While Bill had been telling his story, the man he had rescued was sitting down looking alternately at the island we had left and the one we were steering for, and gnawing away at a piece of pork we had given him in a manner that showed that at all events his appetite had not been impaired by the narrow shave he had had of being killed and eaten.
“Here, Johnny,” said Tom; “you savey English. You spin us your yarn, and tell us who you are, and where you hail from, and what brought you into the fix you were in.”
| [1] | Eat. |
| [2] | Woman. |
CHAPTER X.
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE.
“Certain, sir, me speak Englis’; me live along a white man two yam time; me talky all proper.” And then, as if to prove his intimate acquaintance with our language, he gave a volley of oaths, which for piquancy and nautical flavour it would be hard to surpass.
“Here, stow that, mate; we want no swearing in this craft.”
“Hi! what? You be missionally man—no speak ’trong? Englis’ man, ’Mellican man, he speak people so.”
“Never mind; just talk without any Englis’ man or ’Mellican man palaver, as you call it. Who are you?”