“He guesses that we are watching for him,” said Jim. “Perhaps if we were to shout again he would come back. If he’s a white man he’ll understand us, and know that we are friends.”
“There can be no harm in shouting,” I answered, “though he may be a native and there may be others with him; they would have come down before this and attacked us, had they had a mind to do so.”
We accordingly went from under the trees, and standing in the open ground, I shouted out—
“Hillo, stranger, we’re friends, and want to have a talk with you. We have just come here for a day or two, and intend to be off again on our voyage.”
Jim then said much the same sort of thing, and as his voice was even louder than mine, we made sure that the stranger must have heard us. He didn’t, however, show himself, though we sometimes shouted together, sometimes singly. At last we heard voices in the cocoanut grove.
“I hope that no enemies have got down between us and the sea,” I said. “We had no business to come so far away from the camp.”
We stood with our muskets ready, watching the wood. In a short time our anxiety was relieved by the appearance of the doctor and Mr Griffiths.
“Why, lads, what made you shout out in that fashion?” asked the mate. “We fancied you wanted help.”
We told him of the man we had seen on the cliffs.
“It’s very extraordinary,” said the doctor; “I don’t think he can be a native, or he would not have shown himself in that way. He must be some white man who has been left by himself on the island, and has lost his wits, as often happens under such circumstances. He’s been accustomed to see savages visit the island, and has kept out of their way to save himself from being killed or made a slave of. He had not the sense to distinguish between us and them.”