We now passed several coral islands. One we saw quite near was about
six miles long, with a large lake in the centre, with an entrance to it
from the sea. Outside the island, about a quarter of a mile off, was a
narrow reef, just rising above the water. The sea breaking on this was
prevented from washing over the island.
These coral islands are really made of coral; and made, too, by a little
insect. It begins on the top of a rock far down under the water, where
it makes a house for itself; then it builds another above that, and so
on, till it reaches the surface. It cannot build out of the water; but
sea-weed first grows on it, and anything floating is caught by this, and
stops; and then birds rest on it, and drop seeds, which take root. Then
the sea washes bits of coral up from the outer edge, and thus a firm
mass is formed, which rises higher and higher, as more trees grow and
decay, and more coral is washed up. A sandy beach is formed of broken
coral, and tall cocoa-nut trees grow up and bear fruit, and other
fruit-trees and vegetables and roots grow, and people come and live on
the island. There are many islands in the Pacific Ocean which have been
formed in this way, and which have long had people living on them.
Some, however, are rocky, and have high mountains in them. Many of
these have been thrown up by the means of fire, and are still burning
mountains. Some are very beautiful, and have valleys and streams and
fountains and rocks and trees of all sorts, and shrubs, and support a
large number of people.
We were becalmed near one of them; and as we wanted water and fresh
provisions, and the people were said to be well-disposed, the captain
determined to send on shore. Two boats were manned and armed, in case
of accidents, and with a supply of goods to barter (cotton handkerchiefs
and knives and hatchets), we pulled in. There was a reef outside,
against which the sea broke, and, rising up, curled back in a mass of
foam. We, however, found a passage through it, in which, though it was
very narrow, the water was smooth.
"Give way, lads," cried Mr Hudson, who was in the leading boat. I was
with him. We pulled hard. A large roller came on after us. The water
foamed up on either side, and in an instant it seemed we were in smooth
water.
Numbers of people--men, women, and children--were on the beach to
receive us. They were of a light-brown colour, and wore very little
clothing. The women had short petticoats, and some of the men wore
cloaks, besides cloths round their loins. These clothes, I found, were
like thick paper, and are made out of the bark of a tree called the
paper-mulberry tree. It is steeped in water, and beat into cloth with
wooden mallets by the women, and afterwards dyed of various colours.
The men were armed with clubs and spears, but seemed very friendly.
There were several houses near the shore, built of as poles made from
young cocoa-nut trees, and thatched with large leaves. The sides were
made of mats, which are drawn up in the daytime to let the wind blow
through them, as the climate is very hot in winter as well as summer.
As soon as the goods were landed, they were carried up to a house near
the beach, which was the natives' trade-house. Here they brought all
sorts of things which they thought we should want, mostly roots and
fruits and vegetables and hogs, of which there seemed to be a large
supply. Mr Hudson, seeing all things ready, began a brisk trade.
While it was going on, Bill Sniggs, who had come in the boat with me,
asked me to take a stroll with him, as he was sure that we should be
back again to go off in the boat.
"But it is against orders for any one to quit the beach without leave,"
said I.
"Oh, not here; the people are friendly, and nothing was said about it,"
he answered.
"True enough, no harm can come of it, and I don't mind going a little
way," I said, though I knew well enough that the order stood good for
this place and all others. Still I wanted to see the country, it looked
so very tempting.
We walked on and on; now we climbed up a hill, from which we could see
the ship, and then crossed a valley, and went along a clear stream up to
a beautiful waterfall. We passed a good many cottages of the sort I
have described, and the people came out and offered us fruits and cooked
roots, like sweet potatoes and perk. We couldn't help going into some
of the houses, the people were so kind; besides, we were tired, as we
hadn't taken such a walk since we came aboard the _Rose_. We neither of
us had a watch, and never thought how the time went. When we were
rested, we got up, and, thanking the people of the house for their
kindness, went on our way, the country seeming more and more beautiful.
At last I said to Bill that I thought we ought to go back; so we turned
our faces, as we fancied, towards the place we had come from.
We went on some way, and then I stopped Bill, and said, "Bill, I don't
think we are right; we are farther off than ever."
We looked about to find a hill to climb, to judge where we were, but the
trees were so thick that we could see none. One thing we saw, that the
sky was changed, and that clouds were passing quickly across it, and
that the tops of the trees were bending to a strong breeze.
"Bill," I said, "we ought to be back at the boats, for they'll be going
off; we shall taste the end of a rope if we keep them waiting."
"Never fear, we shall be in time enough," answered Bill. "Why be put
out? we can't help ourselves."
That was true enough, then, but I knew that we ought not to have come at
all.
