“True, the sahib has some ground for his suspicions, and I will ask the Chief who this man is, and why he harbors him,” he replied; and he left us there and then, to visit the palace.
About two hours afterwards, however, he rejoined us, and seemingly in the best of spirits; for, unusually with him at any time, he laughed heartily as he told us that the Dutchman, after all, was no Dutchman—indeed, nothing but a native soothsayer, who had obtained a passage to the island in the Dutch grab.
“But the Dutch grab, what business had she on this coast?” I asked, still doubtful whether the captain of that vessel might not have been in communication with the Chief to our future detriment.
“A trader only, who put in for wood and water. True, her captain desired to trade for bales of the native cloth, but the Chief dismissed him with the plea that there was none in his territory fit for the market. Sahib, sahib,” he added, laughing again, “poor, faithful Kati has been frightened half out of his life by a Dutch trader, the natural curiosity of a young chief, and the landing in the island of a wen-necked hunchback.”
“A what?”—“A wen-necked hunchback!” exclaimed my brother and I simultaneously, and starting as if stung by a venomous snake.
“A wen-necked hunchback,” he repeated, quite coolly. “But why do the sahibs startle, as if a tiger had leapt forth from my mouth?”
“Prabu,” said my brother, “is this hunchback a snake-charmer?”
“Allah only knows!”
“Have you seen him?”
“No—and if I had I could not tell, for, truly, men do not have their occupations written upon their foreheads.”