He extended his hand frankly, and Big Chief, who had been taught the
meaning of our English method of salutation, grasped it warmly and shook
it with such vigour that he would certainly have discomposed Jarwin had
that "Breetish tar" been a less powerful man. He performed this
ceremony with the utmost sadness, however, and continued to shake his
head in such a melancholy way that his white slave began to feel quite
anxious about him.

"Hallo! old feller, you ain't bin took bad, have 'ee?"

Big Chief made no reply, but continued to shake his head slowly; then,
as if a sudden idea had occurred to him, he rose, and, grasping Jarwin
by his whiskers with both hands, rubbed noses with him, after which he
resumed his seat on the couch.

"Just so," observed our hero with a smile, "you shake hands with me
English fashion--I rub noses with you South-Sea fashion. Give an' take;
all right, old codger--`may our friendship last for ever,' as the old
song puts it. But wot about this here palaver you spoke of? It warn't
merely to rub our beaks together that you sent for me, I fancy. Is it a
song you wants, or a hymn? Only say the word, and I'm your man."

"I s'pose," said Big Chief, using, of course, Jarwin's sea phraseology,
only still farther broken, "you'd up ankar an' make sail most quick if
you could, eh?"

"Well, although I _has_ a likin' for you, old man," replied the sailor,
"I can't but feel a sort o' preference, d'ee see, for my own wife an'
child'n. There_fore_ I _would_ cut my cable, if I had the chance."

"Kite right, kite right," replied Big Chief, with a deep sigh, "you say
it am nat'ral. Good, good, so 'tis. Now, Jowin," continued the savage
chief, with intense earnestness, "you's free to go when you pleases."

"Oh, gammon!" replied Jarwin, with an unbelieving grin.

"Wot _is_ gammon?" demanded Big Chief, with a somewhat disappointed
look.

"Well, it don't matter what it means--it's nothin' or nonsense, if you
like--but wot do _you_ mean, old man, `that's the rub,' as Hamblet, or
some such c'racter, said to his father-in-law; you ain't in airnest, are
you?"

"Jowin," answered the Chief, with immovable gravity, "I not onderstan'
you. Wot you mean by airnest?" He did not wait for a reply, however,
but seizing Jarwin by the wrist, and looking into his eyes with an
expression of child-like earnestness that effectually solemnised his
white slave, continued, "Lissen, onderstan' me. I is a Christian. My