Читать книгу A Bounty Boy - Frank Thomas Bullen - Страница 9

Table of Contents

With the first streak of dawn, as was their wont, all the islanders were astir, and their first thoughts were for the rescued ones. The news soon spread throughout the community that the two men had awakened, mightily refreshed, and that one of them could speak a few words of English. All ordinary tasks were neglected, and practically the whole village flocked to the house where they, the rescued ones, had been sheltered for the night. And there they saw their guests gaunt, wild-eyed and scared-looking, holding quite a levee, and one endeavouring to explain how they came to be there.

It was a difficult task, for his English was of the feeblest and his pronunciation of the words he did know so extraordinary that it required many repetitions of even the simplest phrases and great patience on the part of the listeners to gather the sense of what he said. At last, however, they learned that these two were the sole survivors of ten men, who, after killing two of their guardians, had escaped from New Caledonia, the French convict island. Four weeks had elapsed since they had seen the last of that awful place of their imprisonment, four weeks of such horror that the scanty words of English possessed by the spokesman could only give the barest outline of them. But quite enough was told to satisfy them that such an experience savoured of that place of torment of which they never spoke but in whispers, and they wondered much whether the men who had succumbed early in the struggle were not the more fortunate. And gradually, as they grew more and more accustomed to the curious speech of the man who was trying to explain, they learned of doings within the narrow compass of that boat adrift helplessly upon the great lone sea that made their flesh crawl upon their bones, which made them involuntarily shrink from the narrator, whose utter unconcern as he told in baldest words the story of his adventures, fascinated them while it frightened them. For none of them had ever realized such a depth of callous depravity as was now manifested before them.

Only the sacred laws of hospitality, nowhere more firmly held to and observed than here where everything was held in common, as became the primitive Christianity of the people, restrained them from isolating the strangers as if they were suffering from frightful disease both contagious and infectious. Occasionally a gentle attempt to show their disapproval of the foul terms used by the narrator in telling his story was made, but quite in vain, for it is a lamentable fact that picking up a language colloquially, as one does among the workers of the world, it is always the vilenesses of the language which are first acquired, because they are most frequently used, and by some devilish twist of memory they are always the expressions which stick.

However, the older men among the islanders met and determined that, God helping them, this new and bad element of evil must not be permitted to spread among the younger folk, and the word was passed quietly around that while the strangers were to be treated with every courtesy and kindness, they were not to be associated with indiscriminately; intercourse with them was to be confined to a very small body of the older men, all of whom had known something of the evil of the world without, and were all unlikely to be affected now by anything they might hear, however vile.

Nevertheless, it was felt throughout the settlement that there had come into their peaceful midst an appalling danger, and the subject came into their prayers continually. The strangers, having made a rapid recovery, swaggered about the little settlement as if they were the lords of it, rather enjoying the whole-hearted terror of them evinced by the younger folk, and yet cursing vigorously what they were pleased to call the inhospitable way in which they were being treated. By this time the islanders had discovered that they were harbouring two criminals of the blackest dye, men from whom the least vestige of goodness was absent, whose thoughts were only evil, and that continually. Worse still, it seemed as if the island was likely to be cursed with their presence for an indefinite time, for upon the suggestion that they would be able to leave by the first ship that called at the island the two desperadoes avowed with awful words that they were not going to risk their liberty in any ship whatever. They were quite contented, they said, in their present position, and proposed to marry and settle down.

What that prospect meant to the islanders can hardly be realized unless the readers have entered into the spirit of this happy community. The advent of a couple of man-eating tigers in some peaceful, lonely village here in England could not cause as much terror, because sportsmen would speedily be forthcoming who would slay the beasts, and these human beasts, though far more dangerous than tigers, could not be destroyed in the same manner. And day by day those patient, peaceful people watched and waited and prayed, yet feared what they could not help feeling was the approaching tragedy.

