The Sabbath morning which succeeded the events we have just narrated
dawned on the settlement of Sandy Cove in unclouded splendour, and the
deep repose of nature was still unbroken by the angry passions and the
violent strife of man, although from the active preparations of the
previous night it might have been expected that those who dwelt on the
island would not have an opportunity of enjoying the rest of that day.
Everything in and about the settlement was eminently suggestive of
peace. The cattle lay sleepily in the shade of the trees; the sea was
still calm like glass. Men had ceased from their daily toil; and the
only sounds that broke the quiet of the morning were the chattering of
the parrots and other birds in the cocoanut groves; and the cries of
seafowl, as they circled in the air, or dropt on the surface of the sea
in quest of fish.
The British frigate lay at anchor in the same place which she had
hitherto occupied, and the _Foam_ still floated in the sequestered bay
on the other side of the island. In neither vessel was there the
slightest symptom of preparation; and to one who knew not the true state
of matters, the idea of war being about to break forth was the last that
would have occurred.
But this deceitful quiet was only the calm that precedes the storm. On
every hand men were busily engaged in making preparation to break that
Sabbath day in the most frightful manner, or were calmly, but
resolutely, awaiting attack. On board the ship-of-war, indeed, there
was little doing, for, her business being to fight, she was always in a
state of readiness for action. Her signal guns, fired the previous
night, had recalled Montague to tell him of the threatened attack by the
savages. A few brief orders were given, and they were prepared for
whatever might occur. In the village, too, the arrangements to repel
attack having been made, white men and native converts alike rested with
their arms placed in convenient proximity to their hands.
In a wild and densely-wooded part of the island, far removed from those
portions which we have yet had occasion to describe, a band of
fiendish-looking men were making arrangements for one of those
unprovoked assaults which savages are so prone to make on those who
settle near them.
They were all of them in a state of almost complete nudity, but the
complicated tattooing on their dark skins gave them the appearance of
being more clothed than they really were. Their arms consisted chiefly
of enormous clubs of hardwood, spears, and bows; and, in order to
facilitate their escape should they chance to be grasped in a
hand-to-hand conflict, they had covered their bodies with oil, which
glistened in the sunshine as they moved about their village.
Conspicuous among these truly savage warriors was the form of Keona,
with his right arm bound up in a sort of sling. Pain and disappointed
revenge had rendered this man's face more than usually diabolical as he
went about among his fellows, inciting them to revenge the insult and
injury done to them through his person by the whites. There was some
reluctance, however, on the part of a few of the chiefs to renew a war
that had been terminated, or rather, been slumbering, only for a few
months.
Keona's influence, too, was not great among his kindred, and had it not
been that one or two influential chiefs sided with him, his own efforts
to relight the still smoking torch of war would have been unavailing.
As it was, the natives soon worked themselves up into a sufficiently
excited state to engage in any desperate expedition. It was while all
this was doing in the native camp, that Keona, having gone to the
nearest mountain top to observe what was going on in the settlement, had
fallen in with and been chased by some of those men belonging to the
_Foam_, who had been sent on shore to escape being pressed into the
service of the king of England.
The solitary exception to this general state of preparation for war was
the household of Frederick Mason. Having taken such precautionary steps
the night before as he deemed expedient, and having consulted with Ole
Thorwald, the general commanding, who had posted scouts in all the
mountain passes, and had seen the war-canoes drawn up in a row on the
strand, the pastor retired to his study and spent the greater part of
the night in preparing to preach the gospel of peace on the morrow, and
in committing the care of his flock and his household to Him who is the
"God of battles" as well as the "Prince of peace."
It is not to be supposed that Mr Mason contemplated the probable
renewal of hostilities without great anxiety. For himself, we need
scarcely say, he had no fears, but his heart sank when he thought of his
gentle Alice falling into the hands of savages. As the night passed
away without any alarms, his anxiety began to subside, and when Sunday
morning dawned, he lay down on a couch to snatch a few hours' repose
before the labours of the day began.
The first object that greeted the pastor's eyes on awaking in the
morning was a black visage, and a pair of glittering eyes gazing at him
through the half open door with an expression of the utmost
astonishment.
He leaped up with lightning, speed and darted towards the intruder, but
checked himself suddenly and smiled, as poor Poopy uttered a scream,
and, falling on her knees, implored for mercy.
"My poor girl, I fear I have frightened you by my violence," said he,
sitting down on his couch and yawning sleepily; "but I was dreaming,
Poopy; and when I saw your black face peeping at me, I took you at first
for one of the wild fellows on the other side of the mountains. You
have come to sweep and arrange my study, I suppose."
"Why, mass'r, you no hab go to bed yet," said Poopy, still feeling and
expressing surprise at her master's unwonted irregularity. "Is you
ill?"
"Not at all, my good girl, only a little tired. It is not a time for me
to take much rest when the savages are said to be about to attack us."
"When is they coming?" inquired the girl, meekly. The pastor smiled as
he replied,--"That is best known to themselves, Poopy. Do you think it
likely that murderers or thieves would send to let us know when they
were coming?"
"Hee! hee!" laughed Poopy, with an immense display of teeth and gums.
"Is Alice awake?" inquired Mr Mason.
"No, her be sound 'sleep wid her two eye shut tight up, dis fashion, and
her mout' wide open--so."
The representations of Alice's condition, as given by her maid, although
hideously unlike the beautiful object they were meant to call up to the
father's mind, were sufficiently expressive and comprehensible.
