THE FOUNDLING
The improvement in the weather was only temporary, and for several days
the girls were kept at home by the heavy rains. They talked a good
deal about their discovery. There appeared to be at least two natives
on the island; how many more they were unable to guess. Having
themselves been seen, they felt that they could no longer owe their
safety to the ignorance of the inhabitants; but the bad weather might
discourage any attempt to seek them out. Whether they would escape
attack when the rain ceased was a problem that caused much anxiety.
Early one morning a hurricane swept over the island, not so devastating
as its predecessor, but violent enough to make them fear for the safety
of their hut. This time, however, the wind blew from a different
quarter, and the girls' frail dwelling, being sheltered by the high
ground behind, escaped damage. The storm lasted a few hours, and was
then succeeded by a day of brilliant sunshine. The girls took
advantage of this to replenish their larder. While Tommy and Elizabeth
were fishing, Mary posted herself as sentry to give the alarm if the
natives appeared. They feared that the precaution would avail them
little if they were really attacked, for they had no means of defence;
but it might at least give them time to escape for the moment by
launching the boat. They were undisturbed, however: and when the day
closed they rejoiced in one more respite.
Next morning Tommy, on going down to the beach, was surprised to see a
canoe, apparently empty, drifting past the reef. It flashed upon her
that this might be the canoe they had seen up the coast, and that it
had been washed away, like their own boat, by the recent storm.
She ran up to the hut to tell her sisters what she had seen, and all
three hurried down to the shore.
"Let's row out and catch it," cried Tommy excitedly. "I should love to
learn to paddle a native canoe, and I dare say in time we could make it
go along faster than our own dinghy."
"You want to capture an enemy's ship," said Elizabeth, with a smile.
"I don't see any reason why we shouldn't. But we'll take some food and
water this time. After our last adventure I don't care about voyaging
without provisions."
Tommy ran back to the hut for some fruit and cold fish, while Mary
filled their water-pots at the stream. Having placed them in the boat
they rowed out towards the reef. By the time they were afloat the
canoe had drifted out into the main current, and was being carried
rapidly away. The sea was calm, and Elizabeth's vigorous strokes
brought the boat in twenty minutes or so within a few yards of the
canoe.
Suddenly Mary, who had been keeping a look-out in the boat, uttered a
startled exclamation.
"Bess, I believe there's some one lying in it."
Elizabeth at once lay on her oars.
"Row back!" whispered Tommy. "It's one of the savages. He's hiding to
decoy us, or something."
Elizabeth's common-sense asserted itself.
"That's not likely," she said. "How would he suppose that we should
row out? and we couldn't get away now if we tried if he has a paddle.
If he hasn't he can't do us much harm. Now's the best chance we have
of making friends."
"Don't, Bess!" whispered Tommy anxiously, as Elizabeth dipped the oars
again.
But Elizabeth was firm, and with a few strokes brought the boat
alongside the canoe. Not a sound had come from it.
"It's a girl!" exclaimed Mary, now that she could see more clearly the
bottom of the canoe.
Tommy gave a gasp. Was she to behold the owner of the little brown
face at last? Elizabeth no longer hesitated. She drew close to the
canoe, shipped oars, and laid a hand on the side.
The girls looked down with a sort of awed curiosity. In the bottom of
the boat lay a native girl--a brown-skinned pretty little creature,
with a string of what looked like teeth around her neck, and a yellow
kerchief about her waist. She was perfectly still; her eyes were
closed.
"She's dead!" whispered Tommy, whose eyes were dilated with excitement.
Elizabeth leant over and placed her hand under the child's breast.
"No, she is alive," she said, "but her heart is beating very faintly.
Some water, Mary--quick!"
It was impossible, placed as she was, to pour any water into the girl's
mouth; but Elizabeth sprinkled a little on her head. After a time the
girl stirred, opened her eyes and moved her lips, but no sound came
from them, and in a moment her eyelids again drooped.
