide, and deep enough in almost any part for the Blanchita. As soon as the lines were hauled in, the captain rang one bell, and Felipe started the engine. The helmsman headed the boat for the middle of the stream, and the captain rang the speed-bell. When hurried, the Blanchita was good for ten knots an hour, but her ordinary speed was eight.