During a pause in their progress, while the paddlers were resting, Big Chief made his captive sit near him.
“You tell me that Cookee-men” (by which he meant white men) “never lie, never deceive.”
“I shud lie an’ deceive myself, if I said so,” replied Jarwin, bluntly.
“What did you tell me, then?” asked the Chief, with a frown.
“I told you that Christian men don’t lie or deceive—leastwise they don’t do it with a will.”
“Are you a Christian man, Jowin?”
“I am,” replied the sailor promptly. Then with a somewhat perplexed air, “Anyhow I hope I am, an’ I try to act as sitch.”
“Good, I will soon prove it. You will be near the Cookee-men of Raratonga to-morrow. You will have chance to go with them and leave me; but if you do, or if you speak one word of Cookee-tongue—you are not Christian. Moreover, I will batter your skull with my club, till it is like the soft pulp of the bread-fruit.”
“You’re a cute fellar, as the Yankees say,” remarked Jarwin, with a slight smile. This being said in English, the Chief took no notice of it, but glanced at his slave suspiciously.
“Big Chief,” said Jarwin, after a short silence, “even before I was a Christian, I had been taught by my mother to be ashamed of telling a lie, so you’ve no occasion for to doubt me. But it’s a hard thing to stand by a countryman, specially in my pecooliar circumstances, an’ not let him know that you can speak to him. May I not be allowed to palaver a bit with ’em? I wont ask ’em to take me from you.”