They were soon on their way with Ahleka and his friends, to the village,
which they reached in about two hours’ time. The village was built at
almost the other extreme of the island. After having crossed the hill,
where the girls had first seen the natives, they went but a short
distance before they came to two canoes, into one of which Ahleka
stepped and held out his hand to assist Mabel in. Etta, the captain and
Allen were all told to arrange themselves in the same canoe and the
three sailors were directed to get into the other, which one of the
native boys, whom Ahleka called Kaluha, was directed to manage; the
other three natives pushing the canoes out into the water, which seemed
to be a long arm of the sea, which extended far into the island, cutting
it almost in two.
Captain Gray, on seeing that the three natives were to be left behind,
exclaimed: “It is too bad for us to eat their breakfast and then take
their boats from them. How will they get to the village?”
“Have no fear for them,” replied Ahleka, “the village is on that side of
the island. We often walk from the village here; indeed it is the
shortest way, but by canoe, is the most pleasant.”
The canoes seemed to fairly skim over the bright water so rapidly did
they go. They had gone swiftly onward for an hour, when the canoes were
again headed for the shore.
After having landed, there was still quite a distance to walk before
reaching the village, but, at last, it was espied embowered in trees of
every description; the stately cocoanut and the spreading candlenut
tree, with its delicate silver green foliage, contending for supremacy.
The houses were built of grass, and were scattered here and there,
without any regard for regularity, but seeming as if built wherever a
large cluster of trees offered their friendly shade; at the side of most
of the houses a sort of trellis had been arranged by sticking one end of
long poles in the ground and leaning the other end against the roof of
the house. These trellises were covered by flowering vines of great
variety and brilliancy, the whole effect being one of exceeding
loveliness. Under these flowery bowers, which were open at each end,
were spread mats of the finest workmanship, being braided of lohala (a
tree possessing a fibre of extreme fineness.) Some had the appearance of
goats fleece, so skillfully were they woven, leaving fibres three or
four inches in length, loose on the top of the rug; others were braided
in a smooth, close surface.
Mabel exclaimed, on coming in sight of the village: “How lovely! I never
saw anything half so beautiful; it seems like a vision of dreamland.”
“And is not your country, that has such beautiful maidens, far more
lovely than our land?” broke in Ahleka.
“Oh, no! Our country is not one half so enchanting,” said she.
There seemed a strange quiet brooding over the village as they drew
near, and, on Etta speaking of this, Ahleka said: “In my country we
sleep at midday; then each one who is in the village rests, so that we
tire not ourselves in the heat of the day.”
“What a delightful custom,” cried Mabel, smiling.
As they entered the village, all still remained quiet. Ahleka led them
to one of the largest and most beautiful of the houses. After offering
them seats on the comfortable rugs under the trellis that was a mass of
fragrant bloom. “This,” said he, “was my house. Now it is yours. I will
leave you now while I go to speak to my father, of you. I will soon
return. These boys,” pointing to the one who had been in the canoe with
the sailors, and another, who had been lying asleep on a mat, but had
gotten up as they came in, “will wait upon you while I am gone.”
Speaking a few words to the boys in his native tongue, he departed.
“That fellow looks like a prince, doesn’t he,” said Allen, “in spite of
his dark skin and lack of clothing.”
“Indeed he does,” asserted Mabel, “and acts like one, too. I have never
seen a prince, but he comes very near my ideal of one.”
“Look out Mabel,” laughed Etta, “and don’t let him play the part of
Prince Charming.”
Allen cast a quick, keen glance at Mabel, who colored angrily and
answered quickly: “There is no excuse for that remark.”
“Why, Mabel, you know I did not mean to annoy you,” said Etta, really
sorry she had made so hasty a speech. “Do forgive me, it was only a
joke.”
“That may be, but not a pleasant one. I do admire him very much as a
savage, but the idea of putting myself on a level with a brown skinned
heathen is not agreeable.
“Come, come, girls, don’t get to quarreling over our dusky friend,”
exclaimed Captain Gray, “this sort of thing won’t do at all.” In a
moment’s time, the girls had forgotten the little occurrence and all
went on pleasantly.
