Chapter Thirty One.A strange and bloody battle—The lion bearded in his den—Frightful scenes of cruelty, and fears for the future.We had ascertained from the teacher the direction to the spot on which the battle was to be fought, and after a walk of two hours, reached it. The summit of a bare hill was the place chosen; for, unlike most of the other islanders, who are addicted to bush-fighting, those of Mango are in the habit of meeting on open ground. We arrived before the two parties had commenced the deadly struggle, and creeping as close up as we dared among the rocks, we lay and watched them.The combatants were drawn up face to face, each side ranged in rank four deep. Those in the first row were armed with long spears; the second with clubs to defend the spearmen; the third row was composed of young men with slings; and the fourth consisted of women, who carried baskets of stones for the slingers, and clubs and spears with which to supply the warriors. Soon after we arrived, the attack was made with great fury. There was no science displayed. The two bodies of savages rushed headlong upon each other and engaged in a general mélée, and a more dreadful set of men I have never seen. They wore grotesque war-caps, made of various substances and decorated with feathers. Their faces and bodies were painted so as to make them look as frightful as possible; and as they brandished their massive clubs, leaped, shouted, yelled, and dashed each other to the ground, I thought I had never seen men look so like demons before.We were much surprised at the conduct of the women, who seemed to be perfect furies, and hung about the heels of their husbands in order to defend them. One stout young woman we saw, whose husband was hard pressed and about to be overcome: she lifted a large stone, and throwing it at his opponent’s head, felled him to the earth. But the battle did not last long. The band most distant from us gave way and were routed, leaving eighteen of their comrades dead upon the field. These the victors brained as they lay; and putting some of their brains on leaves, went off with them, we were afterwards informed, to their temples to present them to their gods as an earnest of the human victims who were soon to be brought there.We hastened back to the Christian village with feelings of the deepest sadness at the sanguinary conflict which we had just witnessed.Next day, after breakfasting with our friend the teacher, we made preparations for carrying out our plan. At first the teacher endeavoured to dissuade us.“You do not know,” said he, turning to Jack, “the danger you run in venturing amongst these ferocious savages. I feel much pity for poor Avatea; but you are not likely to succeed in saving her, and you may die in the attempt.”“Well,” said Jack quietly, “I am not afraid to die in a good cause.”The teacher smiled approvingly at him as he said this, and after a little further conversation, agreed to accompany us as interpreter—saying that although Tararo was unfriendly to him, he had hitherto treated him with respect.We now went on board the schooner, having resolved to sail round the island and drop anchor opposite the heathen village. We manned her with natives, and hoped to overawe the savages by displaying our brass gun to advantage. The teacher soon after came on board, and setting our sails, we put to sea. In two hours more we made the cliffs reverberate with the crash of the big gun, which we fired by way of salute, while we ran the British ensign up to the peak and cast anchor. The commotion on shore showed us that we had struck terror into the hearts of the natives; but seeing that we did not offer to molest them, a canoe at length put off and paddled cautiously towards us. The teacher showed himself, and explaining that we were friends and wished to palaver with the chief, desired the native to go and tell him to come on board.We waited long and with much impatience for an answer. During this time the native teacher conversed with us again, and told us many things concerning the success of the Gospel among those islands; and perceiving that we were by no means so much gratified as we ought to have been at the hearing of such good news, he pressed us more closely in regard to our personal interest in religion, and exhorted us to consider that our souls were certainly in as great danger as those of the wretched heathen whom we pitied so much if we had not already found salvation in Jesus Christ. “Nay, further,” he added, “if such be your unhappy case, you are, in the sight of God, much worse than these savages—forgive me, my young friends, for saying so—for they have no knowledge, no light, and do not profess to believe; while you, on the contrary, have been brought up in the light of the blessed Gospel and call yourselves Christians. These poor savages are indeed the enemies of our Lord; but you, if ye be not true believers, are traitors!”I must confess that my heart condemned me while the teacher spoke in this earnest manner, and I knew not what to reply. Peterkin, too, did not seem to like it, and, I thought, would willingly have escaped. But Jack seemed deeply impressed, and wore an anxious expression on his naturally grave countenance, while he assented to the teacher’s remarks, and put to him many earnest questions. Meanwhile the natives who composed our crew, having nothing particular to do, had squatted down on the deck and taken out their little books containing the translated portions of the New Testament, along with hymns and spelling-books, and were now busily engaged—some vociferating the alphabet, others learning prayers off by heart, while a few sang hymns—all of them being utterly unmindful of our presence. The teacher soon joined them, and soon afterwards they all engaged in a prayer, which was afterwards translated to us, and proved to be a petition for the success of our undertaking and for the conversion of the heathen.While we were thus engaged a canoe put off from shore, and several savages leaped on deck, one of whom advanced to the teacher and informed him that Tararo could not come on board that day, being busy with some religious ceremonies before the gods, which could on no account be postponed. He was also engaged with a friendly chief, who was about to take his departure from the island, and therefore begged that the teacher and his friends would land and pay a visit to him. To this the teacher returned answer that we would land immediately.“Now, lads,” said Jack as we were about to step into our little boat, “I’m not going to take any weapons with me, and I recommend you to take none either. We are altogether in the power of these savages; and the utmost we could do, if they were to attack us, would be to kill a few of them before we were ourselves overpowered. I think that our only chance of success lies in mild measures. Don’t you think so?”To this I assented gladly; and Peterkin replied by laying down a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss, and divesting himself of a pair of enormous horse-pistols, with which he had purposed to overawe the natives! We then jumped into our boat and rowed ashore.On reaching the beach we were received by a crowd of naked savages, who shouted a rude welcome, and conducted us to a house or shed where a baked pig and a variety of vegetables were prepared for us. Having partaken of these, the teacher begged to be conducted to the chief; but there seemed some hesitation, and after some consultation among themselves, one of the men stood forward and spoke to the teacher.“What says he?” inquired Jack when the savage had concluded.“He says that the chief is just going to the temple of his god, and cannot see us yet; so we must be patient, my friend.”“Well,” cried Jack, rising, “if he won’t come to see me, I’ll e’en go and see him. Besides, I have a great desire to witness their proceedings at this temple of theirs. Will you go with me, friend?”“I cannot,” said the teacher, shaking his head. “I must not go to the heathen temples and witness their inhuman rites, except for the purpose of condemning their wickedness and folly.”“Very good,” returned Jack; “then I’ll go alone, for I cannot condemn their doings till I have seen them.”Jack arose, and we, having determined to go also, followed him through the banana-groves to a rising ground immediately behind the village, on the top of which stood the Buré, or temple, under the dark shade of a group of iron-wood trees. As we went through the village I was again led to contrast the rude huts and sheds, and their almost naked, savage-looking inhabitants, with the natives of the Christian village, who, to use the teacher’s scriptural expression, were now “clothed and in their right mind.”As we turned into a broad path leading towards the hill, we were arrested by the shouts of an approaching multitude in the rear. Drawing aside into the bushes, we awaited their coming up; and as they drew near, we observed that it was a procession of the natives, many of whom were dancing and gesticulating in the most frantic manner. They had an exceedingly hideous aspect, owing to the black, red, and yellow paints with which their faces and naked bodies were bedaubed. In the midst of these came a band of men carrying three or four planks, on which were seated, in rows, upwards of a dozen men. I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said:“Oh Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple. We shall only be horrified without being able to do any good, for I fear they are going to kill them.”Jack’s face wore an expression of deep compassion as he said in a low voice, “No fear, Ralph; the sufferings of these poor fellows are over long ago.”I turned with a start as he spoke, and glancing at the men, who were now quite near to the spot where we stood, saw that they were all dead. They were tied firmly with ropes in a sitting posture on the planks, and seemed, as they bent their sightless eyeballs and grinning mouths over the dancing crew below, as if they were laughing in ghastly mockery at the utter inability of their enemies to hurt them now. These, we discovered afterwards, were the men who had been slain in the battle of the previous day, and were now on their way to be first presented to the gods and then eaten. Behind these came two men leading between them a third, whose hands were pinioned behind his back. He walked with a firm step, and wore a look of utter indifference on his face as they led him along, so that we concluded he must be a criminal who was about to receive some slight punishment for his faults. The rear of the procession was brought up by a shouting crowd of women and children, with whom we mingled and followed to the temple.Here we arrived in a few minutes. The temple was a tall, circular building, open at one side. Around it were strewn heaps of human bones and skulls. At a table inside sat the priest, an elderly man with a long grey beard. He was seated on a stool, and before him lay several knives, made of wood, bone, and splinters of bamboo, with which he performed his office of dissecting dead bodies. Farther in lay a variety of articles that had been dedicated to the god, and among them were many spears and clubs. I observed among the latter some with human teeth sticking in them, where the victims had been clubbed in their mouths.Before this temple the bodies, which were painted with vermilion and soot, were arranged in a sitting posture; and a man called a “dan-vosa” (orator) advanced, and laying his hands on their heads, began to chide them, apparently, in a low, bantering tone. What he said we knew not, but as he went on he waxed warm, and at last shouted to them at the top of his lungs, and finally finished by kicking the bodies over and running away, amid the shouts and laughter of the people, who now rushed forward. Seizing the bodies by a leg or an arm, or by the hair of the head, they dragged them over stumps and stones and through sloughs until they were exhausted. The bodies were then brought back to the temple and dissected by the priest, after which they were taken out to be baked.Close to the temple a large fire was kindled, in which stones were heated red hot. When ready these were spread out on the ground, and a thick coating of leaves strewn over them to slack the heat. On this “lovo,” or oven, the bodies were then placed, covered over, and left to bake.The crowd now ran with terrible yells towards a neighbouring hill or mound, on which we observed the framework of a house lying ready to be erected. Sick with horror, yet fascinated by curiosity, we staggered after them mechanically, scarce knowing where we were going or what we did, and feeling a sort of impression that all we saw was a dreadful dream.Arrived at the place, we saw the multitude crowding round a certain spot. We pressed forward, and obtained a sight of what they were doing. A large wooden beam or post lay on the ground, beside the other parts of the framework of the house, and close to the end of it was a hole about seven feet deep and upwards of two feet wide. While we looked, the man whom we had before observed with his hands pinioned was carried into the circle. His hands were now free, but his legs were tightly strapped together. The post of the house was then placed in the hole, and the man put in beside it. His head was a good way below the surface of the hole, and his arms were clasped round the post. Earth was now thrown in until all was covered over and stamped down; and this, we were afterwards told, was a ceremony usually performed at the dedication of a new temple or the erection of a chief’s house!“Come, come,” cried Jack on beholding this horrible tragedy; “we have seen enough, enough—far more than enough! Let us go.”Jack’s face looked ghastly pale and haggard as we hurried back to rejoin the teacher; and I have no doubt that he felt terrible anxiety when he considered the number and ferocity of the savages, and the weakness of the few arms which were ready indeed to essay, but impotent to effect, Avatea’s deliverance from these ruthless men.
