It is pleasant to turn for a time from the dark doings of evil men to
the contemplation of innocent infancy.
We return to the _Bounty_, and solicit the reader's attention to a plump
brown ball which rolls about that vessel's deck, exhibiting a marked
tendency to gravitate towards the lee scuppers. This brown ball is
Sally, the Otaheitan infant.
Although brown, Sally's face is extremely pretty, by reason of the
regularity of her little features, the beauty of her little white teeth,
and the brilliancy of her large black eyes, to say nothing of her
luxuriant hair and the gleeful insolence of her sweet expression.
We cannot say how many, or rather how few, months old the child is, but,
as we have already remarked, she is a staggerer. That is to say, she
has begun to assert the independence of her little brown legs, and
progresses, even when on shore, with all the uncertainty of a drunken
woman. Of course, the ship's motion does not tend to remedy this
defect. Sally's chief delight is wallowing. No matter what part of the
ship's deck she may select for her operations--whether the scuppers, the
quarter-deck, or the forecastle--she lays her down straightway for a
luxurious wallow. If the spot be dirty, she wallows it clean; if it be
clean, she wallows it dirty. This might seem an awkward habit to an
English mother; but it is a matter of supreme indifference to Sally's
mother, who sits on a gun-carriage plaiting a mat of cocoa-nut fibre,
for Sally, being naked, requires little washing. A shower of rain or a
dash of spray suffices to cleanse her when at sea. On shore she lives,
if we may say so, more in the water than on the land.
The day is fine, and the breeze so light that it scarce ruffles the face
of the great ocean, though it manages to fill the topsails of the
_Bounty_, causing her to glide quietly on. Some of the mutineers are
seated on the deck or bulwarks, patching a canvas jacket or plaiting a
grass hat. Others are smoking contemplatively. John Adams is winding
up the log-line with McCoy. Edward Young stands gazing through a
telescope at something which he fancies is visible on the horizon, and
Fletcher Christian is down in the cabin poring over Carteret's account
of his voyage in the Pacific.
There were goats on board. One of these, having become a pet with the
crew, was allowed to walk at liberty, and became a grand playmate for
Sally. Besides the goats, Christian had taken care to procure a number
of hogs and poultry from Otaheite; also a supply of young
breadfruit-trees and other vegetable products of the island, wherewith
to enrich his new home when he should find it. All the animals were
confined in cribs and pens with the exception of Sally's playmate.
"Take care!" exclaimed John Adams as he left the quarter-deck with his
hands in his pockets; "your mate'll butt you overboard, Sal, if you
don't look-out."
There was, indeed, some fear of such a catastrophe, for the precocious
infant had a tendency to scramble on any object which enabled her to
look over the low bulwarks, and the goat had a propensity to advance on
its hind legs with a playful toss of its head and take its playmate by
surprise, in truth, what between the fore-hatch, the companion-hatch,
and the low bulwarks, it may be said that Sally led a life of constant
and imminent danger. She was frequently plucked by the men out of the
very jaws of death, and seemed to enjoy the fun.
While attempting to avoid one of the goat's playful assaults, Sally
stumbled up against Matthew Quintal, deranged the work on which he was
engaged, and caused him to prick his hand with a sail-needle, at which
William McCoy, who was beside him, laughed.
"Get out o' that, you little nigger!" exclaimed Quintal, angrily, giving
the child a push with his foot which sent her rolling to the side of the
ship, where her head came in contact with an iron bolt. Sally opened
her mouth, shut her eyes, and howled.
Quintal had probably not intended to hurt the child, but he expressed no
regret. On the contrary, seeing that she was not much injured, he
laughed in concert with McCoy.
These two, Quintal and McCoy, were emphatically the bad men of the
party. They did not sympathise much, if at all, with human suffering--
certainly not with those whom they styled "niggers;" but there was one
witness of the act whose heart was as tender towards the natives as
Quintal's was hard.
"If you ever dare to touch her so again," said Young, striding up to
Quintal, "I'll kick you into the pig-sty."
The midshipman seemed to be the last man on board whose natural
disposition would lead him to utter such a threat, and Quintal was quite
taken aback; but as Young was a powerful fellow, perfectly capable of
carrying his threat into execution, and seemed, moreover, thoroughly
roused, the former thought it best to hold his tongue, even though
lugubrious Isaac Martin chuckled audibly, and Ohoo, one of the natives,
who stood near, displayed his fine teeth from ear to ear.
Lifting up Sally with much tenderness, Young carried her to her mother,
who, after a not very careful examination of the bruised head, set her
down on the deck, where she immediately began to wallow as before.
Rising on her brown little feet, she staggered forward a few paces, and
then seated herself without bending her knees. From this position she
rolled towards the starboard side of the ship and squeezed herself
between a gun-carriage and the bulwarks, until she got into the
porthole. Thrusting her head over the edge of this, she gazed at the
ripples that rolled pleasantly from the side. This was paradise! The
sun glittered on these ripples, and Sally's eyes glittered in sympathy.
A very gentle lurch of the ship soon after sent Sally head foremost into
the midst of the ripples.
This event was nothing new to Sally. In her Otaheitan home her mother
had been wont to take her out for a swim as British mothers take their
offspring for a walk. Frequently had that mother pitched Sally off her
shoulders and left her to wabble in the water, as eagles are said to
toss their eaglets into the air, and leave them to flutter until failing
strength renders aid advisable.
