more comfortably and pleasantly than we anticipated. The few fine days
during which we finished our preparations for it, as mentioned in the
last chapter, were succeeded, in accordance with Arthur's prediction, by
more than a week of steady rain, and for several weeks there was not a
day without rain. During this time, of course, we were thrown entirely
upon our indoor resources, and, thanks to the forethought which had
provided an abundant store of materials, upon which the ingenuity or
industry of each of us could be variously exercised, we have thus far
managed to keep pretty busy.
We have twisted a great store of cord for fishing-lines, nets, and other
purposes, from the supply of hibiscus bark previously laid in. We have
also manufactured more than a dozen pairs of serviceable moccasins, with
no other materials than cocoa-nut cotton and bread-fruit bark. Browne
has made a chess-board, and rudely but elaborately carved a complete set
of men, of gigantic size, in which he has evinced much skill and
ingenuity, and a vast deal of perseverance. The castles are mounted
upon the backs of elephants, which Johnny innocently mistook for
enormous swine with two tails apiece. The knights are provided with
shields, bearing Saint Andrew's cross and the thistle for a device, and
would have been arrayed, without doubt, in kilt and tartan had it been
possible. The bishops wear grotesque-looking cocked hats, intended for
mitres, and their countenances are so singularly truculent and
unprepossessing, that Max accuses the artist of having in this petty
way, evinced "his Scottish and Presbyterian spite against Episcopacy."
Morton has, among other things, made a couple of nets, and a mortar and
pestle for pounding bread-fruit and taro.
Max's time and attention have been chiefly devoted to the manufacture of
a variety of warlike weapons, among which are four or five formidable
bludgeons, which he styles "Feejee war-clubs," made from the hard and
ponderous wood of the casuarina. He has also worked a good deal, at
intervals, upon the huge log, out of which the "Messenger ship" is to be
constructed.
Arthur has been more usefully employed in contriving two frames or
stands, designed as candlesticks for holding the native substitute for
candles, which substitute consists simply of a cocoa-nut stalk, some
eighteen inches long, strung with candle-nuts. These nuts are of about
the size of a horse-chestnut, and contain a considerable quantity of
oil: they are the fruit of one of the largest and most magnificent trees
of our island. One nut will burn from five to ten minutes, according to
its size, and if they are pressed closely together upon the stalk, the
flame communicates readily from one to another, affording a tolerably
clear and steady light until the entire string is consumed.
To supply the place of Johnny's jacket and trousers, which are
completely worn out, Arthur has made, from two or three large strips of
cocoa-nut cotton, a garment resembling the South American "poncho,"
being a loose wrapper, with a circular aperture through which the head
of the wearer is to be thrust. It is by no means an elegant article of
apparel, and Johnny was at first inclined to look upon it with
disfavour. But upon being informed that it was in all respects, except
the material of which it was made, like the "tiputa," formerly worn by
the Tahitian chiefs and men of note, he became fully reconciled to it.
These, (which I mention merely as a sample of our industrial labours),
and similar tasks, furnish us occupation during the day. As soon as it
gets dark, we set out the broken-legged table in the middle of the room,
and lighting three or four skewers of candle-nuts, amuse or employ
ourselves in a variety of ways. Browne and Morton frequently sit down
to a game of chess, or seizing a couple of Max's "Feejee war-clubs,"
practise the broad-sword exercise, in which Browne, who has some skill
in fencing, occasionally gives lessons to the rest.
Arthur has opened an evening-school, in which he teaches Eiulo reading
and writing, and gives Johnny instruction in botany and conchology,
using his "herbarium," and Johnny's collection of shells, for the
purpose of illustration. He also writes a good deal, and asks Eiulo
many questions respecting the customs, ceremonies, and traditions of
Tewa. Occasionally, during such conversations, when he makes a note of
something new or striking, Max laughs, and says, that in addition to the
great work on the botany of Polynesia, Arthur designs to enlighten the
world with a learned treatise on the "Traditions and Superstitions of
the South-Sea Islanders."