We had ascertained from the teacher the direction to the spot on which the battle was to be fought, and after a walk of two hours, reached it. The summit of a bare hill was the place chosen; for, unlike most of the other islanders, who are addicted to bush-fighting, those of Mango are in the habit of meeting on open ground. We arrived before the two parties had commenced the deadly struggle, and creeping as close up as we dared among the rocks, we lay and watched them.
The combatants were drawn up face to face, each side ranged in rank four deep. Those in the first row were armed with long spears; the second with clubs to defend the spearmen; the third row was composed of young men with slings; and the fourth consisted of women, who carried baskets of stones for the slingers, and clubs and spears with which to supply the warriors. Soon after we arrived, the attack was made with great fury. There was no science displayed. The two bodies of savages rushed headlong upon each other and engaged in a general mélée, and a more dreadful set of men I have never seen. They wore grotesque war-caps, made of various substances and decorated with feathers. Their faces and bodies were painted so as to make them look as frightful as possible; and as they brandished their massive clubs, leaped, shouted, yelled, and dashed each other to the ground, I thought I had never seen men look so like demons before.
We were much surprised at the conduct of the women, who seemed to be perfect furies, and hung about the heels of their husbands in order to defend them. One stout young woman we saw, whose husband was hard pressed and about to be overcome: she lifted a large stone, and throwing it at his opponent’s head, felled him to the earth. But the battle did not last long. The band most distant from us gave way and were routed, leaving eighteen of their comrades dead upon the field. These the victors brained as they lay; and putting some of their brains on leaves, went off with them, we were afterwards informed, to their temples to present them to their gods as an earnest of the human victims who were soon to be brought there.
We hastened back to the Christian village with feelings of the deepest sadness at the sanguinary conflict which we had just witnessed.
Next day, after breakfasting with our friend the teacher, we made preparations for carrying out our plan. At first the teacher endeavoured to dissuade us.
“You do not know,” said he, turning to Jack, “the danger you run in venturing amongst these ferocious savages. I feel much pity for poor Avatea; but you are not likely to succeed in saving her, and you may die in the attempt.”
“Well,” said Jack quietly, “I am not afraid to die in a good cause.”
The teacher smiled approvingly at him as he said this, and after a little further conversation, agreed to accompany us as interpreter—saying that although Tararo was unfriendly to him, he had hitherto treated him with respect.
We now went on board the schooner, having resolved to sail round the island and drop anchor opposite the heathen village. We manned her with natives, and hoped to overawe the savages by displaying our brass gun to advantage. The teacher soon after came on board, and setting our sails, we put to sea. In two hours more we made the cliffs reverberate with the crash of the big gun, which we fired by way of salute, while we ran the British ensign up to the peak and cast anchor. The commotion on shore showed us that we had struck terror into the hearts of the natives; but seeing that we did not offer to molest them, a canoe at length put off and paddled cautiously towards us. The teacher showed himself, and explaining that we were friends and wished to palaver with the chief, desired the native to go and tell him to come on board.
We waited long and with much impatience for an answer. During this time the native teacher conversed with us again, and told us many things concerning the success of the Gospel among those islands; and perceiving that we were by no means so much gratified as we ought to have been at the hearing of such good news, he pressed us more closely in regard to our personal interest in religion, and exhorted us to consider that our souls were certainly in as great danger as those of the wretched heathen whom we pitied so much if we had not already found salvation in Jesus Christ. “Nay, further,” he added, “if such be your unhappy case, you are, in the sight of God, much worse than these savages—forgive me, my young friends, for saying so—for they have no knowledge, no light, and do not profess to believe; while you, on the contrary, have been brought up in the light of the blessed Gospel and call yourselves Christians. These poor savages are indeed the enemies of our Lord; but you, if ye be not true believers, are traitors!”
I must confess that my heart condemned me while the teacher spoke in this earnest manner, and I knew not what to reply. Peterkin, too, did not seem to like it, and, I thought, would willingly have escaped. But Jack seemed deeply impressed, and wore an anxious expression on his naturally grave countenance, while he assented to the teacher’s remarks, and put to him many earnest questions. Meanwhile the natives who composed our crew, having nothing particular to do, had squatted down on the deck and taken out their little books containing the translated portions of the New Testament, along with hymns and spelling-books, and were now busily engaged—some vociferating the alphabet, others learning prayers off by heart, while a few sang hymns—all of them being utterly unmindful of our presence. The teacher soon joined them, and soon afterwards they all engaged in a prayer, which was afterwards translated to us, and proved to be a petition for the success of our undertaking and for the conversion of the heathen.
While we were thus engaged a canoe put off from shore, and several savages leaped on deck, one of whom advanced to the teacher and informed him that Tararo could not come on board that day, being busy with some religious ceremonies before the gods, which could on no account be postponed. He was also engaged with a friendly chief, who was about to take his departure from the island, and therefore begged that the teacher and his friends would land and pay a visit to him. To this the teacher returned answer that we would land immediately.
“Now, lads,” said Jack as we were about to step into our little boat, “I’m not going to take any weapons with me, and I recommend you to take none either. We are altogether in the power of these savages; and the utmost we could do, if they were to attack us, would be to kill a few of them before we were ourselves overpowered. I think that our only chance of success lies in mild measures. Don’t you think so?”
To this I assented gladly; and Peterkin replied by laying down a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss, and divesting himself of a pair of enormous horse-pistols, with which he had purposed to overawe the natives! We then jumped into our boat and rowed ashore.
On reaching the beach we were received by a crowd of naked savages, who shouted a rude welcome, and conducted us to a house or shed where a baked pig and a variety of vegetables were prepared for us. Having partaken of these, the teacher begged to be conducted to the chief; but there seemed some hesitation, and after some consultation among themselves, one of the men stood forward and spoke to the teacher.
“What says he?” inquired Jack when the savage had concluded.
“He says that the chief is just going to the temple of his god, and cannot see us yet; so we must be patient, my friend.”
“Well,” cried Jack, rising, “if he won’t come to see me, I’ll e’en go and see him. Besides, I have a great desire to witness their proceedings at this temple of theirs. Will you go with me, friend?”
“I cannot,” said the teacher, shaking his head. “I must not go to the heathen temples and witness their inhuman rites, except for the purpose of condemning their wickedness and folly.”
“Very good,” returned Jack; “then I’ll go alone, for I cannot condemn their doings till I have seen them.”
Jack arose, and we, having determined to go also, followed him through the banana-groves to a rising ground immediately behind the village, on the top of which stood the Buré, or temple, under the dark shade of a group of iron-wood trees. As we went through the village I was again led to contrast the rude huts and sheds, and their almost naked, savage-looking inhabitants, with the natives of the Christian village, who, to use the teacher’s scriptural expression, were now “clothed and in their right mind.”
As we turned into a broad path leading towards the hill, we were arrested by the shouts of an approaching multitude in the rear. Drawing aside into the bushes, we awaited their coming up; and as they drew near, we observed that it was a procession of the natives, many of whom were dancing and gesticulating in the most frantic manner. They had an exceedingly hideous aspect, owing to the black, red, and yellow paints with which their faces and naked bodies were bedaubed. In the midst of these came a band of men carrying three or four planks, on which were seated, in rows, upwards of a dozen men. I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said:
“Oh Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple. We shall only be horrified without being able to do any good, for I fear they are going to kill them.”
Jack’s face wore an expression of deep compassion as he said in a low voice, “No fear, Ralph; the sufferings of these poor fellows are over long ago.”
