Evil from Without
Now it happened that one morning at about eight o’clock when the
fishermen were about to launch out into the deep in their regular quest
for food that a sudden cry of “Sail ho!” was raised and re-echoed
until all the islanders heard it. A large sailing ship was standing
in towards the bay with the obvious intention of communicating, and
immediately everybody was on the alert. For in spite of their happy
care-free life, which left little to be desired by them, there were
certain needs which they had inherited, such as clothes, tea, sugar,
flour, and tools, which the presence of a ship always brought vividly
to their remembrance. And in consequence they were always ready to
barter their simple commodities: fruit, vegetables, eggs, fowls, pigs,
fish, etc., for whatever they could induce the visitors to part with
except liquor and tobacco.
So a boat was hurriedly launched, manned by the stoutest rowers, with
Philip at the steer oar, and C. B. at the stroke, while the rest of the
islanders busied themselves collecting such produce as they hoped the
ship might be in want of. Fowls and eggs and fruit and milk and pigs,
fresh food such as ships in that day were so often glad of. As the boat
dashed alongside in splendid style the rowers noted that the ship was
thronged with passengers of a curious type to them, hundreds of yellow
faces peered over the side and an incessant high pitched babblement
of voices went on, utterly unintelligible to the islanders. Philip
grabbed a rope thrown to him and was about to spring on board when he
caught sight of those rows of parchment-like faces and paused, looking
doubtfully at his boat’s crew.
The captain, however, gazing cynically down upon him, said: “What’s the
matter with you? Afraid of a few Chinamen, are ye? Come on board and
don’t be such a fool.”
Philip flushed darkly under his tan, and then saying quietly, “Don’t
make the warp fast,” swung himself lightly on board, where, standing
on the rail holding on by the main top-mast backstays, he surveyed
the strange scene beneath him on the vessel’s deck. She was crowded
with yellow men, who wandered aimlessly about or squatted in groups
gibbering away. To add to the confusion there were hundreds of canaries
in cages which were hung about, and they were all singing at once, each
doing his little best to drown the clamour of his neighbours.
Raising his voice almost to a shout the captain addressed Philip with
the question: “Have you godly beach-combers got any fresh provisions to
sell? I’m fifty days out from Macao bound to Callao, and my passengers
are beginning to die like flies. I don’t know what’s the matter with
’em, unless it is the foul grub that was put aboard for ’em by the
compradore, though I never heard before that any grub was foul enough
to poison a Chink.”
Philip replied calmly: “We have plenty of produce, sir, which we shall
be glad to exchange with you for tools, clothes, books or anything of
that sort. But we don’t want money, it’s of no use to us.”
And he recapitulated the articles available for supply at once, to
which the captain replied: “All right, come on aft and I’ll have some
stuff brought up to show you.” So Philip most willingly sprang down on
the deck and followed the captain aft to the cabin. Here he was first
offered some rum, which he courteously refused, much to the captain’s
amusement. Then in obedience to the captain’s commands a heap of
clothing was brought up out of the slop chest and a few rusty tools of
various sorts, including half a dozen coal shovels, at sight of which
Philip’s eyes glistened, for these were sorely needed on the island.
There were no books available at all, only a heap of old newspapers
which Philip did not look twice at, for what did the news of the world
matter to these children of Nature?
Then having selected such goods as they needed as far as the limited
supply before him would allow, Philip suggested that they should be put
in his boat and that the captain should accompany him ashore and see
what they had got to offer in exchange, which goods they would bring
back with the captain to the ship. To this the captain answered that he
should prefer Philip to bring such stuff as he had ready, pass it on
board and make his bargain there, as he, the captain, did not want to
leave the ship.
