Once more we were on the boundless ocean, out of sight of land, the
stars only as our guides, and the sagacity of the Polynesian chief and
his followers to depend on. What made us feel most strange was our
utter ignorance where we were going. From the quantity of provisions
and water the natives had thought it necessary to provide, it was
evident that we had a long voyage before us--perhaps many weeks might be
occupied in performing it. We could scarcely hope not to experience a
gale of wind even in the Pacific during that time, and how could we hope
to weather it out in so frail a craft, especially deeply laden as we
were?
When Jerry and I expressed our apprehensions, after we had been some
days on board, and were beginning to get very tired of being cramped up,
the answer of Cousin Silas rebuked us,--"Trust in Providence, my lads--
on the arm of Him who has already preserved us from so many dangers. He
would not have sent this canoe full of Christian men to us, unless for
some good object." Jerry and I felt that Cousin Silas spoke the truth,
and we made no further complaints.
It was surprising how delicate and attentive the islanders were to us--I
will not call them savages. They devoted the end of one of the canoes
for our accommodation, and raised over it an awning with mats, that we
might be shaded from the heat of the sun, which was at times excessive.
They selected the most delicate and the best-dressed food for us, and
always served us first. Their habits were cleanly, and they were always
kind and courteous towards each other, as they were especially to us.
Now, as all this was so different to what I had fancied the natural
character of the inhabitants of the islands in this part of the Pacific,
I could not but suppose that their Christianity had produced the change.
Had I known that the immediate ancestors of these very people, and,
indeed, some of the men on board, had been cannibals and savages of the
worst description, I might have been still more astonished. Oh, it is a
glorious thing to know what a mighty change pure, simple Christianity
will work in the heart of man, vile and deformed as sin has made it!
Cousin Silas often used to remark, that the world was a very useful
book, if we could but read it aright; and, thanks to him, I learned many
important lessons from it. No lesson was more important than that which
taught me the great change which the doctrines of Christianity, under
the influence of the Holy Spirit, produce on men of the most savage
natures. It confirmed and strengthened my faith in the power of the
gospel; and I wish that all my young friends would read the accounts
which they may find of the labours of missionaries in those and other
hitherto benighted regions, and they will, if I mistake not, find the
same result produced on their hearts which I experienced in mine.
However, I must continue my narrative.
We had brought with us our fishing-hooks and lines, and whenever the
breeze was moderate, we used to throw them out, and seldom passed an
hour without catching some fish. This afforded a pleasant and wholesome
change to our diet, and economised our provisions. Our progress was
slow, and we were unable to ascertain how long the voyage was likely to
last. Hitherto we had enjoyed only the finest weather; the wind had
always been favourable, and even the strongest breeze which had wafted
us along had only covered the ocean with a brisk ripple.
I mentioned that one of the missionaries spoke a few words of English.
So great was his desire to acquire a further knowledge of the language,
that all day long he was engaged in learning it from one or other of us.
He first obtained a large vocabulary of substantives. These he noted
down in a pocket-book which he cherished with great care, and then he
began upon verbs. These are more difficult to obtain, when neither
master nor pupil understands the other's language. However, by dint of
various signs, he obtained a good number, of which he began very soon to
make use. We got on talking by degrees, till we really did understand
each other very fairly. By degrees we gleaned from him the following
narrative:--
He and his companions belonged to an island in the neighbourhood of
Otaheite, all the inhabitants of which, from the teaching of some
missionaries, had embraced with joy the Christian faith. From living in
a state of constant warfare, no one for a moment knowing if his life was
safe from the assaults of his fellow-islanders, they had all become
peaceable and contented, life and property being as secure as in any
part of the world. The missionaries had taught them many useful arts,
and had introduced into the island many vegetables, and a variety of
fruits, with some few animals; so that they had now a constant and ample
supply of all the necessaries of life.
