The Reception
THE SCHOONER _St. Kilda_, which conveyed the second return party to
Pitcairn Island, leaving Norfolk Island on the 18th of December,
1863, reached its destination on the 2d of February, 1864, the voyage
being on the whole a pleasant one. It was night when the little ship
reached the end of her voyage, a beautiful night, calm and clear, and
the unsuspecting folks on shore did not dream of seeing on the morrow
the long absent faces of relatives and friends, and were preparing
to retire to rest when a musket’s sharp report from over the water
broke the stillness. On board all was excitement and bustle, muskets
firing, the young men hallooing and burning flash lights to attract the
attention of those on shore, even calling some of them by their names,
as the vessel was close to the land.
The perfect Babel of sounds soon succeeded in rousing, not the peaceful
inhabitants only, but their terror as well. Leaving their homes, they
hurried down to that part of the land overlooking the sea, whence the
noise proceeded, to try to find out the cause of such a commotion. An
undefinable dread took possession of their hearts when they saw the
lights and heard the repeated sharp reports of the muskets across the
water. The children were cautioned not to expose themselves, but to
remain hidden behind the thick shrubs and trees, lest a stray ball
should hit them, for they did not know that nothing but powder was put
in the barrels. No answering response was made from the shore to those
on board, the frightened islanders deeming it more prudent to maintain
perfect silence and wait until morning to learn the cause of all the
disturbance.
Very early the next morning two of the men went off in their canoes,
and were agreeably surprised to find that the formidable foe of the
previous night was only a party of old friends come to settle again in
their former home. As soon as possible the boat was lowered and the
passengers taken ashore. They were not a little amused to find that the
girls on the island had by no means recovered from their fright, but,
on the approach of the first persons who landed, ran away in different
directions to hide themselves, and could scarcely be persuaded by their
mothers to come out and greet their friends. By degrees, however, their
extreme shyness wore off, and soon they were chatting away with one
another about all that had taken place since their long separation.
With the exception that the once-cultivated grounds were all overrun
with weeds, and the houses mostly were in ruins, there did not seem
to be, to the eyes of the older people, at least, any change in the
island. But to the younger people the change from the island they had
just left made a great impression, the dwelling houses and kitchens,
in their ugly bareness and smoke-begrimed appearance, contrasting
unfavorably with the neatly-built houses and tidy kitchens they had
been accustomed to. The ovens, too, where most of the cooking was done
were only holes dug in the ground, the required heat being obtained
from a number of small stones which were placed over a pile of wood
after the fire had been kindled to heat the stones. The covering for
such ovens consists of leaves, and over these a thick layer of earth,
which effectually prevents the escape of the steam, which so thoroughly
and so well cooks the food that is placed within.
The appearance, too, of the little village was so different from the
place where they had lately lived! Instead of a long row of houses
neatly standing side by side, facing a broad and well-paved street,
here were only a few humbly-thatched dwellings—only two of which
were habitable—half hidden amongst the thick growth of trees which
surrounded them. But the general appearance, so different, was none
the less beautiful, and the sight of the orange groves, displaying
their wealth of golden fruit, was a very pleasing picture to the young
folks, who had never seen such a sight before. Near to these could be
seen the breadfruit trees, with their large, beautiful leaves, growing
side by side with the glossy, dark-leaved _fei_, or mountain plantain,
its heavy bunch of fruit being supported in an upright position by
a stout stalk shooting direct from the center of the leaves, while
here and there a cocoanut tree lent its graceful aid to beautify the
scenery. Towering over all, and lovely in their delicate, light-green
foliage, were the wide-spreading branches of the mighty banyan tree,
whose roots, as they hang from the boughs overhead, prove such a strong
temptation to the boys and girls to go swinging on them. Sometimes an
accident happens when swinging on the roots of the banyan trees, but in
no instance has it ended fatally, and in one case only were there any
bones broken.
Everything about the island, and the manner of cooking and living
in general, interested the young people greatly. Never before had
they heard such a chorus of cock crowing in the early morning, or
the endless chirpings of numberless chickens, as they followed their
busy, clucking mothers. The boys and girls, to whom such a free, wild
life was a desirable change from the confinement of a long voyage,
entered heartily into the fun of going out in search of hens’ eggs,
an abundance of which was found all over the island. The time to them
passed quickly, like one long holiday, for in the unsettled state of
things they were not confined to any school duties.
There was much to hear and tell on both sides. One story that greatly
interested the newcomers was that of a Peruvian ship, loaded with
natives, that came to Pitcairn from Easter Island the year before,
1863. The captain of the ship, on coming near enough, ordered a boat
to be lowered and manned. He himself went in the boat to seek for a
landing place. The people on shore observing the boat approaching, two
men went off in a canoe to meet the strangers. The captain accosted
them with the question, “Can you speak _Anglice_?” Receiving an answer
in the affirmative, he said that he was going ashore to see if he
could get some sugar cane for a load of slaves he had on board, whom,
he informed them, he was taking to their homes. On coming ashore he
tried by many arguments to persuade every member of the two families
to accompany him back to the ship, where, he assured them, they would
receive kind treatment. One thing he objected to was their knowledge of
the English language, and he told them also that their skins were not
as dark as he expected to find them.
The captain’s entreaties for them to go on board, and his oft-repeated
expressions of kindness toward them, served to arouse their suspicions,
and they firmly declined; however, the two men who had been to meet the
boat went on board the ship. There they saw a sight which they could
not easily forget. Numbers of poor natives of different ages, from
quite young children to men and women in and beyond middle life, many
of whom were entirely naked, were crowded into the close and stifling
hold of the ship. Those who were not entirely naked had a waistcloth
only for their covering. All seemed sad, and their countenances bore
the trace of much sorrow, and had a look of hopeless misery. The
atmosphere of the place where the poor natives were confined was
very unwholesome from want of fresh air, and many of the slaves were
suffering from a distressing cough that shook their frames. The captain
told them that he was going to the Gambier Islands, on his way to
restore the poor creatures to their homes.
It was not until many years had passed that the truth about the ship
and her business was made known. The natives were being taken to the
Peruvian Coast to work as slaves, and the captain was trying to get all
he could to go with him. Long afterwards some of the survivors returned
to their home on Easter Island, but with their return were introduced
certain diseases which until then had been unknown among their people.
So their home coming was as much a cause of regret as of rejoicing.
While the two families on Pitcairn Island were blessed with robust
health and plenty of food, their clothing was very scanty, and was
made to do service long after it was threadbare, and while scarcely
of sufficient body to hold together. Their very limited supply was
obtained from whale ships that once in a long while would call in to
obtain fresh provisions. On one occasion they were imposed upon in
the following manner: The captain of a certain whale ship, requiring
something fresh in the way of fruit and other things, called in at the
island to obtain a supply. He took from the islanders one hundred and
eighteen fowls, a number of hogs, about eighteen barrels in all of yams
and potatoes, and large quantities of fruit, the getting of which and
carrying them down to the landing place occupied the handful of men and
women and the few children that were old enough to help, for a whole
week. The people were sorely in need of clothing, which could very well
have been sold them in payment of what they gave, but they received in
return about sixteen yards of calico, three boxes of soap, two of which
carried together just made a comfortable load for a boy to carry, and
the bargain was finished by the addition of a coil of rope and two half
worn-out tubs, which served the purpose of emptying the mud out from
the wells on the island that required cleaning. The captain pleaded
hard times as an excuse for what he gave, and the people had to be
satisfied with such an explanation. But in telling the story afterwards
many a hearty laugh was had at their own expense, seeing how easily
they were imposed upon and how they took it as a matter of course.
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