"-- A sick man alone with two hundred recruits on a cannibal island--they are cannibals, aren't they?
Or is it all talk ?" "Talk!" he said, with a smile.

"It's a trifle more than that.

Most of my boys are from the bush, and every bushman is a cannibal." "But not after they become recruits?
Surely, the boys you have here wouldn't be guilty." "They'd eat you if the chance afforded." "Are you just saying so, on theory, or do you really know ?" she asked.
"I know." "Why?
What makes you think so?
Your own men here ?" "Yes, my own men here, the very house-boys, the cook that at the present moment is making such delicious rolls, thanks to you.

Not more than three months ago eleven of them sneaked a whale-boat and ran for Malaita.
Nine of them belonged to Malaita.

Two were bushmen from San Cristoval.
They were fools--the two from San Cristoval, I mean; so would any two Malaita men be who trusted themselves in a boat with nine from San Cristoval." "Yes ?" she asked eagerly.