I turned with a start as he spoke, and glancing at the men, who were now quite near to the spot where we stood, saw that they were all dead. They were tied firmly with ropes in a sitting posture on the planks, and seemed, as they bent their sightless eyeballs and grinning mouths over the dancing crew below, as if they were laughing in ghastly mockery at the utter inability of their enemies to hurt them now. These, we discovered afterwards, were the men who had been slain in the battle of the previous day, and were now on their way to be first presented to the gods and then eaten. Behind these came two men leading between them a third, whose hands were pinioned behind his back. He walked with a firm step, and wore a look of utter indifference on his face as they led him along, so that we concluded he must be a criminal who was about to receive some slight punishment for his faults. The rear of the procession was brought up by a shouting crowd of women and children, with whom we mingled and followed to the temple.
Here we arrived in a few minutes. The temple was a tall, circular building, open at one side. Around it were strewn heaps of human bones and skulls. At a table inside sat the priest, an elderly man with a long grey beard. He was seated on a stool, and before him lay several knives, made of wood, bone, and splinters of bamboo, with which he performed his office of dissecting dead bodies. Farther in lay a variety of articles that had been dedicated to the god, and among them were many spears and clubs. I observed among the latter some with human teeth sticking in them, where the victims had been clubbed in their mouths.
Before this temple the bodies, which were painted with vermilion and soot, were arranged in a sitting posture; and a man called a “dan-vosa” (orator) advanced, and laying his hands on their heads, began to chide them, apparently, in a low, bantering tone. What he said we knew not, but as he went on he waxed warm, and at last shouted to them at the top of his lungs, and finally finished by kicking the bodies over and running away, amid the shouts and laughter of the people, who now rushed forward. Seizing the bodies by a leg or an arm, or by the hair of the head, they dragged them over stumps and stones and through sloughs until they were exhausted. The bodies were then brought back to the temple and dissected by the priest, after which they were taken out to be baked.
Close to the temple a large fire was kindled, in which stones were heated red hot. When ready these were spread out on the ground, and a thick coating of leaves strewn over them to slack the heat. On this “lovo,” or oven, the bodies were then placed, covered over, and left to bake.
The crowd now ran with terrible yells towards a neighbouring hill or mound, on which we observed the framework of a house lying ready to be erected. Sick with horror, yet fascinated by curiosity, we staggered after them mechanically, scarce knowing where we were going or what we did, and feeling a sort of impression that all we saw was a dreadful dream.
Arrived at the place, we saw the multitude crowding round a certain spot. We pressed forward, and obtained a sight of what they were doing. A large wooden beam or post lay on the ground, beside the other parts of the framework of the house, and close to the end of it was a hole about seven feet deep and upwards of two feet wide. While we looked, the man whom we had before observed with his hands pinioned was carried into the circle. His hands were now free, but his legs were tightly strapped together. The post of the house was then placed in the hole, and the man put in beside it. His head was a good way below the surface of the hole, and his arms were clasped round the post. Earth was now thrown in until all was covered over and stamped down; and this, we were afterwards told, was a ceremony usually performed at the dedication of a new temple or the erection of a chief’s house!
“Come, come,” cried Jack on beholding this horrible tragedy; “we have seen enough, enough—far more than enough! Let us go.”
Jack’s face looked ghastly pale and haggard as we hurried back to rejoin the teacher; and I have no doubt that he felt terrible anxiety when he considered the number and ferocity of the savages, and the weakness of the few arms which were ready indeed to essay, but impotent to effect, Avatea’s deliverance from these ruthless men.
Chapter Thirty Two.An unexpected discovery, and a bold, reckless defiance, with its consequences—Plans of escape, and heroic resolves.When we returned to the shore and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads.We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us.“And what, is it that my friends wish to say to me?” he inquired.The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared.“Tell him,” said Jack, “that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl’s life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians.”While this was being translated the chief’s brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy and at some length.“What says he?” inquired Jack.“I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge.”Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. “Tell Tararo,” he exclaimed with a flashing eye, “that if he does not grant my demand it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea if he does not give up the girl.”“Nay, my friend,” said the teacher gently, “I will not tell him that. We must ‘overcome evil with good.’”“What does my friend say?” inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack’s looks of defiance.“He is displeased,” replied the teacher.Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile.“What are they doing there?” I inquired.“I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one,” said the teacher.At this moment a couple of men appeared, leading a young girl between them, and going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl, Avatea.We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick-coming fears.“Oh my dear young friend!” whispered the teacher in a voice of deep emotion; while he seized Jack by the arm, “she is to be made a sacrifice even now!”“Is she?” cried Jack with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, “Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!”It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and doubtless would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod had not the teacher rushed in between them, and raising his voice to its utmost, cried:“Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter! It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live or die!”The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack’s former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and waving his hand, said to his people, “Desist. The young man’s life is mine.” Then turning to Jack, he said, “You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one: why should you die?”“Villain!” exclaimed Jack passionately. “I may die, but assuredly I shall not perish alone! I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured!”“You are very bold,” replied the chief haughtily, “but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away—at least, for three days.”“You had better accept these terms,” whispered the teacher entreatingly. “If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having.”Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast and hung down his head in silence.Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and therefore would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter.While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who, during the whole of the foregoing scene, had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet.Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away; while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner.On reaching the deck we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said:“Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are in our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment; we must act—”“Act!” cried Jack, raising himself and tossing back his hair wildly. “It is mockery to talk of acting when one is bound hand and foot. How can I act? I cannot fight a whole nation of savages single-handed. Yes,” he said with a bitter smile, “Icanfight them; but I cannot conquer them, or save Avatea.”“Patience, my friend: your spirit is not a good one just now. You cannot expect that blessing which alone can ensure success unless you are more submissive. I will tell you my plans if you will listen.”“Listen!” cried Jack eagerly. “Of course I will, my good fellow! I did not know you had any plans. Out with them! I only hope you will show me how I can get the girl on board of this schooner, and I’d up anchor and away in no time. But proceed with your plans.”The teacher smiled sadly. “Ah, my friend, if one fathom of your anchor-chain were to rattle as you drew it in, a thousand warriors would be standing on your deck! No, no; that could not be done. Even now your ship would be taken from you were it not that Tararo has some feeling of gratitude towards you. But I know Tararo well. He is a man of falsehood, as all the unconverted savages are. The chief to whom he has promised this girl is very powerful, and Tararomustfulfil his promise. He has told you that he would do nothing to the girl for three days, but that is because the party who are to take her away will not be ready to start for three days. Still, as he might have made you a prisoner during those three days, I say that God has given them to us.”“Well, but what do you propose to do?” said Jack impatiently.“My plan involves much danger; but I see no other, and I think you have courage to brave it. It is this. There is an island about fifty miles to the south of this, the natives of which are Christians, and have been so for two years or more, and the principal chief is Avatea’s lover. Once there, Avatea would be safe. Now, I suggest that you should abandon your schooner. Do you think that you can make so great a sacrifice?”“Friend,” replied Jack, “when I make up my mind to go through with a thing of importance, I can make any sacrifice.”The teacher smiled. “Well, then, the savages could not conceive it possible that for the sake of a girl you would voluntarily lose your fine vessel; therefore, as long as she lies here, they think they have you all safe. So I suggest that we get a quantity of stores conveyed to a sequestered part of the shore, provide a small canoe, put Avatea on board, and you three would paddle to the Christian island.”“Bravo!” cried Peterkin, springing up and seizing the teacher’s hand. “Missionary, you’re a regular brick! I didn’t think you had so much in you!”“As for me,” continued the teacher, “I will remain on board till they discover that you are gone. Then they will ask me where you are gone to, and I will refuse to tell.”“And what’ll be the result of that?” inquired Jack.“I know not. Perhaps they will kill me; but,” he added, looking at Jack with a peculiar smile, “I too am not afraid to die in a good cause!”“But how are we to get hold of Avatea?” inquired Jack.“I have arranged with her to meet us at a particular spot, to which I will guide you to-night. We shall then arrange about it. She will easily manage to elude her keepers, who are not very strict in watching her, thinking it impossible that she could escape from the island. Indeed, I am sure that such an idea will never enter their heads. But, as I have said, you run great danger. Fifty miles in a small canoe, on the open sea, is a great voyage to make. You may miss the island, too, in which case there is no other in that direction for a hundred miles or more; and if you lose your way and fall among other heathens, you know the law of Feejee—a castaway who gains the shore is doomed to die. You must count the cost, my young friend.”“I have counted it,” replied Jack. “If Avatea consents to run the risk, most certainly I will; and so will my comrades also. Besides,” added Jack, looking seriously into the teacher’s face, “your Bible—our Bible—tells ofOnewho delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in His fists, and the waters in the hollow of His hand.”We now set about active preparations for the intended voyage: collected together such things as we should require, and laid out on the deck provisions sufficient to maintain us for several weeks, purposing to load the canoe with as much as she could hold consistently with speed and safety. These we covered with a tarpaulin, intending to convey them to the canoe only a few hours before starting. When night spread her sable curtain over the scene, we prepared to land; but first kneeling along with the natives and the teacher, the latter implored a blessing on our enterprise. Then we rowed quietly to the shore and followed our sable guide, who led us by a long détour in order to avoid the village, to the place of rendezvous. We had not stood more than five minutes under the gloomy shade of the thick foliage when a dark figure glided noiselessly up to us.“Ah, here you are!” said Jack as Avatea approached.—“Now, then, tell her what we’ve come about, and don’t waste time.”“I understan’ leetl’ English,” said Avatea in a low voice.“Why, where did you pick up English?” exclaimed Jack in amazement. “You were dumb as a stone when I saw you last.”“She has learned all she knows of it from me,” said the teacher, “since she came to the island.”We now gave Avatea a full explanation of our plans, entering into all the details, and concealing none of the danger, so that she might be fully aware of the risk she ran. As we had anticipated, she was too glad of the opportunity thus afforded her to escape from her persecutors to think of the danger or risk.“Then you’re willing to go with us, are you?” said Jack.“Yis, I willing to go.”“And you’re not afraid to trust yourself out on the deep sea so far?”“No, I not ’fraid to go. Safe with Christian.”After some further consultation the teacher suggested that it was time to return, so we bade Avatea good-night; and having appointed to meet at the cliff where the canoe lay on the following night, just after dark, we hastened away—we to row back to the schooner with muffled oars, Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages.
