Читать книгу A Bounty Boy - Frank Thomas Bullen - Страница 6

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Happy, says the proverb, is the nation that has no history. And since history is so largely made up of the unspeakable horrors of war with all its attendant retinue of resultant miseries, there would really seem to be more truth in this proverb than in most. Yet it must not be forgotten that, surfeited as we are with tales wherein all those things that make life a burden almost too grievous to be borne are set forth in hideous detail, it is no easy task to make a peaceful narrative interesting nowadays. As difficult as to wean the epicure’s palate from highly seasoned and mysteriously concocted dishes back to the simple luxuries of childhood.

Nevertheless it is an inestimable privilege to be allowed to try, and I do hope to show that these simple happy folk possessed the true grit and manliness that all must admire while being totally free from that whining hypocrisy and hateful assumption of spurious virtue that makes the world generally disgusted with so many professed religionists. And here let me say that these happy islanders were what they were from love of the infinitely good and in no wise from the fear of a punishing hell too terrible even to be thought of by their simple trustful minds.

Very early the next morning, Grace, in perfect health and strength, and in accordance with time-honoured custom, took her babe down to the sea and bathed him in those waters which henceforth would be as familiar to him as the dry land. And as she laved his tiny limbs in the shining waves, she noted with swelling heart how strongly and sturdily he kicked, and she longed to take him in her arms and plunge into deep water at once. But she realized that so severe an ordeal could not be good for him, and although she sorely missed her morning swim, was about to return when she heard her husband’s voice behind her.

“Give him to me, Grace,” he cried.

“Thank you, dear,” she replied, and laying the babe in his strong arms, she turned back and sprang joyously into the sea, plunging and flashing through the surf like a fish or a seal in the perfect abandonment of delight that these children of the wave know when in the element they love so well. Prudence restrained her from going too far yet, so in a few minutes she returned, and taking the crowing babe from Philip she sat sedately down upon a fallen tree trunk and watched her mighty husband as he in turn hurled himself through the surf and sported like a porpoise. His bath over, they returned to their home and breakfasted as they had supped, simply and heartily, and then, leaving Grace to receive the visits of matrons and maidens who would presently come trooping along, he departed to his work of cultivating their tiny fields.

But it was ordained that on this eventful day he was not to remain long at that peaceful task. He had not been thus engaged for more than an hour when a long-drawn cry arrested his attention and caused him to drop the tool he was using. It was the signal, well known to them all, that whales were coming close in; the watcher on a high overhanging cliff had spied them and sent his powerful voice ringing across the settlement, from which came hurrying an eager company ready for the great combat with the monsters of the deep. They gathered round the boats where, carefully covered in against the fervent heat of the sun, these precious craft lay waiting with all the gear, harpoons, lances, lines, etc., neatly stored in a shed by their sides.

Swiftly and with hardly a word their boats were equipped, the necessary preparations made, and in less than half an hour from the first sounding of the alarm the two boats, with six men in each, were launched and springing seaward under the pressure of five long ash oars wielded by men who were almost insensible to fatigue and whose rowing was a wonder and a delight to behold.

The watcher on the cliff guided them by means of well understood signs, that is, he made a human semaphore of himself, for it is not until very near to whales that men in boats can see them, and moreover the sperm whale does not send aloft a high column of vapour into the air as do other whales. His breathings are copious, but owing to the shape and position of the spiracle or blow-hole, the thick, highly charged breath spreads itself in a cloud immediately upon leaving his body. And that cloud does not ascend, it is thrust forward ahead of the whale, and being heavier than the air only spreads and gradually settles.

So guided by the look-out man, they laid to their oars with great energy, pulling with a peculiarly noiseless stroke. The blades entered the water cleanly and gripped it so firmly that the tough ash of the looms bent like the lower half of a fishing-rod when catching tarpon. There was no noise either from the rowlocks, for they were padded with thick mats covered with green hide and kept well greased. This great care to preserve silence is absolutely necessary, for although as far as we can tell the sperm whale has little or no sense of hearing as we understand it, he is peculiarly susceptible to strange sounds, and the accidental clatter of an oar on a gunwale is quite sufficient to alarm a school of whales at over a mile’s distance. What this other sense which answers the purpose of sight, scent, and hearing may be we do not know, we can only imagine; like so many other matters connected with the mysterious life of the whale it is hidden from us.

For an hour they thus toiled at the oar, being by that time several miles from the land they had left, so far indeed that even their keen sight could hardly distinguish the movements of their ally on the cliff, and then at the raising of the leader’s hand they all ceased from their labour, lay on their oars and gazed keenly around. No sign of whale or spout was visible; but that only meant that it would be well to pause awhile, because the probability was that the creatures they were hunting had, according to their usual custom, sounded or gone down in quest of food.

Now as they did not know what the approximate size of the whales might be, they could only wait and watch, for small whales may only remain below from twenty minutes to half an hour, while full-sized bulls have been known to remain under water for as long as ninety minutes. Of course they kept good watch and patient withal, but when an hour had gone by and no sign came, each man felt that it was useless prolonging the quest. So they only waited now for the signal to return, being in any case too far from the land for a successful capture, that is, to get their enormous prize home, supposing they did slay one.

