Beadle's Dime Novels No. 87: On the Deep — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

A GOOD CHANCE FOR AN ITEM. AT laugh. Then pushing aside the threatening spear and the uplifted club, he said something to his dusky crew, who im- mediately sat down and commenced plying their paddles. The chief took his station near the stern, and folding his arms over his broad bosom, kept his eyes fixed upon the second mate. More than once the latter saw the native’s face betray a peculiar expression ; he would have given worlds to know what was passing through that untutored mind. Glancing round him, he could not help admiring the swiftness and regu- larity with which the paddles were moved. The arms of the savages being long and flexible, were peculiarly fitted for this work, while their muscular but supple frames betokened their great capacity for endurance. The only garment worn by each was a piece of tappa (cloth)—probably bought from the captain of some trading vessel—which, being secured about the waist, hung a little below the knee. Their skin of a dark - olive tint, fairly shone with cocoanut oil, and their hair, which was colored red, was arranged so as to look like great bunches — of oakum. The length of the canoe was not less than forty feet; the number of its occupants thirty. Very soon they all broke forth into a wild chorus, similar to that which Loring had previously heard, ‘Their voices were loud and clear, not altogether unmusical, and the second mate felt a throb of wild pleasure as he listened. | “Tf Professor Quill were only here,” thought he, “ what an item for his journal.” Day was now beginning to break, ‘and ina was visible ahead of the canoe. “Boon the young sailor was able to dis- tinguish the cocoanut trees upon the beach, and also a number of females standing near the water’s edge. The chief rose and uttered a scream, so loud and shrill that it penetrated Loring’s brain like a knife. The. noise of the chorus was as different from this cry as is the clanging of cymbals from the wildest shriek of a Scottish bagpipe. In response, the women begun to dance about the beach, laughing, screaming, and clapping their hands. The canoe struck the sand soon after, and the natives sprung out, motioning to the young sailor to follow. He obeyed, and the next moment was completely hemmed in by the females, as they rushed from all’ sides to embrace the dusky warriors. The simultaneous cackling of twenty flocks comiicbooks.com