The Coral IslandA Tale of the Pacific Ocean (page 5)

This question silenced me, while I considered what I should do in such a case. At length I laid my hand an his arm, and said, “Bill, when a man has done all that he CAN do, he ought to leave the rest to God.”

“Oh, Ralph,” said my companion, in a faint voice, looking anxiously into my face, “I wish that I had the feelin’s about God that you seem to have, at this hour. I’m dyin’, Ralph; yet I, who have braved death a hundred times, am afraid to die. I’m afraid to enter the next world. Something within tells me there will be a reckoning when I go there. But it’s all over with me, Ralph. I feel that there’s no chance o’ my bein’ saved.”

“Don’t say that, Bill,” said I, in deep compassion, “don’t say that. I’m quite sure there’s hope even for you, but I can’t remember the words of the Bible that make me think so. Is there not a Bible on board, Bill?”

“No; the last that was in the ship belonged to a poor boy that was taken aboard against his will. He died, poor lad, I think, through ill treatment and fear. After he was gone the captain found his Bible and flung it overboard.”

I now reflected, with great sadness and self-reproach, on the way in which I had neglected my Bible; and it flashed across me that I was actually in the sight of God a greater sinner than this blood- stained pirate; for, thought I, he tells me that he never read the Bible, and was never brought up to care for it; whereas I was carefully taught to read it by my own mother, and had read it daily as long as I possessed one, yet to so little purpose that I could not now call to mind a single text that would meet this poor man’s case, and afford him the consolation he so much required. I was much distressed, and taxed my memory for a long time. At last a text did flash into my mind, and I wondered much that I had not thought of it before.

“Bill,” said I, in a low voice, “‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'”

“Ay, Ralph, I’ve heard the missionaries say that before now, but what good can it do me? It’s not for me that. It’s not for the likes o’ me.”

I knew not now what to say, for, although I felt sure that that word was for him as well as for me, I could not remember any other word whereby I could prove it.

After a short pause, Bill raised his eyes to mine and said, “Ralph, I’ve led a terrible life. I’ve been a sailor since I was a boy, and I’ve gone from bad to worse ever since I left my father’s roof. I’ve been a pirate three years now. It is true I did not choose the trade, but I was inveigled aboard this schooner and kept here by force till I became reckless and at last joined them. Since that time my hand has been steeped in human blood again and again. Your young heart would grow cold if I – ; but why should I go on? ‘Tis of no use, Ralph; my doom is fixed.”

“Bill,” said I, “‘Though your sins be red like crimson, they shall be white as snow.’ ‘Only believe.'”

“Only believe!” cried Bill, starting up on his elbow; “I’ve heard men talk o’ believing as if it was easy. Ha! ’tis easy enough for a man to point to a rope and say, ‘I believe that would bear my weight;’ but ’tis another thing for a man to catch hold o’ that rope, and swing himself by it over the edge of a precipice!”

The energy with which he said this, and the action with which it was accompanied, were too much for Bill. He sank back with a deep groan. As if the very elements sympathized with this man’s sufferings, a low moan came sweeping over the sea.

“Hist! Ralph,” said Bill, opening his eves; “there’s a squall coming, lad. Look alive, boy. Clew up the fore-sail. Drop the main-sail peak. Them squalls come quick sometimes.”

I had already started to my feet, and saw that a heavy squall was indeed bearing down on us. It had hitherto escaped my notice, owing to my being so much engrossed by our conversation. I instantly did as Bill desired, for the schooner was still lying motionless on the glassy sea. I observed with some satisfaction that the squall was bearing down on the larboard bow, so that it would strike the vessel in the position in which she would be best able to stand the shock. Having done my best to shorten sail, I returned aft, and took my stand at the helm.

“Now, boy,” said Bill, in a faint voice, “keep her close to the wind.”

A few seconds afterwards he said, “Ralph, let me hear those two texts again.”

I repeated them.

“Are ye sure, lad, ye saw them in the Bible?”

“Quite sure,” I replied.

Almost before the words had left my lips the wind burst upon us, and the spray dashed over our decks. For a time the schooner stood it bravely, and sprang forward against the rising sea like a war- horse. Meanwhile clouds darkened the sky, and the sea began to rise in huge billows. There was still too much sail on the schooner, and, as the gale increased, I feared that the masts would be torn out of her or carried away, while the wind whistled and shrieked through the strained rigging. Suddenly the wind shifted a point, a heavy sea struck us on the bow, and the schooner was almost laid on her beam-ends, so that I could scarcely keep my legs. At the same moment Bill lost his hold of the belaying-pin which had served to steady him, and he slid with stunning violence against the sky-light. As he lay on the deck close beside me, I could see that the shock had rendered him insensible, but I did not dare to quit the tiller for an instant, as it required all my faculties, bodily and mental, to manage the schooner. For an hour the blast drove us along, while, owing to the sharpness of the vessel’s bow and the press of canvass, she dashed through the waves instead of breasting over them, thereby drenching the decks with water fore and aft. At the end of that time the squall passed away, and left us rocking on the bosom of the agitated sea.

My first care, the instant I could quit the helm, was to raise Bill from the deck and place him on the couch. I then ran below for the brandy bottle and rubbed his face and hands with it, and endeavoured to pour a little down his throat. But my efforts, although I continued them long and assiduously, were of no avail; as I let go the hand which I had been chafing it fell heavily on the deck. I laid my hand over his heart, and sat for some time quite motionless, but there was no flutter there – the pirate was dead!

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Alone on the deep – Necessity the mother of invention – A valuable book discovered – Natural phenomenon – A bright day in my history.

IT was with feelings of awe, not unmingled with fear, that I now seated myself on the cabin sky-light and gazed upon the rigid features of my late comrade, while my mind wandered over his past history and contemplated with anxiety my present position. Alone! in the midst of the wide Pacific, having a most imperfect knowledge of navigation, and in a schooner requiring at least eight men as her proper crew. But I will not tax the reader’s patience with a minute detail of my feelings and doings during the first few days that followed the death of my companion. I will merely mention that I tied a cannon ball to his feet and, with feelings of the deepest sorrow, consigned him to the deep.

For fully a week after that a steady breeze blew from the east, and, as my course lay west-and-by-north, I made rapid progress towards my destination. I could not take an observation, which I very much regretted, as the captain’s quadrant was in the cabin; but, from the day of setting sail from the island of the savages, I had kept a dead reckoning, and as I knew pretty well now how much lee-way the schooner made, I hoped to hit the Coral Island without much difficulty. In this I was the more confident that I knew its position on the chart (which I understood was a very good one), and so had its correct bearings by compass.

