Meanwhile Zeppa, who did not at all concern himself with these matters, took it into his head one day that he would teach his little favourite, Lippy, to sing. Being a religious man he naturally selected hymns5 as the foundation of his teaching. At first he found it rather up-hill work, for Lippy happened to be gifted with a strong sense of the ludicrous, so that when he took her on his knee—the day on which the idea occurred to him—opened his mouth, and gave forth6 the first notes of a hymn4 in a fine sonorous7 bass8 voice, the child gazed at him for a few moments in open-eyed wonder, and then burst into an uncontrollable fit of open-mouthed laughter.
Poor Zeppa! till that day, since his mental break-down, the idea of singing had never once occurred to him, and this reception of his first attempt to teach disconcerted him. He stopped abruptly9 and gazed at the child with a perplexed10 expression. This gaze was evidently regarded by Lippy as an additional touch of humour, for she went off into renewed explosions of delight and the lesson had to be given up for that time. Zeppa was gifted, however, with patient perseverance11 in a remarkable12 degree. He renewed his efforts, but changed his plan. From that time forward he took to humming hymns in a low, sweet voice, as if for his own amusement. In a short time he had the satisfaction of hearing Lippy attempt, of her own accord, to sing one of the hymns that had taken her fancy. She went wrong in one or two notes, however, which gave Zeppa the opportunity of putting her right. He took her on his knee, and told her, in her own tongue, to try it again.
“Listen, this is the way,” he said, opening his mouth to give an example; but the first note had scarcely begun to sound when Lippy thrust her brown fist into his mouth, and told him to stop. She would sing it herself!
Accordingly, she began in a sweet, tiny little voice, and her teacher gazed at her with intense pleasure depicted13 on his handsome face until she reached the note where she had formerly14 gone wrong.
“No—not so; sing thus,” he said, giving the right notes.
The pupil took it up at once, and thus the singing lessons were fairly begun.
But the matter did not rest here, for Lippy, proud of her new acquirement soon began to exhibit her powers to her little companions, and ere long a few of the smallest of these ventured to creep into Zeppa’s hut while the daily lesson was going on. Gradually they grew bolder, and joined in the exercise. Zeppa took pleasure in helping15 them, and at last permitted as many as could crowd into his hut to do so. Those who could not get inside sat on the ground outside, and, as the hut was open in front, the gathering16 soon increased. Thus, insensibly, without a well-defined intention or effort on the part of any one, the praise of God and the sweet name of Jesus ascended17 to heaven from that heathen village.
The assembling of these children for their lesson brought powerfully to Zeppa’s mind, one day, the meetings of the Ratinga people for worship, and the appropriateness of beginning with prayer occurred to him. Accordingly, that morning, just as he was about to commence the hymns, he clasped his hands, raised his eyes, and briefly19 asked God’s blessing20 on the work.
Profound astonishment21 kept the little ones quiet, and before they had time to recover the prayer was over.
Zeppa’s mode of terminating the assembly was characteristic. He did not like to order the children away, much less to put them out of his hut, and the little creatures, being fond of the teacher, were prone22 to remain too long. When, therefore, he thought it time to close, he simply rose up and took himself off, leaving his congregation to disperse23 when and how it pleased! Sometimes on these occasions he would remain away for, perhaps, two or three days, having totally forgotten the singing class, to the great disappointment of the children.
One night, while he was thus absent, the men of Ratura delivered the attack which they had long meditated24.
It was an unusually dark and still night; such a night as tends almost irresistibly25 to quiet and subdue26 wayward spirits, and induces man to think of his Creator. Such a night as is apt to fill the guilty conscience with unresting fears, as though it felt the near approach of that avenging27 sword which sooner or later it must meet.
Nevertheless, unmoved by its influences—except in so far as it suited their dark designs—the Raturans chose it for the fell purpose of invading their neighbours’ lands, and exterminating28 their ancient foes30; for, driven to desperation by the taunts31 and scorn of the Mountain-men, they felt that nothing short of extermination32 would suffice. And they were right. Extermination of the sinners, or the sins, was indeed their only chance of peace! Not knowing the Gospel method of blotting33 out the latter, their one resource lay in obliterating34 the former.
In the dead of night—that darkest hour when deeds of villainy and violence are usually done—the Raturan chief once more assembled his men from all quarters of the rolling plains and the dismal35 swamps, until the entire force of the tribe was under his command.
Leaving the aged2 men and boys to protect the women and children, those dark-skinned warriors36 marched away to battle—not with the flaunting37 banners and martial38 music of civilised man, but with the profound silence and the stealthy tread of the savage39. Though the work in hand was the same, the means to the end were different; we will therefore describe them.
Had it been a daylight battle to which they went forth, their women and boys would have followed with reserve ammunition40 in the shape of baskets full of stones, and spare javelins41; but, being a night attack, the fighting men went alone—each armed with a heavy club, a light spear, and a stone knife or hatchet42.