Philip rose and looking the captain steadfastly in the face, said: “No
sir, on several occasions when we, trusting that other people would
act as we always do to one another, have brought our produce on board
a passing ship, we have been compelled to take whatever the captain
has chosen to give us or nothing at all, because we were completely at
his mercy. Now we are always ready to give of our substance to help
ships in distress, expecting no payment, but we are sorely in need of
certain things, and can only get them by selling our stuff. And if we
are cheated it is hard for us to bear, knowing as we do that we would
never cheat anybody for any consideration whatever.”
At this modest and dignified remark the captain flew into an assumed
rage and cried, “You stuck up hypocritical half nigger, half mutineer,
how dare you talk to an English gentleman like that! I’ve half a mind
to have you flung overboard, only I know you can’t be drowned. Don’t
come any of your palaver over me, for it won’t do. I understand you
fellows through and through.”
Philip smiled sadly, but without showing a trace of surprise or fear,
then saying, “I’m sorry, sir, that we can’t come to terms,” turned to
leave the saloon.
This was too much for the captain, who roared “Here! where ye goin’, ye
black thief?” (Many a bronzed Englishman is darker than Philip was.)
“Come back here!”
But Philip strode to the deck, leapt on the rail, and shouting, “Let
go, boys,” plunged feet foremost into the sea. In a moment the boat,
released, was at his side and he had climbed on board.
Overhead, the captain, standing on the rail, was crying, “Don’t be
silly, I was only trying to bluff you, it’s all in the way of business.
Come up alongside; I’ll come with you and bring the stuff ashore. Good
heavens! what a rum lot these Kanakas are, to be sure.”
By this time Philip had taken hasty counsel with his friends and had
decided to take the captain on shore if he would come, but that none
of them would board that awful ship again under any pretence. So they
sheered alongside, caught again the rope that was flung them and
received a heap of goods, the captain and two men following. Then they
headed for the beach with a sigh of relief, for the very proximity of
the ship was hateful to them. They soon reached the landing place, the
captain and his two henchmen looking very white as the ably handled
boat was deftly guided stern foremost over the immense breakers, and
stepping ashore uncertainly as the ready arms of the islanders were
held out to them.
But no sooner had they landed than the captain and his two men began
to swagger and ogle the women and girls who crowded down to the beach
intent upon welcome. C. B. was close beside the skipper as he reached
forward to clasp a beautiful girl near him by the waist. Lithe as a
leopard the boy sprang between the maiden and the captain, crying as he
did so: “That’s my sister, sir, and anyhow you mustn’t touch our girls;
you are not good enough!”
Well, wasn’t that foolish man angry? he made a sweeping motion with his
arm as if to brush an insect from his path, but C. B. seized him by
both hands and held him so firmly that he was unable to move, saying at
the same time, “Please behave yourself, sir; we won’t hurt you, but you
must not go on ugly like this.” The two men who were with the captain
looked frightened--for they were thinking of massacres in the South
Seas of which they had often heard and doubtless expected something
of the kind. The skipper however knew better, and acted worse, for he
raged like a madman, the islanders standing round looking grave and
stem while all the women folk slipped away. When he had cursed himself
out of breath C. B. spoke again: “Now, sir, if you are ready we’ll take
you back to your ship. We want to trade badly enough, but it’s almost
paying too dearly for the privilege, having men like you among us. We
are very sorry for you, but wish you would go.”
No one of the islanders added anything, for they felt as if C. B. had
exactly expressed what they would say and for a few moments there was
a dead silence. Then the captain said in a curiously subdued voice: “I
don’t know but what you’re right after all, young fellow, whoever you
are, and I apologize. I didn’t intend to act so ugly, believe me. And
now if you’ll bring along your produce we’ll trade, for I ought to be
getting back to my ship.” Immediately following upon his words, and
without an order being given, there was a dispersal of the islanders,
who soon reappeared laden with all the things they had to sell:
vegetables, fruit, eggs, fowls and pigs, all that sailors most eagerly
desire after a long voyage.
It was an easy market, for there was practically no haggling, and when
all the goods that the captain had brought were exhausted, the kindly
folk presented him with the rest of the produce which was left, an
act of generosity which deepened the tan on his face as he, even he,
realized what a contrast there was between his behaviour and theirs.
