M'Kay is, what poor Moriarty was, a born sailor, and being known to the Captain, had his confidence; and he now suggested the surest way to succeed was for himself to proceed directly to George Town, along with his companion Black Sal, to confer with the imprisoned natives; explaining to the Captain, that as he spoke their language, and understood their habits and style of thought, so different from ours, he felt quite sure, if they or their tribe knew anything of the missing men, he could extract a confession from them, and by their means recover their bodies, for no one now doubted that they were dead. A plan so feasable as this met with instant approbation, and he started next morning armed with a letter to the authorities at George Town, urging them to give their best assistance to M'Kay, to forward the business that all were interested in. He reached George Town on Monday the 11th, and presenting his credentials, was furnished with an order to confer with the prisoners as often as he pleased, and with another one directing the gaoler to render him every assistance in his power likely to promote the mission.
On entering this abode of misery he found the prisoners in a condition almost bordering on destitution, their wants most imperfectly attended to, their apartment cold and comfortless and themselves huddled together for a little warmth. Though the weather was icy cold, the officials with the customary apathy of the time, had allowed them no fire, the next thing, after food, that a native had most difficulty to dispense with. The condition of the poor shuddering wretches made him angry with the gaoler and they were so downcast, that it was sometimes before either would speak a word in reply to his questions. Now M'Kay is about as kind-hearted a man as you would meet with in a thousand and he could not stand the scene of wretchedness before him. His first impulse was to order a fire to be made, and everything that he thought that would be most acceptable to them to be provided, hot tea, bread, meat, and tobacco without restriction, and to use M'Kay's homely expression, they ate and drank like mad, but of course gave over at last.
One of the first effects of good cheer, on half famished men and women, is to produce good humour; and M'Kay noticed—after they had eaten to repletion—a very marked change in them all; the sullen frame of mind in which he found them having quite passed off, and even the strong feeling of aversion that they held towards the whites was a little assuaged—at least in favour of their benefactor. The good offices of the latter proceeded from a natural feeling of compassion; but not so "Old Sal," who having her own ends to serve, had been most assiduous in her attentions to them, even though she care not one straw