When we returned to the shore and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads.
We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us.
“And what, is it that my friends wish to say to me?” he inquired.
The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared.
“Tell him,” said Jack, “that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl’s life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians.”
While this was being translated the chief’s brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy and at some length.
“What says he?” inquired Jack.
“I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge.”
Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. “Tell Tararo,” he exclaimed with a flashing eye, “that if he does not grant my demand it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea if he does not give up the girl.”
“Nay, my friend,” said the teacher gently, “I will not tell him that. We must ‘overcome evil with good.’”
“What does my friend say?” inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack’s looks of defiance.
“He is displeased,” replied the teacher.
Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile.
“What are they doing there?” I inquired.
“I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one,” said the teacher.
At this moment a couple of men appeared, leading a young girl between them, and going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl, Avatea.
We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick-coming fears.
“Oh my dear young friend!” whispered the teacher in a voice of deep emotion; while he seized Jack by the arm, “she is to be made a sacrifice even now!”
“Is she?” cried Jack with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, “Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!”
It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and doubtless would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod had not the teacher rushed in between them, and raising his voice to its utmost, cried:
“Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter! It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live or die!”
The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack’s former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and waving his hand, said to his people, “Desist. The young man’s life is mine.” Then turning to Jack, he said, “You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one: why should you die?”
“Villain!” exclaimed Jack passionately. “I may die, but assuredly I shall not perish alone! I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured!”
“You are very bold,” replied the chief haughtily, “but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away—at least, for three days.”
“You had better accept these terms,” whispered the teacher entreatingly. “If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having.”
Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast and hung down his head in silence.
Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and therefore would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter.
While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who, during the whole of the foregoing scene, had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet.
Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away; while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner.
On reaching the deck we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said:
“Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are in our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment; we must act—”
“Act!” cried Jack, raising himself and tossing back his hair wildly. “It is mockery to talk of acting when one is bound hand and foot. How can I act? I cannot fight a whole nation of savages single-handed. Yes,” he said with a bitter smile, “Icanfight them; but I cannot conquer them, or save Avatea.”
“Patience, my friend: your spirit is not a good one just now. You cannot expect that blessing which alone can ensure success unless you are more submissive. I will tell you my plans if you will listen.”
“Listen!” cried Jack eagerly. “Of course I will, my good fellow! I did not know you had any plans. Out with them! I only hope you will show me how I can get the girl on board of this schooner, and I’d up anchor and away in no time. But proceed with your plans.”
The teacher smiled sadly. “Ah, my friend, if one fathom of your anchor-chain were to rattle as you drew it in, a thousand warriors would be standing on your deck! No, no; that could not be done. Even now your ship would be taken from you were it not that Tararo has some feeling of gratitude towards you. But I know Tararo well. He is a man of falsehood, as all the unconverted savages are. The chief to whom he has promised this girl is very powerful, and Tararomustfulfil his promise. He has told you that he would do nothing to the girl for three days, but that is because the party who are to take her away will not be ready to start for three days. Still, as he might have made you a prisoner during those three days, I say that God has given them to us.”
“Well, but what do you propose to do?” said Jack impatiently.
“My plan involves much danger; but I see no other, and I think you have courage to brave it. It is this. There is an island about fifty miles to the south of this, the natives of which are Christians, and have been so for two years or more, and the principal chief is Avatea’s lover. Once there, Avatea would be safe. Now, I suggest that you should abandon your schooner. Do you think that you can make so great a sacrifice?”
“Friend,” replied Jack, “when I make up my mind to go through with a thing of importance, I can make any sacrifice.”
The teacher smiled. “Well, then, the savages could not conceive it possible that for the sake of a girl you would voluntarily lose your fine vessel; therefore, as long as she lies here, they think they have you all safe. So I suggest that we get a quantity of stores conveyed to a sequestered part of the shore, provide a small canoe, put Avatea on board, and you three would paddle to the Christian island.”
“Bravo!” cried Peterkin, springing up and seizing the teacher’s hand. “Missionary, you’re a regular brick! I didn’t think you had so much in you!”
“As for me,” continued the teacher, “I will remain on board till they discover that you are gone. Then they will ask me where you are gone to, and I will refuse to tell.”
“And what’ll be the result of that?” inquired Jack.
“I know not. Perhaps they will kill me; but,” he added, looking at Jack with a peculiar smile, “I too am not afraid to die in a good cause!”
“But how are we to get hold of Avatea?” inquired Jack.
“I have arranged with her to meet us at a particular spot, to which I will guide you to-night. We shall then arrange about it. She will easily manage to elude her keepers, who are not very strict in watching her, thinking it impossible that she could escape from the island. Indeed, I am sure that such an idea will never enter their heads. But, as I have said, you run great danger. Fifty miles in a small canoe, on the open sea, is a great voyage to make. You may miss the island, too, in which case there is no other in that direction for a hundred miles or more; and if you lose your way and fall among other heathens, you know the law of Feejee—a castaway who gains the shore is doomed to die. You must count the cost, my young friend.”
“I have counted it,” replied Jack. “If Avatea consents to run the risk, most certainly I will; and so will my comrades also. Besides,” added Jack, looking seriously into the teacher’s face, “your Bible—our Bible—tells ofOnewho delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in His fists, and the waters in the hollow of His hand.”
We now set about active preparations for the intended voyage: collected together such things as we should require, and laid out on the deck provisions sufficient to maintain us for several weeks, purposing to load the canoe with as much as she could hold consistently with speed and safety. These we covered with a tarpaulin, intending to convey them to the canoe only a few hours before starting. When night spread her sable curtain over the scene, we prepared to land; but first kneeling along with the natives and the teacher, the latter implored a blessing on our enterprise. Then we rowed quietly to the shore and followed our sable guide, who led us by a long détour in order to avoid the village, to the place of rendezvous. We had not stood more than five minutes under the gloomy shade of the thick foliage when a dark figure glided noiselessly up to us.
“Ah, here you are!” said Jack as Avatea approached.—“Now, then, tell her what we’ve come about, and don’t waste time.”
“I understan’ leetl’ English,” said Avatea in a low voice.
“Why, where did you pick up English?” exclaimed Jack in amazement. “You were dumb as a stone when I saw you last.”
“She has learned all she knows of it from me,” said the teacher, “since she came to the island.”
We now gave Avatea a full explanation of our plans, entering into all the details, and concealing none of the danger, so that she might be fully aware of the risk she ran. As we had anticipated, she was too glad of the opportunity thus afforded her to escape from her persecutors to think of the danger or risk.
“Then you’re willing to go with us, are you?” said Jack.
“Yis, I willing to go.”
“And you’re not afraid to trust yourself out on the deep sea so far?”
“No, I not ’fraid to go. Safe with Christian.”
After some further consultation the teacher suggested that it was time to return, so we bade Avatea good-night; and having appointed to meet at the cliff where the canoe lay on the following night, just after dark, we hastened away—we to row back to the schooner with muffled oars, Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages.
