"Yes, we will permit a few fat ones to land. The rest shall die, for
white men are thieves. They deceived us last time. They shall never
deceive us again."
As this remark might have been meant for a covert reference to his own
thievish tendencies, Wapoota restrained his somewhat ghastly humour,
while the chief continued his arrangements for repelling the invaders.
Meanwhile, these invaders were getting into the boat.
"What! you's not goin' widout me?" exclaimed Ebony, as one of the
sailors thrust him aside from the gangway.
"I fear we are," said Orlando, as he was about to descend the vessel's
side. "It was as much as I could do to get Waroonga to agree to let me
go with him."
"But dis yar nigger kin die in a good cause as well as you, massa," said
Ebony, in a tone of entreaty so earnest that the men standing near could
not help laughing.
"Now then, make haste," sang out the officer in charge of the boat.
Orlando descended, and the negro, turning away with a deeply injured
expression, walked majestically to the stern to watch the boat.
Waroonga had prepared himself for the enterprise by stripping off every
article of clothing save a linen cloth round his loins, and he carried
nothing whatever with him except a small copy of God's Word printed in
the language of the islanders. This, as the boat drew near to shore, he
fastened on his head, among the bushy curls of his crisp black hair, as
in a nest.
Orlando had clothed himself in a pair of patched old canvas trousers,
and a much worn unattractive cotton shirt.
"Stop now," said the missionary, when the boat was about five or six
hundred yards from the beach. "Are you ready?"
"Ready," said Orlando.
"Then come."
He dropped quietly over the side and swam towards the shore. Orlando,
following his example, was alongside of him in a few seconds.
Both men were expert and rapid swimmers. The natives watched them in
absolute silence and open-mouthed surprise.
A few minutes sufficed to carry the swimmers to the beach.
"Have your rifles handy, lads," said the officer in charge of the boat
to his men.
"Stand by," said the captain of the "Furious" to the men at the guns.
But these precautions were unnecessary, for when the swimmers landed and
walked up the beach they were seen by the man-of-war's-men to shake
hands with the chief of the savages, and, after what appeared to be a
brief palaver, to rub noses with him. Then the entire host turned and
led the visitors towards the village.
With a heart almost bursting from the combined effects of
disappointment, humiliation, and grief, poor Ebony stood at the stern of
the man-of-war, his arms crossed upon his brawny chest, and his great
eyes swimming in irrepressible tears, a monstrous bead of which would
every now and then overflow its banks and roll down his sable cheek.
Suddenly the heart-stricken negro clasped his hands together, bowed his
head, and dropped into the sea!
The captain, who had seen him take the plunge, leaped to the stern, and
saw him rise from the water, blow like a grampus, and strike out for
land with the steady vigour of a gigantic frog.
"Pick him up!" shouted the captain to the boat, which was by that time
returning to the ship.
"Ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply.
The boat was making straight for the negro and he for it. Neither
diverged from the straight course.
"Two of you in the bow, there, get ready to haul him in," said the
officer.
Two sturdy sailors drew in their oars, got up, and leaned over the bow
with outstretched arms. Ebony looked at them, bestowed on them a
tremendous grin, and went down with the oily ease of a northern seal!
When next seen he was full a hundred yards astern of the boat, still
heading steadily for the shore.
"Let him go!" shouted the captain.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the obedient officer.
And Ebony went!
Meanwhile our missionary, having told the wondering savages that he
brought them _good news_, was conducted with his companion to Ongoloo's
hut. But it was plain that the good news referred to, and even Waroonga
himself, had not nearly so great an effect on them as the sight of
Orlando, at whom they gazed with an expression half of fear and half of
awe which surprised him exceedingly.
"Your story is not new to us," said Ongoloo, addressing the missionary,
but gazing at Orlando, "it comes to us like an old song."
"How so?" exclaimed Waroonga, "has any one been here before with the
grand and sweet story of Jesus and His love."
The reply of the savage chief was strangely anticipated and checked at
that moment by a burst of childish voices singing one of the beautiful
hymns with which the inhabitants of Ratinga had long been familiar. As
the voices swelled in a chorus, which distance softened into fairy-like
strains, the missionary and his companion sat entranced and bewildered,
while the natives looked pleased, and appeared to enjoy their
perplexity.
"Our little ones," said Ongoloo, after a few minutes' pause, "are
amusing themselves with singing. They often do that."
As he spoke the party were startled and surprised by the sudden
appearance of Ebony, who quietly stalked into the circle and seated
himself beside the missionary with the guilty yet defiant air of a man
who knows that he has done wrong, but is resolved at all hazards to have
his way. Considering the turn that affairs had taken, neither Orlando
nor Waroonga were sorry to see him.
"This is a friend," said the latter in explanation, laying his hand on
the negro's shoulder. "But tell me, chief, we are impatient for to
know, where learned you that song?"
"From one who is mad," replied the chief still gazing earnestly at
Orlando.
"Mad!" repeated the youth, starting up and trembling with
excitement--"how know you that? Who--where is he? Ask him, Waroonga."
The explanation that followed left no doubt on Orlando's mind that his
father was bereft of reason, and wandering in the neighbouring mountain.
If there had been any doubt, it would have been swept away by the chief,
who quietly said, "the madman is _your father_!"
"How does he know that Waroonga?"
"I know, because there is no difference between you, except years--
and--"
He did not finish the sentence, but touched his forehead solemnly with
his finger.
"Does he dwell alone in the mountains?" asked Orlando.
"Yes, alone. He lets no one approach him," answered Ongoloo.
"Now, Waroonga," said Orlando, "our prayers have been heard, and--at
least partly--answered. But we must proceed with caution. You must
return on board and tell Captain Fitzgerald that I go to search for my
father _alone_."
"Wid the help ob dis yar nigger," interposed Ebony.
"Tell him on no account to send men in search of me," continued Orlando,
paying no attention to the interruption; "and in the meantime, you know
how to explain my purpose to the natives. Adieu."
Rising quickly, he left the assembly and, followed modestly but closely
by the unconquerable negro, set off with rapid strides towards the
mountains.