"Well then, gentlemen, we shall attack without delay;" and proceeded to
make the necessary arrangements.
When the _Talisman_ fired her broadside of blank cartridge at the native
village, there was not a solitary warrior in it--only aged men, women
and children. These, filled with unutterable consternation on hearing
the thunderous discharge, sent up one yell of terror and forthwith took
to their heels and made for the hills _en masse_, never once looking
behind them, and, therefore, remaining in ignorance of the ulterior
proceedings of the ships.
It was some time before they came in sight of Ole Thorwald and his men.
The moment they did so Ole gave the word to charge, and, whirling his
sword round his head, set the example. The men followed with a yell.
The poor savages turned at once and fled--such of them at least as were
not already exhausted by their run up hill--and the rest, consisting
chiefly of old men and children, fell on their knees and faces and
howled for mercy.
As soon as the charging host became aware of the character of the enemy,
they came came to a sudden halt.
"Sure it's owld men and women we're about to kill!" cried Captain Rigg,
lowering his formidable forehammer, with which, in default of a better
weapon, he had armed himself, "but hooray! Gineral, there may be lots
o' the warrior reptiles in among the huts, and them poor craturs have
been sent out to decaive us."
"That's true. Forward my lads!" shouted Ole--and again the army
charged--nor did they stop short until they had taken possession of the
village, when they found that all the fighting men were gone.
This being happily accomplished without blood shed, Ole Thorwald, like a
wise general, took the necessary steps to insure and complete his
conquest. He seized all the women and children and shut them up in a
huge temple built of palm-trees and roofed with broad leaves. This
edifice was devoted to the horrible practice of cutting up human bodies
that were intended to be eaten.
Ole had often heard of the cannibalism that is practised by most of the
South Sea islanders, though some tribes are worse than others, but he
had never before this day come directly in contact with it. Here,
however, there could be no doubt whatever of the fact. Portions of
human bodies were strewn about this hideous temple--some parts in a raw
and bloody condition, as if they had just been cut from a lately slain
victim; others in a baked state as if ready to form part of some
terrible banquet.
Sick at heart, Ole Thorwald turned from this sight with loathing.
Concluding that the natives who practised such things could not be very
much distressed by being shut up for a time in a temple dedicated to the
gratification of their own disgusting tastes, he barricaded the entrance
securely, placed a guard over it, and hurried away to see that two other
buildings, in which the remainder of the women and children had been
imprisoned, were similarly secured and guarded. Meanwhile the stalwart
knight of the forehammer, to whom the duty had been assigned, placed
sentries at the various entrances to the village, and disposed his men
in such a way as to prevent the possibility of being taken by surprise.
These various arrangements were not made a moment too soon. The
savages, as we have said in a former chapter, rushed towards their
village from all quarters, on hearing the thunder of the great guns.
They were now arriving in scores, and came rushing over the brow of the
neighbouring hill, and down the slope that rose immediately in rear of
their rude homes.
On finding that the place was occupied by their enemies they set up a
yell of despair, and retired to a neighbouring height, where Ole could
see, by their wild gesticulations, that they were hotly debating what
should be done. It soon became evident that an attack would be made,
for, as their comrades came pouring in, the party from the settlement
was soon greatly outnumbered.
Seeing this, and knowing that the party under command of Henry Stuart
would naturally hasten to his aid as soon as possible, Ole sought to
cause delay by sending out a flag of truce.
The natives had been so long acquainted with the customs of the
Europeans that they understood the meaning of this, and the chief of the
tribe, at once throwing down his club, advanced fearlessly to meet the
Christian native sent out with the flag.
The message was to the effect that if they, the enemy, should dare to
make an attack, all the women and children then in the hands of the
settlers should have their heads chopped off on the spot!
This was a startling announcement, and one so directly in opposition to
the known principles of the Christians, that the heathen chief was
staggered and turned pale. He returned to his comrades with the
horrifying message, which seemed to them all utterly unaccountable. It
was quite natural for themselves to do such a deed, because they held
that all sorts of cruelties were just in war. But their constant
experience had been that, when a native became a follower of the
Christian missionary, from that moment he became merciful, especially
towards the weak and helpless. Counting upon this, they were stunned as
well as astonished at Thorwald's message; for they believed implicitly
that he meant to do what he threatened. They did not know that Ole,
although a worthy man, was not so earnest a believer in all Mr Mason's
principles, but that he could practise on their credulity in time of
need. Like the missionary, he would rather have died than have
sacrificed the life of a woman or child; but, unlike him, he had no
objection to deceive in order to gain time.
As it turned out, his threat was unnecessary, for Henry and his men were
close at hand; and before the natives could make up their minds what to
do, the whole band came pouring over the hill, with Jo Bumpus far ahead
of the rest, leaping and howling like a maniac with excitement.
This decided the natives. They were now outnumbered and surrounded.
The principal chief, therefore, advanced towards Bumpus with a piece of
native cloth tied to the end of his war-club, which he brandished
furiously by way of making it plain that his object was not war, but
peace!
Naturally enough, the seaman misinterpreted the signal, and there is no
doubt that he would have planted his knuckles on the bridge of the nose
of that swarthy cannibal had not Henry Stuart made use of his
extraordinary powers of speed. He darted forward, overtook Jo, and,
grasping him round the neck with both arms, shouted--
"It's a flag of truce, man!"
"You don't say so? well, who'd ha' thought it. It don't look like one,
so it don't."
