We had not remained long by ourselves in the square, when the most
extraordinary procession which I had ever beheld began to climb into the
open space from the town beneath. I do not know if I have made it
sufficiently clear that the square, on the crest of the isolated hill
above the sea, was occupied only by public buildings, such as the temple,
the house of the chief, and a large edifice used as a kind of town hall,
so to speak. The natives in general lived in much smaller houses, many
of them little better than huts, and divided by extremely narrow and
filthy streets, on the slopes, and along the shores of the bay.
It was from these houses and from all the country round that the
procession, with persons who fell into its ranks as they came, was now
making its way. Almost all the parties concerned were young, boys and
girls, or very young men and women, and though their dress was much
scantier and less decent than what our ideas of delicacy require, it must
be admitted that the general aspect of the procession was far from
unpleasing. The clothes and wraps which the men and women wore were of
various gay colours, and were, in most cases, embroidered quite skilfully
with representations of flowers, fruits, wild beasts, and individuals of
grotesque appearance. Every one was crowned with either flowers or
feathers.
But, most remarkable of all, there was scarcely a person in this large
gathering who did not bring or lead some wild bird or beast. The girls
carried young wild doves, young rooks, or the nestlings of such small
fowls as sparrows and finches. It was a pretty sight to see these poor
uninstructed young women, flushed with the exertion of climbing, and
merry, flocking into the square, each with her pet (as I supposed, but
the tender mercies of the heathen are cruel) half hidden in the folds of
her gown. Of the young men, some carried hawks, some chained eagles,
some young vultures. Many were struggling, too, with wild stags and wild
goats, which they compelled with the utmost difficulty to march in the
ranks of the procession. A number of young persons merely bore in their
hands such fruits as were in season, obviously fine specimens, of which
they had reason to be proud.
Others, again, were carrying little young bears, all woolly, comfortable-
looking creatures, while the parent bears, adult bears at any rate, were
brought along, chained, in the rear. My guards, or adorers, or whatever
the young men who looked after me really were, led me forward, and made
signs to me that I was to bring up the rear of the procession--behind the
bears, which made no attempt (as in the case of the prophet) to take the
part of a Minister of the Bungletonian Connection. What a position for
one who would fain have been opening the eyes of this darkened people to
better things! But, till I had acquired some knowledge of their
language, I felt my only chance was to acquiesce in everything not
positively sinful. The entrance of a menagerie and horticultural
exhibition into the town--for thus I explained to myself what was going
on before my eyes--could not be severely censured by the harshest critic,
and I prepared to show my affability by joining in an innocent diversion
and popular entertainment.
Soon I found that, after all, I was not to be absolutely last in the
advance of this miscellaneous exhibition, nor were the intentions of the
people so harmless as I had imagined. This was no affair of cottage
window gardens, and a distribution of prizes.
The crowd which had collected in front of the chief's house opened
suddenly, and, in the throng of people, I detected a movement of
excitement and alarm. Next I saw the horns of animals mixed with the
heads and shoulders of the multitude, and then an extraordinary spectacle
burst, at full speed, upon my gaze. Four great wild stags, plunging,
rearing, and kicking, rushed by, dragging a small vehicle of unusual
shape, in which stood, to my horror, the chief's beautiful daughter,
Doto. The vehicle passed me like a flash of horns, in spite of the
attempts of four resolute men, who clung at the stags' heads to restrain
the impetuosity of these coursers. The car, I should explain--though I
can hardly expect to be believed--was not unlike the floor of a hansom
cab, from which the seat, the roof, the driver's perch, and everything
else should have been removed, except the basis, the wheels, and the
splashboard, the part on which we generally find the advertisements of
Messrs. Mappin and Webb. On this floor, then, Doto stood erect, holding
the reins; her yellow hair had become unbound, and was floating like a
flag behind her, and her beautiful face, far from displaying any alarm,
was flushed with pleasure and pride. She was dressed in splendid and
glittering attire, over which was fastened--so strange were the manners
of these islanders--the newly-stripped skin of a great black bear. Thus
dragged by the wild deer, Doto passed like a flash through the midst of
the men and women, her stags being maddened to fresh excitement by the
sight and smell of the bears, and other wild animals. But, eager as were
the brutes that dragged the precarious carriage, they were somewhat tamed
by the great steepness of the ascent, up which they bounded, to the
heights at the back of the town. Up this path, often narrow and
excessively dangerous, we all took our way, and finally, after passing
through various perilous defiles and skirting many cliffs, we arrived at
a level space in front of an ancient temple of one of their heathen gods.