Chapter Thirty Three.The flight—The pursuit—Despair and its results—The lion bearded in his den again—Awful danger threatened and wonderfully averted—A terrific storm.As the time for our meditated flight drew near, we became naturally very fearful lest our purpose should be discovered, and we spent the whole of the following day in a state of nervous anxiety. We resolved to go ashore and ramble about the village, as if to observe the habits and dwellings of the people, as we thought that an air of affected indifference to the events of the previous day would be more likely than any other course of conduct to avert suspicion as to our intentions. While we were thus occupied, the teacher remained on board with the Christian natives, whose powerful voices reached us ever and anon as they engaged in singing hymns or in prayer.At last the long and tedious day came to a close, the sun sank into the sea, and the short-lived twilight of those regions, to which I have already referred, ended abruptly in a dark night. Hastily throwing a few blankets into our little boat, we stepped into it, and whispering farewell to the natives in the schooner, rowed gently over the lagoon, taking care to keep as near to the beach as possible. We rowed in the utmost silence and with muffled oars, so that had any one observed us at the distance of a few yards, he might have almost taken us for a phantom boat or a shadow on the dark water. Not a breath of air was stirring; but fortunately the gentle ripple of the sea upon the shore, mingled with the soft roar of the breaker on the distant reef, effectually drowned the slight plash that we unavoidably made in the water by the dipping of our oars.A quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the overhanging cliff under whose black shadow our little canoe lay, with her bow in the water, ready to be launched, and most of her cargo already stowed away. As the keel of our little boat grated on the sand, a hand was laid upon the bow, and a dim form was seen.“Ha!” said Peterkin in a whisper as he stepped upon the beach; “is that you, Avatea?”“Yis, it am me,” was the reply.“All right—Now, then, gently—Help me to shove off the canoe,” whispered Jack to the teacher.—“And, Peterkin, do you shove these blankets aboard; we may want them before long.—Avatea, step into the middle: that’s right.”“Is all ready?” whispered the teacher.“Not quite,” replied Peterkin.—“Here, Ralph, lay hold o’ this pair of oars, and stow them away if you can. I don’t like paddles. After we’re safe away, I’ll try to rig up rowlocks for them.”“Now, then, in with you and shove off!”One more earnest squeeze of the kind teacher’s hand, and with his whispered blessing yet sounding in our ears, we shot like an arrow from the shore, sped over the still waters of the lagoon, and paddled as swiftly as strong arms and willing hearts could urge us over the long swell of the open sea.All that night and the whole of the following day we plied our paddles in almost total silence and without a halt, save twice to recruit our failing energies with a mouthful of food and a draught of water. Jack had taken the bearing of the island just after starting, and laying a small pocket-compass before him, kept the head of the canoe due south, for our chance of hitting the island depended very much on the faithfulness of our steersman in keeping our tiny bark exactly and constantly on its proper course. Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and Avatea worked untiringly in the middle.As the sun’s lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea Jack ceased working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt.“There!” he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh; “we’ve put a considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now we’ll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep.”“Hear, hear!” cried Peterkin. “Nobly spoken, Jack!—Hand me a drop of water, Ralph.—Why, girl, what’s wrong with you? You look just like a black owl blinking in the sunshine!”Avatea smiled. “I sleepy,” she said; and as if to prove the truth of this, she laid her head on the edge of the canoe and fell fast asleep.“That’s uncommon sharp practice,” said Peterkin with a broad grin. “Don’t you think we should awake her to make her eat something first? Or perhaps,” he added with a grave, meditative look—“perhaps we might put some food in her mouth, which is so elegantly open at the present moment, and see if she’d swallow it while asleep.—If so, Ralph, you might come round to the front here and feed her quietly, while Jack and I are tucking into the victuals. It would be a monstrous economy of time.”I could not help smiling at Peterkin’s idea, which indeed, when I pondered it, seemed remarkably good in theory; nevertheless, I declined to put it in practice, being fearful of the result should the victuals chance to go down the wrong throat. But on suggesting this to Peterkin, he exclaimed:“Down the wrong throat, man! Why, a fellow with half-an-eye might see that if it went down Avatea’s throat it could not go down the wrong throat!—unless, indeed, you have all of a sudden become inordinately selfish, and think that all the throats in the world are wrong ones except your own. However, don’t talk so much, and hand me the pork before Jack finishes it. I feel myself entitled to at least one minute morsel.”“Peterkin, you’re a villain—a paltry little villain!” said Jack quietly as he tossed the hind legs (including the tail) of a cold roast pig to his comrade; “and I must again express my regret that unavoidable circumstances have thrust your society upon me, and that necessity has compelled me to cultivate your acquaintance. Were it not that you are incapable of walking upon the water, I would order you, sir, out of the canoe!”“There! you’ve awakened Avatea with your long tongue,” retorted Peterkin, with a frown, as the girl gave vent to a deep sigh. “No,” he continued, “it was only a snore. Perchance she dreameth of her black Apollo.—I say, Ralph, do leave just one little slice of that yam! Between you and Jack I run a chance of being put on short allowance, if not—yei-a-a-ow!”Peterkin’s concluding remark was a yawn of so great energy that Jack recommended him to postpone the conclusion of his meal till next morning—a piece of advice which he followed so quickly that I was forcibly reminded of his remark, a few minutes before, in regard to the sharp practice of Avatea.My readers will have observed, probably, by this time, that I am much given to meditation: they will not, therefore, be surprised to learn that I fell into a deep reverie on the subject of sleep, which was continued without intermission into the night, and prolonged without interruption into the following morning. But I cannot feel assured that I actually slept during that time, although I am tolerably certain that I was not awake.Thus we lay, like a shadow, on the still bosom of the ocean, while the night closed in, and all around was calm, dark, and silent.A thrilling cry of alarm from Peterkin startled us in the morning, just as the grey dawn began to glimmer in the east.“What’s wrong?” cried Jack, starting up.Peterkin replied by pointing, with a look of anxious dread, towards the horizon; and a glance sufficed to show us that one of the largest-sized war-canoes was approaching us!With a groan of mingled despair and anger, Jack seized his paddle, glanced at the compass, and in a suppressed voice commanded us to “Give way!” But we did not require to be urged. Already our four paddles were glancing in the water, and the canoe bounded over the glassy sea like a dolphin, while a shout from our pursuers told that they had observed our motions.“I see something like land ahead,” said Jack in a hopeful tone. “It seems impossible that we could have made the island yet; still, if it is so, we may reach it before these fellows can catch us, for our canoe is light and our muscles are fresh.”No one replied; for, to say truth, we felt that in a long chase we had no chance whatever with a canoe which held nearly a hundred warriors. Nevertheless, we resolved to do our utmost to escape, and paddled with a degree of vigour that kept us well in advance of our pursuers. The war-canoe was so far behind us that it seemed but a little speck on the sea, and the shouts to which the crew occasionally gave vent came faintly towards us on the morning breeze. We therefore hoped that we should be able to keep in advance for an hour or two, when we might perhaps reach the land ahead. But this hope was suddenly crushed by the supposed land, not long after, rising up into the sky, thus proving itself to be a fog-bank!A bitter feeling of disappointment filled each heart, and was expressed on each countenance, as we beheld this termination to our hopes. But we had little time to think of regret. Our danger was too great and imminent to permit of a moment’s relaxation from our exertions. No hope now animated our bosoms; but a feeling of despair, strange to say, lent us power to work, and nerved our arms with such energy that it was several hours ere the savages overtook us. When we saw that there was indeed no chance of escape, and that paddling any longer would only serve to exhaust our strength without doing any good, we turned the side of our canoe towards the approaching enemy and laid down our paddles.Silently, and with a look of bitter determination on his face, Jack lifted one of the light boat-oars that we had brought with us, and resting it on his shoulder, stood up in an attitude of bold defiance. Peterkin took the other oar and also stood up, but there was no anger visible on his countenance: when not sparkling with fun, it usually wore a mild, sad expression, which was deepened on the present occasion as he glanced at Avatea, who sat with her face resting in her hands upon her knees. Without knowing very well what I intended to do, I also arose and grasped my paddle with both hands.On came the large canoe like a war-horse of the deep, with the foam curling from its sharp bow, and the spear-heads of the savages glancing in the beams of the rising sun. Perfect silence was maintained on both sides; and we could hear the hissing water, and see the frowning eyes of the warriors, as they came rushing on. When about twenty yards distant, five or six of the savages in the bow rose, and laying aside their paddles, took up their spears. Jack and Peterkin raised their oars, while, with a feeling of madness whirling in my brain, I grasped my paddle and prepared for the onset. But before any of us could strike a blow, the sharp prow of the war-canoe struck us like a thunderbolt on the side and hurled us into the sea!What occurred after this I cannot tell, for I was nearly drowned; but when I recovered from the state of insensibility into which I had been thrown, I found myself stretched on my back, bound hand and foot, between Jack and Peterkin, in the bottom of the large canoe.In this condition we lay the whole day, during which time the savages only rested one hour. When night came they rested again for another hour, and appeared to sleep just as they sat. But we were neither unbound nor allowed to speak to each other during the voyage, nor was a morsel of food or a draught of water given to us. For food, however, we cared little; but we would have given much for a drop of water to cool our parched lips. And we would have been glad, too, had they loosened the cords that bound us; for they were tightly fastened, and occasioned us much pain. The air, also, was unusually hot—so much so that I felt convinced that a storm was brewing. This also added to our sufferings. However, these were at length relieved by our arrival at the island from which we had fled.While we were being led ashore, we caught a glimpse of Avatea, who was seated in the hinder part of the canoe. She was not fettered in any way. Our captors now drove us before them towards the hut of Tararo, at which we speedily arrived, and found the chief seated with an expression on his face that boded us no good. Our friend the teacher stood beside him, with a look of anxiety on his mild features.“How comes it,” said Tararo, turning to the teacher, “that these youths have abused our hospitality?”“Tell him,” replied Jack, “that we have not abused his hospitality, for his hospitality has not been extended to us. I came to the island to deliver Avatea, and my only regret is that I have failed to do so. If I get another chance, I will try to save her yet.”The teacher shook his head. “Nay, my young friend, I had better not tell him that: it will only incense him.”