Highly valuing all the blessings they enjoyed, they heard that there
were some islands lying far away to the west, the inhabitants of which
were still ignorant savages. Some of their people had occasionally
visited them in trading-vessels, and some of their canoes had, it was
said, formerly gone there occasionally. At all events, they believed
that the inhabitants understood their language. If, then, some of their
people had ventured so far for the sake of gain, much more did it behove
them to go there for an object inestimably more important--the salvation
of the souls of a number of their fellow-creatures. A daring chief
undertook to head an expedition, and six native preachers volunteered to
go and settle with their wives and families among the heathen islanders,
and to convey to them faithfully the gospel of salvation.
Two large canoes were fitted out, strengthened for the voyage, and
stored and provisioned. The whole population of the island assembled on
the beach to bid their countrymen farewell, and to offer up their
prayers for their safety. They knew somewhat of the dangers they must
encounter, perhaps not all of them, but they had counted the cost, and
had they been greater than those of which they did know, they would not
have been deterred from the attempt. With a fair breeze the two canoes
set sail, and glided on over the smooth sea, towards the far-distant
group of islands. Day after day they sailed on; no land greeted their
sight, but they believed that they were on the right course, and
fearlessly committed themselves to the care of a merciful Providence.
They knew that however they might be directed, it would be for the best.
For many days the two canoes kept together, and the crews encouraged
each other; their voices raised in hymns of praise being wafted afar
across the waters, as they joined in chorus, and sang alternately with
each other. At length dark clouds were seen gathering in the horizon,
light scud flew across the sky, the sea began to rise--the canoes
laboured much--soon they were pitching violently into the quick-coming
seas: still they were skilfully managed, and the wind allowed them to
keep their course. Gradually, however, they drifted further and further
apart. Night came on, but the tempest did not abate. Several of the
people were kept continually bailing, for, in spite of all their care,
the sea constantly broke over them, and from the straining of the canoe
many a leak was formed. No one who endured them, could ever forget the
horrors of that night. "Had we been as we once were," continued the
missionary, "we should have resigned ourselves to our fate, and
perished; but we knew that it is the duty of Christians to strive to the
last, trusting in the arm of Him who is all-powerful to save, and while
prepared for death, never abandoning hope. The morning at length came.
The other canoe was nowhere to be seen. In vain we stood up and
strained our eyes on every side, as we rose to the top of a sea; not a
sign of her could we perceive. Still we trusted that our friends might
have been preserved. That day the gale blew as furiously as before; but
in the evening it moderated, though the sky was covered with clouds, and
we knew not whither we were drifting. For several days we drifted on,
ignorant of our position. Every morning, when daylight returned, we
looked out eagerly for our friends, but we never saw them again. We
live in hope that they may have been preserved. All is for the best.
"We thought that when the gale abated, and the sea grew calm, and the
sun came out, our sufferings would have an end; but they only then
began. Our stock of water was becoming less and less. Many of our
provisions had been so damaged by the sea, that they quickly decayed.
The sea became calm as the lagoon inside a coral isle; the sun burst
forth with intense heat; our thirst grew excessive. Our island was
plentifully supplied with water, and we had always been accustomed to an
abundance; yet now we dared not drink more than the shell of a small nut
could hold at a time. Carefully we husbanded the precious fluid; we had
learned to know its value. At last the time came when not a drop
remained. Every calabash was examined over and over again--the last
drop was drained out. We sat down, and looked mournfully at each other.
Our thirst increased. We dipped our heads in salt water--we
continually sprinkled each other over with it; but that did not convey
coolness to our parched tongues. `We must die,' exclaimed some one.
`No, no,' answered one of our missionary brethren; `we will pray without
ceasing--we will trust in God. He will send us relief when we least
expect it.' That very evening a flight of sea-fowl flew close to the
canoe. We were able to knock over several. Their blood assisted to
quench our thirst; their flesh, too, revived our strength. The next day
several fish were caught; but it was not food we wanted. `Water! water!
water!' was the cry from old and young alike. Still a day passed away--
there was no sign of land--no sign of rain. The next day came;
intolerable was the thirst we endured by noon. In vain we strained our
eyes through the hot, quivering atmosphere; the sky was blue and pure as
ever; not a speck could we discern in the horizon. We had hoped that we
might reach the group of islands to which we had been bound; we
accordingly kept, as we believed, a direct course for it. Another
morning broke. During the night, our sufferings had been intense.
