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Jim, the only member of the crew besides Charlie who could understand or speak English, answered: "Kai-gingh him fin' pistol, you' pistol; Charlie him fight plenty; bime-by, when he no see, one-piecee Kai-gingh he come up behin', shoot um Charlie in side savvy?" "Did he kill him? Is he dead?" "No, I tinkum die plenty soon; him no savvy nuttin' now, him all-same sleep.
The crew are eating their heads off and not earning enough money to pay for their keep. What do you think?" "I tinkum yas." "Then we'll go home. Is that it?" "I tinkum yas to-molla." "To-morrow?" "Yas." "That's settled then," persisted Moran, surprised at his ready acquiescence; "we start home to-morrow?" Charlie nodded. "To-molla," he said.
Now in the glare of the tropical day, with the "Bertha Millner" sitting the sea as placidly as a brooding gull, he was Talleyrand again. "I tinkum yas," he said vaguely. "Well, I think we had better try and fix the rudder and put back to Frisco," said Moran. "You're making no money this way. There are no shark to be caught. SOMETHING'S wrong. They're gone away somewhere.
I'll twist the head of that swab till he'll have to walk back'ard to see where he's goin'. Whaduz he wave his arms for whaduz he yell like a dam' philly-loo bird for? What's him say, Charlie?" "Jim heap sing, no can tell. Mebbee tinkum sing, come back chop-chop." "We'll see. Oars out, men, give way. Now, son, put a little o' that Yale stingo in the stroke."
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