"For a flag of truce," I repeated; "to show he's an envoy come to sue for terms of peace, perhaps."
"I don't know what them there words mean," says Billy, "but you look uncommon pleased about it, so I suppose it's all right. But I say, master, look; there's the whole lot of them among the trees yonder. What's in the wind now?"
I told him that we should soon see. We had not yet shown ourselves, and Wabberley continued shouting, sometimes, "Ahoy!" sometimes my name, always prefixing the respectful appellative "master," and not calling me plain "Brent," as Hoggett had done. Since the main group of men were pretty near a furlong from us, and we were far above them, I thought we might safely show ourselves; whereupon we mounted the boulder, and the moment he saw us Wabberley waved his flag and came a pace or two nearer. Here I will set down, as near as I can remember them, the exact words of the conversation (if such it can be called) that ensued.
"Why, sir, d'ye see, we're terrible short of grub."
Here he paused, finding little encouragement in my monosyllables, and though he was usually glib enough, it was not easy, I dare say, to be eloquent when he had to shout so that his voice would reach to us so far above him. But he now assumed a most solemn and lugubrious expression of countenance, and cried--
"You wouldn't see your old shipmates starve!" (I wish I could convey with my pen the accent of surprise, pain, reproach, which trembled in his voice.) "You wouldn't see your old shipmates starve!" says he.
At this his jaw dropped: he was struck dumb; he stared up at us for a little, and then, lowering his flag, he turned and went slowly back to the wood.
"My eye! This is prime!" cried Billy, hugging himself with glee. "'Why not?' says you, and he ain't got no answer, 'cause there ain't none, at least, not a good one. Speaking short's much better than squirting a lot of words about, like my mother-in-law does--or did, for she may be dead."
When Wabberley got back to his companions, I observed that there was some discussion among them, and by and by another man left them, carrying the flag, and I saw that this was Mr. Bodger. He came up as Wabberley had done, and asked very humbly if he might speak a word with me. I bade him say on, and he then told me, in more words than Wabberley had used, but with no more essential matter, that they had come to the end of their food, and without some assistance from us would in no long time starve to death. Now you may think that, Mr. Bodger being an officer, I ought to have yielded, at any rate so far as to take him into company with Billy and me; but I would not do this, because he was a weak man, who could only swim with the current, and I knew very well that if the seamen got the upper hand of us again, Mr. Bodger would not only do nothing to help us, but would consent to any indignity and oppression that might be put upon us. Accordingly, I gave him as short answers as I had given Wabberley, and when he began to whine and plead for himself I dismissed him very abruptly, and he turned away dejected. At this, the men who had been lurking among the trees swarmed out in a body, and rushed towards the edge of the cliff, and for a moment I thought they meditated another attack; but I saw that they were without arms, so I did not change my posture, but waited where I was until they came to the brink, and set up such a clamour, all speaking at once, that I could not distinguish what any one said.