When I wakened next morning, wonderfully refreshed by sleep and the
purity of the air, I had some difficulty in remembering where I was and
how I came there in such a peculiar costume. But the voices of the
servants in the house, and the general stir of people going to and fro,
convinced me that I had better be up and ready to put my sickle into this
harvest of heathen darkness. Little did I think how soon the heathen
darkness would be trying to put the sickle into me! I made my way with
little difficulty, being guided by the sound of the running water, to the
bath-room, and thence into the gardens. These were large and remarkably
well arranged in beds and plots of flowers and fruit-trees. I
particularly admired a fountain in the middle, which watered the garden,
and supplied both the chief's house and the town. Returning by way of
the hall, I met the chief, who, saluting me gravely, motioned me to one
of many small tables on which was set a bowl of milk, some cakes, and
some roasted kid's flesh.
After I had done justice to this breakfast, he directed me to follow him,
and, walking before me with his gold-knobbed staff in his hand, passed
out of the shady court into the public square. Here we found a number of
aged men seated on unpleasantly smooth and cold polished stones in a
curious circle of masonry. They were surrounded by a crowd of younger
men, shouting, laughing, and behaving with all the thoughtless levity and
merriment of a Polynesian mob. They became silent as the chief
approached, and the old men rose from their places till he had taken a
kind of rude throne in the circle.
For my part, I was obliged to stand alone in their midst, and it seemed
that they were debating about myself and my future treatment. First the
old priest, whom I had seen on the night before, got up, and, as I
fancied, his harangue was very unfavourable to me. He pointed at the
inevitable flower-crowned altar which, of course, was in the centre of
the market-place, and from the way he shook a sickle he held in his hand
I believe that he was proposing to sacrifice me on the spot. In the
midst of his oration two vultures, black with white breasts, flew high
over our heads, chasing a dove, which they caught and killed right above
the market-place, so that the feathers fell down on the altar. The
islanders, as I afterwards discovered, are full of childish superstitions
about the flight of birds, from which they derive omens as to future
events. The old priest manifestly attempted to make political capital
against me out of the interesting occurrence in natural history which we
had just observed. He hurried to the altar, caught up a handful of the
bleeding feathers, and, with sickle in hand, was rushing towards me, when
he tripped over the head of a bullock that had lately been sacrificed,
and fell flat on his face, while the sickle flew far out of his hand.
On this the young men, who were very frivolous, like most of the
islanders, laughed aloud, and even the elders smiled. The chief now rose
with his staff in his grasp, and, pointing first to me and then to the
sky, was, I imagined, propounding a different interpretation of the omen
from that advanced by the old priest. Meantime the latter, with a sulky
expression of indifference, sat nursing his knees, which had been a good
deal damaged by his unseemly sprawl on the ground. When the chief sat
down, a very quiet, absent-minded old gentleman arose. Elatreus was his
name, as I learned later; his family had a curious history, and he
himself afterwards came to an unhappy and terrible end, as will be shown
in a subsequent part of my narrative.
I felt quite at home, as if I had been at some vestry-meeting, or some
committee in the old country, when Elatreus got up. He was stout, very
bald, and had a way of thrusting his arm behind him, and of humming and
hawing, which vividly brought back to mind the oratory of my native land.
He had also, plainly enough, the trick of forgetting what he intended to
say, and of running off after new ideas, a trick very uncommon among
these natives, who are born public speakers. I flattered myself that
this orator was in favour of leniency towards me, but nobody was paying
much attention to him, when a shout was heard from the bottom of the hill
on which the square is built. Everybody turned round, the elders jumped
up with some alacrity for the sake of a better view on the polished
stones where they had been sitting, and so much was the business before
the meeting forgotten in the new excitement, that I might have run away
unnoticed, had there been anywhere to run to. But flight was out of the
question, unless I could get a boat and some provisions, and I had
neither. I was pleased, however, to see that I was so lightly and laxly
guarded.
The cause of the disturbance was soon apparent. A number of brown, half-
naked, sturdy sailors, with red caps, not unlike fezzes, on their heads,
appeared, bawling and making for the centre of the square. They were
apparently carrying or dragging some person with them, some person who
offered a good deal of resistance. Among the foreign and unintelligible
cries and howls which rang through the market-place, my heart leaped up,
in natural though unsanctified pleasure, as I heard the too well-known
but unexpected accents of British profanity.
"Where the (somewhere) are you blooming sons of beach-combers dragging a
Bri'sh shailor? Shtand off, you ragged set of whitewashed Christy
Minstrels, you! Where's the Bri'sh Conshul's? Take me, you longshore
sons of sharks, to the Bri'sh Conshul's! If there's one white man among
you let him stand out and hit a chap his own weight."
"Hullo!" suddenly cried the speaker, whom I had recognized as William
Bludger, one of the most depraved and regardless of the whole wicked crew
of the Blackbird,--"hullo, if here isn't old Captain Hymn-book!"--a
foolish nickname the sailors had given me.
He was obviously more than half-drunk, and carried in his hand a black
rum-bottle, probably (from all I knew of him) not nearly full. His shirt
and trousers were torn and dripping; apparently he had been washed
ashore, like myself, after the storm, and had been found and brought into
the town by some of the fishing population.
What a blow to all my hopes was the wholly unlooked-for arrival of this
tipsy, irreclaimable seaman, this unawakened Bill Bludger! I had framed
an ideal of what my own behaviour, in my trying circumstances, ought to
be. Often had I read how these islanders possess a tradition that a
wonderful white man, a being all sweetness and lucidity, landed in their
midst, taught them the knowledge of the arts, converted them to peace and
good manners, and at last mysteriously departed, promising that he would
return again. I had hopes--such things have happened--that the islanders
might take me for this wonderful white man of their traditions, come back
according to his promise. If this delusion should occur, I would not at
once undeceive them, but take advantage of the situation, and so bring
them all into the Bungletonian fold. I knew there was no time to waste.
