about to risk his life in an attempt to communicate with our crew, in
order to put them on their guard against a surprise, and to render our
escape the more easy. If he lives, he will return, to incur a second
time with us, the very dangers to which this attempt exposes him.'
"Knowing as I did Rokoa's great activity, coolness, and presence of
mind, I was sanguine that he would succeed in eluding the vigilance of
our enemies, and accomplishing his purpose.
"Soon after his departure, Olla set out for our evening meal a light
repast of bananas, baked bread-fruit, and vi-apples, fresh from the
garden. But neither Barton nor I could eat anything: our thoughts were
with Rokoa upon his perilous adventure. When the food had been removed,
Mowno suggested that we should all go out into the inclosure, and walk a
few times around the house in order that those who were on the watch
might be satisfied that we were still there. This we accordingly did,
and continued strolling through the garden until it became quite dark.
Rokoa had now been gone nearly an hour, and Barton began to grow
restless and troubled. Mowno, stationing himself at the end of the walk
leading from the house, leaned upon the gate in a listening attitude.
As I sat in the wide doorway, beneath the vi-apple trees planted on
either side of the entrance, watching the bright constellation of the
Cross, just visible above the outline of the grove in the southern
horizon, Olla began to question me concerning what I had told the people
in the afternoon, of God, and a future life, and the doctrines of
Christianity. I was at once touched and astonished, to perceive the
deep interest she took in the subject, and the readiness with which she
received these truths, as something she had needed and longed for. She
seemed to feel how much better and more consoling they were, than the
superstitions in which she had been educated.
"I was amazed to find that this young heathen woman, growing up in the
midst of pagan darkness, was nevertheless possessed of deep and strong
religious feelings, which could not be satisfied with the traditions of
her people. As I gazed at her ingenuous countenance, full of
earnestness and sensibility, while she endeavoured to express the vague
thoughts on these subjects which had at times floated through her mind,
I could scarcely believe that this was the same gay and careless being,
whose life had seemed to be as natural, as unconscious, and as joyous,
as that of a bird or a flower. She said, that often when alone in some
secluded spot in the depth of the wood, while all around was so hushed
and peaceful, she had suddenly burst into tears, feeling that what she
had been taught of the gods could not be true, and that if Oro was
indeed the creator of so beautiful a world--if he had made the smiling
groves, the bright flowers, and the multitude of happy living things, he
must be a good being, who could not delight in the cruelties practised
in his name. Often, when a mere girl, thoughts like these had visited
her, wandering by the sea-shore at twilight, or looking up through the
foliage of waving cocoa-nut-groves at the starry skies, when nature
herself, by her harmony and beauty, had seemed to proclaim that God was
a being of light and love, in whom was no darkness at all!
"Presently Mowno joined us, and I talked with him in regard to the
intended burial of the aged woman, his aunt and endeavoured to make him
see the act in its true light. But with all his natural amiability,
such was the effect of custom and education, that he seemed perfectly
insensible on the subject. He observed, in a cool, matter-of-fact
manner, that when people got very old and could not work, they were of
no use to others or themselves--that it was then time for them to die,
and much best that they should do so at once; and that if they did not,
then their friends ought to bury them. As to Malola, his aunt, he said
that she was quite willing to be buried, and had in fact suggested it
herself; that she was often very sick, and in great pain, so that she
had no pleasure in living any longer; he added, as another grave and
weighty consideration, that she had lost most of her teeth, and could
not chew her food, unless it was prepared differently from that of the
rest of the family, which caused Olla much trouble.
"Finding that argument and expostulation had not the slightest effect
upon him, I changed my tactics, and suddenly demanded whether he would
be willing to have Olla buried, when _she_ began to get old and infirm?
This seemed at first to startle him. He glanced uneasily at his little
wife, as if it had never before occurred to him that she _could_ grow
old. Then, after staring at me a moment in a half angry manner, as
though offended at my having suggested so disagreeable an idea, he
seemed all at once to recover himself, remarking quickly, that _he_
should be old then, too, and that they could both be buried together.