"She's absolutely done," said Elizabeth. "We'll tow the canoe home.
Tommy, fasten the painter. The poor child's very bad."
The boat's head was turned, and Elizabeth rowed as hard as she could
against the current. Fortunately, they had not come very far beyond
the gap in the reef. When the boat reached the still water it
travelled much faster, and within an hour of leaving they regained the
shore. During this time Tommy had thrown an occasional glance over her
shoulder at the prostrate girl. Once she caught the child's eyes fixed
upon her, and felt a thrill as she recognized them; they were the same
as she had seen peering at her out of the bush. She felt no fear now,
but a longing to help the little stranger and know more about her.
When they had landed and drawn the boat up, they lifted the girl and
carried her among them to the hut. Her eyes opened during the journey,
and she shivered; but she did not speak or struggle, and indeed hung so
limply in their arms that they feared she was past help.
"On my bed, please," said Tommy, when they reached the hut.
They laid her gently down, and Elizabeth poured a little cocoa-nut milk
between her lips. She now gave signs of animation, swallowed the juice
greedily, and looked with the eyes of a timid fawn from one to another
of the three girls. Presently she murmured a few words; her voice was
plaintive and pleading.
"Don't be frightened," said Elizabeth soothingly.
The words seemed to startle the child. She tried to rise, but was too
weak to move.
"She must have been adrift a long time to be in this terrible state,"
said Elizabeth. "I wonder how it happened?"
"Poor thing," murmured Tommy. "What a sweet little face she has!"
"Hush!" said Elizabeth, "our voices frighten her. Of course she
doesn't understand what we say. I think you had better leave her to me
for a little while. I'll feed her, and she'll see by and by that we
mean her no harm."
Tommy's face wore for an instant a look of defiance, but she got the
better of her inclination to rebel, and with Mary left the hut.
Elizabeth remained with the little stranger, feeding her at frequent
intervals, bathing her head, occasionally murmuring a word of
encouragement. Her gentleness was effective. Presently the look of
fright vanished from the brown girl's eyes--large, liquid eyes that
Elizabeth found wonderfully attractive. Once she timidly stroked
Elizabeth's strong firm hand, and at last, with a faint smile, she
dropped off to sleep.
"She's asleep," said Elizabeth, quietly going forth to join her
sisters. "What an extraordinary thing to happen!"
"Look here, Bess," said Tommy fiercely, "if you think you're going to
keep her to yourself you are jolly well mistaken. I saw her first; you
wouldn't believe me; and now I'm going to look after her, so there!"
"Instead of the parrot?" Mary could not help saying.
Elizabeth frowned at her.
"Very well, dear," she said pleasantly. "She's a little younger than
you, I should think, but I dare say she will like you to mother her.
But what will happen? Won't her friends come and look for her?"
"And if they do, and find we have treated her kindly, they'll just love
us," said Tommy.
The other girls were amazed at Tommy's complete change of attitude.
Her fearfulness seemed to have been quite swallowed up in another
emotion. The discovery that the native of whom she had been so
needlessly frightened was a girl more helpless than herself filled her
with a kind of rapture. She stepped softly into the hut, and seeing
that the child was still asleep, placed a peeled orange beside her mat,
where it must be seen as soon as she awoke.
"I wonder if we ought to go to the native hut and try to explain to her
people that the girl is safe," said Elizabeth, as they sat on the grass
eating their dinner.
"Certainly not," said Tommy decisively. "I dare say they were cruel to
her, and the poor thing was glad to get away."
"What an imagination you have!" said Elizabeth, smiling. "For all you
know, her mother may be broken-hearted."
"I don't believe it. Anyhow, she's too weak to go home, and we shall
soon see if she wants to. I'll talk to her by and by, and I know
she'll be quite pleased to stay with us."