It was built like the others in the settlement below, but the white stone
had become brown and yellow with time and weather, and the colours,
chiefly red and blue, with which the graven images, in contempt of the
second commandment, were painted, had faded, and grown very dim.
On the broad platform in front of this home of evil spirits had been
piled a great mound of turf, sloping very gradually and smoothly, like
the terrace of a well-kept lawn, to the summit, which itself was,
perhaps, a hundred feet in circumference. On this was erected a kind of
breastwork of trunks of trees, each tree some fifteen feet in length, and
in the centre of the circular breastwork was an altar, as usual, under
which blazed a fire of great fierceness. From the temple came a very
aged woman, dressed in bear skins, who carried a torch. This torch she
lit at the blaze under the altar, and a number of the young men, lighting
their torches at hers, set fire to the outer breastwork, in which certain
open spaces or entrances had been purposely left. No sooner had the
trees begun to catch fire, which they did slowly, being of green wood,
than the multitude outside, with the most horrible and piercing outcries,
began to drive the animals which they had brought with them into the
midst of the flames.
The spectacle was one of the most terrible I ever beheld, even among this
cruel and outlandish people, whose abominable inventions contrasted so
strangely with the mildness of their demeanour where their religion was
not concerned. It was pitiful to see the young birds, many of them not
yet able to fly, flutter into the flames and the stifling smoke, and then
fall, scorched, and twittering miserably. The young lambs and other
domesticated animals were forced in without much resistance, but the
great difficulty was to urge the wolves, antelopes, and other wild
creatures, into the blaze. The cries of the multitude, who bounded about
like maniacs, armed with clubs and torches, rose madly over the strange
unusual screams and howls uttered by the wild beasts in their pain and
terror. Ever and anon some animal would burst through the crowd, perhaps
half burned, and with its fur on fire, and would be pursued to a certain
distance, after which it was allowed to escape by the sacrificers. As I
was watching, with all my hopes enlisted on its side, the efforts of an
antelope to escape, I heard a roar which was horrible even in that babel
of abominable sights and sounds.
A great black bear, its pelt one sheet of flame, its whole appearance (if
I may be permitted to say so) like that of a fiend from the pit, forced
its way through the throng, and, bounding madly to the spot where Doto's
car stood at a little distance, rose erect on its hind feet, and fixed
its claws in the flank of one of the stags, the off-leader. Instantly
the team of stags, escaping from the hands of the strong men who stood at
their heads, plunged violently down the narrow and dangerous path which
led to the city. I shouted to Doto to leap out, but she did not hear or
did not understand me.
With a fixed look of horror on her white face, she dropped the useless
reins, and the vehicle passed out of sight round a corner of the cliff.
I had but a moment in which to reflect on what might be done to rescue
her. In that moment I providentially spied a double-edged axe which lay
beside me on the grass, having fallen from the hands of one of the
natives. Snatching up this weapon, I rushed to the edge of the cliff,
and looked down. It was almost a sheer precipice, broken only by narrow
shelves and clefts, on some of which grass grew, while on others a slight
mountain-ash or a young birch just managed to find foothold.
Far, far beneath, hundreds of feet below, I could trace the windings of
the path up which we had climbed.
