After having traversed for some time a desert, sandy plain without
meeting a living creature, we arrived at a thick wood, where we lost the
traces we had carefully followed. We were obliged to direct our course
by chance, keeping no fixed road, but advancing as the interwoven
branches permitted us. The wood was alive with the most beautiful birds
of brilliant and varied plumage; but, in our anxious and distressed
state, we should have been more interested in seeing a savage than a
bird. We passed at last through these verdant groves, and reached an
arid plain extending to the shore. We again discovered numerous
footsteps; and, whilst we were observing them, we saw a large canoe pass
rapidly, filled with islanders: and this time I thought that, in spite
of the distance, I could recognize the canoe we had built, and which
they had robbed us of. Fritz wished to swim after them, and was
beginning to undress himself, and I only stopped him by declaring that
if he did, I must follow him, as I had decided not to be separated from
him. I even proposed that we should return to Ernest, as I was of
opinion that the savages would stop at the place where we had
disembarked, to take away the boat they had left, and we might then, by
means of the words Ernest had acquired, learn from them what had become
of my wife and children. Fritz agreed to this, though he still persisted
that the easiest and quickest mode of return would have been by
swimming. We were endeavouring to retrace our road, when, to our great
astonishment, we saw, at a few yards’ distance, a man clothed in a long
black robe advancing towards us, whom we immediately recognized as
a European.
“Either I am greatly deceived,” said I, “or this is a missionary, a
worthy servant of God, come into these remote regions to make Him known
to the wretched idolators.”
We hastened to him. I was not wrong. He was one of those zealous and
courageous Christians who devote their energies and their lives to the
instruction and eternal salvation of men born in another hemisphere, of
another colour, uncivilized, but not less our brothers. I had quitted
Europe with the same intention, but Providence had ordered it
otherwise; yet I met with joy one of my Christian brethren, and, unable
to speak from emotion, I silently embraced him. He spoke to me in
English—a language I had fortunately learned myself, and taught to my
children—and his words fell on my soul like the message of the angel to
Abraham, commanding him to spare his son.
“You are the person I am seeking,” said he, in a mild and tender tone,
“and I thank Heaven that I have met with you. This youth is Fritz, your
eldest son, I conclude; but where have you left your second
son, Ernest?”
“Reverend man,” cried Fritz, seizing his hands, “you have seen my
brother Jack. Perhaps my mother? You know where they are. Oh! are
they living?”
“Yes, they are living, and well taken care of,” said the missionary;
“come, and I will lead you to them.”
It was, indeed, necessary to lead me; I was so overcome with joy, that I
should have fainted, but the good missionary made me inhale some
volatile salts which he had about him; and supported by him and my son,
I managed to walk. My first words were a thanksgiving to God for his
mercy; then I implored my good friend to tell me if I should indeed see
my wife and children again. He assured me that an hour’s walk would
bring me to them; but I suddenly recollected Ernest, and refused to
present myself before the beloved ones while he was still in danger. The
missionary smiled, as he told me he expected this delay, and wished to
know where we had left Ernest. I recounted to him our arrival in the
island, and the purpose for which we had left Ernest; with our intention
of returning to him as soon as we saw the canoe pass, hoping to obtain
some intelligence from the savages.
“But how could you have made yourselves understood?” said he; “are you
acquainted with their language?”
I told him Ernest had studied the vocabulary of the South Sea islanders.
“Doubtless that of Tahiti, or the Friendly Islands,” said he; “but the
dialect of these islanders differs much from theirs. I have resided here
more than a year, and have studied it, so may be of use to you; let us
go. Which way did you come?”
“Through that thick wood,” replied I; “where we wandered a long time;
and I fear we shall have some difficulty in finding our way back.”
“You should have taken the precaution to notch the trees as you came,”
said our worthy friend; “without that precaution, you were in danger of
being lost; but we will find my marks, which will lead us to the brook,
and following its course we shall be safe.”
“We saw no brook,” remarked Fritz.