Lutheran, French, or Church of England schemers, in schooners, might even
now be approaching the island, with their erroneous and deplorable
tenets. Again, I had reckoned, if my hopes proved false, on attaining,
not without dignity, the crown of the proto-martyr of my Connection.
Beyond occasional confinement in police cells, consequent on the
strategic manoeuvres of the Salvation Army, none of us had ever known
what it was to suffer in the cause. If I were to be the first to testify
with my blood, on this unknown soil, at least I could meet my doom with
dignity. In any case, I should be remembered, I had reckoned, in the
island traditions, either as an isolated and mysterious benefactor, the
child of an otherwise unknown race, or as a solitary martyr from afar.
All these vain hopes of spiritual pride were now blown to the wind by
Bill Bludger's unexpected appearance and characteristic conduct. No
delusions about a divine white stranger from afar could survive the
appearance and behaviour of so compromising an acquaintance as William.
He was one white stranger too many. There he was, still struggling,
shouting, swearing, smelling of rum, and making frantic attempts to reach
me and shake hands with me.
"Let bygones be bygones, Captain Hymn-book, your Reverence," he screamed;
"here's your jolly good health and song," and he put his horrible black
bottle to his unchastened lips. "Here we are, Captain, two Englishmen
agin a lot o' blooming Kanekas; let's clear out their whole blessed town,
and steer for Sydney."
But, perceiving that I did not intend to recognize or carouse with him,
William Bludger now changed his tone; "Yah, you lily-livered
Bible-reader," he exclaimed, "what are you going about in _that_ toggery
for: copying Mr. Toole in Paw Claudian? _You_ call yourself a
missionary? Jove, you're more like a blooming play hactor in a penny
gaff! Easy, then, my hearties," he added, seeing that the fishermen were
approaching him again, with ropes in their hands. "Avast! stow your
handcuffs."
In spite of his oaths and struggles, the inebriated mariner was firmly
bound, hand and foot, and placed in the centre of the assembly. I only
wished that the natives had also gagged him, for his language, though, of
course, unintelligible to them, was profane, and highly painful to me.
Before returning to business, the chiefs carefully inspected the black
bottle, of which they had dispossessed William Bludger. A golden vase
was produced--they had always plenty of _them_ handy--and the dark fluid
was poured into this princely receptacle, diffusing a strong odour of
rum. Each chief carefully tasted the stuff, and I was pained, on
gathering, from the expression of their countenances, that they obviously
relished the "fire-water" which has been the ruin of so many peoples in
these beautiful but benighted seas. However, there was not enough left
to go round, and it was manifestly unlikely that William Bludger had
succeeded in conveying larger supplies from the wreck.
The meeting now assumed its former air of earnestness, and it was not
hard to see that the arrival of my unhappy and degraded fellow-countryman
had introduced a new element into the debate. Man after man spoke, and
finally the chief rose, as I had little doubt, to sum up the discussion.
He pointed to myself, and to William Bludger alternately, and the words
which I had already noted, Thargeelyah, and farmakoi, frequently recurred
in his speech. His ideas seemed to meet with general approval; even the
old priest laid aside his sickle, and beat applause with his hands. He
next rose, and, taking two garlands of beautiful flowers from the horns
of the altar, placed one wreath on the head of the drunken sailor, who
had fallen asleep by this time. He then drew near me, and I had little
doubt that he meant to make me also wear a garland, like some woman of
rank and fashion at a giddy secular entertainment. Whatever his motive
might be I was determined to wear nothing of the kind. But here some
attendants grappled and held me, my hat was lifted from my brows, and the
circlet of blossoms was carefully entwined all round my hat. The head-
covering was then replaced, the whole assembly, forming a circle, danced
around me and the unconscious Bludger, and, finally, the old priest,
turning his face alternately to me and to the sun, intoned a hymn, the
audience joining in at intervals.
My worst fears were, apparently, being realized. In spite of the
compromising appearance and conduct of Bludger, it seemed beyond doubt
that we were both regarded as, in some degree, divine and sacred.
Resistance on my part was, it will be seen, impossible. I could not
escape from the hands of my tormentors, and I was so wholly ignorant, at
that time, of their tongue, that I knew not how to disclaim the honours
thus blasphemously thrust upon me. I did my best, shouting, in English,
"I am no Thargeelyah. I am no farmakos" supposing those words to be the
native terms for one or other of their gods. On this the whole assembly,
even the gravest, burst out laughing, each man poking his neighbour in
the ribs, and uttering what I took to be jests at my expense. Their
behaviour in this juncture, and frequently afterwards, when I attempted
to make them tell me the meaning of the unknown words, and of catharma
(another expression the chief had used), greatly perplexed me. I had
afterwards too good reason to estimate their dreadful lack of the
ordinary feelings of humanity at its true value.
However, nothing but laughter (most unfitting the occasion) could be got
out of the assembled natives. They now began to return to their homes,
and Bludger, crowned with flowers that became him but ill, was carried
off, not, as it seemed to me, without even a reverential demeanour on the
part of his escort. Those who surrounded me, a kind of body-guard of six
young men, had entirely recovered their composure, and behaved to me with
a deference that was astonishing, but reassuring. From this time, I
ought to say, though permitted to go where I would, and allowed to
observe even their most secret rites, enjoying opportunities such as will
never fall to another European, I was never, but once, entirely alone. My
worshippers, as they might almost be called, so humble was their
demeanour, still kept watchful eyes upon me, as if I were a being so
precious that they were jealous of my every movement. It was now made
plain to me, by signs, that I must wait for some little space before
being conveyed to my appointed residence.