He was evidently so very angry that the children thought it best not to provoke him further, so, leading the Dodo, who hobbled along painfully, they walked silently away in the direction of the sea, while the parrot watched them with a severe expression, screaming out--"Move on! move on!" every time they stopped. "What a disagreeable bird," whispered Marjorie, when they had gone some little distance. "Wretch!" declared the Dodo, rubbing his back. "For two pins I'd wring his neck," muttered Dick, angrily. "Much obliged, I'm sure," said a mocking voice overhead, and there was that wretched parrot, looking down from one of the upper branches. "Listeners never hear any good of themselves," remarked the Dodo. "Pooh!--as though I cared what _you_ thought about me," said the parrot. "Why, if I liked, I could--oh!" he cried, looking off to the left, "the Skipper," and, spreading his wings, he flew rapidly away with every sign of alarm. The children followed his glance, and saw coming towards them a very stout, very jolly-looking sailor, with a red, hearty face and a jovial smile. To their great surprise, they saw that he was using a skipping-rope, and skipping towards them, smiling good-naturedly. "Thank goodness, here's a man at last," said Dick. "Now we shall be able to find out something as to where we are, and how we are to get home again." "Ship ahoy!" called out the sailor, when he first saw them. [Illustration: "'They calls me a skipper,' said he, 'because I skips.'"] "How do you do?" said Dick, politely offering his hand. "Stop a bit, my hearty," said the sailor. "Salt!" and he began skipping rather quickly. "Pepper!!" and he quickened the pace considerably. "Mustard!!!" and the rope flew round so quickly that the children could hardly see it, while the jolly fat sailor skipped up and down furiously. Presently he stopped, and sank exhausted on a stone, puffing and blowing with all his might. "I'm a Skipper," he panted, in an explanatory tone. "A Skipper!" exclaimed the children. "Yes, they calls me a Skipper," said he, "because I skips." "But I thought a Skipper was a kind of Captain or something," said Marjorie. "Quite right, my little dear; I'm Captain of the tidiest craft ye ever set eyes on. She's lying out yonder. Will ye come and have a look at her?" "Oh, yes, please," said Dick, delightedly; "and perhaps you can tell us the way to get to England?" "To be sure I can," said the Skipper. "There are my men," he said, proudly, as they came to an open space, where a dozen or more sailors, of all ages, sat at spinning wheels, working industriously. "Whatever are they doing?" inquired Marjorie, curiously. [Illustration: "Each sailor was spinning a yarn."]