Johnny either re-arranges his "collection," or plays jack straws with
Eiulo, or devotes himself to the education of the parrot.
As for me, I have hitherto amused myself during the evenings in writing
up "the narrative," and occasionally reading portions of it aloud,
claiming, however, the privilege of skipping such passages as I think
proper. It having been solemnly resolved that the "history of our
adventures" must be written in the form of a "regular desert island
story," to use Johnny's expression, and divided into chapters, Max
insists that the commencement of each chapter should be furnished with a
poetical motto, and offers, in the capacity of a dictionary of
quotations, to furnish scraps of rhyme for that purpose, to order, in
any quantity required, and at the shortest notice, upon merely being
informed of the sentiment with which the motto is desired to harmonise.
After hearing the narrative thus far, with the exception of such
portions as I have thought proper to omit, Max expresses strong distrust
of my fairness and impartiality as a historian. He accuses me in
particular, of having done him injustice by omitting some of his most
remarkable exploits, as well as many brilliant sayings upon a great
variety of subjects. He declares that I do not understand and
appreciate him--that I am incapable of doing so; and that I have
unjustly, though perhaps unintentionally, represented him as a trifling,
light-minded sort of person. I have, therefore, felt bound to record
this protest of the injured party, but having just read it to him, he
pronounces it unsatisfactory, and an aggravation of the original wrong.
Sometimes, as a variation of our evening amusements, we put out the
lights, and sit and tell stories in the dark. Browne's memory is stored
with an unfailing supply of marvellous tales and legends, founded upon
Scottish history and tradition, or the habits and superstitions of the
people; some relate to wraiths, warnings, second sight, etcetera; some
illustrate the prowess of Scottish heroes and worthies, from Bruce and
Wallace, right down to Johnny Armstrong and Rob Roy Macgregor; others,
again, are wild and tragical tales of covenanting times, or of the
sufferings endured, and the dangers encountered by his countrymen, for
their religious faith, from the time of the murder of "holy Patrick
Hamilton, the first Scottish martyr," to the forays of prelatical
moss-troopers, and the butcheries of Claverhouse, in later days.
The chief point of all Browne's narratives, however various their
subjects, is to illustrate the superiority of Scotland, and every thing
Scottish, from martyrs to mendicants, and from heroes to highwaymen,
over all the rest of the world in general, and the sister kingdom in
particular. I was greatly amused by one of his stories, which related
how a Scottish border-robber outwitted and plundered an English
professional brother. In his patriotic resolution to uphold the
superiority of his country in all respects, Browne was not even willing
to allow that the pilferers and marauders south of the Tweed, could at
all compare in address and audacity, with those who enjoyed the
advantage of having been bred to the north of it.
Max, too, was, (at least in Johnny's estimation), a famous story-teller,
almost equal in fact to Schehezerade, of the Thousand and One Nights.
His stories, however, were of an entirely different character from those
of Browne. They had no savour of historic or traditionary truth,--no
relation to actual life,--and in this consisted their great charm.
Their subject matter, was the wonderful exploits of bold knights-errant,
sallying forth, attended by their trusty esquires, in search of high
adventures; their chivalrous encounters with other knights in mortal
quarrel, or for the honours of the tourney; their incredible feats of
strength and valour in the rescue of captive maidens, wandering
princesses, and distressed damsels, from all sorts of unheard-of perils,
and in the redress of all manner of grievances, by whomsoever suffered.
In his more romantic flights he described exploits yet more perilous
than these,--conflicts with giants and ogres,--the storming and
demolishing of enchanted castles, defended by scaly griffins, and
fire-breathing dragons, backed by the potent spells and incantations of
some hostile magician. To such narratives Johnny would willingly listen
by the hour. Any trifling anachronisms or inconsistencies, which
sometimes occurred, never troubled him in the least. If some of Max's
knights, equipped with sword and shield, and sheathed in mail, were also
expert at fire-arms, and handled a rifle or a revolver, like a
Kentuckian, Johnny respected and admired them all the more on account of
these varied accomplishments, and never troubled the narrator with any
vexatious demand for explanations.