Could we survive through another day? We stood up to glance round the
horizon. Directly before us arose, as if sprouting out of the water, a
line of palm and cocoa-nut trees! How eagerly we plied our oars to
reach the island on which they grew! How thankfully our voices sang the
morning hymn, and uttered our accustomed prayers! We rapidly neared the
spot. We might have run close by it in the night without seeing it. We
paddled round to find a spot on which to land. Tantalising indeed was
it to see the ground where we might hope to gain life and strength, and
yet not be able to place our feet on it. At last an opening appeared in
the surrounding reef, we ran in, and, hauling up our canoe, hurried off
in search of water. No water could we find, but the strongest climbed
some of the cocoa-nut trees, and quickly threw down a supply of their
refreshing fruit. Oh, how delicious and cool was the milk which they
afforded us! Still, pure water was what we most wanted; but though we
searched in every direction, and dug down as deep as we could with our
rough wooden tools, not a drop could we find.
"We remained here a week hoping for rain, but it came not. The juice
from the cocoa-nuts restored our strength. We collected all we could
gather for our voyage. Once more we resolved to trust ourselves to the
sea. We embarked, and hoisting sail, stood away on our former course.
No land appeared in sight. Many days passed away. Our supply of
cocoa-nuts was almost exhausted. Again death by thirst stared us in the
face. Oh, how carefully we husbanded the few precious nuts which
remained! They at last were exhausted. The hot sun again arose, and we
had no liquid with which to quench our thirst. The burning rays of the
bright luminary struck down on our heads with intense force. `Water!
water! water!' we repeated as before. Some almost gave way to despair.
`We have before been preserved, why give up all hope now?' said others.
In the evening a small cloud was seen to rise out of the sea. It spread
wider and wider. There was no wind. It advanced toward us. Fast from
it fell a thick shower of pure, sweet water. On it came, we opened wide
our mouths, we spread out our hands. Oh, how gratefully it moistened
our parched lips! We stretched out our sail and all our garments, and
let the precious streams we thus gathered run into our gourds and pots.
All that evening the rain came down in a continuous fall, and every
moment we were occupied in collecting it, till all our receptacles were
full to the brim,--not a shell did we allow to remain empty: and then we
poured it down our throats in a full, refreshing stream. Scarcely were
we satisfied when the rain ceased--the dark cloud blew onward--the stars
shone forth brightly from the clear sky, and we pursued our course.
"The next island we came to was barren--no water, and no nuts; we must
have perished had we been cast on it. Then we reached another with some
inhabitants on it. We understood, in part, their language. Their
ancestors had, they believed, been cast on it wandering as we were
across the ocean. Their canoe had been destroyed, and they had remained
there without wishing to depart. They had been driven forth from their
native isles by cruel wars, in which the greater number of their kindred
had been destroyed. They received us in a friendly manner, and invited
us to remain with them. They had heard nothing of the Truth. The
gospel-message had never reached their ears. From consulting with them
we were convinced that we had been driven so far out of our course that
we should never reach the islands of which we were in search. Here,
however, was work for us to do, pointed out clearly by the finger of
God. We told the islanders, to their joy, that we would remain with
them; and by degrees we opened to their wondering ears the glorious
tidings we had brought. Astonished, they heard, but did not refuse to
listen. Some speedily believed. The news we brought was of a nature
their hearts had long yearned for; it spoke of rest from toil--rest from
suffering--rest from sin. Others, in time, accepted the truth with
thankfulness. Every day we preached, and every day some one
acknowledged himself a sinner, and sought redemption through Him alone
who can give it. At length our glorious work was accomplished. We gave
them books; we taught them to read. We told them that we must depart to
try and reach our own homes. They entreated that one of our number
would remain with them. It was resolved that one should remain to guide
them aright. We drew lots. He on whom the lot fell, without a murmur,
with his wife and family, joyfully remained--though he well knew that he
could never hope again to see the land of his birth, and many dear to
him there. But I am making my story longer than I intended.
