AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE
IN THE course of our narrative we now return to the two families on
Pitcairn. Their first night on shore was passed in one of the old
houses which was so thickly covered with a growth of the wild bean that
all felt sure it would afford the best protection against rain, if rain
should fall. But they were soon convinced of their mistake when, during
the night, a pouring rain roused them from their slumbers by coming in
upon them through the frail covering of the vines. Early the next day
they removed to another house, which afforded better accommodations,
and where they stayed until their own cottages were repaired. They had
but just finished the work of arranging their new abode to the best
advantage when some of the young girls sallied forth, accompanied by
one of their mothers, to have a look around the forsaken place. When
only a short distance from the house, they espied, coming towards them
through the bush-grown path, two men, who had just come ashore from
a ship, unknown to any of the party on the island. At sight of the
strangers, one of whom was carrying a gun, the other being a colored
man, the woman and girls screamed and fled, one of the girls in her
terror dropping several feet from the boughs of an orange tree up which
she had climbed.
Impelled by a haunting dread that something awful was about to happen,
they ran in breathless haste toward the house where the other woman
and children were. Their frightened looks told plainly enough that
something unusual had occurred, and, crowded close together, the story
of what they had seen was repeated. But they congratulated themselves
on the fact that their retreat would not be easily discovered, as the
path was well nigh hidden from view by the thick growth of weeds and
bushes. Worst of all, their natural protectors were all absent from
home at the time. Their terror could be better imagined than described
when, a few minutes having passed, the black man’s face appeared
through an opening in the trees, and immediately behind him was his
white companion. The lot of timid women and children could scarce
refrain from shrieking aloud, but the colored man assured them, with a
pleasant smile, that there was nothing to fear, and that the gun was
brought on shore for other game than themselves. It did not take long
to quiet their fears, when they discovered that the black man was
really a pleasant-spoken, kindly person; but the other man held aloof,
and scarcely had a word to say. They both gladly accepted food from the
hands of the women, who also gave them permission to take all the fruit
that they wished.
The visitors informed them that they had just come ashore from a
whaler, the _William Wirt_, and had brought their ammunition with them
for the purpose of obtaining game. Another whale ship came in on the
same day, and their respective crews carried back to their ships a
large supply of animal food, which they had taken in hunting, viz.,
goats, fowls, and fish, as all were so easily obtained on account of
their great numbers.
The search for hens’ eggs gave much pleasant occupation to the young
people, as the island was nearly overrun by the immense increase of
fowls; nor were the older folk less active in going out on an egg hunt
than the children. Life for them seemed one continuous round of present
enjoyment. There was scarcely any need for work, as the island produced
in lavish abundance more than sufficient, both of animal and vegetable
food, for their every want—goats, sheep, fowls, and plenty of fish,
which had become tame through having been left so long in their
undisturbed freedom. One obstacle in the way of the young people’s
pleasures was the presence of the few cattle on the island, the mere
sight of which was enough to make them run for refuge to the nearest
tree, if not within easy distance of their homes. As the island is too
small to allow the increase of cattle upon it, it was thought best to
extirpate them; and, most unwisely, the doomed cattle were in time all
destroyed.
[Illustration: BREADFRUIT.]
During those years the productiveness of the island was remarkable.
The breadfruit, yams, potatoes, taro, as well as the delicious fruits
that grew on the island, seemed untouched by the curse. It did not seem
possible that in a few years a change so complete could take place as
to affect almost the entire productions of the island. But so it was.
Being abundantly provided with food supplies, with scarcely an effort
of their own, the two families had not much to do. The making of
_tappa_, however, gave employment to all during three or four months
of the year, and heavy work it was too, with all the various processes
through which it passed. A description of the work may be given here.
First, the plants must be cut down and divested of their bark. Each
bark is then peeled and the inner portion beaten out until it becomes
soft, and the fibers separate. Washing is the next thing, and this is
repeated until every trace of the abundant sap is removed. By this time
the substance has widened to five times its natural width, and has a
beautiful lace-like appearance. It is then wrapped up in the large
leaves of the _appi_ (_arum gigantum_), sufficient being inclosed in
the wrap to make a sheet. Being allowed to remain for a few days, it
becomes soft and almost pulpy. Then it is ready to lay out in strips of
the required length, one bark being laid over another until the proper
thickness is obtained. The whole is then beaten out, two persons being
required to do this, as they stand on the opposite sides of a large,
long, and smoothly planed log, called a “dood-a,” and with their heavy
beaters keeping time with the utmost exactness. The work is noisy and
tiresome. When each sheet is finished, it is hardened by spreading out
daily in the sun. This is continued until the paper-like fabric can
bear washing. To render it tough it is dyed, the dye being obtained
by steeping the red inner bark of the _doodooee_ (candlenut tree) in
water. When dry the dye has a reddish brown color, which is very pretty
when fresh.
Most of this disagreeable work was performed by the two mothers of
the families, as they could not trust the delicate work of handling
the easily injured sheets to the inexperienced hands of the young
girls. These, from the age of eight to thirteen, grew up in almost
entire ignorance of the art of sewing, and this for the good reason
that they had nothing to learn with. Thread was too precious to waste
in teaching the children to sew, and should the few needles break or
be lost, there was no prospect of replacing them; besides, every bit
of calico which might be used for the purpose of learning to sew was
carefully hoarded as a future patch for the garment, which only too
readily became threadbare. Usually a slit in the sleeve or side of a
frock or petticoat was drawn together by means of a string which the
fibrous bark of the _boo-ron_ tree supplied. But these girls enjoyed
their wild, free life notwithstanding, and were happy in the possession
of perfect health, plenty to eat and drink, and their garments, if
poor, and even ragged, were kept as clean as the nature of their duties
allowed, while in their persons they were particularly clean.
