“Others wear striped pantaloons,” continued Fritz.

“That is to say,” observed Willis, “the whole lot of them are as naked as posts.  What you suppose to be cuirasses and pantaloons, are their tabooed breasts and legs.”

“Are you sure of that, Willis?”

“Not a doubt about it.”

“Such garments are both durable and economical,” remarked Jack; “but I scarcely think they are suitable for stormy weather.  But do you think it is safe to land amongst such a set of barebacked rascals, Willis?”

“I should not like to take the responsibility of guaranteeing our safety; but I do not see what other course we can adopt.”

They had now approached within musket-shot of the shore.  They could see that a venerable-looking old man stood a few paces in front of the group of natives.  He held a green branch in one hand, and pressed with the other a long flowing white beard to his breast.

“According to universal grammar,” said Jack, “these signs should mean peace and amity.”

“Yes,” replied the Pilot; “the more so that the rear-guard are pouring water on their heads, which is the greatest mark of courtesy the natives of Polynesia can show to strangers.”

“Gentlemen,” cried Jack, taking off his cap and making a low bow, “we are your most obedient servants.”

“We must be on our guard,” said Willis; “these savages are very deceitful, and sometimes let fly their arrows under a show of friendship.  I will go on shore alone, whilst you keep at a little distance off, ready to fire to cover my retreat, if need be.”

The young men objected to Willis incurring danger that they did not share; but on this point Willis was inexorable, so they were obliged to suffer him to depart alone.  By good chance, they had shipped a small cask of glass beads on board the pinnace.  The Pilot took a few of these with him, and, placing a cask and a couple of calabashes in the canoe, he rowed ashore.

The natives were evidently in great commotion; there was an immense amount of running backwards and forwards.  Something important was, obviously enough, going forward; but, whether the excitement was caused by curiosity or admiration, it was hard to say.  They might be preparing a friendly reception for the stranger, or they might be preparing to eat him—­which of the two was an interesting question that Willis did not care about probing too deeply at that particular moment.

Fritz and Jack anxiously watched the operations of the natives from the bay.  They could not with safety abandon the pinnace; but to leave Willis to the mercy of the sinister-looking people on shore was not to be thought of either.  The Mary was, therefore, run in as close as possible, and Jack leaped on the sands a few minutes after the Pilot.