“I care not,” replied Jack. “If you don’t tell him that, you’ll tell him nothing, for I won’t say anything softer.”On hearing Jack’s speech, Tararo frowned, and his eye flashed with anger.“Go, presumptuous boy!” he said. “My debt to you cancelled. You and your companions shall die!”As he spoke he rose and signed to several of attendants, who seized Jack and Peterkin and violently by the collars, and dragging us from the house of the chief, led us through the wood to the outskirts of the village. Here they thrust us into a species of natural cave in a cliff, and having barricaded the entrance, left us in total darkness.After feeling about for some time—for our legs were unshackled, although our wrists were still bound with thongs—we found a low ledge of rock running along one side of the cavern. On this we seated ourselves, and for a long time maintained unbroken silence.At last I could restrain my feelings no longer. “Alas! dear Jack and Peterkin,” said I, “what is to become of us? I fear that we are doomed to die.”“I know not,” replied Jack in a tremulous voice—“I know not. Ralph, I regret deeply the hastiness of my violent temper, which, I must confess, has been the chief cause of our being brought to this sad condition. Perhaps the teacher may do something for us. But I have little hope.”“Ah no!” said Peterkin with a heavy sigh; “I am sure he can’t help us. Tararo doesn’t care more for him than for one of his dogs.”“Truly,” said I, “there seems no chance of deliverance, unless the Almighty puts forth His arm to save us. Yet I must say I have great hope, my comrades; for we have come to this dark place by no fault of ours—unless it be a fault to try to succour a woman in distress.”I was interrupted in my remarks by a noise at the entrance to the cavern, which was caused by the removal of the barricade. Immediately after three men entered, and taking us by the collars of our coats, led us away through the forest. As we advanced we heard much shouting and beating of native drums in the village, and at first we thought that our guards were conducting us to the hut of Tararo again. But in this we were mistaken. The beating of drums gradually increased, and soon after we observed a procession of the natives coming towards us. At the head of this procession we were placed, and then we all advanced together towards the temple where human victims were wont to be sacrificed!A thrill of horror ran through my heart as I recalled to mind the awful scenes that I had before witnessed at that dreadful spot. But deliverance came suddenly from a quarter whence we little expected it. During the whole of that day there had been an unusual degree of heat in the atmosphere, and the sky assumed that lurid aspect which portends a thunderstorm. Just as we were approaching the horrid temple, a growl of thunder burst overhead, and heavy drops of rain began to fall.Those who have not witnessed gales and storms in tropical regions can form but a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the temple the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar; and the natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled right and left through the woods in order to save their property, leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to flee in order to seek shelter when the teacher ran toward us with a knife in his hand.“Thank the Lord,” he said, cutting our bonds, “I am in time! Now, seek the shelter of the nearest rock.”This we did without a moment’s hesitation, for the whistling wind burst, ever and anon, like thunderclaps among the trees, and tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played like forked serpents in the air, while high above the roar of the hissing tempest the thunder crashed and burst and rolled in awful majesty.In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were blown completely off the houses in many cases, and in others the houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of this the natives were darting to and fro—in some instances saving their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the storm of destruction that whirled around them. But terrific although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep, and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist, they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave swept higher and higher on the beach until the ocean lashed its angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet of white, curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least, to impress the mind of beholders with the might and majesty of God.We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during which time the storm raged in fury. But on the night following, it abated somewhat; and in the morning we went to the village to seek for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards; but the natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and thrust us into our former prison.It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the first savage who seized him with a well-directed blow of his fist, but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before us.
As the time for our meditated flight drew near, we became naturally very fearful lest our purpose should be discovered, and we spent the whole of the following day in a state of nervous anxiety. We resolved to go ashore and ramble about the village, as if to observe the habits and dwellings of the people, as we thought that an air of affected indifference to the events of the previous day would be more likely than any other course of conduct to avert suspicion as to our intentions. While we were thus occupied, the teacher remained on board with the Christian natives, whose powerful voices reached us ever and anon as they engaged in singing hymns or in prayer.
At last the long and tedious day came to a close, the sun sank into the sea, and the short-lived twilight of those regions, to which I have already referred, ended abruptly in a dark night. Hastily throwing a few blankets into our little boat, we stepped into it, and whispering farewell to the natives in the schooner, rowed gently over the lagoon, taking care to keep as near to the beach as possible. We rowed in the utmost silence and with muffled oars, so that had any one observed us at the distance of a few yards, he might have almost taken us for a phantom boat or a shadow on the dark water. Not a breath of air was stirring; but fortunately the gentle ripple of the sea upon the shore, mingled with the soft roar of the breaker on the distant reef, effectually drowned the slight plash that we unavoidably made in the water by the dipping of our oars.
A quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the overhanging cliff under whose black shadow our little canoe lay, with her bow in the water, ready to be launched, and most of her cargo already stowed away. As the keel of our little boat grated on the sand, a hand was laid upon the bow, and a dim form was seen.
“Ha!” said Peterkin in a whisper as he stepped upon the beach; “is that you, Avatea?”
“Yis, it am me,” was the reply.
“All right—Now, then, gently—Help me to shove off the canoe,” whispered Jack to the teacher.—“And, Peterkin, do you shove these blankets aboard; we may want them before long.—Avatea, step into the middle: that’s right.”
“Is all ready?” whispered the teacher.
“Not quite,” replied Peterkin.—“Here, Ralph, lay hold o’ this pair of oars, and stow them away if you can. I don’t like paddles. After we’re safe away, I’ll try to rig up rowlocks for them.”
“Now, then, in with you and shove off!”
One more earnest squeeze of the kind teacher’s hand, and with his whispered blessing yet sounding in our ears, we shot like an arrow from the shore, sped over the still waters of the lagoon, and paddled as swiftly as strong arms and willing hearts could urge us over the long swell of the open sea.
All that night and the whole of the following day we plied our paddles in almost total silence and without a halt, save twice to recruit our failing energies with a mouthful of food and a draught of water. Jack had taken the bearing of the island just after starting, and laying a small pocket-compass before him, kept the head of the canoe due south, for our chance of hitting the island depended very much on the faithfulness of our steersman in keeping our tiny bark exactly and constantly on its proper course. Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and Avatea worked untiringly in the middle.
As the sun’s lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea Jack ceased working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt.
“There!” he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh; “we’ve put a considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now we’ll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep.”
“Hear, hear!” cried Peterkin. “Nobly spoken, Jack!—Hand me a drop of water, Ralph.—Why, girl, what’s wrong with you? You look just like a black owl blinking in the sunshine!”
Avatea smiled. “I sleepy,” she said; and as if to prove the truth of this, she laid her head on the edge of the canoe and fell fast asleep.
“That’s uncommon sharp practice,” said Peterkin with a broad grin. “Don’t you think we should awake her to make her eat something first? Or perhaps,” he added with a grave, meditative look—“perhaps we might put some food in her mouth, which is so elegantly open at the present moment, and see if she’d swallow it while asleep.—If so, Ralph, you might come round to the front here and feed her quietly, while Jack and I are tucking into the victuals. It would be a monstrous economy of time.”
I could not help smiling at Peterkin’s idea, which indeed, when I pondered it, seemed remarkably good in theory; nevertheless, I declined to put it in practice, being fearful of the result should the victuals chance to go down the wrong throat. But on suggesting this to Peterkin, he exclaimed:
“Down the wrong throat, man! Why, a fellow with half-an-eye might see that if it went down Avatea’s throat it could not go down the wrong throat!—unless, indeed, you have all of a sudden become inordinately selfish, and think that all the throats in the world are wrong ones except your own. However, don’t talk so much, and hand me the pork before Jack finishes it. I feel myself entitled to at least one minute morsel.”
“Peterkin, you’re a villain—a paltry little villain!” said Jack quietly as he tossed the hind legs (including the tail) of a cold roast pig to his comrade; “and I must again express my regret that unavoidable circumstances have thrust your society upon me, and that necessity has compelled me to cultivate your acquaintance. Were it not that you are incapable of walking upon the water, I would order you, sir, out of the canoe!”
“There! you’ve awakened Avatea with your long tongue,” retorted Peterkin, with a frown, as the girl gave vent to a deep sigh. “No,” he continued, “it was only a snore. Perchance she dreameth of her black Apollo.—I say, Ralph, do leave just one little slice of that yam! Between you and Jack I run a chance of being put on short allowance, if not—yei-a-a-ow!”
Peterkin’s concluding remark was a yawn of so great energy that Jack recommended him to postpone the conclusion of his meal till next morning—a piece of advice which he followed so quickly that I was forcibly reminded of his remark, a few minutes before, in regard to the sharp practice of Avatea.
My readers will have observed, probably, by this time, that I am much given to meditation: they will not, therefore, be surprised to learn that I fell into a deep reverie on the subject of sleep, which was continued without intermission into the night, and prolonged without interruption into the following morning. But I cannot feel assured that I actually slept during that time, although I am tolerably certain that I was not awake.
Thus we lay, like a shadow, on the still bosom of the ocean, while the night closed in, and all around was calm, dark, and silent.
A thrilling cry of alarm from Peterkin startled us in the morning, just as the grey dawn began to glimmer in the east.
“What’s wrong?” cried Jack, starting up.
Peterkin replied by pointing, with a look of anxious dread, towards the horizon; and a glance sufficed to show us that one of the largest-sized war-canoes was approaching us!
With a groan of mingled despair and anger, Jack seized his paddle, glanced at the compass, and in a suppressed voice commanded us to “Give way!” But we did not require to be urged. Already our four paddles were glancing in the water, and the canoe bounded over the glassy sea like a dolphin, while a shout from our pursuers told that they had observed our motions.