It is not too much to say that the whole course of life in that lovely island home was embittered by the presence of these two degenerate children of French civilization, who prated and bragged of their superiority to all law, and being Anarchists and free, professing indeed much the same principles that some of our legislators do to-day, although the latter are hardly prepared as yet to carry those principles to their logical conclusion.

Deliverance from this terrible incubus came in dramatic fashion. By some means, during an extra busy time, the two miscreants had escaped from the almost ceaseless watchfulness of those set apart for that purpose. And as they were always planning evil of a certain kind, and were only waiting fitting opportunity to carry out those plans, they seized this, to them, favourable chance to attempt a crime which I will not hint at. It happened that at this very time C. B. had been up the mountain side after honey, having some days before located a hive. He was heavily burdened with spoil, and having tramped a good many miles was feeling healthily weary, when he heard a piercing shriek. It was the first time in his life that he had ever heard such a sound, but it focussed all his fears and apprehensions, and for one moment paralyzed all his energies.

Then the brave blood surged back from his heart, he dropped his burden and plunged furiously in the direction of the sound, actuated by he could not tell what terrible thoughts. A stifled scream spurred him on, like a buffalo he crashed through all obstacles, arriving presently in the open of a little glade amidst the thick boscage to find his sister, his darling Jenny, four years younger than himself, faintly struggling in the grasp of the two ex-convicts. He was transformed for the moment into a savage, and leapt upon the nearest with a yell that would have quite become one of his dusky ancestors. The wretch upon whom he fell, taken by surprise, had no chance at all, for C. B. snatched him up as one does a filthy rag and hurled him with tremendous force against a tree hole, which he struck with a dull crash and fell limp and motionless.

The other scoundrel, letting go the trembling girl, rushed off into the bush, but C. B., full of fury, plunged after him, caught him in a dozen strides, and battered him with fists and feet in so furious a manner that in a very short time he was reduced to a helpless lump of inanimate flesh. Then C. B. desisted, panting, but beginning to feel compunction for the fury he had been led into, as well as fear that he had killed one or both of the wretches. But I am truly thankful to say that such a feeling was only momentary, justification of himself as being bound to act in the way he did or be unfit to live quickly succeeded, and he drew himself up again to the full stature of his grand young manhood. And then he thought of his poor young sister; but she, as soon as she was released from her savage assailants, had fled with the swiftness of an antelope to the settlement, nor stayed until she had found a group of men, to whom she told her story.

So as C. B. was puzzling himself as to how he should secure his prisoners—for, of course, he so regarded them—three stalwart men, one of whom was his father, came crashing through the undergrowth and greeted him warmly. He said little but pointed to the evidence of his prowess. Both of the villains were just recovering from the shocks they had received, and were looking almost as if they had been dragged along under a harrow. They were very subdued, and regarded C. B. with a great deal of respect, making no attempt at resistance as they were led away toward the village.

By this time the news of the affair had spread, and the whole community were gathering with looks of horror and consternation at the two wretches who had thus repaid, or attempted to repay, the loving-kindness to which they owed life and health. But little was said, and that only in whispers, as the prisoners were led to the house of the old patriarch who was at once minister and dispenser of law, the latter function indeed being quite a sinecure among this people whose love of righteousness was inbred and fostered in every imaginable way.

Arriving there, they were consigned to as near a substitute for a prison as the island afforded, a strongly built outhouse, their hurts being attended to and food and drink supplied them. Then they were left under guard, being informed that any attempt on their part to break loose would be followed immediately by their being tied up, for as they had chosen to behave as wild beasts, they must look to be treated as dangerous, and every precaution taken against them. Thoroughly cowed for the time by the rough handling they had received, the only argument they could understand, they attempted no protest against their confinement, but sullenly accepted what was given them and done for them like men accustomed to bow submissively to the inevitable. And thus they were left to themselves, the guard keeping close watch outside.