“There is a brook of excellent water, which you have missed in crossing
the forest; if you had ascended the course of the stream, you would have
reached the hut which contains your dear friends; the brook runs
before it.”
Fritz struck his forehead with vexation.
“God orders all for the best,” said I to the good priest; “we might not
have met with you; we should have been without Ernest; you might have
sought us all day in vain. Ah! good man, it is under your holy auspices
that our family ought to meet, in order to increase our happiness. Now
please to tell me”—
“But first,” interrupted Fritz, “pray tell me how Jack is? He was
wounded, and”—
“Be composed, young man,” said the calm man of God; “the wound, which he
confesses he owes to his own imprudence, will have no evil consequences;
the savages had applied some healing herbs to it, but it was necessary
to extract a small ball, an operation which I performed yesterday
evening. Since then he suffers less; and will be soon well, when his
anxiety about you is relieved.”
Fritz embraced the kind missionary, entreating his pardon for his
rashness, and adding, “Did my brother talk to you of us, sir?”
“He did,” answered his friend; “but I was acquainted with you before;
your mother talked continually of her husband and children. What mingled
pain and delight she felt yesterday evening when the savages brought to
her dear Jack, wounded! I was fortunately in the hut to comfort her, and
assist her beloved boy.”
“And dear Francis,” said I, “how rejoiced he would be to see his brother
again!”
“Francis,” said the missionary, smiling, “will be the protector of you
all. He is the idol of the savages now; an idolatry permitted by
Christianity.”
We proceeded through the wood as we conversed, and at last reached the
brook. I had a thousand questions to ask, and was very anxious to know
how my wife and Francis had been brought to this island, and how they
met with the missionary. The five or six days we had been separated
seemed to me five or six months. We walked too quickly for me to get
much information. The English minister said little, and referred me to
my wife and son for all details. On the subject of his own noble mission
he was less reserved.
“Thank God,” said he, “I have already succeeded in giving this people
some notions of humanity. They love their _black friend_, as they call
me, and willingly listen to my preaching, and the singing of some hymns.
When your little Francis was taken, he had his reed flageolet in his
pocket, and his playing and graceful manners have so captivated them
that I fear they will with reluctance resign him. The king is anxious to
adopt him. But do not alarm yourself, brother; I hope to arrange all
happily, with the divine assistance. I have gained some power over them,
and I will avail myself of it. A year ago, I could not have answered for
the life of the prisoners; now I believe them to be in safety. But how
much is there yet to teach these simple children of nature, who listen
only to her voice, and yield to every impression! Their first impulse is
good, but they are so unsteady that affection may suddenly change to
hatred; they are inclined to theft, violent in their anger, yet generous
and affectionate. You will see an instance of this in the abode where a
woman, more unfortunate than your wife, since she has lost her husband,
has found an asylum.”
He was silent, and I did not question him farther on this subject. We
were approaching the arm of the sea where we had left our pinnace, and
my heart, at ease about the rest, became now anxious solely for Ernest.
Sometimes the hills concealed the water from us; Fritz climbed them,
anxious to discover his brother, at last I heard him suddenly cry out
“Ernest, Ernest....”
He was answered by shouts, or rather howls, amongst which I could not
distinguish the voice of my son. Terror seized me.
“These are the islanders,” said I to the missionary; “and these
frightful cries....”
“Are cries of joy,” said he, “which will be increased when they see you.
This path will conduct us to the shore. Call Fritz; but I do not see
him; he will, doubtless, have descended the hill, and joined them. Have
no fears; recommend your sons to be prudent. The _black friend_ will
speak to his black friends, and they will hear him.”
We proceeded towards the shore, when, at some distance, I perceived my
two sons on the deck of the pinnace, which was covered with the
islanders, to whom they were distributing the treasures of the chest, at
least those we had put apart in the bag; they had not been so imprudent
as to open the chest itself, which would soon have been emptied; it
remained snugly below the deck, with the powder-barrel. At every new
acquisition, the savages uttered cries of joy, repeating _mona, mona_
signifying _beautiful_. The mirrors were at first received with the most
delight, but this soon changed into terror; they evidently conceived
there was something magical about them, and flung them all into the sea.