Instantly my plan was conceived. I would descend the cliff, risking my
life, of course, but that was now of small value in this hopelessly
heathen land, and endeavour to save the benighted Doto from the
destruction to which she was hastening. Her car must pass along that
portion of the path which lay, like a ribbon, in the depth below me,
unless, as seemed too probable, it chanced to be upset before reaching
the spot. To pursue it from behind was manifestly hopeless.
These thoughts flashed through my brain more rapidly than even the flight
of the maddened red deer; and scarcely less swiftly, I began scrambling
down the face of the cliff. It was really a series of almost hopeless
leaps to which I was committed, and the axe, to which I clung, rather
impeded than aided me as I let myself drop from one rocky shelf to
another, catching at the boughs and roots of trees to break my fall. At
last I reached the last ledge before the sheer wall of rock, which hung
above the path. As I let myself down, feeling with my feet for any shelf
or crack in the wall, I heard the blare of the stags, and the rattle of
the wheels. Half intentionally, half against my will, I left my hold of
a tree-root, and slid, bumping and scratching myself terribly, down the
slippery and slatey face of the rocky wall, till I fell in a mass on the
narrow road. In a moment I was on my feet, the axe I had thrown in front
of me, and I grasped it instinctively as I rose. It was not too soon.
The deer were almost on me. Stepping to the side of the way, where a
rock gave some shelter, I dealt a blow at the nearest stag, under which
he reeled and fell to the ground, his companion stumbling over him. In
the mad group of rearing beasts I smote right and left at the harness,
which gave way beneath my strokes, and the unhurt stags sped down the
glen, and then rushed into separate corries of the hills. The car was
upset, and Doto lay pale and bleeding among the hoofs of the stricken
deer.
I dragged her out of the danger to the side of the path. I felt her
pulse, which still fluttered. I brought her, in my hat, water from the
stream; and, finally, had the pleasure of seeing her return to life
before the first of her friends came, wailing and lamenting, and tearing
their hair, down the path.
When they found the girl unwounded, though still weak and faint, their
joy knew no bounds, though I too plainly perceived that they were
returning thanks to the heathen goddess whose priestess Doto was. As for
me, they once more crowned me in the most elaborate, and, I think,
unbecoming manner, with purple pandanus flowers. Then, having laid Doto
on a litter, they returned in procession to the town, where the girl was
taken into the chiefs house. As we parted, she held out her hand to me,
but instantly withdrew it with a deep sigh. I closely watched her. She
was weeping. I had noticed before that all the natives, as much as
possible, avoided personal contact with me. This fact, coupled with the
reverence which they displayed towards me, confirmed my impression that
they regarded me as something supernatural, not of this world, and
divine.
To remove this belief was most certainly my duty, but how was it to be
done? Alas! I must now admit that I yielded to a subtle temptation, and
was led into conduct unworthy of a vessel. Sad to say, as I search the
rewards of my own heart, I am compelled to confess that my real desire
was not so much to undeceive the people--for in their bewildering myriads
of foolish beliefs one more or less was of small importance--as to
recommend myself to Doto. This young woman, though not a member of our
Connection, and wholly ignorant of saving Truths, had begun to find
favour in my eyes, and I hoped to lead her to the altar; altars, for that
matter, being plentiful enough in this darkened land. I should have
remembered the words once spoken by a very gracious young woman, the
daughter of a pious farmer. "Mother," said she, "I have made up my mind
never to let loose my affections upon any man as is not pious, and in
good circumstances." Doto was, for an islander, in good circumstances,
but who, ah! who, could call her pious?
I endeavoured, it is true, to convert her, but, ah! did I go to work in
the right way? Did I draw, in awful colours, the certain consequences of
ignorance of the Truth? Did I endeavour to strike a salutary terror into
her heathen heart?
