“Ay, ay, sir,” was the prompt reply.
The boat was making straight for the negro and he for it. Neither diverged from the straight course.
“Two of you in the bow, there, get ready to haul him in,” said the officer.
Two sturdy sailors drew in their oars, got up, and leaned over the bow with outstretched arms. Ebony looked at them, bestowed on them a tremendous grin, and went down with the oily ease of a northern seal!
When next seen he was full a hundred yards astern of the boat, still heading steadily for the shore.
“Let him go!” shouted the captain.
“Ay, ay, sir,” replied the obedient officer.
And Ebony went!
Meanwhile our missionary, having told the wondering savages that he brought them good news, was conducted with his companion to Ongoloo’s hut. But it was plain that the good news referred to, and even Waroonga himself, had not nearly so great an effect on them as the sight of Orlando, at whom they gazed with an expression half of fear and half of awe which surprised him exceedingly.
“Your story is not new to us,” said Ongoloo, addressing the missionary, but gazing at Orlando, “it comes to us like an old song.”