The coloured glass beads had then the preference, but the distribution
caused many disputes. Those who had not obtained any, wished to deprive
the rest of them by force. The clamour and quarrelling were increasing,
when the voice of the missionary was heard, and calmed them as if by
enchantment. All left the pinnace, and crowded round him; he harangued
them in their own language, and pointed me out to them, naming me, _me
touatane_, that is, _father_, which they repeated in their turn. Some
approached me, and rubbed their noses against mine, which, the pastor
had informed me, was a mark of respect. In the mean time, Fritz had
informed Ernest that his mother and brothers were found, and that the
man who accompanied us was a European. Ernest received the intelligence
with a calm joy; it was only by the tears in his eyes you could discover
how much his heart was affected; he leaped from the pinnace and came to
thank the missionary. I had my share of his gratitude too, for coming to
seek him, before I had seen the dear lost ones.
We had now to think of joining them. We unanimously decided to proceed
by water; in the first place, that we might bring our pinnace as near as
possible to my dear Elizabeth, who was still suffering from her fall,
her forced voyage, and, above all, from her anxiety; besides, I confess
that I felt a little fatigue, and should have reluctantly set out to
cross the wood a third time; but, in addition to this, I was assured
that it was the promptest mode of reaching our friends, and this alone
would have decided me. The pinnace was then loosened, the sail set, and
we entered with thankfulness. Dreading the agitation of my wife if she
saw us suddenly, I entreated our new friend to precede us, and prepare
her. He consented; but, as he was coming on board, he was suddenly
stopped by the natives, and one of them addressed him for some time. The
missionary listened till he had concluded, with calmness and dignity;
then, turning to me, he said—
“You must answer for me, brother, the request which _Parabéry_ makes: he
wishes me, in the name of the whole, to wait a few moments for their
chief, to whom they give the title of king. _Bara-ourou_, as he is
called, has assembled them here for a ceremony, at which all his
warriors must assist. I have been anxious to attend, fearing it might be
a sacrifice to their idols, which I have always strongly opposed, and
wishing to seize this occasion to declare to them the one true God.
Bara-ourou is not wicked, and I hope to succeed in touching his heart,
enlightening his mind, and converting him to Christianity; his example
would certainly be followed by the greatest part of his subjects, who
are much attached to him. Your presence, and the name of God uttered by
you, with the fervour and in the attitude of profound veneration and
devotion, may aid this work of charity and love. Have you sufficient
self-command to delay, for perhaps a few hours, the meeting with your
family? Your wife and children, not expecting you, will not suffer from
suspense. If you do not agree to this, I will conduct you to them, and
return, I hope in time, to fulfil my duty. I wait your decision to reply
to Parabéry, who is already sufficiently acquainted with the truth, to
desire that his king and his brethren should know it also.”
Such were the words of this true servant of God; but I cannot do justice
to the expression of his heavenly countenance. Mr. Willis, for such was
his name, was forty-five or fifty years of age, tall and thin; the
labours and fatigues of his divine vocation had, more than years, left
their traces on his noble figure and countenance; he stooped a little,
his open and elevated forehead was slightly wrinkled, and his thin hair
was prematurely grey; his clear blue eyes were full of intelligence and
kindness, reading your thoughts, and showing you all his own. He usually
kept his arms folded over his breast, and was very calm in speaking; but
when his extended hand pointed to heaven, the effect was irresistible;
one might have thought he saw the very glory he spoke of. His simple
words to me seemed a message from God, and it would have been impossible
to resist him. It was indeed a sacrifice; but I made it without
hesitation. I glanced at my sons, who had their eyes cast down; but I
saw Fritz knitting his brows. “I shall stay with you, father,” said I,
“happy if I can assist you in fulfilling your sacred duties.”
