"Don't you speak English?" I added.
The crowd stared at us and all shook their heads. It is doubtful if any of them had ever heard the English tongue before, for the majority of foreigners in the Philippines take up Spanish as the language of commerce when dealing with the natives.
"Here's a rum go!" whispered Dawson. Then a happy idea struck him and he pointed at Gory, me and himself, and then at the Dart.
Instead of nodding to show that they understood, the natives scowled at us. Then, while the others continued to surround us, one ran off to summon those on the ship's deck. Soon he returned with a fellow who was several inches taller than his companions and who showed by his bearing that he was some sort of a chief.
Again Dawson went through the pantomime previously described, and again the crowd scowled, the chief harder than any of his followers. At once, a light burst in upon me.
"I'll tell you what they are mad about," I explained to my companions. "They think we want to take possession of the Dart."
"Well, that's jest wot we do want," growled the first mate.
"Let us try to push our way to the ship," I went on, and endeavored to break away from the Tagals, for such the natives were.