This consolatory reflection seemed completely to neutralise the effect
of my last attack, and Mowno's countenance resumed its habitual
expression of calm and somewhat stolid placidity.
"Baffled, but not discouraged, I next strove, by drawing an imaginary
picture of Olla and himself in their old age, surrounded by their grown
up children, to show how happy and beautiful the relation between the
child and the aged parent might be. I summoned up all my rhetorical
powers, and sketched what I conceived to be a perfect model of an
affectionate and dutiful Angatanese son. After clothing him with all
the virtues and accomplishments of the savage character, I proceeded to
endue him with that filial affection, whose beauty and power it was my
chief object to illustrate. I represented him as loving his father and
mother all the more tenderly on account of the infirmities of age now
stealing over them. Upon the arm of this affectionate son, the
white-haired Mowno supported himself; when at morning and evening he
went forth to take his accustomed walk in the groves. He it was, who
brought home daily to his aged mother, the ripest fruits, and the
freshest flowers. His smiling and happy countenance was the light of
their dwelling; his cheerful voice, its sweetest music. I was
proceeding thus in quite an affecting strain, as it seemed to me,
(though I must in honesty confess that Mowno appeared to be less moved
by it than myself; and somewhat cooled my enthusiasm by giving a great
yawn in the midst of one of the most touching passages), when Olla, who
had been listening with moistened eyes, gently stole her arm around her
husband's neck, and murmured a few words in his ear. Whether it was my
pathetic eloquence, or Olla's caress, that melted his hitherto obdurate
heart, I will not pretend to say, but it is certain that he now yielded
the point, and promised that Malola should be permitted to live. `At
least,' he added, after a moment's reflection, `as long as she can see,
and walk about.'
"Several times, since it had grown dark, I had heard sounds like the
distant beating of drums, mingled occasionally with the long and
sorrowful note of the buccinum-shell, or native trumpet. Twice, also,
while Mowno was standing at his gate, messengers had arrived, apparently
in haste, and after briefly conferring with him, had posted off again.
When I remarked upon these sounds, Mowno said that they came from the
marae, where preparations for the approaching ceremony were going
forward; but to me, they seemed to proceed from several different
points, at various distances from us.
"I now began to feel painfully anxious at Rokoa's protracted absence.
It was nearly midnight, and there had been ample time for one less
active than he, to go to the shore and return. The terrible
apprehension, that in spite of all the resources of his skill and
courage, he had fallen into the hands of some of the parties of natives
which seemed to be scattered about in the forest, gained every moment a
stronger hold upon my mind.
"`He has either been taken, or else he finds that he cannot rejoin us,
without too great risk,' said Barton, breaking a long silence, and
speaking of that which each knew the other to be thinking about; `we
must start for the shore ourselves, if he does not come soon.'
"`Hark!' whispered Olla, `some one is approaching from the wood.' Her
quick ear had detected stealthy steps crossing the avenue. The next
moment some one bounded lightly over the hedge at the side of the house,
where the shadow of the bread-fruit trees fell darkest. Mowno started,
and seemed agitated, and for an instant a suspicion that he had betrayed
us, and was about to give us up, flashed through my mind. But the
figure which came forward into the light, was that of Rokoa, and I felt
pained at the wrong which my momentary doubts had done our inert, but
well-meaning, host. Rokoa breathed quick and short. Without speaking,
he pointed to the moon, now on the edge of the western horizon of
forest, to intimate that he was punctual to the time set for his return.