No doubt when Sally, falling from such a height, and turning so as to
come flat on her back, experienced a tingling slap upon her skin, she
felt disposed to shed a salt tear or two into the mighty ocean; but when
the smart passed away, she took to wallowing in the water, by way of
making the most of her opportunities. Both Christian and Young heard
the plunge. The former leaped up the companion ladder, the latter ran
to the stern of the ship, but before either could gain the side one of
the Otaheitan men, who had witnessed the accident, plunged into the sea
and was soon close to Sally. The playful creature, after giving him a
kick in the face, consented to be placed on his shoulders.
The ship of course was brought up to the wind and her topsails backed as
quickly as possible, but the swimmers were left a considerable distance
astern before this was accomplished.
"No need to lower a boat," remarked Christian, as he drew out the tubes
of his telescope; "that fellow swims like a fish."
"So do all his countrymen," said Young.
"And the women and children too," added John Adams, who was at the helm.
"She's tugging at the man's woolly head as if it were a door mat," said
Christian, laughing; "and I do believe--yes--the little thing is now
reaching round--and pulling his nose. Look at them, Young."
Handing the glass to the midshipman, he turned to inquire for the
child's mother, and to his astonishment found that brown lady sitting on
the deck busy with her mat-making, as unconcerned as if nothing unusual
were going on.
The fact was, that Sally's mother thought no more of Sally falling into
the sea than a white mother might of her child falling on its nose--not
so much, perhaps. She knew that the ship would wait to pick her up.
She also knew that Sally was an expert swimmer for her age, and that the
man who had gone to her rescue was thoroughly able for the duty, having,
like all the South Sea Islanders, been accustomed from infancy to spend
hours at a time in the water.
In a few minutes he came alongside, with Sally sitting astride his neck,
holding on to both sides of his head, and lifting her large eyes with a
gaze of ecstasy to those who looked over the vessel's side. She
evidently regarded the adventure as one of the most charming that had up
to that time gladdened her brief career. Not only so, but, no sooner
had she been hauled on board with her deliverer, than she made straight
for the porthole from which she had fallen, and attempted to repeat the
manoeuvre, amid shouts of laughter from all who saw her. After that the
various portholes had to be closed up, and the precocious baby to be
more carefully watched.
"I have come to the conclusion," said Christian to Young, as they paced
the deck by moonlight that same night, "that it is better to settle on
Pitcairn's Island than on any of the Marquesas group. It is farther out
of the track of ships than any known island of the Pacific, and if
Carteret's account of it be correct, its precipitous sides will induce
passers-by to continue their voyage without stopping."
"If we find it, and it should turn out to be suitable, what then!" asked
Young.
"We shall land, form a settlement, and live and die there," answered
Christian.
"A sad end to all our bright hopes and ambitions," said Young, as if
speaking to himself, while he gazed far away on the rippling pathway
made by the sun upon the sea.
Christian made no rejoinder. The subject was not a pleasant one to
contemplate. He thought it best to confront the inevitable in silence.
Captain Carteret, the navigator who discovered the island and named it
Pitcairn, after the young officer of his ship who was the first to see
and report it, had placed it on his chart no less than three degrees out
of its true longitude. Hence Christian cruised about unsuccessfully in
search of it for several weeks. At last, when he was on the point of
giving up the search in despair, a solitary rock was descried in the far
distance rising out of the ocean.
"There it is at last!" said Christian, with a sigh that seemed to
indicate the removal of a great weight from his spirit.
Immediately every man in the ship hurried to the bow of the vessel, and
gazed with strangely mingled feelings on what was to be his future home.
Even the natives, men and women, were roused to a feeling of interest
by the evident excitement of the Europeans, and hastened to parts of the
ship whence they could obtain a clear view. By degrees tongues began to
loosen.
"It's like a fortress, with its high perpendicular cliffs," remarked
John Adams.
"All the better for us," said Quintal; "we'll need some place that's
difficult to get at and easy to defend, if one o' the King's ships
should find us out."
"So we will," laughed McCoy in gruff tones, "and it's my notion that
there's a natural barrier round that island which will go further to
defend us agin the King's ships than anything that we could do. Isn't
that white line at the foot o' the cliffs like a heavy surf, boys?"
"It looks like it," answered John Mills, the gunner's mate; "an'
wherever you find cliffs rising like high walls out o' the sea, you may
be pretty sure the water's too deep for good anchorage."
"That's in our favour too," returned Quintal; "nothin' like a heavy surf
and bad anchorage to indooce ships to give us a wide berth."
"I hope," said William Brown the botanist, "that there's some vegetation
on it. I don't see much as yet."
"Ain't it a strange thing," remarked long-legged Isaac Martin, in a more
than usually sepulchral tone, "that land-lubbers invariably shows a fund
of ignorance when at sea, even in regard to things they might be
supposed to know somethin' about?"
"How have I shown ignorance just now?" asked Brown, with a smile, for he
was a good-humoured man, and could stand a great deal of chaffing.
"Why, how can you, bein' a gardener," returned Martin, "expect to see
wegitation on the face of a perpindikler cliff?"
"You're right, Martin; but then, you know, there is generally an
interior as well as a face to a cliffy island, and one might expect to
find vegetation there, don't you see."
"That's true--to _find_ it," retorted Martin, "but not to _see_ it
through tons of solid rock, and from five or six miles out at sea."
"But what if there's niggers on it?" suggested Adams, who joined the
party at this point.
"Fight 'em, of coorse," said John Williams.
"An' drive 'em into the sea," added Quintal.
"Ay, the place ain't big enough for more than one lot," said McCoy. "It
don't seem more than four miles long, or thereabouts."
An order to shorten sail stopped the conversation at this point.
"It is too late to attempt a landing to-night," said Christian to Young.
"We'll dodge off and on till morning."
The _Bounty_ was accordingly put about, and her crew spent the remainder
of the night in chatting or dreaming about their future home.