When Frewen allowed Cheyne to write the pencilled note to Captain
Keller, he did so with a double purpose, for he and Cheyne had carefully
thought out and decided upon their plans. In the first place, the dead
whale would convince the ship's company that he and his boat's crew had
“done the square thing,” by killing and leaving for their benefit the
best and largest whale that had yet been taken, and that although
they were deserting (and consequently losing their entire share of the
profits of the cruise so far, which would be divided with their former
shipmates) the rich prize they were leaving to the ship would prove of
ten times the value of the boat in which they had escaped. In the second
place he wished to put Keller on a false scent by naming Savage Island
(or Nine, as it is generally known) as their destination; for Keller
knew that the island was a favourite resort of runaway sailors, but that
a suitable reward offered to the avaricious natives would be sure to
effect the capture and return to the ship of any deserters from the
_Casilda_.
Cheyne's father was an English master mariner, who, tired of a seafaring
life, had settled as a trader in the beautiful island of Manono in
Samoa. He there married a daughter of one of the leading chiefs, and
himself attained to some considerable influence and property, but lost
his life in an encounter with a rebellious clan on the island of Upolu.
He left two children: Randall, a lad of sixteen, and Marie, a girl
two years younger. The boy went to sea in a whaler, and at the age
of twenty-four had an established reputation as one of the smartest
boatsteerers in the Pacific. Only once after four years' absence, had he
returned to his native country, when he found that his sister, who had
just arrived from Australia, where she had been educated, was about
to be married to one of the few Europeans in the country--a well-to-do
planter and merchant, named Raymond, and that his mother had also
married again, and settled in New Zealand.
Satisfied as to his sister's future happiness, he saw her married, and
again turned his face to the sea, although Raymond earnestly besought
him to stay with and help him in his business. He made his way to
Honolulu, and there joined the _Casilda_, then homeward bound, and, as
has been related, he and the second officer soon became firm friends.
At the south-east point of the island of Upelu, there is a town named
Lepâ, and for this place the boat was now steering. The principal chief
of the district was a blood relation of Cheyne's mother, and he (Cheyne)
knew that every hospitality would be given to himself and Frewen for as
long a time as they chose to remain at Lepâ.
“After we have seen Mana'lio” (the chief) “we shall consider what we
shall do,” said the boatsteerer to Frewen. “I expect he will not like
letting us leave him, but will be satisfied when he knows that you and I
want to go to my sister's place. These big Samoan chiefe are very touchy
in some things.”
On the afternoon of the third day out, the land was sighted, and just as
the evening fires were beginning to gleam from the houses embowered in
the palm-groves of Lepâ, the boat grounded on the white hard beach, and
in a few minutes the village was in a pleasurable uproar, as the white
men were almost carried up to the chief's house by the excited natives,
who at once recognised the stalwart Cheyne.
Mana'lio made his relative and Frewen most welcome, and treated them
as very honoured guests, whilst the rest of the boat's crew were taken
possession of by the sub-chiefs and the people of the town generally,
carried off to the _fale taupule_ or “town hall,” and invited to a
hurriedly prepared but ample repast.
On the following morning, Frewen called the whole of his boat's crew
together, and told them it would be best for them to separate. “Each of
you four men say you don't want to go to sea again--not for a long time
at any rate. Well, Mana'lio, the chief here, wants a white man to live
with him. He will treat him well, and give him a house and land. Will
you stay, Hunt?”
“Yes, sir,” was the instant reply.
“Right. And you, Freeman, Chase, and Craik, can stay here in Lepâ,
and decide for yourselves which towns you will live in. In less than
forty-eight hours half the chiefe on the island will be coming to
Mana'lio for a white man. Cheyne here will give you some good advice--if
you want the natives to respect you, and to get along and make money and
a honest living, follow his advice.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” assented the men.
“Now, here is another matter. Cheyne and I wish to be mates, and we want
the boat.”
“Well, I guess _we_ have no claim on her, sir,” said Hunt, turning to
the others for confirmation of his remark.
“Oh, yes you have--she is as much yours as she is mine. Anyway we all
have a good right to her, as we have given the ship a whale worth a
dozen new boats; and, besides that, by deserting we have forfeited our
'lays' and have put money into Captain Keller's pocket as well as
into those of the crew. Now, I have a little money with me--two hundred
dollars. Will you four men take a hundred and divide it, and let Cheyne
and me have the boat?”
“Ay, ay, to be sure,” they cried out in unison.
That evening Frewen and Cheyne bade Mana'lio and the seamen goodbye, and
accompanied by four stalwart and well-armed natives, stepped into the
boat, hoisted her blue jean main-sail and jib, and amidst a chorus of
farewells from the friendly people set off on a forty miles trip along
the coast, their destination being the town of Samatau, at the extreme
north-west of the island.
For here, so Mana'lio had told them, Mrs. Raymond and her husband were
living, the latter having purchased a large tract of land there which he
was preparing for a cotton plantation.