Chapter Twelve.
Shows how South Sea Missionaries do their Work, and that if the Whites can Surprise the Natives the Latter can Sometimes Astonish the Whites!
For three months did Wandering Will and his friends remain concealed in the mountains. Of course they were pursued and diligently sought for by the natives, and undoubtedly they would have been discovered had the search been continued for any length of time, but to their great surprise, after the first week of their flight, the search was apparently given up. At all events, from that period they saw nothing more of the natives, and gradually became more fearless in venturing to ramble from the cave in search of food. They puzzled over the matter greatly, for, to say the least of it, there appeared to be something mysterious in the total indifference so suddenly manifested towards them by the savages; but although many were the guesses made, they were very far from hitting on the real cause.
During this period they subsisted on the numerous fruits and vegetables which grew wild in great abundance on the island, and spent their days in gathering them and hunting wild pigs and snaring birds. As Larry was wont to observe with great satisfaction, and, usually, with his mouth full of victuals—
“Sure it’s the hoith o’ livin’ we have—what with cocky-nuts, an’ taros an’ bananas, an’ young pigs for the killin’, an’ ginger-beer for the drinkin’, an’ penny loaves growin’ on the trees for nothin’, wid no end o’ birds, an’ pots ready bilin’, night an’ day, to cook ’em in—och! it would be hiven intirely but for the dirty savages, bad luck to ’em!”
There was more truth in Larry’s remark than may be apparent at first sight. Vegetation was not only prolific and beautiful everywhere, but exceedingly fruitful. The bread-fruit tree in particular supplied them with more than they required of a substance that was nearly as palatable and nutritious as bread. Captain Dall fortunately knew the method of cooking it in an oven, for the uncooked fruit is not eatable. The milk of the young cocoa-nuts was what the facetious Irishman referred to under the name of ginger-beer; but his remark about boiling pots was literally correct. The summit of that mountainous island was, as we have already said, an active volcano, from which sulphurous fumes were constantly issuing—sometimes gently, and occasionally with violence.
Several of the springs in the neighbourhood were hot—a few being almost at the boiling point, so that it was absolutely possible to boil the wild pigs and birds which they succeeded in capturing, without the use of a fire! Strange to say, they also found springs of clear cold water not far from the hot springs.
There is a species of thin tough bark round the upper part of the stem of the cocoa-nut palm—a sort of natural cloth—which is much used by the South Sea islanders. Of this they fashioned some rude but useful garments.
“It seems curious, doesn’t it,” said Will Osten to Captain Dall, one day, referring to these things and the beauty of the island, “that the Almighty should make such a terrestrial paradise as this, and leave it to be used, or rather abused, by such devils in human shape?”
“I’m not sure,” answered the captain slowly, “that we are right in saying that He has left it to be so abused. I’m afraid that it is we who are to blame in the matter.”
“How so?” exclaimed Will, in surprise.
“You believe the Bible to be the Word of God, don’t you?” said Captain Dall somewhat abruptly, “and that its tendency is to improve men?”
“Of course I do; how can you ask such a question?”
“Did you ever,” continued the captain pointedly, “hear of a text that says something about going and teaching all nations, and have, you ever given anything to send missionaries with the Bible to these islands?”
“I—I can’t say I ever have,” replied Will, with a smile and a slight blush.
“No more have I, lad,” said the captain, smiting his knee emphatically; “the thought has only entered my head for the first time, but I do think that it is we who leave islands such as this to be abused by the human devils you speak of, and who, moreover, are not a whit worse—nay, not so bad—as many civilised human devils, who, in times not long past, and under the cloak of religion, have torn men and tender women limb from limb, and bound them at the stake, and tortured them on the rack, in order to make them swallow a false creed.”
This was the commencement of one of the numerous discussions on religion, philosophy, and politics, with which the echoes of that cavern were frequently awakened after the somewhat fatiguing labours of each day’s chase were over, for a true Briton is the same everywhere. He is a reasoning (if you will, an argumentative) animal, and our little band of fugitives in those mountain fastnesses was no exception to the rule.
Meanwhile, two events occurred at the native village which require notice. Their occurrence was not observed by our friends in hiding, because the summit of the mountain completely shut out their view in that direction, and they never wandered far from their place of retreat.
The first event was very sad, and is soon told. One morning a schooner anchored off the village, and a party of armed seamen landed, the leader of whom, through the medium of an interpreter, had an interview with the chief. He wished to be permitted to cut sandal-wood, and an agreement was entered into. After a considerable quantity had been cut and sent on board, the chief wanted payment. This was refused on some trivial............