At first Max had been greatly piqued at the slight interest which Johnny
seemed to feel in the fate of his heroes. The fact was, that he had
become so familiar with that department of literature, and was so
accustomed to see the hero come safely out of the most horrible and
unheard-of dangers, that he regarded it as quite a matter of course, and
there was now no such thing as alarming him for his safety. It was to
no purpose that Max surrounded his heroes with fierce and numerous foes;
Johnny took it quite coolly, expecting him to cut his way out as a hero
should. It was in vain to cover him with wounds--a hero's wounds are
never mortal. Cast him away upon an iron-bound coast in the midst of a
hurricane--Johnny knew that _one_ would escape: drown a hero! who ever
heard of such a thing! Max at length resented this indifference, by
suddenly becoming quite tragical, and actually despatching two or three
heroes with very little ceremony. The first of these unfortunate
gentlemen perished, if I remember correctly, by "a tremendous backstroke
of a two-handed, double-edged sword, that severed his head from his
body." At this sentence, which seemed pretty decisive, Johnny was
somewhat staggered, but, immediately recovering himself, he bade Max "go
on," expecting, I verily believe, that it would turn out that the head
was not in fact _quite_ cut off or that if it was, it would, like that
of the physician Dubin, in the Arabian Nights, be again set upon the
shoulders, and life restored by the healing virtue of some potent
medicament. Great was his astonishment and consternation, on being made
at last to comprehend, that the hero was actually dead; which fact he
did not, however, appear fully to realise, until Max, to put the matter
beyond doubt, buried him with great funereal pomp and ceremony, and
erected over his remains a splendid monument, with an inscription
recording his exploits and his valour. This method of proceeding, Max
judiciously followed up, by giving a tragical termination to his
romances, often enough to keep Johnny reminded that _his_ heroes at any
rate were mortal.
In addition to these resources for our evenings, we have the semi-weekly
meetings of "The South-Sea Lyceum," which was organised soon after the
commencement of the rainy season, and of which Arthur is the president
having been twice unanimously elected to that dignified and responsible
office. Recitations or declamations, essays, and debates upon questions
previously selected, constitute the regular exercises at these meetings.
Browne possesses quite a talent for dramatic recitation, and he has
Shakespeare almost by heart, which circumstances, early on the voyage
out, earned for him the nickname of "Shaks." At nearly every session of
the "Lyceum," he is either among the regular appointees for a
recitation, or is called out by acclamation for a voluntary one. Max
shines chiefly in debate, in which he is always ready to take either
side, of any question. Indeed he sometimes speaks on both sides of the
same question, and displays his ingenuity by refuting his own arguments.
These meetings have thus far been exceedingly pleasant, and on many a
night when the driving rain was beating upon roof and window, and the
wind was howling dismally around our solitary cabin, all has seemed
bright and cheerful within, as Max and Morton carried on a spirited
debate, or Browne declaimed Wolsey's soliloquy, or "To be, or not to be,
that is the question."
The minutes of one meeting of the Lyceum may answer as a sample of their
entertainments:--
Recitation, (by Johnny), Lines supposed to have been written by
Alexander Selkirk, "I am monarch of all I survey," etcetera.
Recitation, (by Browne), Clarence's Dream.
Essay, (by the President), on the traditions of a Deluge, to be found
among the Polynesian tribes.
Essay, (by myself), The theory of the formation and structure of Coral
Islands.
Debate. Question: Is childhood the happiest period of human life?
Affirmative maintained by Max, negative by Morton.
Summing up of the arguments by the President and decision by him in the
negative.
Reading of the Polynesian Intelligencer, by the Editor, (Max).
Recitation, (by Eiulo), a Tewan War-song, in the original.
After the first protracted rain was over, there were frequent intervals
of fine weather, which lasted sometimes several days. But we found on
going forth, that a change had taken place in the condition of things,
which rendered any long excursion, even during these intervals, entirely
out of the question.