As the weather seemed now quite settled and fine, and as I had got into the trade-winds, I set about preparations for hoisting the top-sails. This was a most arduous task, and my first attempts were complete failures, owing, in a great degree, to my reprehensible ignorance of mechanical forces. The first error I made was in applying my apparatus of blocks and pulleys to a rope which was too weak, so that the very first heave I made broke it in two, and sent me staggering against the after-hatch, over which I tripped, and, striking against the main-boom, tumbled down the companion ladder into the cabin. I was much bruised and somewhat stunned by this untoward accident. However, I considered it fortunate that I was not killed. In my next attempt I made sure of not coming by a similar accident, so I unreeved the tackling and fitted up larger blocks and ropes. But although the principle on which I acted was quite correct, the machinery was now so massive and heavy that the mere friction and stiffness of the thick cordage prevented me from moving it at all. Afterwards, however, I came to proportion things more correctly; but I could not avoid reflecting at the time how much better it would have been had I learned all this from observation and study, instead of waiting till I was forced to acquire it through the painful and tedious lessons of experience.

After the tackling was prepared and in good working order, it took me the greater part of a day to hoist the main-top sail. As I could not steer and work at this at the same time, I lashed the helm in such a position that, with a little watching now and then, it kept the schooner in her proper course. By this means I was enabled also to go about the deck and down below for things that I wanted, as occasion required; also to cook and eat my victuals. But I did not dare to trust to this plan during the three hours of rest that I allowed myself at night, as the wind might have shifted, in which case I should have been blown far out of my course ere I awoke. I was, therefore, in the habit of heaving-to during those three hours; that is, fixing the rudder and the sails in such a position as that by acting against each other, they would keep the ship stationary. After my night’s rest, therefore, I had only to make allowance for the lee-way she had made, and so resume my course.

Of course I was to some extent anxious lest another squall should come, but I made the best provision I could in the circumstances, and concluded that by letting go the weather-braces of the top- sails and the top-sail halyards at the same time, I should thereby render these sails almost powerless. Besides this, I proposed to myself to keep a sharp look-out on the barometer in the cabin, and if I observed at any time a sudden fall in it, I resolved that I would instantly set about my multiform appliances for reducing sail, so as to avoid being taken at unawares. Thus I sailed prosperously for two weeks, with a fair wind, so that I calculated I must be drawing near to the Coral Island; at the thought of which my heart bounded with joyful expectation.

The only book I found on board, after a careful search, was a volume of Captain Cook’s voyages. This, I suppose, the pirate captain had brought with him in order to guide him, and to furnish him with information regarding the islands of these seas. I found this a most delightful book indeed, and I not only obtained much interesting knowledge about the sea in which I was sailing, but I had many of my own opinions, derived from experience, corroborated; and not a few of them corrected. Besides the reading of this charming book, and the daily routine of occupations, nothing of particular note happened to me during this voyage, except once, when on rising one night, after my three hours’ nap, while it was yet dark, I was amazed and a little alarmed to find myself floating in what appeared to be a sea of blue fire! I had often noticed the beautiful appearance of phosphorescent light, but this far exceeded anything of the sort I ever saw before. The whole sea appeared somewhat like milk and was remarkably luminous.

I rose in haste, and, letting down a bucket into the sea, brought some of the water on board and took it down to the cabin to examine it; but no sooner did I approach the light than the strange appearance disappeared, and when I removed the cabin lamp the luminous light appeared again. I was much puzzled with this, and took up a little of the water in the hollow of my hand and then let it run off, when I found that the luminous substance was left behind on my palm. I ran with it to the lamp; but when I got there it was gone. I found, however, that when I went into the dark my hand shone again; so I took the large glass of the ship’s telescope and examined my hand minutely, when I found that there were on it one or two small patches of a clear, transparent substance like jelly, which were so thin as to be almost invisible to the naked eye. Thus I came to know that the beautiful phosphoric light, which I had so often admired before, was caused by animals, for I had no doubt that these were of the same kind as the medusae or jelly-fish which are seen in all parts of the world.

On the evening of my fourteenth day, I was awakened out of a nap into which I had fallen by a loud cry, and starting up, I gazed around me. I was surprised and delighted to see a large albatross soaring majestically over the ship. I immediately took it into my head that this was the albatross I had seen at Penguin Island. I had, of course, no good reason for supposing this, but the idea occurred to me, I know not why, and I cherished it, and regarded the bird with as much affection as if he had been an old friend. He kept me company all that day and left me as night fell.

Next morning as I stood motionless and with heavy eyes at the helm, for I had not slept well, I began to weary anxiously for day-light, and peered towards the horizon, where I thought I observed something like a black cloud against the dark sky. Being always on the alert for squalls, I ran to the bow. There could be no doubt it was a squall, and as I listened I thought I heard the murmur of the coming gale. Instantly I began to work might and main at my cumbrous tackle for shortening sail, and in the course of an hour and a half had the most of it reduced, – the top-sail yards down on the caps, the top-sails clewed up, the sheets hauled in, the main and fore peaks lowered, and the flying-jib down. While thus engaged the dawn advanced, and I cast an occasional furtive glance ahead in the midst of my labour. But now that things were prepared for the worst, I ran forward again and looked anxiously over the bow. I now heard the roar of the waves distinctly, and as a single ray of the rising sun gleamed over the ocean I saw – what! could it be that I was dreaming? – that magnificent breaker with its ceaseless roar! – that mountain top! – yes, once more I beheld the Coral Island!

CHAPTER XXIX.

The effect of a cannon-shot – A happy reunion of a somewhat moist nature – Retrospects and explanations – An awful dive – New plans – The last of the Coral Island.

I ALMOST fell upon the deck with the tumult of mingled emotions that filled my heart, as I gazed ardently towards my beautiful island. It was still many miles away, but sufficiently near to enable me to trace distinctly the well-remembered outlines of the two mountains. My first impulse was to utter an exclamation of gratitude for being carried to my former happy home in safety; my second, to jump up, clap my hands, shout, and run up and down the deck, with no other object in view than that of giving vent to my excited feelings. Then I went below for the telescope, and spent nearly ten minutes of the utmost impatience in vainly trying to get a focus, and in rubbing the skin nearly off my eyes, before I discovered that having taken off the large glass to examine the phosphoric water with I had omitted to put it on again.

