THE VISIT TO PITCAIRN
While our voyage had been a successful one, our outfits were not all
exhausted; we had material enough for the capture of a few more
sperm whales provided we could see them. The captain, however, was
anxious to reach home, and orders were no longer given to shorten
sail at night. So the old _Seabird_ made pretty good time for a
vessel of her type. There was not a member of the crew who had not
heard of Pitcairn, and one had visited the spot, and he was loud in
his praises of it and the people. This was before the departure to
Norfolk in the early fifties of the last century. He told us of the
kindness of the Pitcairners, of the noble bearing of the men and of
the beauty and kindness of the women.
“I took a great fancy to two of them—John and Ruth Quintail,” he
said. “They were grandchildren of one of the mutineers. John was
twenty and Ruth eighteen. They did everything they could do for a
common sailor like me. They were both pretty religious like most of
the people, but they were full of fun. They could swim like ducks,
and while I was there Ruth swam round the island. She used to wear
an orange blossom in her beautiful hair. Our American girls are
called fair, but she was the fairest girl I have ever seen. I
suppose Ruth and John are at Norfolk Island now and will never go
back to Pitcairn.”
Our interest constantly deepened, and I think that even the staidest
old tars were as expectant as if they had been boys. There are no
coral reefs around Pitcairn; it is of volcanic origin and is
sometimes likened to a rock rising out of the ocean. It is only two
and a half miles in length, and a mile in width. It was about midday
when we caught sight of it. While the ocean seemed rather calm, yet
as we drew near I noticed what I had already read, that the waves
dashed fiercely against it. There was only one place suitable for
landing, and even then a boat had to be skilfully managed in order
to avoid disaster. When not far from shore the ship was hove to, and
then a white flag was displayed which told that they saw us and that
we were welcome. Soon a boat put out and, as it came alongside, I
noticed that it was a dugout. One of the two occupants was
particularly interesting to me. As he moved about the deck he caught
sight of me and, approaching, said:
“You and I must be of about the same age. I am sixteen and my name
is James Russell.”
He was so pleasant and unassuming that I could not help saying to
myself that he would never make a sailor. Our visitors extended to
the captain a cordial invitation to visit the island and assured him
of a warm welcome. Of course this was intended to include officers
and crew. The captain made fitting acknowledgment, rather unusual
for one generally so abrupt, and replied that on the morrow there
would be shore leave for all except the few required to manage the
ship.
We were like schoolboys that night, anxious and expectant. In the
dawn the island seemed one high peak covered with green creeping
plants and trumpet vines. As we approached in the boats a man
standing on an elevation showed us where to land. The surf was
beating fiercely on rock and beach, but we glided ashore without any
casualty. Nearly all of the eighteen then inhabiting the island were
there to receive us. Russell sought me out and brought me to a young
woman to whom I was presented in a very pleasant way. Her name was
Sarah McCoy.
The ascent was slow as the path leading to the upland was very
steep. On arriving at the top, we were told that the large open
space was the market-place where trading was carried on with the
whalemen who occasionally called at the island. Thence we passed by
a pretty path winding through tropic trees to what was called the
town. Many of the buildings showed signs of neglect, the result of
the abandonment of the island only a few years before. Our guests
had restored some of the buildings, and to our surprise the interior
of the houses and their furnishings were about the same as those of
our own homes in America.
Now let me describe Sarah McCoy. She was eighteen years of age and
while she was of dark complexion and had raven black hair, which was
prettily decorated with an orange blossom, yet in form and feature,
in conversation and deportment, there was much of the Anglo-Saxon.
Her attire was of tappa cloth, although I was told that all the
islanders had European clothing. Her teeth were beautiful. The
features were regular and the combination was pleasing. We were told
that we were to be parcelled out among the people for dinner, and it
was arranged that I was to be one of six who were to enjoy the
cooking of Sarah McCoy.
The young girl said, with a laugh, “We are the most civilized people
in the world, in one respect, and that is cooking. We have no
stoves, yet we cook food in a very short time, and we think very
much better than food cooked in stoves. The dinner is all prepared
and there is only one thing to do to make it ready for the table.
Come, James Russell and I will show you over the island.”
The girl was so artless, innocent and winning that I was quite
carried away with her. She was full of fun, and at times almost
boisterous with laughter, but modest and natural withal. Everywhere
we went we saw goats, pigs and fowl running wild, and I knew that
this meant a bountiful supply for our ship. I wish I could fittingly
describe the scenery. From countless fragrant herbs and lime and
orange trees delicious odors filled the air. The coconut trees were
supplied with tall plumes which waved gently above our heads, and I
should have thought that I was in some land of enchantment, far away
from the world, had it not been for the sound of the breakers
beating against the shore.