"The sounds which I had before heard, were now borne more plainly than
ever to our ears upon the night breeze. As soon as Rokoa recovered his
breath, he said that we had not a moment to lose, but must commence our
flight at once. He had passed an armed party of more than twenty men,
coming in the direction of the house, with the purpose, as he supposed,
of demanding that we should be given up to them. Mowno seemed more
displeased than alarmed at this intelligence, and earnestly repeated
that no harm should befall us while beneath his roof, if he had to lay
down his life in our defence. But Rokoa urged our immediate departure,
before the arrival of the party which he had seen. Mowno then offered
to accompany, and guide us to our boat, which Rokoa firmly declined, on
the ground that his presence might endanger him, and, in the excited and
determined mood of our enemies, could be no protection to us.
"We accordingly took a hurried leave of him, and Olla. `Good-bye,
Artua,' said the latter, `Olla will not forget what you have told her of
our great Father in the sky; she will ask him for a new heart that she
too, may go when she dies, to the Christian heaven,' and she pointed
upward, while a happy smile lighted up her intelligent, and, for the
moment, serious countenance.
"We sprang over the hedge, and, Rokoa leading the way, proceeded swiftly
but silently down the avenue. We passed some distance beyond the point
where we had struck into it in the morning, to avoid the neighbourhood
of the village, then turning towards the shore, descended into the
valley until we reached the stream. At this point, it was deep and
narrow, with a rapid current, but we had no time to look for a ford.
Cries and shouts on the hill above us, showed that we were pursued, and
a confused clamour from the village indicated the existence of some
unusual commotion there. Tum-tums were beating fiercely, and the long
dismal wail of the tuba-conch resounded through the echoing arches of
the forest. We swam the stream as silently as possible, Barton holding
his pistols above his head in one hand to keep the charges dry. As we
climbed the further bank, and plunged into the wood of miros, we could
hear the splashing of the water caused by persons fording the brook a
short distance below us, and opposite the village. In the same
direction a multitude of candle-nut torches gleamed through the foliage,
and revealed dusky forms hurrying hither and thither. We pushed on
through the wood at the top of our speed, until suddenly the outlines of
the marae, illuminated by the glare of a large bonfire, loomed up before
us. A score of half-naked men, were dancing around the fire in front of
the inclosure, with the wildest and most extravagant contortions of
body. Seen by the fitful and wavering light, their painted countenances
scarcely looked like those of human beings, and the grim, immovable
idols, upon their pedestals, seemed vaster and more hideous than ever.
"As we turned, and plunged into the grove again, resuming our flight in
a somewhat altered direction, an eager shout announced that we had been
seen. But this cry proceeded, not from the group in front of the marae,
who were wholly absorbed in their savage orgies, but from a straggling
party of pursuers from the village, to whom the light of the bonfire had
betrayed us. The chase was now no longer random or uncertain; they came
on like hounds in full view of the game, uttering yells that caused the
blood to curdle in my veins. My strength began to fail, and I felt a
horrible spell creeping over me, like that which often in dreams,
deprives us of the power to fly some appalling danger. Rokoa restrained
his superior speed, and kept beside Barton and myself. `Courage,
Artua!' he said, `we are near the shore,' and he offered me his hand to
assist me, but I would not take it. Notwithstanding our utmost
exertions our pursuers gained upon us. I was very nearly exhausted when
we reached the ravine which divided the miro-grove from the bread-fruit
plantation, and, as we struggled up its steep side, Barton panted and
gasped so painfully for breath, that I dreaded each moment to see him
fall to the ground incapable of proceeding further. But we knew that
our lives were at stake, and forced ourselves to exertions which nature
could not long support; still, the cries of our pursuers, the sound of
their footsteps, and the crashing of branches in their path, drew
continually nearer.
"At last we had nearly traversed the breadth of the plantation, and the
welcome sound of the waves, breaking upon the beach, greeted our ears.
Safety now seemed within our reach, and we summoned all our remaining
energies for a final effort. The trees, growing more thinly as we
approached the skirt of the wood, let in the light, and between their
trunks I caught a glimpse of the sea. Right before us was a thicket,
tangled with fern, and scarcely twenty yards beyond it lay the beach
shining in the star-light. As we turned a little aside to avoid the
thicket, an appalling yell rang out from it, and half a dozen dark
figures started from their ambush, and sprang into the path before us.