We went on some way till we came to another house. The people in it
were very kind, but we couldn't make out what they said, and they
couldn't what we said, though we tried to let them know that we wanted
to find our way back to the boats. At last a young man seemed to
understand what we wanted, for he took us by the hand and led us on.
After some time we found that we were going up a hill, and when we got
to the top of it we could see the ocean. We looked, we rubbed our eyes;
a heavy sea was rolling in, and far away our ship was beating off shore.
For some time I could not speak a word.
At last I said, "Bill, I fear we are left ashore, unless one of the
boats has stopped for us."
"Very likely that we are left, Tom, but not at all likely that one of
the boats has stopped for us," he answered. "Worse if she has; for we
shall catch it soundly when we get on board. Take my advice, let us
keep out of the way and not go back at all. This is a pleasant country
to live in, much better than knocking about at sea."
"No, no, I'd rather get a dozen floggings than leave the ship, and not
go back to Old England and see poor mother and brothers, and sisters
again. Haven't you got a mother and brothers and sisters, Bill?"
"Yes, but they don't care for me," he answered.
"How do you know that?" I asked. "Depend on it, Bill, they love you,
and care for you, and may be this moment are praying that you may be
kept free from danger. Come, at all events, let us go back to where we
landed, if we can find the way."
Our new friend stood watching us while we were talking, and when we
pointed to the ship he shook his head, to show that we couldn't get
aboard her; but when we pointed down to the shore he again took our
hands and led us on. We must have wandered by ourselves a long way, for
we were some time getting to the beach. There was not a sign of our
shipmates; we tried to ask where they had gone, but the natives hung
down their heads and looked sorrowful.
"Bill, something has happened," I said; "we must try to find out what it
is."
Our friend seemed to understand us better than the rest, so we asked him
to learn from them what had happened. After much talking with his
friends, he showed us by signs that the ship had fired a gun, and then
another, and another, and that the white men had hurried to the boats
and shoved off; that the largest boat with Mr Hudson had got out safe,
but that the smaller one was upset; some of the people in her were
drowned, and others swam out, and were picked up by the large boat.
This was, indeed, sad news. Which of our shipmates have been lost?
which of them have been saved? we asked one another. I had felt that if
the boats had gone without us, Captain Bolton would not forsake us, but
would put back to take us off as soon as he could. Now, however, he
would suppose that we had been lost, as very likely no one would have
observed that we were not with the rest, when they jumped into the
smaller boat to pull on board.
"Oh, Bill! Bill! here we are left among savages; may be we shall never
get away, but have to spend all the days of our lives with them," I
cried out in a mournful tone. Bill began to cry, too.
"Why, not long ago you wanted to remain," I could not help saying.
"That was when I thought that we should be flogged, and were sure to go
away," he answered.
"Do you know, Tom, I've heard say that some of these people are
cannibals; that is, they eat human flesh. Perhaps when they find that
the ship is gone, they'll kill and eat us."
I said I hoped not, but still I didn't feel very comfortable; for I knew
what he said was true.
There was now, however, no help for it. "Captain Bolton will believe
that we are lost, and when he gets home let our mothers know, and we
shall be mourned for as dead," said I.
"They won't mourn for me, and I don't care," said Bill.
"They will mourn for me, and I should be very sorry if I thought they
wouldn't," said I. "Ay Bill, often at night, when the storm has been
raging, and the sea running high, and it seemed as if the ship would go
down, or might be cast on some hidden reef, I've gone to sleep quite
happy, knowing that mother would be thinking of me, and praying for me,
and that there was One who hears our prayers, watching over me."
We were sitting down under some trees, on a hillock above the beach,
from which we could still see the _Rose_ beating off under close reefed
topsails. After some time our friendly native came up and sat down by
us. After a time, he signed to us to get up, and led us back to his
house. Our friend, we found, was the son of the greatest chief in the
island. When we got back to the house we had a supper of fish and pork,
and bread-fruit and other vegetables were placed before us. In the
middle of the house, as soon as it was dark, a fire of dried cocoa-nut
leaves was lighted, and round this the family collected. What was our
surprise to see the young chief bring out of a chest a book, and begin
to read. I looked at it, but though the letters were English, it was in
his own language. Then they all knelt down, and prayed, and sang a
psalm. I knew it by the tune.
"Why, Bill, I do believe these people are Christians," said I.
"So I suppose, Tom, if it is the Bible they are reading," said Bill.
"No doubt about it," I said; "that's the reason they treated us so
kindly. I've heard that missionaries have been out in these parts, and
they must have been here, and taught these people to be Christians."
"If they are Christians, Tom, then, maybe they won't kill and eat us as
we thought they would," said Bill, in a more cheerful voice than he had
spoken in before.
