That the half-melon represented the island was apparent to all. The natives
crowded round us, jabbering questions that we could not understand and of
course could not answer; they examined the cook's wound and compared it
with the wound their friend had suffered; they pointed at the little boats
cut out of melon-rind and laughed uproariously.
Now one of them made a suggestion, the others took it up, and the chief
split melons and offered a half to each of us.
We ate them like the starving men we were, and did not notice that the
chief had assembled his head men for a consultation, until he sent a man
running from the hall, returned shortly with six pieces of betel nut, which
the natives chew instead of tobacco, and gave them to the chief, who handed
one to each of us as a mark of friendship. Next, to our amazement, one of
the natives produced Roger's useless pistol and handed it back to him; and
as if that were a signal, one after another they restored our knives and
clubs, until, last of all, a funny little man with a squint handed the
cleaver back to the cook.
With a tremendous sigh of relief, Frank seized the mighty weapon and laid
it on his knee and buried his big white teeth in half a melon.
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