The old priest was at their head: my heart sank, and I gave up all as
host. Rokoa, swinging up his ponderous club, bounded into their midst.
`Onward!' cried he, `it is our only hope of escape.' His movements were
light as those of a bird, and rapid as lightning. His first blow
stretched the priest at his feet. The savages gave way before him,
scattering to the right and left, as if a thunderbolt had fallen among
them. Barton discharged both his pistols at once, and with fatal
effect, as was witnessed by the groans that followed. Before they could
rally or recover themselves, we had burst through their midst. As we
reached the shore, I looked round and missed Barton--he was no longer
beside me. An exulting cry behind us at once explained his absence: at
the same time we could hear him call out in a voice broken by
exhaustion, `Save yourselves, you can do nothing for me!' Without an
instant's hesitation, Rokoa turned, and we rushed back into the midst of
our shouting enemies. Three or four of the party which had been in
pursuit of us, were just coming up. The audacity and desperation of our
attack seemed to confound them, and two of their number fell, almost
without a struggle, beneath Rokoa's rapid and resistless blows. Two
more of them, who were dragging Barton away, were compelled to leave him
at liberty in order to defend themselves. At that moment a sudden shout
from the water raised by our crew, who had either heard our voices, or
seen us when we came out upon the shore, increased their panic by
causing them to suppose that we were leading back our whole party to the
fight. They hastily gave way before us, and we had all turned once
more, and gained the beach before they recovered from their surprise,
and perceived their mistake.
"Our boat was just outside the surf; where the crew were keeping her
steady with their paddles. We hailed them, and plunged in the water to
swim out to them. The natives, stung with shame and rage at having
their prisoner torn from them in the very moment of triumph, with such
reckless boldness, swarmed down to the beach and pursued us into the
water. They seemed excited almost to frenzy at the prospect of our
escape. Some standing upon the shore assailed the canoe with showers of
stones, by which several of our men were wounded. Others swam out after
us, as if about to endeavour to board the vessel, and did not turn back
until we had hoisted our sail, and began to draw steadily from the land.
"And thus ends the story of the Cannibal Island of Angatan."
"Is that all?" inquired Johnny, looking somewhat disappointed.
"Yes, that is all," answered Arthur, "it comes as near to being a
cannibal story, as any thing I know. I did not see any one actually
roasted and eaten, but if the savages had caught us, I suspect there
would have been more to tell, and probably no one here to tell it."
"But," persisted Johnny, "the story don't end there. You haven't told
us about the rest of the voyage, and whether Rokoa found his brother at
last."
"O, that don't properly belong to _this_ story. According to all
artistical rules I ought to end precisely where I have, in order to
preserve the unities. But some other time, if you wish, I will tell you
all about it."
"Pray don't talk of artistical rules," exclaimed Max, "after showing
yourself such an egregious bungler! You had there all the elements of a
capital story, and you have just spoiled them."
"`How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge,'" cried
Browne, "`come now, unmuzzle your wisdom,' and specify the blunders of
which he has been guilty. I say, with Touchstone, `instance briefly,
shepherd; come, instance.'"
"Why, in the first place, there was a miserly spirit of economy in
regard to his men. He should have invested the narrative with a tragic
interest, by killing Rokoa and Barton, at least;--being the narrator he
couldn't kill himself conveniently;--but he might, with good effect have
been `dangerously wounded.'"
"But suppose," said Arthur, "that I wanted Rokoa to figure in a future
story, and so couldn't afford to kill him just yet?"
"A miserable apology! it evinces a lamentable poverty of imagination to
make one character serve for two distinct tales."
"Well, a further instance, `gentle shepherd,'" cried Browne, "`a more
sounder instance.'"
