Big Chief spoke in broken English now, having picked it up with amazing facility from his white slave.
“Well, y–e–es, I’m free to confess that I has bin well treated—barrin’ the fact that my liberty’s bin took away; besides which, some of your black rascals ain’t quite so civil as they might be, but on the whole, I’ve been well treated; anyhow I never received nothin’ but kindness from you, old codger.”
He extended his hand frankly, and Big Chief, who had been taught the meaning of our English method of salutation, grasped it warmly and shook it with such vigour that he would certainly have discomposed Jarwin had that “Breetish tar” been a less powerful man. He performed this ceremony with the utmost sadness, however, and continued to shake his head in such a melancholy way that his white slave began to feel quite anxious about him.
“Hallo! old feller, you ain’t bin took bad, have ’ee?”
Big Chief made no reply, but continued to shake his head slowly; then, as if a sudden idea had occurred to him, he rose, and, grasping Jarwin by his whiskers with both hands, rubbed noses with him, after which he resumed his seat on the couch.
“Just so,” observed our hero with a smile, “you shake hands with me English fashion—I rub noses with you South-Sea fashion. Give an’ take; all right, old codger—‘may our friendship last for ever,’ as the old song puts it. But wot about this here palaver you spoke of? It warn’t merely to rub our beaks together that you sent for me, I fancy. Is it a song you wants, or a hymn? Only say the word, and I’m your man.”
“I s’pose,” said Big Chief, using, of course, Jarwin’s sea phraseology, only still farther broken, “you’d up ankar an’ make sail most quick if you could, eh?”
“Well, although I has a likin’ for you, old man,” replied the sailor, “I can’t but feel a sort o’ preference, d’ee see, for my own wife an’ child’n. Therefore I would cut my cable, if I had the chance.”
“Kite right, kite right,” replied Big Chief, with a deep sigh, “you say it am nat’ral. Good, good, so ’tis. Now, Jowin,” continued the savage chief, with intense earnestness, “you’s free to go when you pleases.”
“Oh, gammon!” replied Jarwin, with an unbelieving grin.