"Once more we set sail to return to our homes. Numerous were the
hardships we endured, though no one murmured. Several islands were
visited. At some, food was procured; at others we were afraid to stay,
on account of the fierce character and the cannibal propensities of the
inhabitants. We had been ten days out of sight of land when we reached
your island, and truly did we rejoice to find not only whites, but
Christian men to receive us."
With these words the native missionary finished his narrative. I was
particularly struck with the artless simplicity of his account, and the
faith and perseverance he and his companions had exhibited, so worthy of
imitation. I felt ashamed as he spoke of white men, when I recollected
how many act in a way so totally at variance with their character as
Christian and civilised men, and how bad an example they set to those
whom they despise as heathens and savages. I have very frequently met
young men who fancy when they are abroad that they may throw off all
restraints of religion and morals, under the miserable excuse that
people should do at Rome as the Romans do,--in other words, act as
wickedly as those among whom they have gone to live. What would have
become of Lot had he followed the example of those among whom he took up
his abode? Now, my young friends, I daresay that you will think I am
very young to lecture you; but remember that I have been round the
world, and I should have been very dull and stupid had I not reaped some
advantage from the voyage. What I want to impress upon you is, when you
leave your homes and go abroad, to be if anything more strict, more
watchful over yourselves even than you have before been. Society will,
too probably, afford less moral restraint, the temptations to evil will
be greater; but pray against them faithfully--strive against them
manfully, and they will not overcome you.
Our voyage, as I was saying, had hitherto been prosperous; but a gale
came on, and we were exposed to the very dangers the missionary had so
well described to me. We could do nothing except help to bail out the
canoe, for the natives understood how to manage her much better than we
did; and, with all our civilisation and nautical knowledge, we had to
confess that in that respect they were our superiors. The canoe
laboured fearfully, and often I thought that she must founder. How
anxiously we looked out for some sign that the gale was abating, but in
vain. Had we been in our own ship, we should certainly have thought
very little of the gale; but in this frail canoe we had ample reason to
dread its consequences. At length the wind shifted, and drove us on in
what the islanders considered our proper course. We ran on for some
days without seeing land, and then the gale blew over and left us
becalmed under a burning sun. We had carefully from the first husbanded
our water, having the advantage of the previous experience of our
companions. As it was, we had barely sufficient to quench the constant
thirst produced by the heat. Every day, too, seemed to increase our
thirst and to diminish our stock of the precious fluid. Our hope had
been to fall in with some vessel which might either supply us or give us
a course to the nearest island where we might obtain it. One forenoon,
when we had been suffering even more than usual, the chief declared that
he saw a vessel on our weather bow, and that she would cross our course.
With intense eagerness and hope we all looked out for her. As her
sails rose out of the water, we saw that she was a schooner. If we
could but get on board her, we thought that we might again in time
rejoin the _Triton_. We were very certain that Captain Frankland would
not cease to look for us while a chance remained of our being
discovered. Gradually we neared the schooner. I saw Cousin Silas and
Ben Yool looking at her with great earnestness.
"What is she, Ben, do you think?" asked Cousin Silas.
"Why, Mr Brand, as you know, sir, I've been boxing about the world for
the best part of the last forty years, and I think I ought to know one
craft from another, and to my mind that vessel is no other than the
piratical craft we were so long aboard. I say, if you ask me, sir, that
we ought to stand clear of her. She'll bring us no good."
"Exactly my idea," answered Cousin Silas; "the wretches might very
likely send us to the bottom, or carry us off again as prisoners."