After that I looked up impatiently at the sails, which I now regretted having lowered so hastily, and for a moment thought of hoisting the main-top sail again; but recollecting that it would take me full half a day to accomplish, and that, at the present rate of sailing, two hours would bring me to the island, I immediately dismissed the idea.

The remainder of the time I spent in making feverish preparations for arriving and seeing my dear comrades. I remembered that they were not in the habit of rising before six, and, as it was now only three, I hoped to arrive before they were awake. Moreover, I set about making ready to let go the anchor, resolving in my own mind that, as I knew the depth of water in the passage of the reef and within the lagoon, I would run the schooner in and bring up opposite the bower. Fortunately the anchor was hanging at the cat- head, otherwise I should never have been able to use it. Now, I had only to cut the tackling, and it would drop of its own weight. After searching among the flags, I found the terrible black one, which I ran up to the peak. While I was doing this, a thought struck me. I went to the powder magazine, brought up a blank cartridge and loaded the big brass gun, which, it will be remembered, was unhoused when we set sail, and, as I had no means of housing it, there it had stood, bristling alike at fair weather and foul all the voyage. I took care to grease its mouth well, and, before leaving the fore part of the ship, thrust the poker into the fire.

All was now ready. A steady five-knot breeze was blowing, so that I was now not more than quarter of a mile from the reef. I was soon at the entrance, and, as the schooner glided quietly through, I glanced affectionately at the huge breaker, as if it had been the same one I had seen there when I bade adieu, as I feared for ever, to the island. On coming opposite the Water Garden, I put the helm hard down. The schooner came round with a rapid, graceful bend, and lost way just opposite the bower. Running forward, I let go the anchor, caught up the red-hot poker, applied it to the brass gun, and the mountains with a BANG, such as had only once before broke their slumbering echoes!

Effective although it was, however, it was scarcely equal to the bang with which, instantly after, Peterkin bounded from the bower, in scanty costume, his eye-balls starting from his head with surprise and terror. One gaze he gave, one yell, and then fled into the bushes like a wild cat. The next moment Jack went through exactly the same performance, the only difference being, that his movements were less like those of Jack-in-the-box, though not less vigorous and rapid than those of Peterkin.

“Hallo!” I shouted, almost mad with joy, “what, ho! Peterkin! Jack! hallo! it’s me!”

My shout was just in time to arrest them. They halted and turned round, and, the instant I repeated the cry, I saw that they recognised my voice, by both of them running at full speed towards the beach. I could no longer contain myself. Throwing off my jacket, I jumped overboard at the same moment that Jack bounded into the sea. In another moment we met in deep water, clasped each other round the neck, and sank, as a matter of course, to the bottom! We were well-nigh choked, and instantly struggled to the surface, where Peterkin was spluttering about like a wounded duck, laughing and crying by turns, and choking himself with salt water!

It would be impossible to convey to my reader, by description, an adequate conception of the scene that followed my landing on the beach, as we stood embracing each other indiscriminately in our dripping garments, and giving utterance to incoherent rhapsodies, mingled with wild shouts. It can be more easily imagined than described, so I will draw a curtain over this part of my history, and carry the reader forward over an interval of three days.

During the greater part of that period Peterkin did nothing but roast pigs, taro, and bread-fruit, and ply me with plantains, plums, potatoes, and cocoa-nuts, while I related to him and Jack the terrible and wonderful adventures I had gone through since we last met. After I had finished the account, they made me go all over it again; and, when I had concluded the second recital, I had to go over it again, while they commented upon it piecemeal. They were much affected by what I told them of the probable fate of Avatea, and Peterkin could by no means brook the idea of the poor girl being converted into a LONG PIG! As for Jack, he clenched his teeth, and shook his fist towards the sea, saying at the same time, that he was sorry he had not broken Tararo’s head, and he only hoped that one day he should be able to plant his knuckles on the bridge of that chief’s nose! After they had “pumped me dry,” as Peterkin said, I begged to be informed of what had happened to them during my long absence, and particularly as to how they got out of the Diamond Cave.

“Well, you must know,” began Jack, “after you had dived out of the cave, on the day you were taken away from us, we waited very patiently for half an hour, not expecting you to return before the end of that time. Then we began to upbraid you for staying so long, when you knew we would be anxious; but when an hour passed, we became alarmed, and I resolved at all hazards to dive out, and see what had become of you, although I felt for poor Peterkin, because, as he truly said, ‘If you never come back, I’m shut up here for life.’ However, I promised not to run any risk, and he let me go; which, to say truth, I thought very courageous of him!”

“I should just think it was!” interrupted Peterkin, looking at Jack over the edge of a monstrous potato which he happened to be devouring at the time.

“Well,” continued Jack, “you may guess my consternation when you did not answer to my halloo. At first I imagined that the pirates must have killed you, and left you in the bush, or thrown you into the sea; then it occurred to me that this would have served no end of theirs, so I came to the conclusion that they must have carried you away with them. As this thought struck me, I observed the pirate schooner standing away to the nor’ard, almost hull-down on the horizon, and I sat down on the rocks to watch her as she slowly sank from my sight. And I tell you, Ralph, my boy, that I shed more tears that time, at losing you, than I have done, I verify believe, all my life before – “

“Pardon me, Jack, for interrupting,” said Peterkin; “surely you must be mistaken in that; you’ve often told me that, when you were a baby, you used to howl and roar from morning to – “

“Hold your tongue, Peterkin,” cried Jack. “Well, after the schooner had disappeared, I dived back into the cave, much to Peterkin’s relief, and told him what I had seen. We sat down and had a long talk over this matter, and then we agreed to make a regular, systematic search through the woods, so as to make sure, at least, that you had not been killed. But now we thought of the difficulty of getting out of the cave without your help. Peterkin became dreadfully nervous when he thought of this; and I must confess that I felt some alarm, for, of course, I could not hope alone to take him out so quickly as we two together had brought him in; and he himself vowed that, if we had been a moment longer with him that time, he would have had to take a breath of salt water. However, there was no help for it, and I endeavoured to calm his fears as well as I could: ‘for,’ said I, ‘you can’t live here, Peterkin;’ to which he replied, ‘Of course not, Jack, I can only die here, and, as that’s not at all desirable, you had better propose something.’ So I suggested that he should take a good long breath, and trust himself to me.

“‘Might we not make a large bag of cocoa-nut cloth, into which I could shove my head, and tie it tight round my neck?’ he asked, with a haggard smile. ‘It might let me get one breath under water!’