The signal was soon given, and without a word of regret or grumbling, the boats’ heads were turned shoreward, and with a leisurely stroke they began to retrace their way. There being no necessity now for silence, the boats’ crews, as their custom was, began to sing, raising their tuneful voices in the melodious strains of some well-known hymn, until Philip suddenly lifted his hand in an authoritative gesture, at which singing and rowing stopped simultaneously. Without a word, all eyes being fixed upon him, he pointed ahead, where within a cable’s length all saw the lazy spout of a whale, almost like a puff from a big pipe, rise from the sea.

With great care the oars were peaked, that is, the inner ends of them were drawn inboard until they could be tucked into circular cleats prepared for them, and short, broad paddles were produced, by means of which the boats were quite noiselessly propelled towards the unconscious whale. Philip, perched on a pair of cleats in the stern, guided the boat, which was well ahead of her sister, as she silently stole nearer the victim. Presently Philip swung his boat round, making the signal to the harponeer to spring to his feet with his weapon as the boat glided alongside the quiet monster. And, then to the amazement of everybody, Philip shouted, “Put that iron down, Fletcher! This whale is safe from us. Look, boys!” All hands did look, and saw that the object of their pursuit was a cow with a calf clinging to her huge breast, the nipple held in the angle of its immature jaw.

The boat lay perfectly still until the other boat came up, Philip raising his hand to warn his father that something unusual had occurred. The new-comer swung alongside as Philip had done, and all hands stared at the pretty sight. And owing to their habit of thought, every one of those strong men understood intuitively why Philip had countermanded the attack, and not at all considering the loss to themselves in a monetary sense, fully agreed with him. So they lay on their oars and watched the mother, as supremely happy she lolled upon the shining sea and felt her offspring draining the life-giving milk. Then suddenly turning over on the other side to present the other breast, for the young whale cannot suck under water, she became aware of the presence of intruders and sank, settled noiselessly, leaving scarcely a ripple to mark the spot where she had been.

As soon as she had disappeared Philip cried, “Out oars, boys, and let’s get home,” following up his order by breaking out into song, in which all the twelve lustily joined in perfect harmony until nearing the beach, upon which the vast rollers of the Pacific, despite the glorious weather, broke in massive rollers topped with dazzling foam. A sweep or two of the steering oars and the graceful craft swung round head to seaward, and as the mighty combers came irresistibly shoreward just a measured stroke or two was made to meet them. Then, when the boats had mounted the glowing crests of the breakers, the oars were peaked and they were borne shorewards upon the shoulders of the advancing hill of water until they touched the beach, when every man but the steersmen sprang overboard, and snatching the gunnels of the boats rushed beachwards, digging their toes into the yielding sand as the retreating wave swept past them, until it was gone and they were all high ashore.

This feat, nothing to them who practised it nearly every day of their lives, is one of the supreme tests of boatmanship and must be witnessed or taken part in to realize the resistless onrush of the roller and the no less mighty drawback when, baffled, the vast rolling mass retreats. It is a manoeuvre to try the skill and stamina of the best, and the roll of its victims is very long. I speak feelingly, for on my first encounter with this business I was as near being drowned as could be. For not realizing the danger, I too leaped out of the boat with the others, and was at once hurled seaward like a piece of drifting seaweed, dazed and helpless, buried in the heart of a wave. But my Kanaka shipmates, as much at home in that immense turmoil as if they stood on the beach, grabbed me and held me against the rush of retreating water, then hauled me to land and in rough but effectual ways restored me to the world I had so nearly quitted. That was on the steep beach of lava fragments at Sunday Island in the Kermadecs.

A throng of villagers hastened down to greet the returned adventurers, full of eager questioning and sympathy. Some of them had been on the Head with the lookout man, and had witnessed the last encounter. Of course they could not understand what had happened, but in a few words Philip explained, and when he had done so, the public endorsement of the righteousness of his action was spontaneous and complete. For, after all, to this happy community what was a trifling loss like that compared with the gain which each felt they had made in the practice of mercy, of yielding to the best and truest impulses of the heart. And so there were no sour faces, no recriminations, only the usual mutual rejoicings.

Philip only paused long enough to see his gear bestowed and then strode away through the smiling meadows to his pretty home, where he found his Grace holding quite a little Court surrounded by maidens, matrons and children; she sat upon the threshold of the house, and her friends were picturesquely disposed about her. The baby was asleep upon her lap, undisturbed by the chorus of song that was going up from that concourse of fifty persons. It was a scene to gladden the heart of a painter or poet, and if it had been possible to bring it in its entirety before any assemblage of cynics in the world, they would certainly have been unable to resist its perfect charm.