Arrived at the pass where they had met with such a singular repulse43 on a former occasion, the main body was halted, and scouts44 were sent out in advance to see that all was clear. Then the plan of attack was formed. One detachment was to approach the enemy’s village on the right; another was to go round to the left; while the main body was to advance in front.
There is a proverb relating to the plans of men as well as mice, which receives verification in every land and time. Its truth received corroboration45 at this time on Sugar-loaf Island. On that same night it chanced that the chief Ongoloo was unable to sleep. He sent for his prime-ministerial-jester and one of his chiefs, to whom he proposed a ramble46. The chief and jester professed47 themselves charmed with the proposal, although each had been roused from a pleasant slumber48.
In the course of the ramble they came unexpectedly on one of the Raturan scouts, whom they temporarily extinguished with a club. Ongoloo became at once alive to the situation, and took instant action.
“Wapoota!” he said in an excited whisper, “run to the rear of the foe29. Go swiftly, like the sea bird. When you get there, yell, shriek—like—like—you know how! As you did last time! Change your ground at each yell—so they will think you a host. Fear not to be captured. Your death is nothing. Away!”
A kick facilitated Wapoota’s flight, and the two chiefs returned at speed to rouse the sleeping camp.
Wapoota performed his part nobly—and without being captured, for he did not agree with Ongoloo as to the unimportance of his own death! At the unexpected outcry in the rear the Raturans halted, and held a hasty council of war.
“Let us go back and fight them,” said one.
“No use, they are evil spirits—not men,” said another.
Some agreed with the former—some with the latter.
“While we waste time here,” said the leading chief, “the mountain dogs will get ready for us. Come! Forward!”
The chief was right. Ongoloo’s ruse49 caused delay, so that when the Raturans reached the village they found armed men ready to receive them. These they attacked with great courage, and waged a somewhat scrambling50 fight until daylight enabled each party to concentrate its forces.
Meanwhile, at the first alarm, the women and children of the village had been sent off to the mountains for safety. Among the fugitives51 were Lippy and her mother. These happened to meet with the enemy’s detachment which had been sent to assault the village on the left. The women scattered52 and fled. The savage warriors pursued, and several were taken, among them Lippy and her mother, who were promptly53 despatched to the rear. Those of the broken band that escaped continued their flight to the hills.
They had not gone far when they met Zeppa returning from one of his rambles54. His surprise on hearing that the village had been attacked was great and his anxiety considerable. Although he had refused to go out to war with his entertainers, he felt no disposition55 to stand idly by when they were attacked. Disordered though his mind was, he could make a clear distinction between aggressive war and self-defence.
“And where is Lippy?” he asked, glancing round on the terrified faces.
“She is caught and carried away—with her mother.”
“What!” exclaimed Zeppa, with a flash of his bright eyes that told of natural rage mingling56 with the fires of insanity57.
The women did not wait for more. They ran away from him in terror.
But Zeppa had heard enough. Turning his face towards the village he sped over the ground at a pace that soon brought him in sight of the combatants, who seemed to be swaying to and fro—now here, now there—as the tide of battle flowed and victory leaned sometimes to one side sometimes to the other.
Zeppa was unarmed. As he drew near he was observed by both parties to stop abruptly in his career, and wrench58 out of the ground a stake that had been meant for the corner-post of a newly-begun hut. It resembled the great club of Hercules rather than a weapon of modern man.
Whirling it like a feather round his head, the maniac59 rushed on. He was thoroughly60 roused. A feeling of desperate anxiety coupled with a sense of horrible injustice61 had set his spirit in a blaze. His great size, which became more apparent as he advanced, his flashing eyes, compressed lips, and the wild flowing of his uncut hair and beard, gave him altogether an aspect so terrible that his foes trembled, while his friends rejoiced, and when at last he uttered a roar like a mad bull, and launched himself into the thickest of the fight the Raturans could not stand it, but turned and fled in a body under the impression that he was more than human. He was too fleet for them, however. Overtaking a flying knot, he brought the the corner-post down on the mass, and three warriors were levelled with the ground. Then, hurling62 the mighty63 club away as if it were a mere64 hindrance65 to him, he ran straight at the leader of the Raturans, who, being head and shoulders above his fellows, seemed a suitable foe to single out.
Before reaching him, however, his attention was arrested by a cry from some one in the midst of the enemy in front. It was the voice of Wapoota, who was trying to break his way through the flying foe to his own people.
Fortunately Zeppa recognised the voice, and darted66 towards his friend, who was hard pressed at the time by a crowd of opponents.
One roar from the maniac sent these flying like chaff67 before the wind. It must be added, however, for the credit of the men of Ratura, that Ongoloo and his warriors had backed up their new leader gallantly68.
When Wapoota saw his deliverer, he ran to him, panting, and said—
“Come with me—this way—Lippy is here!”