Considerable streams poured down from the higher ground toward the
interior, and traversed the island at short distances, presenting
formidable barriers to all travelling. The ground was everywhere so
miry that it was difficult to avoid sinking above the ankles at every
step.
As the season advanced it became still worse, and at length we confined
ourselves almost entirely to the house. Lately, however, there has been
a very perceptible improvement; the rains have become lighter, and less
frequent, and the season is evidently drawing towards its close. We are
already discussing our plans for the summer, and have resolved upon a
thorough exploration of the island, as soon as the fine weather has been
long enough established to remove the effects of the heavy rains.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE SEPARATION.
OUR SECLUSION INVADED--SPRING IN THE TROPICS--THE EXCURSION AND ITS
CONSEQUENCES.
"Reviving Nature bounds as from her birth:
The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth;
Flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam,
Health in the breeze, and freshness in the stream."
I resume my narrative, under circumstances widely different from those
in which the preceding chapter was written. The events of the last few
days have completely changed the aspect of affairs in our little world.
The peace, the seclusion, the security, with which in our minds it had
hitherto been invested, exist no longer. Our quiet life, so free from
vicissitudes and alarms, as to seem almost monotonous, has been rudely
broken into, and in a few days we are to take a step which cannot fail
to be attended with consequences momentous to us, but whether fraught
with good or evil, it is impossible to foresee. This, however, is
anticipating the regular course of events.
It is scarcely credible, how short a time after the cessation of the
rains, sufficed to remove every trace of their effects. Three or four
days of sunshine seemed to restore things to nearly the condition, in
which we found them on first reaching the island.
It is true the vegetation now had a fresher look than before, and
slender brooks still murmured through ravines usually dry; the lake,
too, formerly so limpid, was somewhat discoloured by the turbid streams
running into it from the surrounding heights; but the standing pools of
water had evaporated, and the ground had, in most places, become once
more firm and dry.
As soon as the weather was fairly established, we made several
excursions in various directions, though not to any considerable
distance. On visiting Castle-hill, we found nothing left of our house
there, except the foundation; the entire framework, having been swept
away by the wind. A large candle-nut tree, just before the door, had
been struck by lightning, and the blasted and blackened trunk, sadly
marred the beauty of the spot.
Arthur had selected a favourable location on the margin of the lake near
the fish-pond, for a taro and patara patch; and we spent several days in
ransacking the neighbouring woods for roots, with which to stock it.
Yams, we had not yet succeeded in finding, though they are indigenous in
most of the Polynesian islands, and we had made diligent search for them
in the localities where they are usually found.
One fine morning, soon after the cessation of the rains, Arthur proposed
an expedition into the interior, following the course of the stream
upward towards its source. In addition to the general object of
exploration, he had in view the discovery of the much-coveted vegetable
last-mentioned, there being one large variety of it, which is found
growing wild among the mountains, or upon the sides of the hills of the
interior. All received the suggestion with cordial approval, being
particularly pleased with the proposed route, along the banks of the
brook. Johnny, exulting in his recovered liberty, after the long
imprisonment of the winter, and anticipating all sorts of wonderful
discoveries in the vegetable, floral, and ornithological departments, at
once enlisted Eiulo and himself as members of the party of exploration.
As we were about to enter a region, with the resources of which, in the
way of provisions, we knew nothing, we considered it a measure of wise
precaution to fortify ourselves against the fatigues of the journey, by
a hearty breakfast of broiled fish and roasted taro. This important
duty having been conscientiously attended to, our remaining preparations
occupied but little time, and we set out at an early hour.
Johnny, equipped with his longest bow, and an abundant stock of arrows,
in readiness for the appearance of anything in the shape of a jackal or
a tiger-cat, marched valiantly in advance, while Eiulo, in the capacity
of armour-bearer, or trusty esquire, followed, carrying his cutlass.