“And you, young people,” said he, “are you of the same opinion?”
Fritz came forward, and frankly said, “Sir, it was, unfortunately, I who
wounded my brother Jack; he has been generous enough to conceal this;
you extracted the ball which I discharged into his shoulder; I owe his
life to you, and mine is at your disposal; I can refuse you nothing;
and, however impatient, I must remain with you.”
“I repeat the same,” said Ernest; “you protected our mother and
brothers, and, by God’s permission, you restore them to us. We will all
remain with you; you shall fix the time of our meeting, which will not,
I trust, be long delayed.”
I signified my approbation, and the missionary gave them his hand,
assuring them that their joy on meeting their friends would be greatly
increased by the consciousness of this virtuous self-denial.
We soon experienced this. Mr. Willis learned from Parabéry, that they
were going to fetch their king in our pretty canoe when we saw it pass.
The royal habitation was situated on the other side of the promontory,
and we soon heard a joyful cry, that they saw the canoe coming. While
the savages were engaged in preparing to meet their chief, I entered the
pinnace, and descending beneath the deck, I took from the chest what I
judged most fitting to present to his majesty. I chose an axe, a saw, a
pretty, small, ornamented sabre, which could not do much harm, a packet
of nails, and one of glass beads. I had scarcely put aside these
articles, when my sons rushed to me in great excitement.
“Oh! father,” cried they, at once, “look! look! summon all your
fortitude; see! there is Francis himself in the canoe; oh! how curiously
he is dressed!”
[Illustration: “Two savages took Francis on their shoulders, and two
others took the king in the same way.”]
I looked, and saw, at some distance, our canoe ascending the strait; it
was decorated with green branches, which the savages, who formed the
king’s guard, held in their hand; others were rowing vigorously; and the
chief, wearing a red and yellow handkerchief, which had belonged to my
wife, as a turban, was seated at the stern, and a pretty, little,
blooming, flaxen-haired boy was placed on his right shoulder. With what
delight did I recognize my child. He was naked above the waist, and wore
a little tunic of woven leaves, which reached to his knees, a necklace
and bracelets of shells, and a variety of coloured feathers mingled
with his bright curls; one of these fell over his face, and doubtless
prevented him from seeing us. The chief seemed much engaged with him,
and continually took some ornament from his own dress to decorate him.
“It is my child!” said I, in great terror, to Mr. Willis, “my dearest
and youngest! They have taken him from his mother. What must be her
grief! He is her Benjamin—the child of her love. Why have they taken
him? Why have they adorned him in this manner? Why have they brought
him here?”
“Have no fear,” said the missionary; “they will do him no harm. I
promise you they shall restore him, and you shall take him back to his
mother. Place yourselves at my side, with these branches in your hands.”
He took some from Parabéry, who held a bundle of them, and gave us each
one; each of the savages took one also. They were from a tree which had
slender, elegant leaves, and rich scarlet flowers—species of _mimosa_;
the Indians call it the tree of peace. They carry a branch of it when
they have no hostile intentions; in all their assemblies, when war is
proclaimed, they make a fire of these branches, and if all are consumed,
it is considered an omen of victory.
While Mr. Willis was explaining this to us, the canoe approached. Two
savages took Francis on their shoulders, two others took the king in the
same way, and advanced gravely towards us. What difficulty I had to
restrain myself from snatching my child from his bearers, and embracing
him! My sons were equally agitated; Fritz was darting forward, but the
missionary restrained him. Francis, somewhat alarmed at his position,
had his eyes cast down, and had not yet seen us. When the king was
within twenty yards of us, they stopped, and all the savages prostrated
themselves before him; we alone remained standing. Then Francis saw us,
and uttered a piercing cry, calling out, “Papa! dear brothers!” He
struggled to quit the shoulders of his bearers, but they held him too
firmly. It was impossible to restrain ourselves longer; we all cried
out, and mingled our tears and lamentations. I said to the good
missionary,—a little too harshly, perhaps,—“Ah! if you were a father!”
