Turning quickly towards the shore, as if regretting that he should, for a moment, have appeared to forget his old friend, he pulled out his handkerchief and waved it over the side. Big Chief replied energetically with a scrap of native cloth--not having got the length of handkerchiefs at that time.
"Look at 'im, Cuff" exclaimed Jarwin, placing his dog on the bulwarks of the ship, "look at him, Cuff, and wag your `spanker boom' to him, too-- ay, that's right--for he's as kind-hearted a nigger as ever owned a Breetish tar for a slave."
He said no more, but continued to wave his handkerchief at intervals until the canoe seemed a mere speck on the horizon, and, after it was gone, he and his little dog continued to gaze sadly at the island, as it grew fainter and fainter, until it sank at last into the great bosom of the Pacific Ocean.
The next land seen by Jarwin and Cuffy was--the white cliffs of Old England!