“I see something like land ahead,” said Jack in a hopeful tone. “It seems impossible that we could have made the island yet; still, if it is so, we may reach it before these fellows can catch us, for our canoe is light and our muscles are fresh.”
No one replied; for, to say truth, we felt that in a long chase we had no chance whatever with a canoe which held nearly a hundred warriors. Nevertheless, we resolved to do our utmost to escape, and paddled with a degree of vigour that kept us well in advance of our pursuers. The war-canoe was so far behind us that it seemed but a little speck on the sea, and the shouts to which the crew occasionally gave vent came faintly towards us on the morning breeze. We therefore hoped that we should be able to keep in advance for an hour or two, when we might perhaps reach the land ahead. But this hope was suddenly crushed by the supposed land, not long after, rising up into the sky, thus proving itself to be a fog-bank!
A bitter feeling of disappointment filled each heart, and was expressed on each countenance, as we beheld this termination to our hopes. But we had little time to think of regret. Our danger was too great and imminent to permit of a moment’s relaxation from our exertions. No hope now animated our bosoms; but a feeling of despair, strange to say, lent us power to work, and nerved our arms with such energy that it was several hours ere the savages overtook us. When we saw that there was indeed no chance of escape, and that paddling any longer would only serve to exhaust our strength without doing any good, we turned the side of our canoe towards the approaching enemy and laid down our paddles.
Silently, and with a look of bitter determination on his face, Jack lifted one of the light boat-oars that we had brought with us, and resting it on his shoulder, stood up in an attitude of bold defiance. Peterkin took the other oar and also stood up, but there was no anger visible on his countenance: when not sparkling with fun, it usually wore a mild, sad expression, which was deepened on the present occasion as he glanced at Avatea, who sat with her face resting in her hands upon her knees. Without knowing very well what I intended to do, I also arose and grasped my paddle with both hands.
On came the large canoe like a war-horse of the deep, with the foam curling from its sharp bow, and the spear-heads of the savages glancing in the beams of the rising sun. Perfect silence was maintained on both sides; and we could hear the hissing water, and see the frowning eyes of the warriors, as they came rushing on. When about twenty yards distant, five or six of the savages in the bow rose, and laying aside their paddles, took up their spears. Jack and Peterkin raised their oars, while, with a feeling of madness whirling in my brain, I grasped my paddle and prepared for the onset. But before any of us could strike a blow, the sharp prow of the war-canoe struck us like a thunderbolt on the side and hurled us into the sea!
What occurred after this I cannot tell, for I was nearly drowned; but when I recovered from the state of insensibility into which I had been thrown, I found myself stretched on my back, bound hand and foot, between Jack and Peterkin, in the bottom of the large canoe.
In this condition we lay the whole day, during which time the savages only rested one hour. When night came they rested again for another hour, and appeared to sleep just as they sat. But we were neither unbound nor allowed to speak to each other during the voyage, nor was a morsel of food or a draught of water given to us. For food, however, we cared little; but we would have given much for a drop of water to cool our parched lips. And we would have been glad, too, had they loosened the cords that bound us; for they were tightly fastened, and occasioned us much pain. The air, also, was unusually hot—so much so that I felt convinced that a storm was brewing. This also added to our sufferings. However, these were at length relieved by our arrival at the island from which we had fled.
While we were being led ashore, we caught a glimpse of Avatea, who was seated in the hinder part of the canoe. She was not fettered in any way. Our captors now drove us before them towards the hut of Tararo, at which we speedily arrived, and found the chief seated with an expression on his face that boded us no good. Our friend the teacher stood beside him, with a look of anxiety on his mild features.
“How comes it,” said Tararo, turning to the teacher, “that these youths have abused our hospitality?”
“Tell him,” replied Jack, “that we have not abused his hospitality, for his hospitality has not been extended to us. I came to the island to deliver Avatea, and my only regret is that I have failed to do so. If I get another chance, I will try to save her yet.”
The teacher shook his head. “Nay, my young friend, I had better not tell him that: it will only incense him.”
“I care not,” replied Jack. “If you don’t tell him that, you’ll tell him nothing, for I won’t say anything softer.”
On hearing Jack’s speech, Tararo frowned, and his eye flashed with anger.
“Go, presumptuous boy!” he said. “My debt to you cancelled. You and your companions shall die!”
As he spoke he rose and signed to several of attendants, who seized Jack and Peterkin and violently by the collars, and dragging us from the house of the chief, led us through the wood to the outskirts of the village. Here they thrust us into a species of natural cave in a cliff, and having barricaded the entrance, left us in total darkness.
After feeling about for some time—for our legs were unshackled, although our wrists were still bound with thongs—we found a low ledge of rock running along one side of the cavern. On this we seated ourselves, and for a long time maintained unbroken silence.
At last I could restrain my feelings no longer. “Alas! dear Jack and Peterkin,” said I, “what is to become of us? I fear that we are doomed to die.”
“I know not,” replied Jack in a tremulous voice—“I know not. Ralph, I regret deeply the hastiness of my violent temper, which, I must confess, has been the chief cause of our being brought to this sad condition. Perhaps the teacher may do something for us. But I have little hope.”
“Ah no!” said Peterkin with a heavy sigh; “I am sure he can’t help us. Tararo doesn’t care more for him than for one of his dogs.”
“Truly,” said I, “there seems no chance of deliverance, unless the Almighty puts forth His arm to save us. Yet I must say I have great hope, my comrades; for we have come to this dark place by no fault of ours—unless it be a fault to try to succour a woman in distress.”
I was interrupted in my remarks by a noise at the entrance to the cavern, which was caused by the removal of the barricade. Immediately after three men entered, and taking us by the collars of our coats, led us away through the forest. As we advanced we heard much shouting and beating of native drums in the village, and at first we thought that our guards were conducting us to the hut of Tararo again. But in this we were mistaken. The beating of drums gradually increased, and soon after we observed a procession of the natives coming towards us. At the head of this procession we were placed, and then we all advanced together towards the temple where human victims were wont to be sacrificed!
A thrill of horror ran through my heart as I recalled to mind the awful scenes that I had before witnessed at that dreadful spot. But deliverance came suddenly from a quarter whence we little expected it. During the whole of that day there had been an unusual degree of heat in the atmosphere, and the sky assumed that lurid aspect which portends a thunderstorm. Just as we were approaching the horrid temple, a growl of thunder burst overhead, and heavy drops of rain began to fall.
Those who have not witnessed gales and storms in tropical regions can form but a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the temple the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar; and the natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled right and left through the woods in order to save their property, leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to flee in order to seek shelter when the teacher ran toward us with a knife in his hand.
“Thank the Lord,” he said, cutting our bonds, “I am in time! Now, seek the shelter of the nearest rock.”
This we did without a moment’s hesitation, for the whistling wind burst, ever and anon, like thunderclaps among the trees, and tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played like forked serpents in the air, while high above the roar of the hissing tempest the thunder crashed and burst and rolled in awful majesty.
In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were blown completely off the houses in many cases, and in others the houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of this the natives were darting to and fro—in some instances saving their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the storm of destruction that whirled around them. But terrific although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep, and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist, they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave swept higher and higher on the beach until the ocean lashed its angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet of white, curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least, to impress the mind of beholders with the might and majesty of God.
We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during which time the storm raged in fury. But on the night following, it abated somewhat; and in the morning we went to the village to seek for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards; but the natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and thrust us into our former prison.
It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the first savage who seized him with a well-directed blow of his fist, but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before us.