Remembering Tommy's ill-success with the parrot, the elder girls were
amused at her confident belief that she would make the child talk, and
understand what she said. Indeed, when, later in the day, the girl
awoke, and Tommy went to attend to her, the first attempt at opening
communications was a complete failure. By way of putting the little
patient at her ease, Tommy grinned at her, patted her head, nodded,
pointed to herself and said "Me Tommy," with the result that the child
shrank away from her as if scared. When she realized that she had
nothing to fear, she gazed upon the white girl with wide-open eyes and
the same wondering look as may be seen on the face of a child watching
a conjurer.
The ravenous way in which she ate the food given to her confirmed the
girls' belief that she was half-starved. She rapidly gained strength,
and it became clear that her weakness was due to hunger and not to
illness. She began to talk, pouring out her words in liquid tones that
fell pleasantly on the English ears. When she saw how puzzled the
girls were she laughed; then, with a sober look of reflection, pointed
to herself and said "Me Tommee" so drolly that the girls screamed with
laughter.
Just before sunset, when the girls came into the hut for the night,
they sat eating their supper and talking about their dusky guest. She
knew by instinct that she was the subject of their conversation, and
looked timidly from one to another, watching their lips, her features
reflecting every expression on their faces.
Tommy gave her some baked fish for supper, and then prepared to "tuck
her up," as she said, with her own wraps; but the girl rejected the
covering and coiled herself up like a dog.
Next morning she got up and followed them when they went down to the
shore for their usual bath. She seemed to be astonished at the
whiteness of their skin, and amused them very much by scrubbing herself
with sand, to see if she could make her brown body resemble theirs.
She watched every detail of their toilet with intense interest, and
when she saw them comb their hair she held out her hand for the comb.
"Don't give it to her, Tommy," said Mary, looking with distaste at the
girl's greasy mop.
"Rubbish!" said Tommy. "We can wash it afterwards."
But even Tommy regretted her generosity when, after being vigorously
tugged through the thick matted hair, the comb was restored to her with
several of its teeth missing.
"My word!" she exclaimed. "Fancy breaking wooden teeth! My poor old
pony's mane was nothing to her thatch."
After breakfast the girl followed them about like a dog. They noticed
that she looked about her eagerly, as though searching for some
recognizable landmark. But she evinced no desire to leave them, and
indeed soon became tired; her strength was not yet equal to much
exertion. The girls all sat on the grass with the child in the midst.
"Let's try to find out her name," suggested Mary.
"Let me try," said Tommy. Pointing to Elizabeth, she said "Bess,"
repeating the name several times. Then she touched Mary, pronouncing
her name, and lastly herself.
"Me Tommee," said the girl, laughing delightedly.
"Tommy," said her instructor, "not 'me,' just Tommy."
"Me Tommee," repeated the girl; then after a moment pointed to Mary,
saying "Mailee," and to Elizabeth, calling her "Bess," with a long
sibilant.
"Now you," said Tommy, pointing to the girl herself.
She at once recognized what was required and said, "Fangati."
"What a pretty name!" said Elizabeth.
"I wonder how she spells it," remarked Mary.
At this Tommy shrieked.
"She doesn't spell at all, you goose!" she said; "of course she never
learnt her letters."
And then the laugh was on Mary's side, for Fangati, as if thoroughly
enjoying the fun, touched Tommy's hand, saying "Me Tommee," over and
over again.
"You'll be 'Me Tommee' always now," said Elizabeth. "You should have
used correct English, my dear."
"I don't care," said Tommy philosophically. "Anyhow, she can't say
Mary. Try again, Fangati," she added, pointing to her sister.
"Mailee," cried the child, showing her teeth in a pretty smile. "Bess,
Mailee, Me Tommee."
To make quite sure that they had her name correctly, Tommy walked to a
little distance until she was out of sight among the trees, and then
called "Fangati!" in her shrill treble. The girl instantly jumped to
her feet, and ran after her.
"Well done," said Tommy, patting her. "You are a perfect dear, and I'm
going to be very fond of you."