CHAPTER SEVEN.
HOW WE STOPPED THE BLACKBIRD CATCHERS.
The captain was right, for we made the south coast of New Guinea the _very_ next morning, and as I caught sight of the land that I believed to be holding my father as in a prison, a strange mingling of pain and pleasure filled my breast I looked excitedly and long through the doctor's double glass, and he shook hands with me afterwards, as if he thoroughly appreciated my feelings in the matter.
It was a lovely morning, with a pleasant breeze blowing, and as we drew nearer we made out a vessel very similar in build to our own going in the same direction.
"Why, they are for the same port, I should think!" "I don't know," said the skipper rather oddly.

"We're for a little place I know, where the savages are pretty friendly, and I've been talking it over with the doctor as to its being a good starting-place for you, and he thinks it will be.

There it lies," he said, pointing north-east.

"We can soon make it now." "Looks a nicer place than our land," said Jack Penny, as I stood with him gazing wonderingly at the forest and mountain scenery that hour by hour grew more clear.

"I think I shall like Noo Guinea." The day glided on with the look-out growing more and more interesting; and at last, when we were pretty near, we could see the other schooner had outsailed us, and was within a short distance of a scattered collection of huts; while a little crowd of the natives was on the sandy beach busily launching their canoes, in which they paddled out towards the other vessel.
"I don't like that," said the skipper suddenly, as he was using his glass.