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Carey went up at once, and found that Jackum was just squeezing himself edgewise beneath the hinged opening of the saloon skylight. He grinned with satisfaction. "Find doc-tor," he said, fumbling in his girdle. "Big Dan shoot shoot." "Not killed mumkull?" whispered Carey, in a voice full of the anguish he felt. "No, no, no. Baal mumkull. Big Dan shoot. Doctor broke."
Jackum nodded and grinned. "Get big lot. You come some day," he cried. "Some day, Jackum, if my father will fit out a vessel." "Iss," said Jackum. "No Big Dan. Killa feller. Mumkull eberybody. You come sit along Jackum. Jackum show Car-ee how fro boomerang next time. Ha, ha!"
"Doc-tor go mumkull," whispered Jackum, but Carey made an angry gesture and, fetching water from the table, he moistened the wounded man's lips, and in a short time had the satisfaction of seeing him revive a little and in a faint whisper ask for a drink. Carey raised his head a little, and half a glassful was swallowed with avidity.
For the black had crept close up to the berth and squatted down, gazing anxiously in the sufferer's face. "Doc-tor mumkull?" he said. "Killed? Oh, no, my man. I hope not for a long time yet." "Mumkull no," said Jackum. "Brokum?" "Yes, broken if you like," and he pointed to the slit-up leg of his trousers and a large bloodstained bandage, tightly bound round.
Big Dan mumkull. Jackum give all Car-ee now." But no start was made for the other portion of the King's domain, for a few days were necessary in the way of rest for the doctor; and the captain of the Chusan and the mate had to satisfy themselves of the impossibility of getting the vessel off.
"But it is bad. Big Dan mumkull kill. Shoot powder." "Jackum don't care fig," said the man, nonchalantly. "Jackum baal want be mumkull." "But you will be killed if you stop," said Carey, excitedly. The black laughed softly. "Jackum be mumkull, Jackum 'top? Car-ee no kill Jackum. Like Jackum lots. Give Jackum ticky-ticky." "You don't understand," cried Carey. "Big Dan will kill us all if we stop."
By degrees this grew more slow; then there was a flap at intervals, finishing with one heavy rap, and he lay quite still as if dead. "Dat a way," he cried, raising his head and grinning hugely. "Mumkull kill a fellow."
"Mumkull killa fellar," said the black, grinning as if it were a fine joke. "Mumkull now?" he continued, with his eyes beginning to look wild, as he turned them questioningly on one after the other. "Not yet. Get out." The black darted away again as quickly as he had come. "That chap's a child o' nature, young fellow," said the beachcomber, scowling; "so I say to you, don't you try to gammon me.
And he brought out the spoon covered with the stringy treacle, turned it a few times and placed a great dab on one of the biscuits. "Baal good!" cried Black Jack, angrily. "Mumkull. Black fellow. Chuck um 'way." He made a snatch at the biscuit, but down came the spoon on his black hand.
Black Jack clapped the back of his hand to his mouth, and then, as if the injury were not of the slightest consequence, he pointed now at the jar, in which the boy was inserting the big spoon. "Dat not good," he shouted. "Dat mumkull, kill a fellar. Chuck um chuck um away." "Ah, you thick-headed, tar-faced idiot!" cried Carey. "Not good, indeed! I suppose you want raspberry jam."
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