Chapter Thirty Four.Imprisonment—Sinking hopes—Unexpected freedom to more than one, and in more senses than one.For a long, long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison, during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food.There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my inmost heart could never pass away until death should make me cease to feel. The present was such a season.During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at our hearts every time we heard a footfall near the cave, dreading lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time dragged heavily on we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom that we chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when the savages would take us forth to die. But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat, in that dark cavern on our ledge of rock, and conversed almost pleasantly about the past until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom ventured to touch upon the future.A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed, and a scanty supply of yams and taro, brought to us once a day, constituted our food.“Well, Ralph, how have you slept?” said Jack in a listless tone on rising one morning from his humble couch. “Were you much disturbed by the wind last night?”“No,” said I. “I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my mother smiled upon me and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not, for I was chained.”“And I dreamed too,” said Peterkin; “but it was of our happy home on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden. Then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other changed into this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true.”Peterkin’s tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his long imprisonment that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and in a short space bow dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible would have given me much light and comfort on this subject if I had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths.While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the cave by saying, in a melancholy tone, “Oh, I wonder if we shall ever see our dear island more!”His voice trembled, and covering his face with both hands, he bent down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to comfort him; but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to pass my lips. While I hesitated Jack sat down beside him and whispered a few words in his ear, while Peterkin threw himself on his friend’s breast and rested his head on his shoulder.Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after we heard footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits, however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he would set down our meagre fare as usual and depart. But, to our surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife in his hand, and going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound his wrists; then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my mind was that the time had come to put us to death; and although, as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near I felt all the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill of horror at the suddenness of our call.But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds the savage pointed to the cave’s mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out first, he sprang towards him, and clasping him in his arms, exclaimed:“Oh my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you are free!”“Free?” cried Jack.“Ay, free!” repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands again and again—“free to go and come as you will. The Lord has unloosed the bonds of the captive, and set the prisoners free. A missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight!”We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been accustomed, in our cavern, to dream of deliverance, that we imagined for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth—that we were really delivered from prison and from death—rushed with overwhelming power into our souls, and with one accord, while tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud, long cheer of joy.It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind, and forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of Tararo.The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget. On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native stood on his left hand, who from his dress seemed to be a teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who I at once, and rightly, concluded was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and apparently past forty, with a bald forehead and thin grey hair. The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw, and his clear grey eyes beamed with a look that was frank, fearless, loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile overspread the missionary’s face as he advanced quickly to meet us, and he shook us warmly by the hands.“I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends,” he said. “My friend andyourfriend, the teacher, has told me your history; and I thank our Father in heaven with all my heart, that He has guided me to this island and made me the instrument of saving you.”We thanked the missionary most heartily, and asked him, in some surprise, how he had succeeded in turning the heart of Tararo in our favour.“I will tell you that at a more convenient time,” he answered, “meanwhile we must not forget the respect due to the chief. He waits to receive you.”In the conversation that immediately followed between us and Tararo, the latter said that the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been sent to the island, and that to it we were indebted for our freedom. Moreover, he told us that we were at liberty to depart in our schooner whenever we pleased, and that we should be supplied with as much provision as we required. He concluded by shaking hands with us warmly, and performing the ceremony of rubbing noses.This was indeed good news to us, and we could hardly find words to express our gratitude to the chief and to the missionary.“And what of Avatea?” inquired Jack.The missionary replied by pointing to a group of natives, in the midst of whom the girl stood. Beside her was a tall, strapping fellow, whose noble mien and air of superiority bespoke him a chief of no ordinary kind. “That youth is her lover. He came this very morning in his war-canoe to treat with Tararo for Avatea. He is to be married in a few days, and afterwards returns to his island home with his bride.”“That’s capital!” said Jack as he stepped up to the savage and gave him a hearty shake of the hand. “I wish you joy, my lad!—And you too, Avatea!”As Jack spoke, Avatea’s lover took him by the hand and led him to the spot where Tararo and the missionary stood, surrounded by most of the chief men of the tribe. The girl herself followed and stood on his left hand, while her lover stood on his right, and commanding silence, made the following speech, which was translated by the missionary:“Young friend, you have seen few years, but your head is old. Your heart, also, is large and very brave. I and Avatea are your debtors; and we wish, in the midst of this assembly, to acknowledge our debt, and to say that it is one which we can never repay. You have risked your life for one who was known to you only for a few days. But she was a woman in distress, and that was enough to secure to her the aid of a Christian man. We, who live in these islands of the sea, know that the true Christians always act thus. Their religion is one of love and kindness. We thank God that so many Christians have been sent here: we hope many more will come. Remember that I and Avatea will think of you, and pray for you and your brave comrades, when you are far away.”To this kind speech Jack returned a short, sailor-like reply, in which he insisted that he had only done for Avatea what he would have done for any woman under the sun. But Jack’s forte did not lie in speech-making, so he terminated rather abruptly by seizing the chief’s hand and shaking it violently, after which he made a hasty retreat.“Now, then, Ralph and Peterkin,” said Jack as we mingled with the crowd, “it seems to me that, the object we came here for having been satisfactorily accomplished, we have nothing more to do but get ready for sea as fast as we can, and hurrah for old England!”“That’s my idea precisely,” said Peterkin, endeavouring to wink; but he had wept so much of late, poor fellow, that he found it difficult. “However, I’m not going away till I see these fellows burn their gods.”Peterkin had his wish, for in a few minutes afterwards fire was put to the pile, the roaring flames, ascended, and amid the acclamations of the assembled thousands, the false gods of Mango were reduced to ashes!
For a long, long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison, during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food.
There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my inmost heart could never pass away until death should make me cease to feel. The present was such a season.
During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at our hearts every time we heard a footfall near the cave, dreading lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time dragged heavily on we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom that we chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when the savages would take us forth to die. But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat, in that dark cavern on our ledge of rock, and conversed almost pleasantly about the past until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom ventured to touch upon the future.
A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed, and a scanty supply of yams and taro, brought to us once a day, constituted our food.
“Well, Ralph, how have you slept?” said Jack in a listless tone on rising one morning from his humble couch. “Were you much disturbed by the wind last night?”
“No,” said I. “I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my mother smiled upon me and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not, for I was chained.”
“And I dreamed too,” said Peterkin; “but it was of our happy home on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden. Then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other changed into this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true.”
Peterkin’s tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his long imprisonment that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and in a short space bow dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible would have given me much light and comfort on this subject if I had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths.
While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the cave by saying, in a melancholy tone, “Oh, I wonder if we shall ever see our dear island more!”
His voice trembled, and covering his face with both hands, he bent down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to comfort him; but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to pass my lips. While I hesitated Jack sat down beside him and whispered a few words in his ear, while Peterkin threw himself on his friend’s breast and rested his head on his shoulder.
Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after we heard footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits, however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he would set down our meagre fare as usual and depart. But, to our surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife in his hand, and going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound his wrists; then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my mind was that the time had come to put us to death; and although, as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near I felt all the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill of horror at the suddenness of our call.
But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds the savage pointed to the cave’s mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out first, he sprang towards him, and clasping him in his arms, exclaimed:
“Oh my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you are free!”
“Free?” cried Jack.
“Ay, free!” repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands again and again—“free to go and come as you will. The Lord has unloosed the bonds of the captive, and set the prisoners free. A missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight!”
We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been accustomed, in our cavern, to dream of deliverance, that we imagined for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth—that we were really delivered from prison and from death—rushed with overwhelming power into our souls, and with one accord, while tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud, long cheer of joy.
It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind, and forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of Tararo.
The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget. On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native stood on his left hand, who from his dress seemed to be a teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who I at once, and rightly, concluded was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and apparently past forty, with a bald forehead and thin grey hair. The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw, and his clear grey eyes beamed with a look that was frank, fearless, loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile overspread the missionary’s face as he advanced quickly to meet us, and he shook us warmly by the hands.
“I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends,” he said. “My friend andyourfriend, the teacher, has told me your history; and I thank our Father in heaven with all my heart, that He has guided me to this island and made me the instrument of saving you.”
We thanked the missionary most heartily, and asked him, in some surprise, how he had succeeded in turning the heart of Tararo in our favour.
“I will tell you that at a more convenient time,” he answered, “meanwhile we must not forget the respect due to the chief. He waits to receive you.”
In the conversation that immediately followed between us and Tararo, the latter said that the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been sent to the island, and that to it we were indebted for our freedom. Moreover, he told us that we were at liberty to depart in our schooner whenever we pleased, and that we should be supplied with as much provision as we required. He concluded by shaking hands with us warmly, and performing the ceremony of rubbing noses.
This was indeed good news to us, and we could hardly find words to express our gratitude to the chief and to the missionary.
“And what of Avatea?” inquired Jack.
The missionary replied by pointing to a group of natives, in the midst of whom the girl stood. Beside her was a tall, strapping fellow, whose noble mien and air of superiority bespoke him a chief of no ordinary kind. “That youth is her lover. He came this very morning in his war-canoe to treat with Tararo for Avatea. He is to be married in a few days, and afterwards returns to his island home with his bride.”
“That’s capital!” said Jack as he stepped up to the savage and gave him a hearty shake of the hand. “I wish you joy, my lad!—And you too, Avatea!”
As Jack spoke, Avatea’s lover took him by the hand and led him to the spot where Tararo and the missionary stood, surrounded by most of the chief men of the tribe. The girl herself followed and stood on his left hand, while her lover stood on his right, and commanding silence, made the following speech, which was translated by the missionary:
“Young friend, you have seen few years, but your head is old. Your heart, also, is large and very brave. I and Avatea are your debtors; and we wish, in the midst of this assembly, to acknowledge our debt, and to say that it is one which we can never repay. You have risked your life for one who was known to you only for a few days. But she was a woman in distress, and that was enough to secure to her the aid of a Christian man. We, who live in these islands of the sea, know that the true Christians always act thus. Their religion is one of love and kindness. We thank God that so many Christians have been sent here: we hope many more will come. Remember that I and Avatea will think of you, and pray for you and your brave comrades, when you are far away.”
To this kind speech Jack returned a short, sailor-like reply, in which he insisted that he had only done for Avatea what he would have done for any woman under the sun. But Jack’s forte did not lie in speech-making, so he terminated rather abruptly by seizing the chief’s hand and shaking it violently, after which he made a hasty retreat.
“Now, then, Ralph and Peterkin,” said Jack as we mingled with the crowd, “it seems to me that, the object we came here for having been satisfactorily accomplished, we have nothing more to do but get ready for sea as fast as we can, and hurrah for old England!”
“That’s my idea precisely,” said Peterkin, endeavouring to wink; but he had wept so much of late, poor fellow, that he found it difficult. “However, I’m not going away till I see these fellows burn their gods.”
Peterkin had his wish, for in a few minutes afterwards fire was put to the pile, the roaring flames, ascended, and amid the acclamations of the assembled thousands, the false gods of Mango were reduced to ashes!