Next, carefully surveying the ground we passed over, came Arthur, with a
bag upon his arm, and a basket of cocoa-nut leaflets in his hand, ready
for the reception of the yams, when found, and of all sorts of roots,
plants, and botanical specimens, that might be discovered in the
meantime.
Max was armed to the teeth, as though in preparation for a pitched
battle. By his side, in a belt of hibiscus bark, was stuck his cutlass:
in one hand he carried a "spear," and in the other, one of his "Feejee
war-clubs." Morton and myself were provided with a cutlass apiece; and
Browne, without having encumbered himself even to that extent, strolled
leisurely along with his hands in his pockets, whistling "blue-bonnets
over the border."
It was now the spring of the tropical year: the deciduous trees were
renewing their verdure, and were covered with young shoots, and bursting
leaf-buds. Even the evergreens--though they change but little
throughout the year, and the old leaves and the new, the blossoms and
the ripe fruit, may be seen upon the same tree at almost every season,
looked brighter and fresher than before the rains. The earth was
carpeted with beautiful grasses, mingled with tufts of moss, and bunches
of fern. Blue and white flowers were scattered about almost as
profusely as the "pinkster blossoms," in April, in the woods at home;
and in sheltered places, the modest cape-jasmine was beginning to unfold
its fragrant leaves. A delightful freshness filled the air, and there
was as yet, at this early hour, nothing to remind us that we were
beneath the fervent skies of the burning zone.
Rejoicing and exhilarated at finding himself in the woods once more,
Johnny ran furiously hither and thither, closely attended by Eiulo,
gathering wild-flowers, ferns and mosses; chasing bugs, beetles, and
butterflies; and letting fly his arrows at every unfortunate member of
the feathered community that came within the range of his archery. In
every thicket and almost at every step, he came upon something to call
forth the most boisterous exclamations of surprise or delight. He was
manifestly in the state of mind declared by the poet to be so eminently
happy and desirable--
"To all exhilarating influences,
Of earth and heaven alive!"
Scarcely a moment passed, that he did not come running all aglow and out
of breath to Arthur, with eager questions about something or other which
he had just seen, and then dash off again into the forest without
waiting for a reply, where fresh explosions of admiration or wonder,
would soon announce new, and if possible, still more astounding
discoveries.
The shores of the stream were picturesque and varied. For the first
half-mile from our starting-point, it wound between smooth grassy banks,
adorned with scattered clumps of trees. It then entered a dense wood,
where its channel was a rugged ravine, inclosed between steep rocks of
black basalt. Here, the scraggy, ill-conditioned trees were crowded
together, and overgrown with gigantic creepers. The branches, reaching
across from the opposite shores, were interlaced and matted into thick
masses, almost excluding the light of day. Max here displayed his
agility, by laying hold of a long bough which extended from bank to
bank, and walking "hand over hand" across the stream that flowed darkly
and sluggishly some twelve or fifteen feet below.
We were an hour at the least, in toiling through this tangled wood,
though it did not extend more than half a mile. After leaving it behind
us, frequent rapids showed that we were steadily ascending as we
proceeded. Birds, such as we had not before seen on the island, and
which reminded me of some of my old acquaintances of the New England
woods, perched upon the trees, or flew familiarly around us. One or
two, of the woodpecker tribe, looked wonderfully natural and home-like,
as they sat industriously drumming upon hollow logs. Another, a small,
brown bird, with modest plumage, surprised and delighted me, by a clear,
full whistle, that sounded not unlike that of our own robin redbreast.
We also saw numbers of a species of pigeon with black bills,
slate-coloured bodies, and a ruff of white feathers about the neck. One
of these Johnny brought down with his bow, besides wounding very
seriously, (as he alleged), a considerable number of others. The
woodpeckers and whistlers enjoyed a temporary immunity from his
formidable shafts, reluctantly granted them at my intercession in their
behalf, on the score of old associations.
About an hour before noon we reached a spot where the stream was divided
by a rocky islet, around which it spread out like a small lake. A
grove, of a very peculiar appearance, and seeming to consist of a single
tree, sheltered and overspread the entire spot.