We now approach a change in affairs.
One day, during a gleam of sunshine, and when the weather had moderated, the man at the mast-head—too weak now to touch his hat, besides it having been blown away—called out,
"Savages!"
All was now expectation.
Presently fifteen hundred canoes, each paddled by twenty savages, were seen advancing in excellent order. They were of a light-green color (the savages were), and sang, with great energy, the following strain:
Choo a choo a choo tooth.
Muntch, muntch. Nycey !
Choo a choo a choo tooth.
Mutch, muntch. Nyce!
As the shades of night were by this time closing in, these expressions were supposed to embody this simple people's views of the evening hymn. But it too soon appeared that the song was a translation of "For what we are going to receive," etc.
The chief, imposingly decorated with feathers of lively colors, and having the majestic appearance of a fighting parrot, no sooner understood (he understood English perfectly) that the ship was " The Beauty," Captain Boldheart, than he fell upon his face on the deck, and could not be persuaded to rise until the captain had lifted him up, and told him he wouldn't hurt him. All the rest of the savages also fell on their faces with marks of terror, and had also to be lifted up one by one. Thus the fame of the great Boldheart had gone before him, even among these children of nature.
Turtles and oysters were now produced in astonishing numbers; and on these and yams the people made a hearty meal. After dinner the chief told Captain Boldheart that there was better feeding up at the village, and that he would be glad to take him and his officers there. Apprehensive of treacliery, Boldheart ordered his boat's crew to attend him, completely armed. And well were it for other commanders if their precautions—but let us not anticipate.
When the canoes arrived at the beach, the darkness of the night was illuminated by the light of an immense fire.