“‘No use,’ said I; ‘it would fill in a moment and suffocate you. I see nothing for it, Peterkin, if you really can’t keep your breath so long, but to let me knock you down, and carry you out while in a state of insensibility.’

“But Peterkin didn’t relish this idea. He seemed to fear that I could not be able to measure the exact force of the blow, and might, on the one hand, hit him so softly as to render a second or third blow necessary, which would be very uncomfortable; or, on the other hand, give him such a smash as would entirely spoil his figure-head, or, mayhap, knock the life out of him altogether! At last I got him persuaded to try to hold his breath, and commit himself to me; so he agreed, and down we went. But I had not got him half way through, when he began to struggle and kick like a wild bull, burst from my grasp, and hit against the roof of the tunnel. I was therefore, obliged to force him violently back into the cave gain, where he rose panting to the surface. In short, he had lost his presence of mind, and – “

“Nothing of the sort,” cried Peterkin, indignantly, “I had only lost my wind; and if I had not had presence of mind enough to kick as I did, I should have bu’st in your arms!”

“Well, well, so be it,” resumed Jack, with a smile, “but the upshot of it was, that we had to hold another consultation on the point, and I really believe that, had it not been for a happy thought of mine, we should have been consulting there yet.”

“I wish we had,” again interrupted Peterkin with a sigh. “I’m sure, Ralph, if I had thought that you were coming back again, I would willingly have awaited your return for months, rather than have endured the mental agony which I went through! But proceed.”

“The thought was this,” continued Jack, “that I should tie Peterkin’s hands and feet with cords, and then lash him firmly to a stout pole about five feet long, in order to render him quite powerless, and keep him straight and stiff. You should have seen his face of horror, Ralph, when I suggested this: but he came to see that it was his only chance, and told me to set about it as fast as I could; ‘for,’ said he, ‘this is no jokin’, Jack, I can tell you, and the sooner it’s done the better.’ I soon procured the cordage and a suitable pole, with which I returned to the cave, and lashed him as stiff and straight as an Egyptian mummy; and, to say truth, he was no bad representation of what an English mummy would be, if there were such things, for he was as white as a dead man.”

“‘Now,’ said Peterkin, in a tremulous voice, ‘swim with me as near to the edge of the hole as you can before you dive, then let me take a long breath, and, as I sha’nt be able to speak after I’ve taken it, you’ll watch my face, and the moment you see me wink – dive! And oh!’ he added, earnestly, ‘pray don’t be long!’

“I promised to pay the strictest attention to his wishes, and swam with him to the outlet of the cave. Here I paused. ‘Now then,’ said I, ‘pull away at the wind, lad.'”

Peterkin drew in a breath so long that I could not help thinking of the frog in the fable, that wanted to swell itself as big as the ox. Then I looked into his face earnestly. Slap went the lid of his right eye; down went my head, and up went my heels. We shot through the passage like an arrow, and rose to the surface of the open sea before you could count twenty!

“Peterkin had taken in such an awful load of wind that, on reaching the free air, he let it out with a yell loud enough to have been heard a mile off, and then, the change in his feelings was so sudden and great, that he did not wait till we landed, but began, tied up as he was, to shout and sing for joy as I supported him with my left arm to the shore. However, in the middle of a laugh that a hyaena might have envied, I let him accidentally slip, which extinguished him in a moment.

“After this happy deliverance, we immediately began our search for your dead body, Ralph, and you have no idea how low our hearts sank as we set off, day after day, to examine the valleys and mountain sides with the utmost care. In about three weeks we completed the survey of the whole island, and had at least the satisfaction of knowing that you had not been killed. But it occurred to us that you might have been thrown into the sea, so we examined the sands and the lagoon carefully, and afterwards went all round the outer reef. One day, while we were upon the reef, Peterkin espied a small dark object lying among the rocks, which seemed to be quite different from the surrounding stones. We hastened towards the spot, and found it to be a small keg. On knocking out the head we discovered that it was gunpowder.”

“It was I who sent you that, Jack,” said I, with a smile.

“Fork out!” cried Peterkin, energetically, starting to his feet and extending his open hand to Jack. “Down with the money, sir, else I’ll have you shut up for life in a debtor’s prison the moment we return to England!”

“I’ll give you an I.O.U. in the meantime,” returned Jack, laughing, “so sit down and be quiet. The fact is, Ralph, when we discovered this keg of powder, Peterkin immediately took me a bet of a thousand pounds that you had something to do with it, and I took him a bet of ten thousand that you had not.

“Peterkin was right then,” said I, explaining how the thing had occurred.

“Well, we found it very useful,” continued Jack; “although some of it had got a little damp; and we furbished up the old pistol, with which Peterkin is a crack shot now. But, to continue. We did not find any other vestige of you on the reef, and, finally, gave up all hope of ever seeing you again. After this the island became a dreary place to us, and we began to long for a ship to heave in sight and take us off. But now that you’re back again, my dear fellow, it looks as bright and cheerful as it used to do, and I love it as much as ever.”

“And now,” continued Jack, “I have a great desire to visit some of the other islands of the South Seas. Here we have a first-rate schooner at our disposal, so I don’t see what should hinder us.”

“Just the very thing I was going to propose,” cried Peterkin; “I vote for starting at once.”

“Well, then,” said Jack, “it seems to me that we could not do better than shape our course for the island on which Avatea lives, and endeavour to persuade Tararo to let her marry the black fellow to whom she is engaged, instead of making a long pig of her. If he has a spark of gratitude in him he’ll do it. Besides, having become champions for this girl once before, it behoves us, as true knights, not to rest until we set her free; at least, all the heroes in all the story-books I have ever read would count it foul disgrace to leave such a work unfinished.”

“I’m sure I don’t know, or care, what your knights in story-books would do,” said Peterkin, “but I’m certain that it would be capital fun, so I’m your man whenever you want me.”

This plan of Jack’s was quite in accordance with his romantic, impulsive nature; and, having made up his mind to save this black girl, he could not rest until the thing was commenced.

“But there may be great danger in this attempt,” he said, at the end of a long consultation on the subject; “will you, lads, go with me in spite of this?”

“Go with you?” we repeated in the same breath.

“Can you doubt it?” said I.

“For a moment,” added Peterkin.

I need scarcely say that, having made up our minds to go on this enterprise, we lost no time in making preparations to quit the island; and as the schooner was well laden with stores of every kind for a long cruise, we had little to do except to add to our abundant supply a quantity of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruit, taro, yams, plums, and potatoes, chiefly with the view of carrying the fragrance of our dear island along with us as long as we could.