No; such would have been a proper course of conduct, but such was not
mine! I weakly adopted the opposite plan--that used by the Jesuits in
their dealings with the Chinese and other darkened peoples. I attempted,
meanly attempted (but, as may be guessed, with but limited success), to
give an orthodox Nonconformist character to the observances of Doto's
religion. For example, instead of thundering, as was my duty, at her
worldly diversions of promiscuous dancing, and ball play, I took a part
in these secular pursuits, fondly persuading myself that my presence
discouraged levity, and was a check upon unseemly mirth.
Thus, among the young native men and maidens, in the windings of the mazy
dance, might have been seen disporting himself, a person of stalwart
form, whose attire still somewhat faintly indicated his European origin
and sacred functions. A hymn-book in my hand instead of a rattle (used
by the natives), I capered gaily through their midst. Often and often I
led the music, instructing my festive flock in English hymns, which,
however, I adapted to gay and artless melodies, such as "There's some one
in de house wid Dinah!" or "Old Joe kicking up behind and afore!"
This kind of entertainment was entirely new to the natives, who heartily
preferred it to their own dull music, resembling what are called, I
believe, "Gregorians," by a bloated and Erastian establishment.
So far, then, I may perchance trust that my efforts were not altogether
vain, and the seed thus sown may, in one or two cases, have fallen on
ground not absolutely stony. But, alas! I have little room for hope.
I pursued my career of unblushing "economy"--as the Jesuits say, meaning,
alas! economy of plain truth speaking--and of heathen dissipation. Few
were the dances in which I did not take a part, sinking so low as
occasionally to oblige with a hornpipe. My blue ribbon had long ago worn
out, and with it my strict views on Temperance. I acquired a liking for
the strange drink of the islanders--a thick wine and water, sometimes
mixed with cheese and honey. In fact, I was sliding back--like the
unfortunate Fanti missionary, John Greedy, M.A., whose case, as reported
by precious Mr. Grant Allen, so painfully moved serious circles--I was
sliding back to the level of the savagery around me. May these
confessions be accepted in the same spirit as they are offered; may it
partly palliate my guilt that I had apparently no chance of escape from
the island, and no hope beyond that of converting the natives and
marrying Doto. I trusted to do it, not (as of old) by open and fearless
denunciation, but by slowly winning hearts, in a secular and sportive
capacity, before gaining souls.
Even so have I seen young priests of the prelatical Establishment aim at
popularity by playing cricket with liberal coal-miners of sectarian
persuasions. They told me they were "in the mission field," and one
observed that his favourite post in the field was third man. I know not
what he meant. But to return to the island.
My career of soul-destroying "amusement" (ah, how hollow!) was not
uninterrupted by warnings. Every now and again the mask was raised, and
I saw clearly the unspeakable horrors of heathen existence.
For example, in an earlier part of this narrative, I have mentioned an
old heathen called Elatreus, a good-natured, dull, absent-minded man, who
reminded me of a respectable British citizen. How awful was _his_ end,
how trebly awful when I reflect how nearly I--but let me not anticipate.
Elatreus was the head, and eldest surviving member of a family which had
a singular history. I never could make out what the story was, but, in
consequence of some ancient crime, the chief of the family was never
allowed to enter the town hall. The penalty, if he infringed the law,
was terrible. Now it chanced one day that I was wandering down the
street, my hands full of rare flowers which I had gathered for Doto, and
with four young doves in my hat. It was spring, and at that season the
young persons of the island expected to receive such gifts from their
admirers. I was also followed by eleven little fawns, which I had tamed
for her, and four young whelps of the bear. At the same time, in the
lightness of my foolish heart, I was singing a native song, all about one
Lityerses, to the tune of "Barbara Allen."
At this moment, I observed, coming out of a side street, old Elatreus. He
was doddering along, his hands behind his back, and his nose in the air,
followed by a small but increasing crowd of the natives, who crept
stealthily behind at a considerable distance. I paused to watch what was
happening.
Elatreus entered the main street, and lounged along till he came opposite
the town hall, on which some repairs were being made. The door stood
wide open. He gazed at it, in a vacant but interested way, and went up
the steps, where he stood staring in an absent-minded, vacant kind of
fashion. I could see that the crowd watching him from the corner of the
side street was vastly excited.
