Thus encouraged, our hero began by remarking that he seemed to be
preparing for a trip.

"Dat's zackly what I's a-doin', sar."

"A long one?"

"Well, dat depends on what you call short. Goin' to Sunda Straits, which
p'raps you know, sar, is nigh a hundred miles fro' here."

"And what may you be going to do there?" asked Nigel.

"Goin' home to Krakatoa."

"Why, I thought that was an uninhabited island. I passed close to it on
my way here, and saw no sign of inhabitants."

"Da's cause I was absint fro' home. An' massa he keeps indoors a good
deal."

"And pray who is massa?" asked Nigel.

"Sar," said the negro, drawing up his square sturdy frame with a look of
dignity; "fair-play is eberyt'ing wid me. You've ax me a heap o'
questions. Now's my--turn. Whar you comes fro'?"

"From England," replied Nigel.

"An' whar you go to?"