"Go wake her, my girl, and let us have breakfast as soon as you can.
Has Will Corrie been here this morning?"
"Hims bin here all night," replied the girl, with a broad grin--(and the
breadth of Poopy's _broad_ grin was almost appalling!)
"What mean you? has he slept in this house all night?"
"Yes--eh! no," said Poopy.
"Yes, no," exclaimed Mr Mason. "Come, Poopy, don't be stupid, explain
yourself."
"Hee! hee! hee! yes, ho! ho!" laughed Poopy, as if the idea of
explaining herself was about the richest joke she had listened to since
she was born. "Hee! hee! me no can 'splain, but you com here and see."
So saying, she conducted her wondering master to the front door of the
cottage, where, across the threshold, directly under the porch, lay the
form of the redoubted Corrie, fast asleep, and armed to the teeth!
In order to explain the cause of this remarkable apparition, we think it
justifiable to state to the reader, in confidence, that young Master
Corrie was deeply in love with the fair Alice. With all his reckless
drollery of disposition, the boy was intensely romantic and
enthusiastic; and, feeling that the unsettled condition of the times
endangered the welfare of his lady-love, he resolved, like a true
knight, to arm himself and guard the threshold of her door with his own
body.
In the deep silence of the night he buckled on a sabre, the blade of
which, by reason of its having been broken, was barely eight inches
long, and the hilt whereof was battered and rusty. He also stuck a huge
brass-mounted cavalry pistol in his belt, in the virtue of which he had
great faith, having only two days before shot with it a green-headed
parrot at a distance of two yards. The distance was not great, to be
sure, but it was enough for his purpose--intending, as he did, to meet
his foe, when the moment of action should come, in close conflict, and
thrust the muzzle of his weapon down the said foe's throat before
condescending to draw the trigger.
Thus prepared for the worst, he sallied out on tiptoe, intending to
mount guard at the missionary's door, and return to his own proper couch
before the break of day.
But alas for poor Corrie's powers of endurance! no sooner had he
extended his chubby form on the door-mat, earnestly wishing, but not
expecting, that Alice would come out and find him there, than he fell
fast asleep, while engaged in the hopeless task of counting the starry
host--a duty which he had imposed on himself in the hope that he might
thereby be kept awake. Once asleep he slept on, as a matter of course,
with his broad little chest heaving gently; his round little visage
beaming upwards like a terrestrial moon; his left arm under his head in
lieu of a pillow, (by consequence of which _it_ was fast asleep also,)
and his right hand grasping the hilt of the broken sabre.
As for Corrie's prostrate body affording protection to Alice--the entire
savage population might have stepped across it, one by one, and might
have stepped back again, bearing away into slavery the fair maiden, with
her father and all the household furniture to boot, without in the least
disturbing the deep slumbers of the youthful knight. At least we may
safely come to this conclusion from the fact that Mr Mason shook him,
first gently and then violently, for full five minutes before he could
get him to speak; and even then he only gave utterance, in very sleepy
tones, and half-formed words, to the remark--
"Oh! don' borer me. It aint b'kfust-t'm' yet?"
"Ho! Corrie, Corrie," shouted Mr Mason, giving the victim a shake that
threatened to dislocate his neck, "get up, my boy--rouse up!"
"Hallo! hy! murder! Come on you vill--eh! Mr Mason--I beg pardon,
sir," stammered Corrie, as he at length became aware of his condition,
and blushed deeply; "I--I really, Mr Mason, I merely came to watch
while you were all asleep, as there are savages about, you know--and ha!
ha! ha!--oh! dear me!" (Corrie exploded at this point, unable to
contain himself at the sight of the missionary's gaze of astonishment,)
"Wot a sight for a Sunday mornin' too!"
The hilarity of the boy was catching, for at this point a vociferous
"hee! hee!" burst from the sable Poopy; the clear laugh of Alice, too,
came ringing through the passage, and Mr Mason himself finally joined
in the chorus.
"Come, sir knight," exclaimed the latter, on recovering his gravity,
"this is no guise for a respectable man to be seen in on Sunday morning;
come in and lay down your arms. You have done very well as a soldier
for this occasion; let us see if you can do your duty equally well as a
church-officer. Have you the keys."
"No, they are at home."
"Then run and get them, my boy, and leave your pistol behind you. I
dare say the savages won't attack during the daytime."
Corrie did as he was desired, and the pastor went, after breakfast, to
spend a short time with Alice on a neighbouring eminence, from which
could be obtained a fine view of the settlement, with its little church
and the calm bay on which floated the frigate, sheltered by the
encircling coral reef from the swell of the ocean.
Here it was Mr Mason's wont to saunter with Alice every Sunday morning,
to read a chapter of the Bible together, and converse about that happy
land where one so dear to both of them now dwelt with their Saviour.
Here, also, the child's maid was sometimes privileged to join them. On
this particular morning, however, they were not the only spectators of
the beautiful view from that hill, for, closely hidden in the bushes--
not fifty yards from the spot where they sat--lay a band of armed
savages who had escaped the vigilance of the scouts, and had come by an
unguarded pass to the settlement.
They might easily have slain or secured the missionary and his household
without alarming the people in the village, but their plan of attack
forbade such a premature proceeding. The trio therefore finished their
chapter and their morning prayer undisturbed, little dreaming of the
number of glittering eyes that watched their proceedings.