My companions led me to a rocky elevation overlooking the sea.
“How beautiful!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, beautiful to you,” said young Russell, “but we see it all the
time. We study and read about England and America and long to see
the beautiful things there, isn’t that so, Sarah?”
“Yes, indeed,” replied the young girl. “How much I would like to see
England, for in reality we are all English here.” The young girl
paused and soon continued, “They tell me that the American girls are
bright and beautiful. Is it not so?”
What could a great boy like myself say to a question like that? I
think she meant to relieve me of my embarrassment, for she said
cheerily,
“Tell me about the American girls—how they look and what they do?”
In my simple boyish way I tried to comply, but not very
successfully; and I think she helped me out some by asking a second
question before I could answer the first. Suddenly she broke out,
“There are two things that girls do the world over—they sing and
dance. I would like to hear your girls sing and see them dance. I
suppose we all sing alike but we dance differently. We have a simple
dance which came to us from our Tahitian grandmothers. Yours is
different; you glide around in kind of circles, I think; but that
would be impossible for me.”
I think that, if the girl had thought a moment, she would not have
made this allusion to her large bare feet which had never known
shoes. There was a troubled look to her eyes. Then there came a
ringing laugh.
“But we girls can put our feet to a noble use. Swimming is as easy
to us as it is to the water fowl. We take to it from infancy. Only
yesterday I swam round the island.”
“Swam round the island!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, that is nothing,” she said. “It is only about five miles.”
And now Young Russell plied me with all kinds of questions about
American boys—how they looked and what they did—and about American
cities and what they looked like. I endeavored to answer as well as
I could. When it came to cities, I told him I never had been in but
one—the little city I came from.
And so we strolled back to the point of departure, chatting away
like old friends meeting after a long separation. It was with deep
interest that I watched the preparation of the food that was to
constitute our repast. Sarah’s mother was there—not so dark as her
daughter, but comely and pleasant.
“Come,” said the young girl, “and see how your dinner is prepared
and cooked.”
Just outside the house was a hole in the ground which was used as an
oven. Sarah covered the bottom of it with fresh plaintain leaves.
From a fire near by heated stones were pitched into the hole and
covered with another layer of leaves. Then yams, breadfruit and
sweet potatoes, four large fowl wrapped in tappa cloth, and three
great cakes, made of yams and plaintains beaten up and similarly
covered, were laid in. Over them all were placed more leaves and
heated stones, and over the stones another great layer of leaves.
Above all, to keep in the heat, was laid a piece of old canvas.
Pointing at it, Sarah said with a laugh:
“That came from a ship which stopped here, and it is the only thing
you see to remind you of civilization. Now in civilized countries,”
she continued, “it takes a long time to cook things. In twenty
minutes to half an hour, gentlemen, your dinner will be ready. The
steam does it.”
I never before had taken Kreelman for a wit, but this time he was
equal to the occasion.
“The steam does it, miss, just as you say. And there’s a place in
America where they ain’t civilized because they cook with steam,
too.”
I think we were all as surprised as we were interested.
“Where?” was the general question.
“And they use rockweed instead of plaintain leaves.”
That gave us sailors the clew, and we laughed.
The girl was puzzled. Kreelman asked:
“Did you ever hear of a Rhode Island clambake, miss?”
Of course she had not, and Kreelman enlightened her as to the
similar method of cooking with heated stones. In twenty-five minutes
Sarah threw off the canvas and we men pitched off the stones. Sarah
tested the good things with a fork, and pronounced them well done.
Then pointing at what looked like a coffee-pot on the live coals of
the fire near by, she said:
“There is something that looks like civilization. In it is a drink
that tastes like coffee, which we make from roots and herbs.”
We sat down in the house, and the women proposed to wait on us; but
we protested. So the good things were brought in, and we all sat
down together. And what a repast! One may say that the things merely
seemed delicious because we had lived for many months on ship fare.
Perhaps that quickened our appetite, but after all these long years
I must say that I never enjoyed a better-cooked meal. After we rose,
I noticed on the wall a picture of Queen Victoria, and beneath it
written in a large, free hand a National Anthem, composed by
Reverend G. H. Nobbs. He was the beloved pastor who was now with
most of his flock at Norfolk Island. There were three stanzas. I was
granted permission to copy them. The first stanza is as follows:
’Mid the mighty Southern Ocean
Stands an isolated rock,
Blanchèd by the surf’s commotion,
Riven by the lightning’s shock.
