Beadle's Dime Novels No. 87: On the Deep — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

46 ON THE DEEP. again; it was nearer, more distinct than before; it was ap- proaching. At length it glided into the floating pathway of silver, and he uttered a cry of joy. He could distinguish the flashing of paddles, the outlines of human heads; he could hear voices chanting a strange, wild chorus. Three times he shouted with all his strength, but there came no response. He unfastened the rope by which he was tied, and, straddling the spar, shouted again. He was heard this time, for a yell, a savage yell, that made him shudder, broke upon his ears. The paddles flew faster through the water: he was soon able to make out a long canoe filled with half-naked figures; later he could distinguish their faces, disfigured by hideous marks of yellow and blue colors, and crowned by great fiery masses of hair. He knew, by these signs, that the men were sayages, belonging to some one of the Pacific Islands. They were soon near enough to seize him, and they dragged him into the canoe. They stopped paddling, and, crowding up to him, peered into his face, all talking together in a tongue unknown to him. Calmly returning the glances of their wild, fierce eyes, he strove to answer, by signs, the questions which he imagined they asked. They paid no attention to his motions, however, but continued to screech and jabber, apparently get- ting more angry with him every moment, because he was un- able to reply to them. -Their eyes flashed upon him like coals of fire; one of them shook a great war-club in his face; an- other pointed a spear at his heart. He thought it best to show an undaunted front, so he looked at them steadily, and though his heart beat fast, yet there was no expression of fear in his bronzed face. The sayages were evidently on their re- turn from some warlike expedition. Their breasts and arms. were covered with contusions and scars; there was a seriously j wounded native lying near the bow of the canoe; there were many broken spears and war-clubs in the vessel. Loring coolly pointed to the prostrate islander—to the damaged weapons—to the scarred bosoms around him—and glanced . inquiringly into the face of the man nearest him. This per- son, he believed, was a chief, for the others listened defer- - entially when he spoke. He nodded with a sort of wild dignity upon encountering the young sailor’s expressive glance, and, as though pleased with his cool behavior, burst into a Conniclooks.com