Philip’s coming was hailed with a long cry of joy, and he was immediately surrounded by a bevy of girls who pushed and pulled him into a place by the side of his wife. And there, enthroned as it were, they sat while the joyous crowd, augmented every moment until almost the whole community was present, sang and talked and sang again, offering all the love and congratulations that their hearts could feel or their lips express. The happening of the day out at sea was fully commented upon, calling forth immense manifestations of approval, for it was just the kind of thing that appealed to these gentle children of the sun, and thus the happy time wore on until the arrival of the patriarch minister who, however, wielded no priestly influence whatever.

All loved him and reverenced him for his saintly character as well as venerable age, but no one, not even the youngest, imagined that he had any prescriptive right to approach their God for them. Every one was taught as soon as able to understand that God was the all Father, Christ the near and dear brother, and to choose a go-between from men was to do dishonour to the great love manifested towards men by God, to show practical disbelief in every word set down in the New Testament for their guidance and comfort.

Therefore though all showed the deepest respect and readiest reverence to Mr. McCoy at his coming, it was a respect and reverence entirely devoid of superstition, the loving homage of children to a father, or friend to friend. They gathered round him, brought him to the seat of honour beside Philip and Grace, and then waited with intense interest for what he should say to them, knowing that he had come amongst them for that purpose.

He rose, and in trembling tones began—

“Beloved children, especially you by my side, Grace and Philip; I am full of joy at being among you at this happy time. Surely we are peculiarly blessed among all the people on earth, here in this little out-of-the-way corner of the great globe. We live in love, fearing no evil, having all our wants supplied to the full. We suffer neither from cold nor heat; from hunger nor surfeit. Disease comes not near us nor our live stock, and best of all this heavenly care has not made us arrogant and careless, for we feel as full of gratitude as our hearts can hold. And every day sees new mercies showered upon us. Some one of our little company has a special blessing, and being one in heart and mind we all rejoice in that blessing, and feel our mouths filled with praise.

“The latest is the babe bestowed upon our beloved ones here, a babe lusty in form and beautiful of face, and given to us on the day whereon we celebrate the coming to earth of our brother, God manifest in the flesh, which in itself is a matter of great rejoicing. Truly it is a blessed babe. I know but little of the great world with its teeming millions, I have been too happy among you all my life to wish to see more than I did on my one voyage, but what little I do know convinces me that it is rare if not unheard of for a child to come amongst a community and be received with such fervent love and sincere thanksgiving as this one. We all rejoice, for we have no doubt that he will be a beloved brother amongst us, worthily maintaining the high and sweet standard of love towards God and man which has so long prevailed among us. And if it should be the good pleasure of our Father that he leaves us for a time and visits other countries, we shall confidently look forward to his keeping up the character that we are so pleased to bear, the character of being children of God, not haughtily holding that we are better than others, but that we are only happy in the knowledge of the love of our Father for us His loving, grateful children. Little Christmas Bounty! upon your baby head rest all the prayers, all the love of this people, all united to you by ties of blood, but far more closely knit to you in the one bond of Christian love.

“Brother and sisters, it is time for us to separate, for the day draws to its close. And before we sing our parting song of praise and thanksgiving, let us unite in the spoken word to our Father. Father, most good and gracious, we all thank you for your love. We have all that we can ask or think. Blessings innumerable crowd upon us. We have nothing to ask you for, only to praise you for the abundant joy and happiness you have given us in overflowing measureless plenty. Nothing, that is, for ourselves, but for those who suffer and sin, for those who toil hopelessly in darkness and slavery of various kinds, we ask that they may know Thee as we know Thee. That they may receive as we do receive. They are as worthy as we are, but have not the same inestimable advantages. Ah, dear Father, bless our less fortunate brothers and sisters scattered about Thy beautiful world. Hear their pitiful cries, heal their gaping wounds, fill their hungry hearts, and may they all know Thy boundless love through Thy messenger Jesus, our Beloved One, the Saviour of mankind. Let us sing, dear ones, ‘O God, our help in ages past.’”

That response was one to stir the most sluggish heart: no books, no instrumental help, but the grandest of all music, the glorious human voice when trained in harmony. The lovely woods and vales were filled with golden melody, every soul pouring itself out in purest praise. If only the most ardent scoffer at holy things could have been there, he would have found his pointed sarcasm grow blunt, his ready sneer fall harmless, for here was a people beyond the arrows of scorn, whose worship was indeed single-eyed. They worshipped God because they loved Him. They praised Him because they could not help it. No thought of gaining heaven or of avoiding hell entered their minds. They had already begun their heaven, and as for hell they never thought of it. If pressed they would doubtless have admitted that they believed in such a place, but with a thrusting aside shudder. What had it to do with them?

The sweet strain ceased, and the aged minister, rising to his unsteady feet, lifted his hands in blessing, his voice full of happy tears: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God Almighty, the leading of the Holy Spirit and the full knowledge of this intimate communion with the unseen be with each and all of you now and for evermore. Amen.”

A moment’s silence and the gathering quietly melted away to their happy homes, while the bright silver moon shed a splendid radiance over the peaceful scene.