Hark those strains to heaven ascending
From those slopes of vivid green,
Old and young, their voices blending—
God preserve Britannia’s Queen!
After dinner, a messenger announced that a little later hosts and
guests would meet in the open space just in front of the houses,
which constituted what they called the town. Our little party was
there early, and a pleasant thing it was to see the people gather;
an islander, for example, coming with three or four of our men, all
talking and laughing, and making one feel that he would like to
exchange the trials and turmoil and temptations of the world for the
sweet rest and quiet of this little island. Our hosts entertained us
with songs, concluding with the National Anthem which was rendered
with fine effect. Then our captain whispered to Lakeum, who in
chosen words expressed our gratitude for the hospitality rendered
and wished the colony abundant blessings and especially happiness
and prosperity. I think we were all proud of Lakeum, and we were
fortunate to have him as our spokesman, as he was the only one of
our company who was capable of creditably expressing himself.
The leave-takings were reserved for the place where we had landed,
and a happy throng we were as we strolled along to the shore. If
some difficulty attended our landing, more awaited our departure.
Ours was the first craft to confront the surf and, staunch old
whaleboat as it was on the open sea, it was unequal to the
situation, for over it went, tumbling us all into the water. A loud
laugh went up from the spectators, and several of the islanders
plunged into the sea to help us. We righted the boat and, under the
directions of our friends, mounted the crests successfully, and the
other boats followed us. But something else followed us as well—the
kindly adieus of the Pitcairners.
The next day liberty was given the shipkeepers, and the captain,
Lakeum and Silva went ashore with them, carrying trade to be
exchanged for supplies. We were notified that the bargaining would
take a good part of the day, and that on the appearance of the white
flag we were to lower the boats and make for the shore. About the
middle of the afternoon, the signal appeared, and three boats put
out. As we rested on our oars at a spot about a hundred yards from
the beach, we witnessed the storing in the native dugouts of pigs,
goats, fowl, fruit and vegetables, which were to be transferred to
our craft. The islanders were so apt and clever that the transfer
was easily effected, and as we pulled for the ship I saw Sarah for
the last time. She was standing on a bank waving her hand, and
Russell was beside her. He joined with a parting gesture. I
experienced a feeling like that which distressed me when the
_Seabird_ slipped from her moorings at the beginning of the voyage.
It was a touch of homesickness.
Now the island peak loomed in black outline against a pale green
sky; heavy clouds hung about the western horizon glowing with
crimson imparted by the sun which had just gone to his setting; the
waves were tinted with reflected hues. I was not in a frame of mind
to enjoy the spectacle. My thought was of the maiden whom I should
never see again, and the dew gathered in my eyes.
The crew felt kindly towards the captain, and they lauded him highly
for giving them such a royal treat. As we set sail, they were happy
and elated, and their joy was increased when they were informed that
we were not going round the Horn, but were to make for home through
the Strait of Magellan. The shortening of the voyage was the
interesting feature. They had no conception of the difficulties and
dilemmas they were to encounter in that hazardous passage—frequent
fogs, hidden rocks and sudden squalls.
When Kreelman and I had a few minutes together, he said: “Fancy
Chest, I never was in the Magellan Strait, but a sailor who was on a
merchantman told me that they went through there, and he never had
such a time in his life. He said that there was a mile for every day
in the year, and it took a week to get through. Once they scraped
along a hidden rock, and just escaped shipwreck. I don’t know why
the old man wants to go through there, but I suppose he does. I
never knew of a whaler goin’ through there before. Bad as the Horn
is, it’s free sailin’ there. I hope the oil, bone and ambergris is
insured.”
This expression of Kreelman’s views was not encouraging.
“How did you like the day on shore?” I inquired.
“A great day for sailors. The old man done himself noble in giving
us shore leave, and the Pitcairn folks done themselves proud in
entertainin’ us. It was somethin’ like one of them nice, little
places in a hot land. You know what I mean.”
Kreelman looked at me, appealingly. “I think you mean an oasis in
the desert,” I volunteered.
“That’s it, Fancy Chest, an oyster, only not in the desert, but in
the ocean.”
The man mused, then broke out, “You heard Lakeum give that talk.
There ain’t no man among edicated men who could have done better.
I’ve been on the sea about all my life and I never see before a man
on board a whaler like that man. You never hear no bad language and
he acts different from the other men. He treats the men well, but he
don’t allow no nonsense. And then he carries himself well. He’s got
an edication, and he come from first-class folks, but, as I told you
long ago, you can’t find out nothin’ about him. I guess, if all
whalers was made up of men like him, they’d be better places to live
in.”