Living such a free, wild life as they did, and with so much idle time
on their hands, it is not to be wondered at that the young people,
unaided, would turn their attention to books, and seek to educate their
minds in the knowledge to be gained from them. This fact caused much
anxiety to two, at least, of their number, Sarah McCoy, the oldest
girl, and also her brother. These two young people had been members
of Mrs. Selwyn’s class during their two years’ stay on Norfolk Island,
and nothing had caused them more regret on leaving that place than
the fact that they were by their removal cut off from so many of the
educational advantages obtained there, having just experienced enough
of the pleasures of knowledge to make them long for more. Urged by the
necessities of the case to do what they could, these two young persons
collected what books they thought would help them, which they found
in the old schoolroom, together with slates and pencils, and opened a
school in Mr. Nobbs’ former study, for a class of six or seven girls
and one boy, giving them lessons in reading, writing, and spelling,
teaching them also addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.
But searching for hens’ eggs, taking care of chickens, running with a
wheelbarrow down some steep hill, swinging on the long hanging roots
of the great banyan trees, and other employments of a like nature,
were far more congenial to the tastes of the lively, healthy, and
active-limbed children than to sit droning lazily over their books and
drawling out “Ab-ba, father,” and so on; and when for some misbehavior
the youthful teacher would remonstrate, he would be greeted with a
derisive laugh; or should he attempt to administer the rod, he would
be met with such a spirit of defiance that his attempts at punishment
would be useless. Such scenes usually ended in the unruly scholar
climbing with the agility of a cat up the posts of the house, where he
would look down upon his teacher and feel secure from the well-merited
punishment.
[Illustration: CHILDREN AND WHEELBARROW.]
In spite of such untoward behavior from the older children, the
long-suffering teachers succeeded in accomplishing what they had set
themselves to do, and had the satisfaction of seeing their trying
pupils accomplish the task of learning to write, in addition to their
being able to read. They also learned to spell fairly well, and were
able to master the simpler rules in arithmetic. In October, 1860, H.
M. S. _Calypso_ visited the island, staying a few hours. The chaplain
of the ship came on shore, and manifested much interest in regard to
the religious instruction of the children and their right bringing up.
On leaving, the kind visitors supplied the little school with books,
slates and pencils, copy books, pens, penholders, and ink, a gift which
was thoroughly appreciated and most thankfully received.
On Sundays the two families met for worship in Moses Young’s house,
each of the two men at times taking part in conducting the services,
but more frequently the master of the house officiated, and in strict
accordance with the Church of England liturgy in the Book of Common
Prayer.
Moses Young, who owned a fife, on which he often discoursed sweet
music, was also an excellent performer on the fiddle. To the ability
he possessed of playing with considerable skill on these his favorite
instruments, was added a limited knowledge of written music, gained
under the able leadership of Mr. Hugh Carleton. This knowledge he
tried to put to the best account, and formed a class, composed of the
four adults, including himself, and as many of the young people as
wished to come, to whom he taught the gamut. Having drilled his little
class in “do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti, do,” and learning the skips,
_ad infinitum_, he made a sudden advance to a few of the old standard
church tunes, and succeeded in reviving, for the benefit of his
youthful learners, the old tunes of Truro and Clarendon, and teaching
them an entirely new tune besides. He did not accomplish more of his
laudable undertaking, probably because his pupils did not give him the
needed encouragement, or else he himself checked their ardor, as he did
in the following instance. One night at the close of the usual drill,
and before the class was dismissed, the teacher proposed that they
should sing the National Anthem. Sundry efforts were made before the
proper pitch was obtained. At last the tune was fairly started, and the
anthem sung. The closing lines,—
“Shed o’er her heart a ray
Of wisdom’s glorious day;
Loved be Victoria’s sway—
God save the Queen,”
were sung in a manner expressive of the singers’ entire satisfaction
in the performance. Their leader, however, thought differently, and,
waiting until the last notes had ceased, he turned to his pupils a
face beaming with hardly-suppressed mirth, and remarked, “Your singing
sounds just like the noise made by a swarm of big flies.” He then burst
into a merry peal of laughter, in which he was joined by his whole
class.
In October, 1862, H. M. S. _Charybdis_ paid a short visit to the
island. It being impossible to land at Bounty Bay, the visitors went
around to the west side, where the first half of the way led up a
steep, high hill. But the walk was cheerfully accomplished, and a warm
hospitality was extended them when they reached the little village, a
substantial repast of the best that the island afforded being prepared
for them. The two humble homes were made to look their best, and
the carefully hoarded linen and cotton sheets were brought out and
displayed upon the beds, in honor of the visitors.
The _Charybdis_ stayed only a day, taking a good supply of all that the
island produced. So fruitful was the little island at the time of their
visit that the officers declared that it seemed “like a little Garden
of Eden.” A printed account of the visit of the _Charybdis_ to Pitcairn
was sent to Norfolk Island. The news, when received, after the long
silence of nearly five years, created an excitement among relatives and
friends not to be described, and smiles and tears followed each other
in quick succession as the short but interesting description of the old
home and the loved ones there was read and reread to ears and hearts
that seemed never to grow weary of listening.
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