When all was ready, we paid a farewell visit to the different familiar spots where most of our time had been spent. We ascended the mountain top, and gazed for the last time at the rich green foliage in the valleys, the white sandy beach, the placid lagoon, and the barrier coral-reef with its crested breakers. Then we descended to Spouting Cliff, and looked down at the pale-green monster which we had made such fruitless efforts to spear in days gone by. From this we hurried to the Water Garden and took a last dive into its clear waters, and a last gambol amongst its coral groves. I hurried out before my companions, and dressed in haste, in order to have a long examination of my tank, which Peterkin, in the fulness of his heart, had tended with the utmost care, as being a vivid remembrancer of me, rather than out of love for natural history. It was in superb condition; – the water as clear and pellucid as crystal; the red and green sea-weed of the most brilliant hues; the red, purple, yellow, green, and striped anemones fully expanded, and stretching out their arms as if to welcome and embrace their former master; the starfish, zoophytes, sea-pens, and other innumerable marine insects, looking fresh and beautiful; and the crabs, as Peterkin said, looking as wide awake, impertinent, rampant, and pugnacious as ever. It was indeed so lovely and so interesting that I would scarcely allow myself to be torn away from it.

Last of all, we returned to the bower and collected the few articles we possessed, such as the axe, the pencil-case, the broken telescope, the pen-knife, the hook made from the brass ring, and the sail-needle, with which we had landed on the island; – also, the long boots and the pistol, besides several curious articles of costume which we had manufactured from time to time.

These we conveyed on board in our little boat, after having carved our names on a chip of iron-wood, thus:-

JACK MARTIN,
RALPH ROVER,
PETERKIN GAY,

which we fixed up inside of the bower. The boat was then hoisted on board and the anchor weighed; which latter operation cost us great labour and much time, as the anchor was so heavy that we could not move it without the aid of my complex machinery of blocks and pulleys. A steady breeze was blowing off shore when we set sail, at a little before sunset. It swept us quickly past the reef and out to sea. The shore grew rapidly more indistinct as the shades of evening fell, while our clipper bark bounded lightly over the waves. Slowly the mountain top sank on the horizon, until it became a mere speck. In another moment the sun and the Coral Island sank together into the broad bosom of the Pacific.

CHAPTER XXX.

The voyage – The island, and a consultation in which danger is scouted as a thing unworthy of consideration – Rats and cats – The native teacher – Awful revelations – Wonderful effects of Christianity.

OUR voyage during the next two weeks was most interesting and prosperous. The breeze continued generally fair, and at all times enabled us to lie our course; for being, as I have said before, clipper-built, the pirate schooner could lie very close to the wind, and made little lee-way. We had no difficulty now in managing our sails, for Jack was heavy and powerful, while Peterkin was active as a kitten. Still, however, we were a very insufficient crew for such a vessel, and if any one had proposed to us to make such a voyage in it before we had been forced to go through so many hardships from necessity, we would have turned away with pity from the individual making such proposal as from a madman. I pondered this a good deal, and at last concluded that men do not know how much they are capable of doing till they try, and that we should never give way to despair in any undertaking, however difficult it may seem:- always supposing, however, that our cause is a good one, and that we can ask the divine blessing on it.

Although, therefore, we could now manage our sails easily, we nevertheless found that my pulleys were of much service to us in some things; though Jack did laugh heartily at the uncouth arrangement of ropes and blocks, which had, to a sailor’s eye, a very lumbering and clumsy appearance. But I will not drag my reader through the details of this voyage. Suffice it to say, that, after an agreeable sail of about three weeks, we arrived off the island of Mango, which I recognised at once from the description that the pirate, Bill, had given me of it during one of our conversations.

As soon as we came within sight of it we hove the ship to, and held a council of war.

“Now, boys,” said Jack, as we seated ourselves beside him on the cabin sky-light, “before we go farther in this business, we must go over the pros and cons of it; for, although you have so generously consented to stick by me through thick and thin, it would be unfair did I not see that you thoroughly understand the danger of what we are about to attempt.”

“Oh! bother the danger,” cried Peterkin; “I wonder to hear YOU, Jack, talk of danger. When a fellow begins to talk about it, he’ll soon come to magnify it to such a degree that he’ll not be fit to face it when it comes, no more than a suckin’ baby!”

“Nay, Peterkin,” replied Jack, gravely, “I won’t be jested out of it. I grant you, that, when we’ve once resolved to act, and have made up our minds what to do, we should think no more of danger. But, before we have so resolved, it behoves us to look at it straight in the face, and examine into it, and walk round it; for if we flinch at a distant view, we’re sure to run away when the danger is near. Now, I understand from you, Ralph, that the island is inhabited by thorough-going, out-and-out cannibals, whose principal law is – ‘Might is right, and the weakest goes to the wall?'”

“Yes,” said I, “so Bill gave me to understand. He told me, however, that, at the southern side of it, the missionaries had obtained a footing amongst an insignificant tribe. A native teacher had been sent there by the Wesleyans, who had succeeded in persuading the chief at that part to embrace Christianity. But instead of that being of any advantage to our enterprise, it seems the very reverse; for the chief Tararo is a determined heathen, and persecutes the Christians, – who are far too weak in numbers to offer any resistance, – and looks with dislike upon all white men, whom he regards as propagators of the new faith.”

“‘Tis a pity,” said Jack, “that the Christian tribe is so small, for we shall scarcely be safe under their protection, I fear. If Tararo takes it into his head to wish for our vessel, or to kill ourselves, he could take us from them by force. You say that the native missionary talks English?”

“So I believe.”

“Then, what I propose is this,” said Jack: “We will run round to the south side of the island, and cut anchor off the Christian village. We are too far away just now to have been descried by any of the savages, so we shall get there unobserved, and have time to arrange our plans before the heathen tribes know of our presence. But, in doing this, we run the risk of being captured by the ill- disposed tribes, and being very ill used, if not – a – “

“Roasted alive and eaten,” cried Peterkin. “Come, out with it, Jack; according to your own showing, it’s well to look the danger straight in the face!”

“Well, that is the worst of it, certainly. Are you prepared, then, to take your chance of that?”

“I’ve been prepared and had my mind made up long ago,” cried Peterkin, swaggering about the deck with his hands thrust into his breeches’ pockets. “The fact is, Jack, I don’t believe that Tararo will be so ungrateful as to eat us; and I’m, quite sure that he’ll be too happy to grant us whatever we ask: so the sooner we go in and win the better.”