Meanwhile the conduct of C. B. came under strong discussion. No one attempted to suggest that he had acted wrongly, for all were agreed that it was a matter of deepest thankfulness to God that he had arrived so opportunely and acted as promptly as he had done, and yet there was something disquieting, not merely to the community, but to himself, in the fact that he had given way to such an outburst of savagery. And all felt how terrible a thing it would have been if he had slain either or both of the villains, as he would most likely have done had he carried a weapon. He attempted no justification, showed no repentance for his action, but frankly admitted that he was horrified to find that he had so much of the savage in him. And strange as it may seem, though all looked upon him as quite a hero, it is no less true that with their admiration was mingled another feeling which they could not conceal, a feeling which made them hold themselves slightly aloof from him and the sense of which cut him to the quick.

This, added to his previous unrest of spirit, decided him in his half-formed idea of leaving the island at the first opportunity and seeing the world. There was just a trace of bitterness in the thought that his resolution should have been fixed by an event of which he could not but feel proud, and could not help thinking should have made all his acquaintances proud of him too. But there it was, and no amount of meditation or self-examination would avail to alter it. So at the earliest opportunity when he was alone with his parents he told them of his resolve. For a few minutes neither spoke, and then his still beautiful mother broke the silence, saying—

“Have you consulted the Lord about it, dear boy?”

“Yes, mother,” he replied truly, “but I have not asked for any guidance in the matter, for I feel, I have long felt, led to go. And I don’t believe that such a strong inclination as I have towards something that certainly is not wrong can be of the evil one. Besides it is not my own pleasure I am seeking, neither am I tired of my lovely home, but—well, I must go, that’s all.”

Thereafter his father and mother regarded the matter as settled, only mother like, Grace hoped that it might be a long time before an opportunity came—she wanted to keep her boy as long as possible. But it fell out that only a fortnight afterwards an extraordinary event for the islanders occurred: two vessels arrived off the landing place in one day and hove-to, one the British war-vessel Thetis, and the other the American whale-ship Eliza Adams, of New Bedford. Joyfully the boats’ crews sprang into their craft and pulled out to the vessels, one visiting the man-o’-war to convey the respects of the whole community to the representative of the country they loved so well, and the other, steered by C. B., to the whale-ship to inquire after their wants.

As soon as Philip, who was in charge of the first boat, had climbed on board and had saluted the deck, he inquired for the captain, and first, in time-honoured fashion, begged him to consider the resources of the island at his disposal and to do them the honour of paying them a visit to the shore in their boat. The captain having gravely accepted the latter invitation and declared his intention of paying for whatever produce they might supply, Philip informed him that they had a favour to ask which they earnestly hoped he would see his way to grant, and then proceeded to tell him the story of their undesirable visitors, assuring him that the peace of the island had been destroyed since their arrival, and that now matters were worse than ever, since the miscreants must needs be watched day and night lest they should escape and do some fiendish deed in revenge, adding that on their own showing they were capable of any villainy. The captain listened patiently, and as soon as Philip had done talking replied in cheery tones—

“Make your mind easy, Mr. Adams; it’s not only a pleasure to grant your request to take these scoundrels off your hands, but my duty. I have been officially warned of their escape by the authorities and told to look out for them, and I shall be only too glad to rid you of them.”

Philip thanked the captain and requested the loan of a couple of pairs of handcuffs, saying that he would not put the captain to the trouble of sending a boat for them but would bring them off. The captain immediately assented, and in five minutes’ time the boat was flying shoreward with the captain and two of his officers seated in the stern sheets, quite glad of the opportunity afforded them of visiting this wonderful little community whose fame as a model settlement had spread all over the English-speaking world.

But the joy of the islanders who can depict, when Philip told them of their approaching deliverance from the misery under which they had laboured. Do not think them selfish or unmindful of their obligations to their fellow-men because they were glad to get rid of these undesirables. Had the latter been amenable to kindness or at all to be influenced by goodness so palpably manifested towards them, things would have been quite different. Every effort had been made, more by practice even than precept, to soften those flinty natures, but all such attempts had been met by the most brutal and hideous language as well as threats, of diabolical revenge if ever the chance came. It delighted those foul creatures to see the islanders wince at the awful words and blanch at what they were by no means inclined to regard empty threats, although it was happily impossible for them to realize fully the significance of some of the worst of them.