I couldn't help almost laughing as I answered, "They would be odd sort
of Christians if they did; but I'll tell you what, they'll think us very
odd sort of Christians if we don't kneel down, and say our prayers with
them. We needn't be afraid that any one will laugh at us, as we might
have been aboard the _Rose_."
"I can't say prayers, never learned," said Bill; "you never saw me
saying them aboard the _Rose_."
That was true; but mother had taught me to say mine, and I said them in
my berth, or to myself on deck, or wherever I could. I thought Bill
might have done the same. I felt that we were put to shame by these
poor savages, as we called them. So I begged Bill to try and say a
prayer, but he said he couldn't, he didn't know what to say. I asked
him if he could say what I did, and so we knelt down, and he said
prayers after me. The natives seemed pleased, and the young chief
nodded his head to show that we had done what he thought right. I don't
say there would have been any use in the form, or if I had done it
merely to please the natives, but I really did pray to God as truly as I
ever did, but I own that, in a way, the natives shamed me into it.
There was an old chief and his wife and two daughters, and three other
lads, besides our friend. They had all much more clothing on than the
other people we had seen, and were more quiet in their manners. As soon
as prayers were over, they hung up large pieces of native cloth from the
rafters, reaching to the floor, so as to form a number of little rooms.
Mats were laid on the floor to form the bedding, and pieces of cloth
served as coverlids. The pillow was a curious affair, being a thick
piece of bamboo, about four feet long, on little legs. We were shown
into one of these rooms, and a sign made to us to go to sleep. Even the
largest houses have not a nail in them, but are fastened together with
sennit, which is a line made from the root of a tree. I may say that
everything is fastened with sennit--canoes, as well as houses--so that
large quantities are used.
We slept very soundly, having no longer any fear of being cooked and
eaten. In the morning, as soon as it was daylight, the whole family was
on foot, and before anything was done they had prayers, as in the
evening; the young chief leading and reading more out of the Bible. As
soon as that was over, they all set about their daily work. The men and
boys went into the fields to cultivate the taro and other roots, on
which they live; while some of the women got out their mallets and
boards to make the native cloth; others employed themselves in plaiting
mats and baskets, which are so fine that they will hold water. Bill
thought that he was going to be a gentleman, and do nothing, as he said;
but I said that if we didn't work we could not expect to be fed, and
made signs to the young chief that we were ready to help him. He
smiled; perhaps he thought that we couldn't do much, and certainly we
could not hope to do anything as well as the natives did. They seemed
to me a very clever people, considering the small means they had. They
have now iron tools, but they showed me those they had before the
English came to the island, very neatly made of flint and shells and
bones. They made fish-hooks and spears, and many other things, of
bones. We soon learned from the young chief how to work in the fields,
and to do a number of things, and it was a pleasure to work for him, he
was always so good-natured and kind. By degrees, too, I learned his
language, though Bill could not make much hand of it. I wanted to know
how it was that he and his people had become Christians, and where the
missionary lived who had taught them. At last I spoke well enough, with
the help of signs, to ask him. I should have said that his name was
Matua. He told me also, with signs and words, that the missionary lived
in an island some way off, and that he, Matua, had been there several
times, and was soon going again to fetch a native missionary, or a
preaching man; that one had been on the island, but that he was a very
old man, and had died some time before we came. He told me that he had
a canoe preparing for the voyage. I asked him if he would let us go
with him, for that I should like to see the missionary, who was a
countryman of mine, and that I might, through him, write home to my
friends in England.
"Would you like to go to them again, or live on with me?" he asked.
"I like you very much, but I love my mother and brothers and sisters
much more, and if I have the chance, I shall try to go back to them," I
answered.
"Very right," he said, "but I shall grieve to lose you."
The canoe was, at the time we first saw it, nearly finished. It was
built like the houses, without a single nail, but all the planks were
sewed together with sennit. It was about forty feet long, and scarcely
thirty inches wide. It had a gunwale, and ribs and thwarts to keep it
in shape. A thick gum was put at the seams to prevent the water getting
through. Being so narrow it would have upset, but it had an outrigger,
which is a plank, or log, as long as the boat, pointed at the fore end.
This rested on the water five or six feet from the canoe, and was kept
there by poles, fastened across the canoe. This was always on the lee
side, as the canoes can sail both ways, stem or stern first. At one end
there was a deck, under which they kept their provisions, and on the top
of which the chief sat. The men to move it had short paddles, like
sharp-pointed shovels, and sitting with their faces to the bows, dug the
paddles into the water, which they sent flying behind them. We were
very sorry to part from many of our friends, but still the thoughts of
seeing a white man again, and hearing our native tongue spoken, made us
glad; besides which, I hoped that somehow or other I should have the
chance of getting home.