Mischief brewing—My blood is made to run cold—Evil consultations and wicked resolves—Bloody Bill attempts to do good, and fails—The attack—Wholesale murder—The flight—The escape.
Next morning I awoke with a feverish brow and a feeling of deep depression at my heart; and the more I thought on my unhappy fate, the more wretched and miserable did I feel.
I was surrounded on all sides by human beings of the most dreadful character, to whom the shedding of blood was mere pastime. On shore were the natives, whose practices were so horrible that I could not think of them without shuddering. On board were none but pirates of the blackest dye, who, although not cannibals, were foul murderers, and more blameworthy even than the savages, inasmuch as they knew better. Even Bill, with whom I had, under the strange circumstances of my lot, formed a kind of intimacy, was so fierce in his nature as to have acquired the title of “Bloody” from his vile companions. I felt very much cast down the more I considered the subject and the impossibility of delivery, as it seemed to me—at least, for a long time to come. At last, in my feeling of utter helplessness, I prayed fervently to the Almighty that He would deliver me out of my miserable condition; and when I had done so I felt some degree of comfort.
When the captain came on deck, before the hour at which the men usually started for the woods, I begged of him to permit me to remain aboard that day, as I did not feel well; but he looked at me angrily, and ordered me, in a surly tone, to get ready to go on shore as usual. The fact was that the captain had been out of humour for some time past. Romata and he had had some differences, and high words had passed between them, during which the chief had threatened to send a fleet of his war-canoes, with a thousand men, to break up and burn the schooner; whereupon the captain smiled sarcastically, and going up to the chief, gazed sternly in his face while he said, “I have only to raise my little finger just now, and my big gun will blow your whole village to atoms in five minutes!” Although the chief was a bold man, he quailed before the pirate’s glance and threat, and made no reply; but a bad feeling had been raised, and old sores had been opened.
I had, therefore, to go with the woodcutters that day. Before starting, however, the captain called me into the cabin and said:
“Here, Ralph; I’ve got a mission for you, lad. That blackguard Romata is in the dumps, and nothing will mollify him but a gift; so do you go up to his house and give him these whale’s teeth, with my compliments. Take with you one of the men who can speak the language.”
I looked at the gift in some surprise, for it consisted of six white whale’s teeth, and two of the same dyed bright red, which seemed to me very paltry things. However, I did not dare to hesitate, or to ask any questions; so gathering them up, I left the cabin, and was soon on my way to the chief’s house, accompanied by Bill. On expressing my surprise at the gift, he said:
“They’re paltry enough to you or me, Ralph, but they’re considered of great value by them chaps. They’re a sort o’ cash among them. The red ones are the most prized, one of them bein’ equal to twenty o’ the white ones. I suppose the only reason for their bein’ valuable is that there ain’t many of them, and they’re hard to be got.”
On arriving at the house we found Romata sitting on a mat, in the midst of a number of large bales of native cloth and other articles, which had been brought to him as presents from time to time by inferior chiefs. He received us rather haughtily; but on Bill explaining the nature of our errand, he became very condescending, and his eyes glistened with satisfaction when he received the whale’s teeth, although he laid them aside with an assumption of kingly indifference.
“Go,” said he with a wave of the hand— “go tell your captain that he may cut wood to-day, but not to-morrow. He must come ashore; I want to have a palaver with him.”
As we left the house to return to the woods, Bill shook his head.
“There’s mischief brewin’ in that black rascal’s head. I know him of old. But what comes here?”
As he spoke, we heard the sound of laughter and shouting in the wood, and presently there issued from it a band of savages, in the midst of whom were a number of men bearing burdens on their shoulders. At first I thought that these burdens were poles with something rolled round them, the end of each pole resting on a man’s shoulder; but on a nearer approach I saw that they were human beings, tied hand and foot, and so lashed to the poles that they could not move. I counted twenty of them as they passed.
“More murder!” said Bill in a voice that sounded between a hoarse laugh and a groan.
“Surely they are not going to murder them?” said I, looking anxiously into Bill’s face.
“I don’t know, Ralph,” replied Bill, “what they’re goin’ to do with them; but I fear they mean no good when they tie fellows up in that way.”
As we continued our way towards the woodcutters, I observed that Bill looked anxiously over his shoulder in the direction where the procession had disappeared. At last he stopped, and turning abruptly on his heel, said:
“I tell ye what it is, Ralph: I must be at the bottom o’ that affair. Let us follow these black scoundrels and see what they’re goin’ to do.”
I must say I had no wish to pry further into their bloody practices; but Bill seemed bent on it, so I turned and went. We passed rapidly through the bush, being guided in the right direction by the shouts of the savages. Suddenly there was a dead silence, which continued for some time, while Bill and I involuntarily quickened our pace until we were running at the top of our speed across the narrow neck of land previously mentioned. As we reached the verge of the wood we discovered the savages surrounding the large war-canoe, which they were apparently on the point of launching. Suddenly the multitude put their united strength to the canoe; but scarcely had the huge machine begun to move when a yell, the most appalling that ever fell upon my ear, rose high above the shouting of the savages. It had not died away when another and another smote upon my throbbing ear, and then I saw that these inhuman monsters were actually launching their canoe over the living bodies of their victims. But there was no pity in the breasts of these men. Forward they went in ruthless indifference, shouting as they went, while high above their voices rang the dying shrieks of those wretched creatures as, one after another, the ponderous canoe passed over them, burst the eyeballs from their sockets, and sent the life-blood gushing from their mouths. Oh reader, this is no fiction! I would not, for the sake of thrilling you with horror, invent so terrible a scene. It was witnessed. It is true—true as that accursed sin which has rendered the human heart capable of such diabolical enormities!
When it was over I turned round and fell upon the grass with a deep groan; but Bill seized me by the arm, and lifting me up as if I had been a child, cried:
“Come along, lad; let’s away!” And so, staggering and stumbling over the tangled underwood, we fled from the fatal spot.
During the remainder of that day I felt as if I were in a horrible dream. I scarce knew what was said to me, and was more than once blamed by the men for idling my time. At last the hour to return aboard came. We marched down to the beach, and I felt relief for the first time when my feet rested on the schooner’s deck.
In the course of the evening I overheard part of a conversation between the captain and the first mate, which startled me not a little. They were down in the cabin, and conversed in an undertone; but the skylight being off; I overhead every word that was said.
“I don’t half-like it,” said the mate. “It seems to me that we’ll only have hard fightin’ and no pay.”
“No pay!” repeated the captain in a voice of suppressed anger. “Do you call a good cargo all for nothing no pay?”
“Very true,” returned the mate; “but we’ve got the cargo aboard. Why not cut your cable and take French leave o’ them? What’s the use o’ tryin’ to kill the blackguards when it’ll do us no manner o’ good?”
“Mate,” said the captain in a low voice, “you talk like a fresh-water sailor. I can only attribute this shyness to some strange delusion, for surely,”—his voice assumed a slightly sneering tone as he said this—“surely I am not to suppose that you have become soft-hearted! Besides, you are wrong in regard to the cargo being aboard; there’s a good quarter of it lying in the woods, and that blackguard chief knows it, and won’t let me take it off. He defied us to do our worst yesterday.”
“Defied us! did he?” cried the mate with a bitter laugh. “Poor, contemptible thing!”
“And yet he seems not so contemptible but that you are afraid ............