But I do not know that he was so very much to blame after all, for it
was probably the first time he had come across practical primitive
Christianity in full operation. However, as he turned to leave the
beach again he held out his hand to C. B., saying: “Youngster, I’m
ashamed of myself, that’s all I can say. I shall remember to-day as
long as I live. And I want to tell that splendid fellow the same, the
man whom I spoke so badly to in my saloon.”
“Oh, you mean my father,” said C. B. “Here he is!” and Philip stepped
forward, a gentle smile on his face, and his hand outstretched, saying
as he came, “Don’t bother about me, sir, I’m only sorry that you should
be afflicted with such a hasty temper and disbelief in the goodness of
anybody. But please say no more. If you are ready to go on board we
are ready to take you.”
“Ah, I don’t wonder you want to get rid of me,” murmured the skipper
sorrowfully; “how you’ve put up with me so long I don’t know. All I
know is that you’ve made me feel as I’ve never done before, and I’d
love to stay here and take a few lessons from you good folks how to
live. But I must get back to the hog-trough again, I suppose. Come
along, the sooner I get aboard the better,” and he strode firmly
towards the boat.
Philip and his son looked at each other for a moment irresolutely,
the same thought in each of their minds, should they ask him to stay
and see their dear old pastor who would speak words of comfort to his
tortured soul? But the time had passed, all hands were in the boat save
the steersman, and Philip sprang to his place while the waiting crowd
ran the buoyant craft out into the foaming surf and the long oars drove
her strenuously through the tormented waters, forcing her out to the
smooth sea beyond. Once out of the surf the rowers settled down into
the long, regular swing of deep sea oarsmen, and they rapidly neared
the vessel. She lay lazily rolling to the heavy swell with her mainyard
to the mast, but not a sign of life about her, for all the crowd on
board. But as the boat swung alongside the mate sprang on to the rail
and shouted his orders, a rope was flung, the side ladder lowered
and the skipper climbed aboard, saying as he did so, “Come up, Mr.
Boat-steerer, and I’ll treat ye different, see if I don’t.”
But Philip gravely declined. He did not care to run any such risks,
knowing from much previous experience how soon such impressions as
the captain had received are apt to change with a different scene.
And the captain did not repeat his invitation. Turning to the mate he
ordered all dispatch to be made in getting the stores on board, then
abruptly left the side and the boat’s crew saw him no more. In a very
few minutes the boat was cleared and as soon as she was empty Philip
shouted, “Cast off that rope.” It was done and with a powerful sweep of
the steer oar they swept away from the ship’s side, and shipping their
oars bent to them with a will, every man of them feeling glad to put
an increasing distance between them and the hive of evil they felt the
ship to be.
And as they did so they saw the mainyard swing, heard the wailing
cries of the sailors as they trimmed the sails to the light breeze and
with a sense of utter relief watched her glide off towards the open
sea. Then Philip raised his beautiful voice in the grand old song of
satisfaction: “O God, our help in ages past,” in which his crew joined,
as was their wont, in sweetest concord. By the time she reached the
beach the ship was almost hull down on the horizon and never, as far as
log-books or signalling stations can tell, was she reported again.
That night there was another great family gathering of the islanders,
first for equitable division of the articles bought, and next for the
usual thanksgiving in that they had suffered no harm at the hands of
their visitors. For even these gentle, happy children of love were
suspicious of all contact with the outer world, they always feared the
worst, knowing how utterly foreign to their ideas of brotherly love and
unity of heart were the majority of even the few people who touched
at their island. How hard it is for us, who, whether we like it or
not, are bound to feel doubtful of professors of Christianity, when we
realize the deeds and hear the words of so many of them, to understand
the feelings of this primitive people, among whom the commandment to
love one another had become an ingrained principle. Many of us with the
best will in the world to believe in them find ourselves saying, “Ah
well, they are exceptionally favoured by their situation and history.