Most of the islanders were on the strand ready to welcome the captain of the Thetis when he stepped ashore, and he and his officers were reverentially borne off to the magistrate’s house, and offered the best that the island afforded in the way of refreshments. On the way thither the news flew from lip to lip that they were to be freed from the prisoners, and the air resounded with songs of thanksgiving. Being a man of prompt action, Captain Thurston, as soon as he was comfortably installed at the magistrate’s, asked for the two prisoners to be brought before him, and as soon as the handcuffs had been put upon them his wish was obeyed.

When they were brought he addressed them in French, but was answered by a flood of foulest abuse, language that made even his tanned cheek flush and his hand seek the sword at his side. But he quickly mastered his rising temper and ordered them to be taken away and held in readiness for carrying on board. Turning to his host, he said quietly—

“I think you are to be congratulated in that you have escaped serious injury at the hands of these ruffians, for I don’t think they would hesitate to commit any crime that lay within their power if the fit seized them.”

To which the dear old man made answer—

“We have never ceased thanking God for that He saved us from such a calamity as that would have been, and we have now the answer to our prayers that He would send a British man-o’-war to take them away from our midst lest our vigilance should relax and they break out among us like two ravening wolves in a flock of sheep.”

But we must return to C. B. on his separate mission to the whaler. As he swung his boat around and came alongside of her in true whaling fashion he was conscious that all hands were watching him, from the four pairs of keen eyes at the mastheads to the captain on top of the little monkey poop. But he was well trained and in no way shy, so he swung himself on board, being met by the mate and greeted cordially. All hands were gathered in the waist, separate, of course, according to their station, and admiring glances were cast upon their magnificent young visitor, who towered nearly a head and shoulders over the tallest man there. His simple garb of shirt and trousers, the former buttonless and with sleeves cut off above the elbow, and the latter rolled up to the knees, set off his splendid proportions to the best advantage, while his noble head, bare save for clustering curls, and with a face of rare open beauty, apparently fascinated every one there.

The mate in particular was almost stupefied, but pulled himself together quickly, saying—

“Come aft, young man, an’ see th’ capt’n; we’re in want of fresh provisions, an’ we hope that there war canoe won’t scoff the hull amount befo’ we can get a look in.”

C. B. turned on him a dazzling smile, showing two perfect rows of teeth as white as curd and remarked—

“That isn’t our fashion, sir. Whatever we have to dispose of, be sure you shall have your share of it. I will guarantee that.”

The mate muttered something which sounded like “Sure enough white man, any way;” and, confronted with the skipper, introduced the visitor.

Captain Taber was a man whose aspect alone was sufficient to win confidence from any one not absolutely beyond the pale. He was one of the grand old Quaker type who dare do anything but lie or cheat, inflexibly just but tenderly merciful also where mercy was not a cruelty. You could not look into those deep grey eyes and mistrust him, the firm curves of the closely shut mouth and the huge benevolent nose spelt good man in characters that those who ran might read. He wore the old typical Yankee beard with clean shaven upper lip, and his garb was a long grey coat and broad-brimmed grey felt hat. Grasping his visitor firmly by the hand, he said, “Welcome, young man, aboard th’ Eliza Adams. I’m glad to see you, and indeed it isn’t every day one’s eyes light upon so fine a specimen o’ mankind as you be. Now what ha’ ye got to trade? We’re in want of fresh provisions of all kinds if you can make the price to suit us.”

“If you have ever been here before or to Pitcairn, captain,” replied C. B., “you’ll know that dollars mean nothing to us. Clothing, dress material, tools and books, are our chief need, and we are always prepared to deal liberally with everybody or not at all. We may not be able to supply you as amply as we would like to-day because of the arrival of the warship, but as I told your mate, we shall show the strictest impartiality in dividing what we have to sell.”