The two boys now came out of the house, one of them carrying two
peculiar looking water vessels. They consisted of large gourds covered
with a curiously wrought net work of fine cord, the cords being gathered
around the top into half a dozen handles by which to carry them
conveniently. These calabashes had been filled with cool water from a
little stream near by; into one of them a number of very fragrant ginger
flowers had been thrown, giving to the water a delicate perfume. The
water from this calabash, the boy emptied into a number of shallow
gourds they had brought with them. One of the calabashes of perfumed
water he sat before each of the party, putting beside each, a piece of
something that looked like the finest cloth, but was in reality the bark
of a tree, beaten to extreme thinness. It was so evident what was
intended by these attentions that the travellers were not slow to avail
themselves of this provision for their comfort, and found themselves
much refreshed.
The other boy had, in the meantime, been filling small cups made of half
a cocoanut, highly polished and curiously carved, with the juice of
young cocoanuts. This proved very pleasant to the taste.
Just as they had handed back the cups to the boy, Ahleka returned, and
with him his father, whose appearance was in striking contrast to that
of his son, Ahleka; for, although he was browned by many years of
exposure to the tropical sun, and the hot winds of this lovely island,
was unmistakably a white man. His long hair hanging in soft silvery
waves, half way down his back, his grey beard falling low on his breast,
while his deep-set grey eyes looked out from under brows that were
almost as black as Ahleka’s own, giving his face a most peculiar
expression. He was dressed in the same manner as his son, only that over
his shoulders was thrown a small cape made of bright feathers. In his
hand he carried a long staff. As he came toward the house, in which
Captain Gray and his shipwrecked party were sitting, they could see that
the old man was strongly affected by their presence; in fact, his
agitation was so great, that Ahleka was obliged to support his trembling
form.
Captain Gray, followed by the rest, arose and went forward to meet him.
He stretched out his hand toward them, dropping his staff. “Thank God,”
he cried, “once more do I speak to my countrymen!”
After having seated his father, Ahleka said, “I have told him all your
story, as far as I knew it, but he wishes to hear much more.”
“Yes,” cried the old man, “tell me all. How did you get here? All these
weary years have I prayed to God that before I died, he would let me
speak once more to men of my own country.”
Captain Gray told their story to him in all its thrilling details. He
listened attentively, now and then shaking his head sadly. When the
captain had finished, the old man said, “You can not hope for
deliverance from this sea-bound land for years, if ever. I have been
here thirty years. For years after I came I spent my time scanning, with
anxious eyes, the face of the ocean, but no sign of sail did I ever see,
except once, and then the fire, which I placed on the highest hill on
the island failed to attract attention. You are the first sign of life
outside of this island I have seen for thirty years.”
His words brought a feeling of horror to each of his listeners. Must
their fate be what his had been?
“In time,” he continued, “I grew more contented and ceased to look out
to sea. About that time I married, according to the native custom, a
young and beautiful girl, the daughter of the reigning queen of the
island. Think not that I was soon comforted for the loss of the wife I
had left at home, for that was not the case; but the princess loved me
and one day two of the warriors came to tell me that I was expected to
marry her, and, as a refusal on my part would result in my death, I
consented to the proposal, thinking to leave her behind me when I
returned to my own country; but the girl I married was so beautiful, so
gentle, so affectionate and devoted, that I learned to love her deeply
and mourned her loss greatly when she was taken away from me by death.”
“But you have not told us, as yet, how you came here,” broke in Allen.
“Will you not tell us about it?”
“’Tis a tale soon told,” he replied. “I left England thirty years ago.
It was on the thirteenth of January, 1857, and I shall never forget that
day. I think it is thirty years since then, am I right?”
“Yes,” answered Allen, “you are right. Thirty years, and a little over,
as it is now March.”
“As I was saying, I left England, bound for Australia, on that day. We
had pleasant enough passage until we had almost reached our destination,
when we encountered one of those horrors of the sea—a cyclone. For days
we were at the mercy of the wind, our masts gone and a greater part of
the upper works washed away. Our ship began to leak so fast, that with
the most desperate efforts we could no longer keep her afloat and were
driven to take to the boats. One boat was smashed against the vessel’s
side; a second was swamped by the suction produced by the sinking ship.