Peterkin was wrong, however, in his estimate of savage gratitude, as the sequel will show.

The schooner was now put before the wind, and, after making a long run to the south’ard, we put about and beat up for the south side of Mango, where we arrived before sunset, and hove-to off the coral reef. Here we awaited the arrival of a canoe, which immediately put off on our rounding to. When it arrived, a mild-looking native, of apparently forty years of age, came on board, and, taking off his straw hat, made us a low bow. He was clad in a respectable suit of European clothes; and the first words he uttered, as he stepped up to Jack and shook hands with him, were, –

“Good day, gentlemen; we are happy to see you at Mango – you are heartily welcome.”

After returning his salutation, Jack exclaimed, “You must be the native missionary teacher of whom I have heard – are you not?”

“I am. I have the joy to be a servant of the Lord Jesus at this station.”

“You’re the very man I want to see, then,” replied Jack; “that’s lucky. Come down to the cabin, friend, and have a glass of wine. I wish particularly to speak with you. My men there” (pointing to Peterkin and me) “will look after your people.”

“Thank you,” said the teacher, as he followed Jack to the cabin, “I do not drink wine or any strong drink.”

“Oh! then, there’s lots of water, and you can have biscuit.”

“Now, ‘pon my word, that’s cool!” said Peterkin; “his MEN, forsooth! Well, since we are to be men, we may as well come it as strong over these black chaps as we can. Hallo, there!” he cried to the half dozen of natives who stood upon the deck, gazing in wonder at all they saw, “here’s for you;” and he handed them a tray of broken biscuit and a can of water. Then, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked up and down the deck with an enormous swagger, whistling vociferously.

In about half an hour Jack and the teacher came on deck, and the latter, bidding us a cheerful good evening, entered his canoe and paddled to the shore. When he was gone, Peterkin stepped up to Jack, and, touching his cap, said, –

“Well, captain, have you any communications to make to your MEN?”

“Yes,” cried Jack; “ready about, mind the helm and clew up your tongue, while I con the schooner through the passage in the reef. The teacher, who seems a first-rate fellow, says it’s quite deep, and good anchorage within the lagoon close to the shore.”

While the vessel was slowly advancing to her anchorage, under a light breeze, Jack explained to us that Avatea was still on the island, living amongst the heathens; that she had expressed a strong desire to join the Christians, but Tararo would not let her, and kept her constantly in close confinement.

“Moreover,” continued Jack, “I find that she belongs to one of the Samoan Islands, where Christianity had been introduced long before her capture by the heathens of a neighbouring island; and the very day after she was taken, she was to have joined the church which had been planted there by that excellent body, the London Missionary Society. The teacher tells me, too, that the poor girl has fallen in love with a Christian chief, who lives on an island some fifty miles or so to the south of this one, and that she is meditating a desperate attempt at escape. So, you see, we have come in the nick of time. I fancy that this chief is the fellow whom you heard of, Ralph, at the Island of Emo. Besides all this, the heathen savages are at war among themselves, and there’s to be a battle fought the day after to-morrow, in which the principal leader is Tararo; so that we’ll not be able to commence our negotiations with the rascally chief till the day after.”

The village off which we anchored was beautifully situated at the head of a small bay, from the margin of which trees of every description peculiar to the tropics rose in the richest luxuriance to the summit of a hilly ridge, which was the line of demarcation between the possessions of the Christians and those of the neighbouring heathen chief.

The site of the settlement was an extensive plot of flat land, stretching in a gentle slope from the sea to the mountain. The cottages stood several hundred yards from the beach, and were protected from the glare of the sea by the rich foliage of rows of large Barringtonia and other trees, which girt the shore. The village was about a mile in length, and perfectly straight, with a wide road down the middle, on either side of which were rows of the tufted-topped ti tree, whose delicate and beautiful blossoms, hanging beneath their plume-crested tops, added richness to the scene. The cottages of the natives were built beneath these trees, and were kept in the most excellent order, each having a little garden in front, tastefully laid out and planted, while the walks were covered with black and white pebbles.

Every house had doors and Venetian windows, painted partly with lamp black made from the candle-nut, and partly with red ochre, which contrasted powerfully with the dazzling coral lime that covered the walls. On a prominent position stood a handsome church, which was quite a curiosity in its way. It was a hundred feet long by fifty broad, and was seated throughout to accommodate upwards of two thousand persons. It had six large folding doors and twelve windows with Venetian blinds; and, although a large and substantial edifice, it had been built, we were told by the teacher, in the space of two months! There was not a single iron nail in the fabric, and the natives had constructed it chiefly with their stone and bone axes and other tools, having only one or two axes or tools of European manufacture. Everything around this beautiful spot wore an aspect of peace and plenty, and, as we dropped our anchor within a stone’s cast of the substantial coral wharf, I could not avoid contrasting it with the wretched village of Emo, where I had witnessed so many frightful scenes. When the teacher afterwards told me that the people of this tribe had become converts only a year previous to our arrival, and that they had been living before that in the practice of the most bloody system of idolatry, I could not refrain from exclaiming, “What a convincing proof that Christianity is of God!”

On landing from our little boat, we were received with a warm welcome by the teacher and his wife; the latter being also a native, clothed in a simple European gown and straw bonnet. The shore was lined with hundreds of natives, whose persons were all more or less clothed with native cloth. Some of the men had on a kind of poncho formed of this cloth, their legs being uncovered. Others wore clumsily-fashioned trousers, and no upper garment except hats made of straw and cloth. Many of the dresses, both of women and men, were grotesque enough, being very bad imitations of the European garb; but all wore a dress of some sort or other. They seemed very glad to see us, and crowded round us as the teacher led the way to his dwelling, where we were entertained, in the most sumptuous manner, on baked pig and all the varieties of fruits and vegetables that the island produced. We were much annoyed, however, by the rats: they seemed to run about the house like domestic animals. As we sat at table, one of them peeped up at us over the edge of the cloth, close to Peterkin’s elbow, who floored it with a blow on the snout from his knife, exclaiming as he did so –

“I say, Mister Teacher, why don’t you set traps for these brutes? – surely you are not fond of them!”

“No,” replied the teacher, with a smile; “we would be glad to get rid of them if we could; but if we were to trap all the rats on the island, it would occupy our whole time.”

“Are they, then, so numerous?” inquired Jack.