We were, however, too near the schooner to hope to escape from her; but
we agreed that we might lie concealed while the canoe sailed quietly by
her, and that, probably, no questions would be asked. We had some
little difficulty in explaining the character of the vessel to our
friends. When they did understand it, they seemed to be much horrified,
and undertook carefully to conceal us. As we drew near the schooner,
the rest of our party went below; but I wrapped myself up in a piece of
matting, leaving a small aperture through which I could see what was
going forward. The schooner stood close up to us. I was very certain
that she was the pirate. Several faces I recognised. Among them was
Captain Bruno. At first I thought that they were going to run us down;
then I dreaded that they were going to make us come alongside. Hauling
their foresail to windward, they hailed two or three times, but in a
language was not understood. At last an answer was given from the
canoe. What it was I could not tell. It seemed to satisfy them. To my
great joy they once more let draw their foresail, and stood away from
us. This was not the last time we were to see that ill-omened craft.
As soon as she had got to some distance off, my friends came out of
their hiding-place, and I disengaged myself from the folds of the mat.
Truly thankful were we that we had escaped her. The missionary told us
that the pirates had stated that we were about three hundred miles to
the westward of Otaheite, and that we should pass several islands to get
there. Once at Otaheite the chief knew the direct course to his own
island, and believed that he should have no difficulty in finding it.
Our escape from the pirate made us, for a time, almost forget our raging
thirst; we could not, however, but admire the fidelity and resolution of
the natives, who, rather than run the risk of betraying us, had
refrained from asking for water from the pirate.
All that day our sufferings were very great. As we were running on
during the night, our ears were assailed by the sound of breakers. We
listened; they were on our weather bow. If we ran on we might miss the
island; so we hauled down our sail, and paddled slowly on towards the
spot whence the sound proceeded. All night we remained within sound of
the surf. How anxiously we waited for daylight to ascertain that there
was an island, and not merely a coral reef over which the sea was
breaking! That night was one of the most anxious we had yet passed.
Slowly the hours dragged along. It was wonderful to observe the calm
and resigned manner of the islanders. The missionaries and the chief
never gave the slightest sign of distress; even the women did not
complain. "It must be near daybreak," said Mr Brand, waking up out of
a sleep into which he had at last fallen. "Look out." We strained our
eyes in the direction in which we believed the island to exist. A few
pale streaks appeared in the east; and then, oh! our hearts leaped with
joy as we saw tall, thin lines appear against the sky; and, as the light
increased, the stems and tops of trees were revealed to view. But our
joy was somewhat damped when we discovered that a long line of heavy
breakers rolled between us and them. At sight of the island the
natives, with one accord, raised a hymn of praise and thanksgiving which
put our doubts to shame; and the chief, pointing to the surf, made signs
that we must go round on the other side, where we should find a place to
land. The sail was forthwith hoisted, and we quickly ran round to the
lee side, where a wide opening in the surf presented itself. We paddled
through it into the inner bay or lagoon, and reaching the shore, the
canoe was secured.
The natives did not forget their prayers and hymn of thanksgiving, in
which we all heartily joined them. They then looked cautiously about,
to ascertain that there were no people on the island who might treat us
as enemies. This necessary precaution being taken, we hurried about in
every direction in search of water. Jerry and I kept together. Our
tongues were parched with thirst. Some of the natives were climbing the
cocoa-nut trees, in case any might still retain milk; but the season for
the fruit was now passing. Indeed, we wanted water, pure simple water.
We felt that we should value it far more than the richest wine from the
vineyards of Burgundy or the Rhine. At last we observed a little
moisture on the ground near a large tree. We followed up its trace, and
soon, shaded by shrubs, we came to a basin of bright, cool water. We
eagerly stooped down and lapped up some of the delicious fluid, and then
shouted loudly to our friends to come and enjoy the valued luxury with
us. In a very short time the pool was surrounded with men, women, and
children, ladling up the water with their calabashes and bowls, the
mothers pouring it into the mouths of their children before they would
themselves touch a drop, while the men knelt down and lapped it up as we
had done. As I watched the scene, I bethought me that it was a subject
fit for the exercise of the painter's highest art.