That was sufficient. Zeppa became submissive like a child, while the jester, taking him by the hand, ran with him at racing69 speed in the direction of the Raturan villages, towards which the child and her mother were being led by the party which had captured them.
This was briefly explained to Zeppa by Wapoota, who had chanced to encounter the party when returning from his yelling mission, if we may so express it.
The race was a long one, but neither the madman nor his friend flagged until they overtook the party. It consisted of about thirty warriors, but if it had been thirty hundred it would have made no difference in the effect of Zeppa’s roar and aspect as he rushed upon them with obviously awful intentions, though without arms. In fact the latter circumstance tended rather to increase the fears of the superstitious70 natives. They fled as one man at the first sight of the maniac and Lippy was recovered!
Instantly Zeppa’s ferocity vanished, and the tenderest of smiles rippled71 over his face as he took the child in his arms and kissed her.
But Wapoota did not feel quite so easy, for in their mad race they had outstripped72 the flying enemy, bands of whom were constantly passing them in their flight before the Mountain-men. His anxieties, however, were groundless, for no sooner did any of the Raturans set eyes on Zeppa, than, with howls of consternation73, they diverged74 at a tangent like hunted hares, and coursed away homeward on the wings of terror.
As on former occasions of conquest, the Mountain-men pursued the flying host into their swamps, but they did not, as in former times, return to slay75 the aged and carry the women and children into captivity76.
To the surprise of all his followers77, and the anger of not a few, Ongoloo commanded his men to return to their village and leave the Raturans alone. One of his chiefs, who showed a disposition to resist his authority, he promptly knocked down, whereupon the rest became obedient and went quietly home.
On reaching the village, Zeppa went straight to his hut with Lippy on his shoulder. Apparently78 he had forgotten all about the recent fight for, without even waiting to take food or rest he sat down, and began to give his little friend a singing lesson!
With the air of a little princess, who felt that she was only receiving her due, the child accepted the attention. Her young companions, attracted by the sweet sounds, soon flocked to the old place of rendezvous79, and when the last of the straggling warriors returned from the field of battle they found the singing class going full swing as if nothing had happened.
But when the wounded and the dead were brought in, other sounds began to arise—sounds of wailing80 and woe81, which soon drowned the hymns of praise. As soon as Zeppa became fully18 alive to this fact he ceased singing and went about trying to comfort those who wept but, from his perplexed air, and the frequency with which he paused in his wanderings to and fro and passed his hand across his brow, as if to clear away some misty82 clouds that rested there, it was evident that his shattered intellect had taken in a very imperfect impression of what had occurred.
As if to get rid of this beclouded state, he started off that evening at a quick walk towards his favourite haunts among the hills. No one ever followed him on these occasions. The natives regarded his person as in some measure sacred, and would have deemed it not only dangerous but insolent83 to go up among the rocky heights when the madman was known to be there.
Once, indeed, Wapoota, with that presumptuous84 temerity85 which is a characteristic of fools in general, ventured, on the strength of old acquaintance, to follow him, and even went towards the well known cave where he had found refuge and protection in the day of his distress86; but Zeppa had either forgotten his former intercourse87 with the jester or intended to repudiate88 the connection, for he did not receive him kindly89.
On the way up, Wapoota, who felt somewhat timorous90 about the visit, had made up his mind as to the best mode of address with which to approach his friend. He had decided91 that, although he was not particularly youthful, the language and manner of a respectful son to a revered92 father would best befit the occasion. Accordingly when he reached the cave and saw Zeppa busy beside his fire with a cocoa-nut, he assumed a stooping attitude of profound respect, and drew near.
Zeppa looked up with a frown, as if annoyed at the intrusion.
“Your unworthy son,” began Wapoota, “comes to—”
But he got no further. He could not well have hit upon a more unfortunate phrase.
“My unworthy son!” shouted Zeppa, leaping up, while unearthly fires seemed to shoot from his distended93 eyes. “My son! son! Ha! ha-a-a-a!”
The horrified94 intruder heard the terminal yell, and saw the maniac bound over the fire towards him, but he saw and heard no more, for his limbs became suddenly endued95 with something like electric vitality96. He turned and shot over a small precipice97, as if flung from an ancient catapult. What he alighted on he did not know, still less did he care. It was sufficiently98 soft to prevent death.
Another awful cry echoed and re-echoed from the heights above, and intensified99 the electric battery within him. He went down the slopes regardless of gradient at a pace that might have left even Zeppa behind if he had followed; but Zeppa did not follow.
When Wapoota went over the precipice and disappeared, Zeppa halted and stood erect100, gazing with a questioning aspect at the sky, and drawing his hand slowly across his brows with that wearied and puzzled aspect which had become characteristic.
Returning after a few minutes to his cave, he reseated himself quietly beside his fire, and, with his usual placid101 expression, devoted102 himself earnestly to his cocoa-nut.
That was the first and last occasion on which the poor madman experienced intrusion from the natives in his mountain retreat.
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