“They swarm everywhere. The poor heathens on the north side eat them, and think them very sweet. So did my people formerly; but they do not eat so many now, because the missionary who was last here expressed disgust at it. The poor people asked if it was wrong to eat rats; and he told them that it was certainly not wrong, but that the people of England would be much disgusted were they asked to eat rats.”

We had not been an hour in the house of this kind-hearted man when we were convinced of the truth of his statement as to their numbers, for the rats ran about the floors in dozens, and, during our meal, two men were stationed at the table to keep them off!

“What a pity you have no cats,” said Peterkin, as he aimed a blow at another reckless intruder, and missed it.

“We would, indeed, be glad to have a few,” rejoined the teacher, “but they are difficult to be got. The hogs, we find, are very good rat-killers, but they do not seem to be able to keep the numbers down. I have heard that they are better than cats.”

As the teacher said this, his good-natured black face was wrinkled with a smile of merriment. Observing that I had noticed it, he said:-

“I smiled just now when I remembered the fate of the first cat that was taken to Raratonga. This is one of the stations of the London Missionary Society. It, like our own, is infested with rats, and a cat was brought at last to the island. It was a large black one. On being turned loose, instead of being content to stay among men, the cat took to the mountains, and lived in a wild state, sometimes paying visits during the night to the houses of the natives; some of whom, living at a distance from the settlement, had not heard of the cat’s arrival, and were dreadfully frightened in consequence, calling it a ‘monster of the deep,’ and flying in terror away from it. One night the cat, feeling a desire for company, I suppose, took its way to the house of a chief, who had recently been converted to Christianity, and had begun to learn to read and pray. The chief’s wife, who was sitting awake at his side while he slept, beheld with horror two fires glistening in the doorway, and heard with surprise a mysterious voice. Almost petrified with fear, she awoke her husband, and began to upbraid him for forsaking his old religion, and burning his god, who, she declared, was now come to be avenged of them. ‘Get up and pray! get up and pray!’ she cried. The chief arose, and, on opening his eyes, beheld the same glaring lights, and heard the same ominous sound. Impelled by the extreme urgency of the case, he commenced, with all possible vehemence, to vociferate the alphabet, as a prayer to God to deliver them from the vengeance of Satan! On hearing this, the cat, as much alarmed as themselves, fled precipitately away, leaving the chief and his wife congratulating themselves on the efficacy of their prayer.”

We were much diverted with this anecdote, which the teacher related in English so good, that we certainly could not have supposed him a native but for the colour of his face and the foreign accent in his tone. Next day we walked out with this interesting man, and were much entertained and instructed by his conversation, as we rambled through the cool shady groves of bananas, citrons, limes, and other trees, or sauntered among the cottages of the natives, and watched them while they laboured diligently in the taro beds, or manufactured the tapa or native cloth. To some of these Jack put questions through the medium of the missionary; and the replies were such as to surprise us at the extent of their knowledge. Indeed, Peterkin very truly remarked that “they seemed to know a considerable deal more than Jack himself!”

Among other pieces of interesting information that we obtained was the following, in regard to coral formations:-

“The islands of the Pacific,” said our friend, “are of three different kinds or classes. Those of the first class are volcanic, mountainous, and wild; some shooting their jagged peaks into the clouds at an elevation of ten and fifteen thousand feet. Those of the second class are of crystalized limestone, and vary in height from one hundred to five hundred feet. The hills on these are not so wild or broken as those of the first class, but are richly clothed with vegetation, and very beautiful. I have no doubt that the Coral Island on which you were wrecked was one of this class. They are supposed to have been upheaved from the bottom of the sea by volcanic agency, but they are not themselves volcanic in their nature, neither are they of coral formation. Those of the third class are the low coralline islands usually having lagoons of water in their midst; they are very numerous.

“As to the manner in which coral islands and reefs are formed; there are various opinions on this point. I will give you what seems to me the most probable theory, – a theory, I may add, which is held by some of the good and scientific missionaries. It is well known that there is much lime in salt water; it is also known that coral is composed of lime. It is supposed that the polypes, or coral insects, have the power of attracting this lime to their bodies; and with this material they build their little cells or habitations. They choose the summit of a volcano, or the top of a submarine mountain, as a foundation on which to build; for it is found that they never work at any great depth below the surface. On this they work; the polypes on the mountain top, of course, reach the surface first, then those at the outer edges reach the top sooner than the others between them and the centre, thus forming the coral reef surrounding the lagoon of water and the central island; after that the insects within the lagoon cease working. When the surface of the water is reached, these myriads of wonderful creatures die. Then birds visit the spot, and seeds are thus conveyed thither, which take root, and spring up, and flourish. Thus are commenced those coralline islets of which you have seen so many in these seas. The reefs round the large islands are formed in a similar manner. When we consider,” added the missionary, “the smallness of the architects used by our heavenly Father in order to form those lovely and innumerable islands, we are filled with much of that feeling which induced the ancient king to exclaim, ‘How manifold, O God, are thy works! in wisdom thou hast made them all.'”

We all heartily agreed with the missionary in this sentiment, and felt not a little gratified to find that the opinions which Jack and I had been led to form from personal observation on our Coral Island were thus to a great extent corroborated.

The missionary also gave us an account of the manner in which Christianity had been introduced among them. He said: “When missionaries were first sent here, three years ago, a small vessel brought them; and the chief, who is now dead, promised to treat well the two native teachers who were left with their wives on the island. But scarcely had the boat which landed them returned to the ship, than the natives began to maltreat their guests, taking away all they possessed, and offering them further violence, so that, when the boat was sent in haste to fetch them away, the clothes of both men and women were torn nearly off their backs.

“Two years after this the vessel visited them again, and I, being in her, volunteered to land alone, without any goods whatever; begging that my wife might be brought to me the following year, – that is, THIS year; and, as you see, she is with me. But the surf was so high that the boat could not land me; so with nothing on but my trousers and shirt, and with a few catechisms and a Bible, besides some portions of the Scripture translated into the Mango tongue, I sprang into the sea, and swam ashore on the crest of a breaker. I was instantly dragged up the beach by the natives; who, on finding I had nothing worth having upon me, let me alone. I then made signs to my friends in the ship to leave me; which they did. At fist the natives listened to me in silence, but laughed at what I said while I preached the gospel of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ to them. Afterwards they treated me ill sometimes; but I persevered, and continued to dwell among them, and dispute, and exhort them to give up their sinful ways of life, burn their idols, and come to Jesus.