We spent a week on the island, repairing the canoe, catching fish, and
filling our water jars with water. This may appear an unnecessarily
long time to have waited on our voyage, but, after being cramped up for
so many weeks, it was necessary to recruit our strength and to stretch
our limbs. Much refreshed, we continued our voyage. I forgot to state
that at every island where we touched we engraved our names on the
trunks of trees, in the most conspicuous situation, and stated the
direction in which we were going. We had done this also on our own
island, as we called it, that should any vessel visit the spot she might
perhaps convey intelligence to Captain Frankland that we were alive, and
give him some clue as to where to look for us. Our friends understood
our object, and now added some sentences in their own language to the
same effect. The fine weather continued, and confident in the guidance
and protection of Him who had hitherto preserved us from so many and
great dangers, we launched forth again into the deep.
We passed several small islands; some had but a few stunted trees
growing on them; others again had scarcely soil sufficient to nourish a
few blades of long wiry grass; while others were barren rocks without
verdure of any description, their heads but lately risen from beneath
the waves. I believe that it was at one time supposed that these coral
formations rose from immense depths in the ocean, and that those
wonderful and persevering polypi worked upwards till they had formed
submarine mountains with their honey-combed structures; but it is now
ascertained that they cannot exist below at the utmost fifty feet of the
surface, and that they establish the foundation of their structures on
submarine mountains and table-lands, while they do not work above
low-water mark. How comes it then, it will be asked, that they form
islands which rise several feet above the sea? Although the polypi are
the cause of the island being formed, they do not actually form it.
They begin by building their nests on some foundation which instinct
points out to them. First they work upwards, so as to form a wall, the
perpendicular side of which is exposed to the point whence the strongest
winds blow and the heaviest sea comes rolling in. Then they continue to
work along the ground and upwards on the lee side of the wall, sheltered
by their original structure from the heavy seas. They also work at each
end of their wall in a curve with the convex side exposed to the sea.
Thus, at length, beneath the ocean a huge circular wall of considerable
breadth is formed. Storms now arise, and the waves, dashing against the
outer part of the walls, detach huge masses of the coral, six feet
square or more, and cast them up on the top of it, where they remain
fixed among the rough peaks of coral; and gradually other portions are
thrown up, till a mass is formed above high-water mark. Other bits,
ground by the waves into sand, now form a beach, united with shells and
various marine productions. Birds come and settle, and leave seeds
which spring up; and trees grow, and attract moisture; and fresh springs
are formed, and the spot becomes fit for the abode of man. Some islands
have had a rock, or, perhaps, the plateau of some marine mountain for
their commencement, and the polypi have simply enlarged it, and formed a
reef around it. ["The Coral Island," by R.M. Ballantyne, Esquire,
Nelson and Sons.] However, this interesting subject has been so often
well explained in other works that I will not further enlarge on it,
though I could not pass it by in the description of my voyage without
some notice.
Another week we had been out of sight of land. We were longing to find
some spot on which we might stretch our legs, if only for a few hours,
and, what was more important, obtain a fresh supply of water, when
towards the evening the treetops of a large island appeared before us
stretching away on either side to the north and south. We approached
near enough to be seen from the shore, if there were inhabitants on it,
of which there could be little doubt; but we could discover no place
where it would be safe to attempt a landing. Judging that the shortest
way to get round to the other side would be to go to the south, we
paddled in that direction during the night. The roar of the surf
prevented any sounds from the shore from reaching our ears; but we
observed several fires lighted on the beach, which assured us that the
island was populated. The question, of course, was--Would the
inhabitants appear as friends or foes? We paddled but very slowly
during the night, just sufficiently to keep the canoe away from the
breakers, and to get round to the place where it was believed a passage
would be found. At daylight we perceived the looked-for spot, and stood
towards it. We observed a number of people on the beach. They had
scarcely any clothing; their skins were dark, their hair was long and
straggly, and the men had spears or clubs in their hands. Our chief
stood up and examined them narrowly. No green boughs were waved as a
sign of amity; on the contrary, their gestures appeared somewhat of a
threatening character. We had just got to the mouth of the passage when
his quick eye detected a number of canoes collected inside the reef, and
full of men, armed with darts and bows and arrows. He made a hasty sign
to his followers to back their paddles, and away we shot out of the
trap.