We, in our boat, alone escaped, but our sufferings were intense. What
with the stormy waves that dashed over us, carrying away three of our
number, the horrible hunger we had to undergo, being without anything to
eat, and the frightful thirst that overtook us before we reached this
island, my sufferings were so great, that, whereas my hair had been as
black as Ahleka’s there, when I sailed from home, when I landed here it
was as you see it now. Finally we were thrown on the reef, that extends
almost around this island. Our boat quickly went to pieces and we clung
to portions of the wreckage, hoping to be at last thrown on the island.
Just as we were almost exhausted, and about to give up, we saw several
canoes, containing natives, coming rapidly toward us. They had been surf
bathing, and seeing our terrible position, and being kindly natured, had
come to our assistance. We were soon in the canoes, but there were only
three of us, whereas, when the boat struck the reef, three had been
five, but they were nowhere to be seen. After bringing us to this
village they cared for us with the greatest kindness. It was not long
before one of our number, a young doctor, was happily settled in a
little grass cottage with a lovely brown girl for a wife. The other
member of our party was the mate of the ship. He had a sweet little wife
back in England, so declined to marry a native women who wished him as a
husband. According to a custom of this people, he was instantly put to
death by her relatives, who took this method of resenting the insult to
their kinswoman. If she had been a beautiful young maiden, like the
doctor’s bride, it might have been different. Then I married my lovely
Lokie (a rose). We had three children, this son and two daughters. I was
happy and contented as years went by, but when Ahleka was twelve years
old, a dreadful scourge of fever swept over the island, and my wife, one
of my daughters, and the young doctor were among those who were marked
by the hand of death. Then I lived on with my son and daughter. I
received great consideration from the people of the island, as my son
Ahleka is their head Alii or king. The line of succession descending in
this island, not from father to son, but from the mother to her
children, thus keeping the royal blood pure. Now, you have heard my
story.”
“Yes, but not your name, or that of the vessel in which you sailed,”
said Captain Gray.
“The ship’s name was the ‘Castle Ayreshire.’” At the mention of that
name Allen Thornton made a violent start. “And I,” continued he, “was
her captain—ALLEN THORNTON.”
At the sound of that name a cry of astonishment burst from the lips of
each of the party.
Allen, throwing himself on his knees, in front of the old man, cried:
“My father! My father! Have I found you at last?”
The old man looked bewildered.
“You are my father,” continued Allen, “did you not leave a boy, a few
months old, as well as a young wife, behind you at Brighton.”
“I did! I did!” sobbed the old man, “and you are he. I thank God for his
goodness. To think that my other son should be sent to cheer my
declining days. Surely God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to
perform. But your mother, boy, your mother. Where is she, and how? Why
did you leave her?”
“Father she is happy and has no need of me. She died when I was fifteen,
after mourning you as dead so many years.”
Captain Thornton, as we shall now call him, pressed his hands tightly
over his eyes to repress his emotion, then clasped Allen to his breast.
While this scene was being enacted the others had gone a little aside.
“Isn’t it all strange?” whispered Mabel to Etta.
“Yes, and to think of Allen and Ahleka being half brothers; did you
think of that?” answered Etta.
“Sure enough; I had not thought of that. I wonder if Allen has, and how
he will like it when he realizes it.” Mabel spoke in a tone as if she
should not care for so dark a brother herself.
Presently Captain Thornton turned and said, “My son, Ahleka, has asked,
that, in his name I extend the hospitality and protection of the village
and island to you all, which I gladly do; he also wishes to give to
Captain Gray and the two young ladies, this house and the one adjoining,
which are his own. He will provide for the sailors with you’ hereafter,
and, as for my son Allen, his comfort shall be my care.”
During this conversation the village had literally awakened from its
sleep, and from every little grass house came streaming, dusky forms.
They clustered around Ahleka, listening with open-eyed astonishment to
the strange story he was telling them in their own musical tongue, with
many a gesture. Presently a number of smiling girls darted off, and soon
returned with long leis (bands) of flowers, made by braiding the
brightest and sweetest flowers with ferns, or, a sweet smelling vine,
into long garlands, with which they proceeded to deck each of the
strangers, putting them over one shoulder and under the other arm like a
military sash, leaving long ends to fall almost to the ground. More
garlands were wound about their waists, placed upon their heads and
around their necks until they were fairly clothed in flowers; the girls,
meantime, laughing gaily, and repeating in their soft, musical voices,
ah mie ha (you are welcome.)