Elatreus now passed his hand across his brow, seemed vastly puzzled, and
yawned. Then he slowly entered the town hall. With a wild yell of
savage triumph the mob rushed in after him, and in a few moments came
forth again, with Elatreus bound and manacled. Some one sped away, and
brought the old priest, who carried the sickle. He appeared full of joy,
and lustily intoned--for they have this Popish custom of intoning--an
unintelligible hymn. By this time Elatreus had been wreathed and crowned
with flowers, and the rude multitude for this purpose seized the
interesting orchids which I had gathered for my Doto. They then dragged
the old man, pitifully lamenting, to the largest altar in the centre of
the square.
Need I say what followed? The scene was too awful. With a horrible
expression of joy the priest laid the poor wretch on the great stone
altar, and with his keen sickle--but it is too horrible! . . . This was
the penalty for a harmless act, forbidden by a senseless law, which
Elatreus--a most respectable man for an idolater--had broken in mere
innocent absence of mind.
Alas! among such a people, how could I ever hope, alone and unaided, to
effect any truly regenerating work?
Yet I was not wholly discouraged; indeed, my _infatuation_ for Doto made
me overlook much profligate behaviour that I do not care to mention in a
tract which may fall into the hands of the young. One other example of
the native barbarity, however, I must narrate.
A respected couple in the vicinity had long been childless. At length
their wishes were crowned with success, and a little baby girl was born
to them. But the priest, who had curious ideas of his own, insisted on
consulting, as to this child, a certain witch, a woman who dwelt apart in
a cave where there was a sulphurous hot-water spring, surrounded by
laurel bushes, regarded as sacred by the benighted islanders. This
spring, or the fumes that arose from it, was supposed to confer on the
dweller in the cave the gift of prophecy. She was the servant of
Apollon, and was credited with possessing a spirit of divination. The
woman, after undergoing, or simulating, an epileptic attack, declared, in
rhythmical language, that the babe must not be allowed to live. She
averred that it would "bring destruction on Scheria," the native name for
the island, which I have styled Boothland, in honour of the Salvation
Army. This was enough for the priests, who did not actually slay the
infant, but exposed it on the side of a mountain, where the beasts and
birds were likely to have their way with it.
Now it chanced that I had climbed the hill-top that day to watch for a
sail, for I never quite lost hope of being taken away by some British or
continental vessel. My attendants, for a wonder, were all absent at some
feast--Carneia, I think they called it--of their heathen gods. The time
was early summer; it only wanted a fortnight of the date, as far as I
could reckon, at which I had first been cast on the island, a year
before.
As I descended the hillside, pleased, I must own, by the warm blight
sunlight, the colour of the sea, and the smell of the aromatic
herbs,--pleased, and half forgetful of the horrid heathenism that
surrounded me, I heard a low wail as of an infant. I searched about, in
surprise, and came on a beautiful baby, in rich swaddling bands, with a
gold signet ring tied round its neck. Such an occurrence was not very
unusual, as the natives, like most savages, were in the habit of keeping
down the surplus population, by thus exposing their little ones. The
history of the island was full of legends of exposed children, picked up
by the charitable (there was, oddly enough, no prohibition against this),
and afterwards recognized and welcomed by their families. As any
Englishman would have done, I lifted the dear little thing in my arms,
and, a happy thought occurring to me, carried it off as a present to
Doto, who doted on babies, as all girls do. The gift proved to be the
most welcome that I had ever offered, though Doto, as usual, would not
accept it from my hands, but made me lay it down beside the hearth, which
they regarded as a sacred place. Even if an enemy reached the hearth of
his foe, he would, thenceforth, be quite safe in his house. Doto then
picked up the child, warmed and caressed it, sent for milk for its
entertainment, and was full of pleasure in her new pet.