Chapter III.
Chapter III.
“This is the righteous maid, the comforter.”
Thus ended the hopes of the West. The time that followed was one of wild confusion. Violence was the only law, and those who escaped in that terrible day yielded themselves in hopeless misery to the disorders theycould not avert or control. Some few there always were who longed for order and peace, and mourned in silence for their lost leaders; but none had the courage to speak out.
It was in these days that a ship of strange appearance was seen approaching the entrance of the Lagoon, which, passing quickly round to the north of the Island, a bare, rocky region not yet inhabited, landed there a large number of passengers, and before the rest of the inhabitants could cross the mountain and discover who were the new-comers, the ship which brought them had vanished again into the open sea.
A stealthy departure and scarcely to be wondered at, for the government of Burmah had grave fears whether even on the Island of Outlaws its passengers could be welcomed or endured. They were a large company of an entirely lawless robber race known at that time by the name of Dacoits—the terror of the Burmese country.
These men soon found that they had been put ashore on the least fertile part of the Island, and they began to come over the heights and plunder the older settlers for whatever they needed, even driving them from their homes and taking possession of these.
There was no government or settled order to which anyone could appeal—“each man for himself” was the only rule. The number of the early settlers was much diminished by the years of strife and violence, and though some of those who came as children to the Island were now growing to man’s and woman’s estate, these were not many, and the fact that among the older settlers there were some who had families was a great source of weakness to them as against the new-comers, for even the most lawless of the old Southern men dreaded the attacks of these wild marauders upontheir feeble women and children.
Thus the presence of the Dacoits wrought a change at once on the island.
The common trouble to which they were now exposed inclined the earlier settlers to look upon one another with more friendly eyes, and indeed I think by this time they were all beginning a little to weary of conflict, and so they drew together and determined on measures in which they should all unite for driving the Dacoits back to the North, or at any rate reducing them to some sort of subjection.
But this was by no means easy. Men who had noscruple at midnight murder, and delighted in the torture of little children in the sight of their mothers, could not be met by any force but that of perfectly organized and strong repression, and the leaders of the party who now represented the order of the Island began to dread whether they would not indeed all perish at the hands of these savage invaders. It might be so, but all that was best in these men rose up to meet the danger and to defend their homes. They were beginning to understand the meaning of union, of some sort of law, of the sacrifice of the will of each one to the good of thewhole, when a new thing happened.
Some Dacoits who had just been driven back from a plundering expedition were men who had learnt a few words of English, and as they sullenly retired they uttered terrible threats against their opponents, which they said they would perform when the next moon was round, for then ships would come bringing their friends, and they made signs to show that these would come in great numbers.
Here were indeed tidings of despair for the settlers. They met once again in the green amphitheatre in which they had been convened before, and many of themremembered sadly how things had changed for the worse since that day. The presence of this terror made them all of one accord, though there seemed nothing to be done. The shipbuilding projects had been long abandoned among the pre-occupations of their internal conflicts, and the little boats in which they crossed the Lagoon were perfectly useless for long voyages at this time of year; but indeed, since all could not leave the Island, none of them would dream of deserting their companions in misery.
Further, if other reason were needed for their remaining, all but the childrenand quite young men and, women bore the brand which made life impossible for them elsewhere.
And now a voice was heard among the anxious company to which all listened, for most of them knew it well. It was a woman’s voice, the voice of one who came among the first settlers of the West, drawn there not by political sympathy or communistic fellow-feeling with them, but simply by the thought that here, if anywhere, would be sick souls to heal, sick bodies to tend, and women and little children needing help and care. She was called “Our Sister,” and no one had learnt anythingof her family or her history. Of those whom she comforted in sickness or trouble, each one felt assured that she held the creed his mother had taught him as a little child; some would have sworn she belonged to the Church of Rome; the Russians claimed her as theirs; some wild Welsh Home-Rulers were certain that she belonged to the Primitive Methodist Connexion; and a company of rough men from the English iron districts were still more certain that her gentle voice was that of a Quakeress from a secluded Yorkshire valley.
It did hot matter.
She had escaped, almostalone of the inmost circle of the West, at the time of the burning of the church, by the fact that she was that day nursing a little child who was sick of a fever and whose mother had just died. Since that time evil habits and careless living had led to a great spread of this terrible disease, and the Sister had gone from one sick bed to another bringing medicine and the healing of her presence, and there were those who said that something miraculous lay in the touch of her hands and the whisper of her prayer.
It was her voice that spoke in the midst of the people that day. She stoodon a little mound among the tangled growth of scented flowers—almost amidst of the great amphitheatre—and in the perfect hush of her hearers and the stillness of the clear windless air every syllable was heard.
She said that these troubles had come upon them, as they knew, through their own folly and dissensions; that they might now, if they were indeed united, resist their enemies and oblige them to live peaceably in their own part of the Island, getting their supplies from the northern reef, which was very fruitful, and not crossing the hills; that if, taking warning from the weaknesswhich their disorders had brought, they would set themselves to strengthen some simple form of government, they might even yet live peaceable and happy lives on the Island. If the new company of Dacoits found them thus united and strong they might submit to the same rule as the others; but alas! the moon was near the full. There was but little time for such measures, even if all did their best.
But there was one weapon they had all long neglected, the weapon of Prayer, and she entreated them all to kneel down around her.
The wild multitude thus taken unawares in a seriousmood did not bethink them of scoffing, indeed they loved her, and that was enough.
Her sweet, piercing voice seemed to touch the cloudless sky as she confessed the sins of that company and acknowledged their need of all things; and with words that claimed as the gift certain to be given by a loving father’s hand, what others would timidly have asked as a doubtful favour from a distant king, she seemed to lay hold at once with a strong hand on all the infinite help hidden in the storehouse of the Heavenly Will.
She claimed for that company, not safety only,but blessings and gladness undreamed of by any; and when she ended, a great “Amen” went up from all that strange congregation.
At this moment a wild cry was heard from those who stood on the eastern ridge of the crater, which commanded the sea and the opening in the reef by which vessels entered the Lagoon. A ship whose lines were but too well known was in sight: the Dacoits were coming.
The whole assembly climbed up the sides of the crater and on to the long ridge of hill beyond, and stood looking seaward. The ship came quickly nearer—when those whoknew the coast observed that, instead of following the winding channel of deep water that leads to the opening of the Lagoon, they were hurrying on to a great sunken reef to the north of this, on which the sea, being unusually calm, was not breaking as it was wont to do at most seasons.
They saw a crowd of Dacoits rush to the shore making signs to those on board, but it was too late. The ship struck, and sank at once in the fathomless depth of water outside the reef. The Dacoits on shore swam across the Lagoon, and running over the reef again, swam towards the sunken ship, and dived inthe hope of saving their friends. But during this little space of time, the tide, which turns there very suddenly, brought great waves again to break over the sunken rocks and on the outer edge of the reef, and many of those who swam out to the wreck were drowned.
Why the ship took the wrong course no one could ever know; perhaps, having made the voyage before, the captain ventured without a pilot.
To all who stood on the mountain ridge and saw what happened in that short space of time, it seemed only that their prayer had been answered.