For a moment the captain gazed at C. B. in silence, and then turning to his mate, said—

“Say, Mr. Winsloe, it ain’t often you find the contents match the casket, is it? But here’s a feller ez handsom’ as a statoo, an’ talkin’ like an angel. Well, he’s a phenomenon.” Then, turning to C. B., the old man said—

“Excuse me, I forgot my manners; you see we don’t come across men like you every day.”

C. B. smiled shyly and answered, “It’s all right, sir, I was hardly noticing. In fact, I was just then thinking of asking you whether by any chance you might have a vacancy aboard for a boat-steerer?” The skipper’s face was a study as he stood transfixed with astonishment and then burst into a roar of happy laughter, while the big tears ran down his russet cheeks. When at last he recovered his breath he gasped—

“Well, now, if that don’t beat all. Ben short of a harponeer goin’ on three months since poor Diego got chawed up, and here’s one ready made for us, that is if he can handle an iron like he can a steer-oar. Can ye now by any happy chance?” he inquired almost wistfully of the young man.

“If you’ll let me try, sir, with one of the irons in the waist-boat I’ll show you,” replied C. B.

The skipper nodded assent, and C. B., shouting to one of his boat’s crew to throw him up the baling gourd, sprang into the waist-boat with it, and when he had bent on a lance warp or short line to a harpoon he flung the gourd well away from the ship into the sea. Then poising the heavy weapon he balanced himself for a moment, a perfect model for a sculptor, and hurled it at the tiny object. The harpoon described a regular parabola and fell, splitting the gourd in half, while an involuntary cheer went up from the crew.

“That’s as good as I want,” muttered the skipper, and then aloud to C. B.: “Had any experience on whale?”

“Oh yes, sir,” brightly responded the young man, “we do considerable whaling here. In fact, we’ve got about thirty barrels of humpback oil here now; we’d be glad to trade with you if we can come to terms.”

“All right,” returned the captain, “we’ll talk about that later; the thing now is to get you. Half the cruise is over, that is I can engage you for about two years at the fiftieth lay and three hundred dollars a ton for sperm oil, market price for black. An’ if you’re willin’, I’ll put you on the articles now.”

“I came principally for that purpose,” replied C. B. with sincerity, and within ten minutes he was enrolled as captain’s boat-steerer of the ship Eliza Adams, presently cruising for sperm whales in the Pacific Ocean with some twenty-two months of her voyage to serve.

I cannot say that C. B. felt excited or uplifted at this accomplishment of his desires, but he certainly felt that satisfaction which arises from the banishment of uncertainty, and with a contented face he took his position in his boat again ready to pilot the skipper in, who was lowering his own boat. A very few words sufficed to convey to his friends in the boat the news of his step, but they were enough to reduce the warm-hearted fellows to tears. For the departure of any one from that happy community, where all were related and where all were friends, was looked upon by everybody in the nature of a personal bereavement, and indeed was considered much more serious than death, because when any one died those remaining really believed that the departed one had entered into a far happier state of life than could be possible on earth, and that sorrow for them was unnatural and wrong.

But no word was spoken as they sped towards the beach, the seasoned hands in the skipper’s boat straining every nerve to keep up with them. A bit of skilful piloting was needed, but the skipper was an old hand at surf boating, and handled his boat with consummate skill. And as soon as she touched the beach there were twenty willing hands ready to grab her and run her up until the wave receded, when all hands jumped out and assisted to drag her high and dry.

In five minutes the news had spread to every member of the community that C. B. was going away, and great were the lamentations. Indeed, it was fortunate that the captain of the Thetis demanded their attention as he had to hurry away, as that took the edge off somewhat. C. B.’s boat with a fresh crew was requisitioned to carry off the huge load of fresh fruit, meat and vegetables that had been collected, while the captain with the two desperadoes would go off in a boat free from a hampering load of provisions. Glad as they were to get rid of the terrible creatures that had worried them so long, and also that they had been of service to a man-o’-war, there were few of the usual demonstrations as the boats pushed off, for their hearts were very heavy at the loss of C. B., in spite of all they had felt lately.