With this remark, Jo subsided into a peaceable man. Pulling a quid out
of his pocket, he thrust it into his cheek, and, crossing his arms on
his breast, listened patiently--though not profitably, seeing that he
did not understand a word--to the dialogue that followed.
It will be remembered that poor Mr Mason, after being saved by Henry,
was taken into the gig of the _Talisman_ and put ashore. After the two
vessels had disappeared, as has been already described, Henry at once
led his party towards the native village, knowing that Ole Thorwald
would require support, all the more that the ship had failed to fulfil
her part in the combined movement.
As the almost heartbroken father had no power to render farther aid to
his lost child, he suffered himself to be led, in a half-bewildered
state, along with the attacking party under his young friend. He was
now brought forward to parley with the native chief.
The missionary's manner and aspect at once changed. In the hope of
advancing the cause of his Master, he forgot, or at least restrained,
his own grief for a time.
"What would the chief say to the Christians?" he began, on being
confronted with the savage and some of his warriors who crowded round
him.
"That he wishes to have done with war," replied the man.
"That is a good wish, but why did the chief begin war?"
"Keona began it!" said the savage, angrily. "We thought our wars with
the Christians were going to stop. But Keona is bad. He put the war
spirit into my people."
Mr Mason knew this to be true.
"Then," said he, "Keona deserves punishment."
"Let him die," answered the chief, and an exclamation of assent broke
from the other natives. Keona himself, happening to be there, became
pale and looked anxious, but remained where he stood nevertheless, with
his arms crossed on his dark breast. A bandage of native cloth was tied
round his wounded arm. Without saying a word, he undid this, tore it
off; and allowed the blood to ooze from the re-opened wound.
It was a silent appeal to the feelings and the sense of justice of his
comrades, and created a visible impression in his favour.
"That wound was received by one who would have been a murderer!" said
Mr Mason, observing the effect of this action.
"He struck me!" cried Keona, fiercely.
"He struck you in defending his own home against a cowardly attack,"
answered the missionary.
At this point Ole Thorwald saw fit to interfere. Seeing that the
natives were beginning to argue the case, and knowing that no good could
come from such a course, he quietly observed:--
"There will be neither wife nor child in this place if I do but hold up
my hand."
The missionary and his party did not, of course, understand this
allusion, but they understood the result, for the savages at once
dropped their tones, and the chief sued earnestly for peace.
"Chiefs and warriors," said Mr Mason, raising his hand impressively, "I
am a man of peace, and I serve the Prince of peace. To stop this war is
what I desire most earnestly, and I desire above all things that you and
I might henceforth live in friendship, serving the same God and Saviour,
whose name is Jesus Christ. But your ways are not like our ways. If I
leave you now, I fear you will soon find another occasion to renew the
war, as you have often done before. I have you in my power now. If you
were to fight with us we could easily beat you, because we are stronger
in numbers and well armed. Yes, I have you in my power, and, with the
blessing of my God, I will keep you in my power _for ever_!"
There was a visible fall in the countenances of the savages, who
regarded this strange announcement as their death-warrant. Some of them
even grasped their clubs and looked fiercely at their enemies, but a
glance from Ole Thorwald quieted these restive spirits.
"Now, chiefs and warriors, I have two intentions in regard to you,"
continued Mr Mason. "The one is that you shall take your clubs,
spears, and other weapons, and lay them in a pile on this mound, after
which I will make you march unarmed before us half way to our
settlement. From that point you shall return to your homes. Thus you
shall be deprived of the power of treacherously breaking that peace
which you know in your hearts you would break if you could.
"My second intention is that the whole of your tribe--men, women, and
children--shall now assemble at the foot of this mound and hear what I
have got to say to you. The first part of this plan I shall carry out
by force, if need be.--But for the second part--_I must have your own
consent_. I may not force you to listen if you are not willing to
hear."
At the mention of the women and children being required to assemble
along with them, the natives pricked up their ears, and, as a matter of
course, they willingly agreed to listen to all that the missionary had
to say to them.
This being settled, and the natives knowing, from former experience,
that the Christians never broke faith with them, they advanced to the
mound pointed out and threw down their arms. A strong guard was placed
over these; the troops of the settlement were disposed in such a manner
as to prevent the possibility of their being recovered, and then the
women and children were set free.
It was a noisy and remarkable meeting that which took place between the
men and women of the tribe on this occasion; but soon surprise and
expectation began to take the place of all other feelings as the strange
intentions of the missionary were spoken of, and in a very short time
Mr Mason had a large and most attentive congregation.
Never before had the missionary secured such an opportunity! His
eccentric method of obtaining a hearing had succeeded beyond his
expectations. With a heart overflowing with gratitude to God he stood
up and began to preach the Gospel.
Mr Mason was not only eccentric, but able and wise. He made the most
of his opportunity. He gave them a _very_ long sermon that day; but he
knew that the savages were not used to sermons, and that they would not
think it long! His text was a double one--"The soul that sinneth it
shall die," and "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved."
He preached that day as a man might who speaks to his hearers for the
first and last time, and, in telling of the goodness, the mercy, and the
love of God, the bitter grief of his own heart was sensibly abated.
After his discourse was over and prayer had been offered up, the savage
warriors were silently formed into a band and marched off in front of
the Christians to the spot where Mr Mason had promised to set them
free. They shewed no disinclination to go. They believed in the good
faith of their captors. The missionary had, indeed, got them into his
power that day. Some of them he had secured _for ever_!