While Thursday went down to the beach, accompanied by Charlie, to prepare a canoe for this mission, the ship drew rapidly near the island, and soon after hove to, just outside of Bounty Bay. As she showed no colours, and did not look like a man-of-war, Adams began to feel easier in his mind, and again going out on the cliffs, watched the canoe as it dashed through the surf.
Under the vigorous strokes of Thursday and Charlie Christian, it was soon alongside the strange ship. To judge from the extent to which the men opened their eyes, there is reason to believe that those on board of that strange ship were filled with unusual surprise; and well they might be, for the appearance of our two heroes was not that which voyagers in the South Pacific were accustomed to expect. The remarks of two of the surprised ones, as the canoe approached, will explain their state of mind better than any commentary.
“I say, Jack, it ain’t a boat; I guess it’s a canoe.”
“Yes, Bill, it’s a canoe.”
“What d’ye make ’em out to be, Jack?”
“Men, I think; leastwise they’re not much like monkeys; though, of coorse, a feller can’t be sure till they stand up an’ show their tails,—or the want of ’em.”
“Well, now,” remarked Bill, as the canoe drew nearer, “that’s the most puzzlin’ lot I’ve seen since I was raised. They ain’t niggers, that’s plain; they’re too light-coloured for that, an’ has none o’ the nigger brick-dust in their faces. One on ’em, moreover, seems to have fair curly hair, an’ they wears jackets an’ hats with something of a sailor-cut about ’em. Why, I do b’lieve they’re shipwrecked sailors.”
“No,” returned Jack, with a critical frown, “they’re not just the colour o’ white men. Mayhap, they’re a noo style o’ savage, this bein’ raither an out-o’-the-way quarter.”
“Stand by with a rope there,” cried the captain of the vessel, cutting short the discussion, while the canoe ranged longside.
“Ship ahoy!” shouted Thursday, in the true nautical style which he had learned from Adams.