If they only lived as we do, among civilized heathen, professing to be
Christians and yet denying the power of God to do His will among us
they would be as lukewarm and half hearted as most of us are.”
Something of this kind must have entered into C. B.’s thoughts that
night. For after the young ones had gone to sleep he and his father and
mother sat on the stoop in front of their house discussing in their
simple way the events of the day and their bearing upon what they knew
of life until suddenly the young man said, “Mother, sometimes I think
that it’s all very well for us to be as happy and loving and fond of
God as we are here where everybody is like-minded, but what if one of
us should be suddenly flung out of this among people like those we’ve
seen to-day? How should we stand it, do you think? I don’t quite know
how to put it, but what I mean is, are we good because we are shut in
with goodness and have no temptations to be had, or are we good because
we really love good and hate evil? And should we be thus good if
everybody around us was bad?”
His gentle mother made answer, “Dear son, why worry your head about
such things. If I understand God’s word at all it tells me that if I
live for God and with Him for the present the future has nothing to do
with me. But I believe that wherever He puts me He will provide me with
grace to meet every form of evil. I do not find, though, that if I go
voluntarily where there is evil I get any promise of being made proof
against it. At any rate I know that I love God and all His ways as
far as I know anything, and I can’t imagine myself happy in any other
condition. And I am quite content with that, blessing Him for putting
me where I am, in the midst of people who love Him also.”
Philip who had been sitting, as was usual with him when unemployed,
gazing into vacancy with his thoughts far away, suddenly aroused
himself and said in a dreamy voice--
“I don’t believe that all the people who don’t know God are unhappy,
but I’m sure that most of them are, judging from those I’ve mixed
with on my travels. And I’m quite sure that if people were taught in
Christian lands as we are here, if they were brought up to look upon
God as a personal Friend always near, and one that no one who knows
Him could be afraid of, there would be an enormous number of people
more loving Him and knowing Him than there are. I kept my eyes open and
listened also while I was in America and Australia, and I went to all
sorts of places where they said God was worshipped, and I got entirely
bewildered.
“For it seemed to me that what they called religion was a thing which
hadn’t anything to do with their lives at all. They went to church or
chapel or meeting on Sundays, and said so many prayers or listened to
what the preacher had to say, not at all because they loved God, but
because they thought that if they didn’t do these things they would
be punished for ever and ever by being in a place called hell, always
burning and never burnt up. As for loving God as a man loves a good
father or mother, or loving Jesus as one loves a dear elder brother who
has always been our ideal man since we were toddlers, the thing didn’t
seem to strike them in any way. And in some of the churches I went
into I could hardly help laughing, it all seemed so funny, all a big
show to please God who made all the glorious world we live in and the
wonders in heaven above. When I asked them if they thought God minded
how they dressed or walked or smelt (I didn’t like the smoky smelly
stuff at all), they got angry and said I was an ignorant heathen, which
of course didn’t hurt me a bit because I knew I wasn’t. But I did
try to show them in the Bible how plainly God had said as to little
toddling children that all this outward show was of no value in his
sight, that it was the heart and life that really mattered. Only they
said then that I was so stupid it was waste of time arguing with me.”
C. B. did not remember ever having heard his father talk for so long
a time without stopping before, and he was tremendously impressed by
what he had heard. Nevertheless, there was a growing, deepening desire
in his mind to go and see this curious world, to test the reality of
his own love of God in contact with the extraordinary conditions which
his father said obtained in the great struggling masses of people who
belonged to professedly Christian countries. He felt, in fact, like the
inhabitant of another planet in the old story who was smitten with a
strong desire to come to earth and see for himself whether what he had
heard was true, and if there were even stranger things to be found in
this wonderful little world than he had heard of.
No word of this growing craving escaped the young man, but daily,
almost hourly, in the midst of his simple toils, he thought over the
possibilities of his getting personally acquainted with the outside
world, until the longing to do so was the strongest factor in his life.
