"He's too top-heavy, Matt," scowled Dick, pulling his head away from the periscope.
"He's a good fellow at heart, Dick," averred Matt. "We're all going to like him a whole lot when we know him better."
Dick sniffed and jerked his chin over his left shoulder.
"If he takes hold on this boat he'll make a monkey's fist of everything. I don't like the cut of his jib, nor the soft-sawdering way he overhauls his jaw-tackle now that he sees his first bluff didn't go. If——"
There was a muffled shout and a bounding of feet on the deck. A wide grin parted Dick's face.
"There he goes—in hot water already."
Dick ducked back into the periscope hood. But the periscope did not show the deck of the Grampus, nor the waters immediately adjacent, being constructed for reflecting objects at longer range.
Matt hurried up into the tower. The moment he was able to look over the hatch he was thrilled by what he saw.
A dugout canoe was alongside the steel hull—and it had evidently brought three natives from the neighboring shore. They were exactly the same kind of savages Matt had encountered on the island—perhaps, even, they had formed part of the same crowd.
One of the savages had gained the deck forward. Glennie had caught his spear, and the two were struggling for possession of the weapon. A second native was climbing up the rounded deck with the apparent intention of attacking Glennie in the rear. The third of the trio kept to the canoe, paddling, and keeping it alongside.