irate! In the first
place, Malay pirates did not wear anything, except a kind of short
petticoat, and something that flew in the air behind them as they ran.
For in the geography-book pictures a Malay was always running amuck,
with a creese in his hand, and an expression of frantic rage on his
countenance. How _could_ this be a Malay? Perhaps he might have been in
fun! But John was not much used to fun, and it seemed hardly likely that
so grave a person as the Skipper would play at pirate. On the whole, the
little boy was sadly puzzled; and the Skipper's first words did not tend
to allay his anxiety.

"Ha! my prisoner!" he said. "That you come here, sir, and sit down by me
on the rail. The evening falls, and we will sit here and observe the
fairness of the night. Remark that I put no chains on you, Colorado, as
in the Malay seas we put them! You can swim, yes?"

John nodded. "I swam across the river last week," said he. "I was going
to--" He meant to say, "to rescue some people from pirates," but now
this did not seem polite; so he stopped short, but the Skipper took no
notice.

"You swim? That is good!" he said. "But Sir Scraper, he cannot swim, I
think, my son, so for you there is no rescue, since Rento has pulled in
the plank. Are you content, then, to be the captive of the 'Nautilus?'"

John looked up, still sorely puzzled; perhaps he was rather dull, this
little boy John, about some things, though he was good at his books. At
any rate, there could be no possible doubt of the kindness in the
Skipper's face; perhaps he was in fun, after all; and, anyhow, where
had he ever been so happy as here since the good mother died? So he
answered with right good-will,--

"I like to stay here more than anywhere else in the world. If--if I
didn't think Mr. Scraper would be angry and frightened about me, and not
know where I was, I should like to stay on board all my life."

"That is right!" said the Skipper, heartily. "That is the prisoner that
I like to have. I am not a cruel pirate, as some; I like to make happy
my captives. Franci, lemonade, on the after-deck here!" He spoke in
Spanish, and Franci replied in the same language, with a faint voice
expressive of acute suffering.

"I am very sick, Patron. I go to my bed in a desolated condition."

"Come here, and let me look at you!" said the Skipper, imperatively.

"Am I a dog, to fetch drink for this beggar brat?" was Franci's next
remark, in a more vigorous tone. "Was