As soon as our flight was discovered the canoes gave chase. They were
small, each carrying not more than six or eight men; but from their
numbers they were formidable. The men in them were also armed with a
variety of weapons, and we thought it very likely that the arrows and
darts might be poisoned. In a long line they darted out of the passage
through the breakers, like hornets out of their nest, to the attack.
"There they come, the black scoundrels!" exclaimed Ben Yool. "Ten,
fifteen, twenty,--there are thirty of them altogether. They'll give us
no little trouble if they once get alongside. However, they think that
they've only got their own countrymen, so to speak, to deal with.
They'll find themselves out in their reckoning, I hope."
As we got away from the land we felt the force of the wind, and the
chief ordering the sail to be set, we shot rapidly ahead. Still the
small canoes made very rapid way through the water. The chief looked at
us, as much as to ask, "What will you do, friends?" Mr Brand
understood him, and answered by producing our fire-arms. Fortunately we
had had very little necessity to expend our cask of powder and our shot,
and we had a good supply. The missionaries, when they saw the
fire-arms, put their hands to their heads as if in sorrow that it would
be necessary to shed blood, but some words spoken by their chief
reassured them. We could have told them that the sin lies with those
who make the attack, provided the other party has employed all evident
means to avoid hostilities.
By the orders of their chief our people got their own bows and spears
ready, and then they set to work with their paddles again, and plied
them most lustily, much increasing the speed of the canoe. This,
however, had only the effect of making our enemies redouble their
efforts to overtake us.
Mr Brand and Jerry and I were the best shots; the doctor was not a good
one, and Ben knew better how to manage a big gun than a musket.
"You will fire over their heads, will you not?" said the doctor.
"I think not," answered Mr Brand. "It will be mercy to make them feel
the effects of our power. If each of us can knock over one of their
people they may be so terrified that they will turn back at once; but if
they once come on and attack us, we know not where the slaughter may
end, even should we prove victorious."
It was agreed, therefore, that as soon as the savages got near enough to
distinguish us, we were to jump up, and taking steady aim, to pick off
those who appeared to be chiefs in the headmost boats. We explained our
plan to our chief, and he much approved of it.
The wind freshening we made good way, but still the flotilla of canoes
was fast overtaking us. The voices of the savages, as they shouted and
shrieked at us, were wafted across the water; but they had not the
effect of intimidating our friends. "Ah, my boys, you'll shout to a
different tune, I suspect, before long," exclaimed Ben, as he eyed them
angrily. At length, in spite of all the efforts of our friends, the
savages got close up to us; and two men in the leading canoe, lifting
their bows, were about to draw their arrows, when Cousin Silas
exclaimed, "Now is the time, my lads; give it them." We all fired. The
two savages dropped instantly, and one man in each of the next canoes
went head foremost overboard. The people in the following canoes
hesitated for a minute what to do. The delay gave us time to reload.
Again we fired, while our people jumping up sent a flight of arrows
among our enemies. Shrieks, and cries, and groans, arose from the
canoes, which all crowded thickly together like a flock of sheep, their
people astonished and terrified at what had occurred. Then they turned
round, and all paddled back in evident confusion. We shouted, and gave
them a parting volley; but this time it was over their heads to hasten
their movements. We were preserved,--not one of us had received the
slightest injury. Away we glided, as fast as the wind and our paddles
would carry us from the inhospitable island.