“About a month after I landed, I heard that the chief was dead. He was the father of the present chief, who is now a most consistent member of the church. It is a custom here that, when a chief dies, his wives are strangled and buried with him. Knowing this, I hastened to his house to endeavour to prevent such cruelty if possible. When I arrived, I found two of the wives had already been killed, while another was in the act of being strangled. I pleaded hard for her, but it was too late; she was already dead. I then entreated the son to spare the fourth wife; and, after much hesitation, my prayer was granted: but, in half an hour afterwards, this poor woman repented of being unfaithful, as she termed it, to her husband, and insisted on being strangled; which was accordingly done.

“All this time the chief’s son was walking up and down before his father’s house with a brow black as thunder. When he entered, I went in with him, and found, to my surprise, that his father was not dead! The old man was sitting on a mat in a corner, with an expression of placid resignation on his face.

“‘Why,’ said I, ‘have you strangled your father’s wives before he is dead?’

“To this the son replied, ‘He is dead. That is no longer my father. He is as good as dead now. He is to be BURIED ALIVE.’

“I now remembered having heard that it is a custom among the Feejee islanders, that when the reigning chief grows old or infirm, the heir to the chieftainship has a right to depose his father; in which case he is considered as dead, and is buried alive. The young chief was now about to follow this custom, and, despite my earnest entreaties and pleadings, the old chief was buried that day before my eyes in the same grave with his four strangled wives! Oh! my heart groaned when I saw this, and I prayed to God to open the hearts of these poor creatures, as he had already opened mine, and pour into them the light and the love of the gospel of Jesus. My prayer was answered very soon. A week afterwards, the son, who was now chief of the tribe, came to me, bearing his god on his shoulders, and groaning beneath its weight. Flinging it down at my feet, he desired me to burn it!

“You may conceive how overjoyed I was at this. I sprang up and embraced him, while I shed tears of joy. Then we made a fire, and burned the god to ashes, amid an immense concourse of the people, who seemed terrified at what was being done, and shrank back when we burned the god, expecting some signal vengeance to be taken upon us; but seeing that nothing happened, they changed their minds, and thought that our God must be the true one after all. From that time the mission prospered steadily, and now, while there is not a single man in the tribe who has not burned his household gods, and become a convert to Christianity, there are not a few, I hope, who are true followers of the Lamb, having been plucked as brands from the burning by Him who can save unto the uttermost. I will not tell you more of our progress at this time, but you see,” he said, waving his hand around him, “the village and the church did not exist a year ago!”

We were indeed much interested in this account, and I could not help again in my heart praying God to prosper those missionary societies that send such inestimable blessings to these islands of dark and bloody idolatry. The teacher also added that the other tribes were very indignant at this one for having burned its gods, and threatened to destroy it altogether, but they had done nothing yet; “and if they should,” said the teacher, “the Lord is on our side; of whom shall we be afraid?”

“Have the missionaries many stations in these seas?” inquired Jack.

“Oh, yes. The London Missionary Society have a great many in the Tahiti group, and other islands in that quarter. Then the Wesleyans have the Feejee Islands all to themselves, and the Americans have many stations in other groups. But still, my friend, there are hundreds of islands here the natives of which have never heard of Jesus, or the good word of God, or the Holy Spirit; and thousands are living and dying in the practice of those terrible sins and bloody murders of which you have already heard. I trust, my friends,” he added, looking earnestly into our faces, “I trust that if you ever return to England, you will tell your Christian friends that the horrors which they hear of in regard to these islands are LITERALLY TRUE, and that when they have heard the worst, the ‘HALF HAS NOT BEEN TOLD THEM;’ for there are perpetrated here foul deeds of darkness of which man may not speak. You may also tell them,” he said, looking around with a smile, while a tear of gratitude trembled in his eye and rolled down his coal-black cheek, – “tell them of the blessings that the gospel has wrought HERE!”

We assured our friend that we would certainly not forget his request. On returning towards the village, about noon, we remarked on the beautiful whiteness of the cottages.

“That is owing to the lime with which they are plastered,” said the teacher. “When the natives were converted, as I have described, I set them to work to build cottages for themselves, and also this handsome church which you see. When the framework and other parts of the houses were up, I sent the people to fetch coral from the sea. They brought immense quantities. Then I made them cut wood, and, piling the coral above it, set it on fire.

“‘Look! look!’ cried the poor people, in amazement; ‘what wonderful people the Christians are! He is roasting stones. We shall not need taro or bread-fruit any more; we may eat stones!’

“But their surprise was still greater when the coral was reduced to a fine soft white powder. They immediately set up a great shout, and, mingling the lime with water, rubbed their faces and their bodies all over with it, and ran through the village screaming with delight. They were also much surprised at another thing they saw me do. I wished to make some household furniture, and constructed a turning-lathe to assist me. The first thing that I turned was the leg of a sofa; which was no sooner finished than the chief seized it with wonder and delight, and ran through the village exhibiting it to the people, who looked upon it with great admiration. The chief then, tying a string to it, hung it round his neck as an ornament! He afterwards told me that if he had seen it before he became a Christian he would have made it his god!”

As the teacher concluded this anecdote we reached his door. Saying that he had business to attend to, he left us to amuse ourselves as we best could.

“Now, lads,” said Jack, turning abruptly towards us, and buttoning up his jacket as he spoke, “I’m off to see the battle. I’ve no particular fondness for seein’ blood-shed, but I must find out the nature o’ these fellows and see their customs with my own eyes, so that I may be able to speak of it again, if need be, authoritatively. It’s only six miles off, and we don’t run much more risk than that of getting a rap with a stray stone or an over- shot arrow. Will you go?”

“To be sure we will,” said Peterkin.

“If they chance to see us we’ll cut and run for it,” added Jack.

“Dear me!” cried Peterkin, – “YOU run! thought you would scorn to run from any one.”

“So I would, if it were my duty to fight,” returned Jack, coolly; “but as I don’t want to fight, and don’t intend to fight, if they offer to attack us I’ll run away like the veriest coward that ever went by the name of Peterkin. So come along.”

CHAPTER XXXI.

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 MELEE, 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 women 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 Bure, 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 eye-balls 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 gray 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 frame-work 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 frame-work 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 XXXII.

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 chiefs 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 is even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge.”

Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. “Tell Tararo,” he exclaimed with 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 the 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 balk 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, “I can fight 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 insure 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 toward 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 Tararo MUST fulfil 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 cast-away 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 of ONE who 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 detour, 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 am 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 on board the schooner with muffled oars – Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

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 a-shore 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 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.

Quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the over-hanging 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 rollicks 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 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 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 victual 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 wakened 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 gray 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 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