He grew graver, more self-centred, and all his intimates noticed
it, for it was so complete a change from his previous liveliness.
Still, nobody mentioned the matter to him, none felt it their business
to interfere with him, more especially as he was if anything more
energetic than ever in performing his share of the work, and if it may
be said, where all alike were kind and unselfish, was more thoughtful
of others than ever he had been.
So the days and weeks and months glided away in most uneventful fashion
among the happy islanders. There were births hailed with decorous joy
and earnest praise for God’s good gifts, two or three deaths, met
by all as the natural termination of an earthly probation and the
commencement of real life. As such these events were no occasions for
wild outbursts of grief. Tears were shed of course when the bereaved
ones remembered that in this life the dear companion would be seen no
more, but these were speedily dried at the thought of the short time
which would pass before reunion came, and then separation would be an
impossibility. For these people, strange as it may seem to us, acted
as if what they believed were real to them, and not some cunningly
devised fable, in which they had to profess belief in order to hoodwink
God into letting them into Heaven. A Heaven, by the way, which they
believed to be a glorified earth wherein there should be no physical,
moral, or mental evil.
For of all three of these, although they themselves were in so
wonderful a measure free from them, they had experience from without.
As, for instance, when one day after a long spell of perfect peace,
not a sail being sighted nor any whaling done, the lookout man on the
cliff reported something in the offing, either a dead whale, a boat,
or a piece of wreckage. In any case something quite well worth while
investigating, and so a boat with C. B. as boat steerer put off to see
what the waif might be. It was an hour’s strenuous pull before they
reached the object, but some time before C. B.’s eyes had made it out
to be a boat, apparently derelict.
But when they drew up alongside of the wanderer a simultaneous groan
of pity burst from them, for the sight they saw chilled their blood.
There were four ghastly objects lying across the thwarts that had once
been men but now looked like mummified corpses. Burnt black by the sun,
every bone showing clearly beneath the strained withered skin, hair and
beards like weeds, and lying in the bottom of the boat sundry awful
fragments of humanity that told their own horrible tale of cannibalism.
And a foul stench arose from the boat which befouled the pure air and
made the visitors feel deathly sick.
It was no time, however, to give way to any weakness of that sort,
especially as they had nothing with them in the way of restoratives,
supposing that any life remained in these pitiful relics of human
beings. So they made the strange boat fast to their own, and turning
shoreward laid to their oars with all their might. Fortunately it was
an almost perfectly calm day, so that the passage through the breakers
was accomplished with little difficulty, and when they reached the
beach there were scores of willing hands ready to help. They lifted the
poor wrecks ashore tenderly, finding that two of them still breathed,
and immediately carried them off to where hot milk and the juice of
fresh fruit could be administered to them. Very gently and patiently
they strove to coax back the fast departing life into those frail
bundles of bones, and were at last rewarded by hearing some words in
a tongue that none of them could understand issuing from the cracked
lips of one of the men.
Their curiosity was restrained, however, by the absolute necessity
of keeping the poor creatures quiet if the flickering sparks of life
were to be kept glowing, and presently they were delighted by seeing
both the rescued ones fall into a deep sleep. Then they turned their
attention to the burial of the dead in their little graveyard with
all the sweet and simple solemnity they used in their own interments.
But the dreadful evidences of cannibalism in the boat could not be
forgotten, much as they tried to excuse and extenuate, for all of them
felt that nothing would ever have induced them to act in the same
manner. Still, these children of peace would not condemn, despite their
horror, and their pity was immense.
Long and earnest were the consultations and speculations on the
circumstances which had led to the casting away of these poor waifs,
but when the time had come for retiring for the night only one possible
solution of the mystery had been arrived at--that these were survivors
of some terrible shipwreck, and all thanked God that such a frightful
experience had never been theirs. And so in this good and peaceful
atmosphere of peace and love the little community went to their happy
rest.