"Then, again," resumed Max, with an oracular air, "it was a capital
error to make Olla a married woman; what business I should like to know,
can a married woman have in a story?--She belongs properly to the dull
prosaic region of common life--not to the fairy land of romance. Now
the charm of sentiment is as necessary to a perfect tale, as the
interest of adventure, or the excitement of conflict, and had Olla been
single, there would have been the elements of something beautifully
sentimental."
"Enough!" cried Browne, "if you have not `lamed me with reasons,' you
have at least overwhelmed me with words--there now! I believe I am
unconsciously catching the trick of your long-winded sing-song
sentences--it must be contagious."
"Well," said Arthur, "I give over the `materials' to Max, with full
permission to work them up into a romance after his own fashion,
introducing as much slaughter and sentiment as he shall judge requisite
for the best effect, and when completed, it shall be inserted by way of
episode in our narrative."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note. Upon consulting the charts we find an island called "Ahangatan",
(of which Angatan is perhaps a contraction), laid down on some of them,
about one hundred and fifty miles north of Hao. On others the same
island is called Ahangatoff. The US Exploring Expedition visited Hae,
and most of the neighbouring islands, but we have not been able to
discover any mention of Angatan in the published records of the
expedition.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
HOUSE-BUILDING.
DAWN ON THE LAGOON--THE "SEA-ATTORNEY"--THE "SHARK-EXTERMINATOR"--MAX
"CARRIES THE WAR INTO AFRICA."
"Another hour must pass ere day grows bright,
And ere the little birds begin discourse
In quick low voices, ere the streaming light
Pours on their nests, just sprung from day's fresh source."
After the late hours we had kept on the last evening, most of us would
willingly have prolonged our slumbers beyond the time previously fixed
for setting out upon our return to Castle-hill. But before it was
fairly light, Arthur was up, with an unseasonable and provoking
alacrity, calling loudly upon us to bestir ourselves.
In vain Browne apostrophised him in moving strains as "the rude
disturber of his pillow," remonstrated against such unmerciful
punctuality, and petitioned for another nap; in vain Max protested that
we were not New York shop-boys, obliged to rise at daylight to make
fires, and open and sweep out stores, but free and independent desert
islanders, who had escaped from the bondage of civilised life, and the
shackles of slavish routine, and who need not get up until noon, unless
of our own good pleasure. Arthur was inexorable, and finding that
further sleep was out of the question, we yielded at last to his
despotic pertinacity, and groped our way into the boat, yawning
desperately, and not more than half awake.
The sea-fowl had not yet begun to stir in their nests, when we pushed
out into the lagoon, and commenced pulling homeward--as we had now
almost come to regard it--holding a course midway between the reef and
the shore. A few moments' exercise at the oars sufficed to dispel our
drowsiness, and to reconcile us somewhat to the early start, which we
had so reluctantly taken.
The faint grey light revealed the sleeping landscape, invested with the
delicious freshness and repose of the earliest dawn in summer. The
shores of the island, with their dense masses of verdure, were so
perfectly mirrored in the lagoon, that the peculiar characteristics of
the different kinds of foliage could be distinguished in their
reflections. The drooping plumes of the palms, the lance-shaped
pandanus leaves, and the delicate, filmy foliage of the casuarina, were
all accurately imaged there; the inverted shore below, with its fringe
of trees and shrubbery, looking scarcely less substantial and real, than
its counterpart above. But as the light increased, these reflections
lost their softness, and the clearness of their outlines. The gradually
brightening dawn, cast new and rapidly changing lights and shades upon
the waters and the shores; and the latter, which, as we moved onward, we
beheld every moment from a new point of view, charmed the eye with a
perpetual variety. In some places they were abrupt and bold; in others
smoothly rounded, or gently sloping. Now we were opposite a jutting
promontory, which, crowned with verdure, and overgrown with pendulous
and creeping plants, pushed out over the narrow alluvial belt of shore,
to the water's edge; now shooting past it, we caught a sudden and
transient glimpse of some cool valley, opening down to the lagoon, and
stretching away inland through vistas of fine trees.