“I am,” said he, “the father of all this flock, and your children are
mine; I am answerable for all. Command your sons to be silent; request
the child to be composed, and leave the rest to me.”
I immediately took advantage of the permission to speak. “Dear Francis,”
said I, holding out my arms, “we are come to seek you and your mother;
after all our dangers, we shall soon meet again, to part no more. But be
composed, my child, and do not risk the happiness of that moment by any
impatience. Trust in God, and in this good friend that He has given us,
and who has restored to me the treasures without which I could not
live.” We then waved our hands to him, and he remained still, but wept
quietly, murmuring our names: “Papa, Fritz, Ernest,—tell me about
mamma,” said he, at last, in an inquiring tone.
“She does not know we are so near her,” said I. “How did you leave her?”
“Very much grieved,” said he, “that they brought me away; but they have
not done me any harm,—they are so kind; and we shall soon all go back
to her. Oh! what joy for her and our friends!”
“One word about Jack,” said Fritz; “how does his wound go on?”
“Oh, pretty well,” answered he; “he has no pain now, and Sophia nurses
him and amuses him. How little Matilda would weep when the savages
carried me off! If you knew, papa, how kind and good she is!”
I had no time to ask who Sophia and Matilda were. They had allowed me to
speak to my son to tranquillize him, but the king now commanded silence,
and, still elevated on the shoulders of his people, began to harangue
the assembly. He was a middle-aged man, with striking features; his
thick lips, his hair tinged with red paint, his dark brown face, which,
as well as his body, was tattooed with white, gave him a formidable
aspect; yet his countenance was not unpleasant, and announced no
ferocity. In general, these savages have enormous mouths, with long
white teeth; they wear a tunic of reeds or leaves from the waist to the
knees. My wife’s handkerchief, which I had recognized at first, was
gracefully twisted round the head of the king; his hair was fastened up
high, and ornamented with feathers, but he had nearly removed them all
to deck my boy. He placed him at his side, and frequently pointed him
out during his speech. I was on thorns. As soon as he had concluded, the
savages shouted, clapped their hands, and surrounded my child, dancing,
and presenting him fruit, flowers, and shells, crying out, _Ouraki_! a
cry in which the king, who was now standing, joined also.
“What does the word _Ouraki_ mean?” said I to the missionary.
“It is the new name of your son,” answered he; “or rather of the son of
_Bara-ourou_, who has just adopted him.”
“Never!” cried I, darting forward. “Boys, let us rescue your brother
from these barbarians!” We all three rushed towards Francis, who,
weeping, extended his arms to us. The savages attempted to repulse us;
but at that moment the missionary pronounced some words in a loud voice;
they immediately prostrated themselves on their faces, and we had no
difficulty in securing the child. We brought him to our protector, who
still remained in the same attitude in which he had spoken, with his
eyes and his right hand raised towards heaven. He made a sign for the
savages to rise, and afterwards spoke for some time to them. What would
I have given to have understood him! But I formed some idea from the
effect of his words. He frequently pointed to us, pronouncing the word
_éroué_, and particularly addressed the king, who listened motionless to
him. At the conclusion of his speech, Bara-ourou approached, and
attempted to take hold of Francis, who threw himself into my arms, where
I firmly held him.
“Let him now go,” said Mr. Willis, “and fear nothing.”
I released the child; the king lifted him up, pressed his own nose to
his; then, placing him on the ground, took away the feathers and
necklace with which he had decked him, and replaced him in my arms,
rubbing my nose also, and repeating several words. In my first emotion,
I threw myself on my knees, and was imitated by my two sons.
“It is well!” cried the missionary, again raising his eyes and hands.
“Thus should you offer thanks to heaven. The king, convinced it is the
will of God, restores your child, and wishes to become your friend: he
is worthy to be so, for he adores and fears your God. May he soon learn
to know and believe all the truths of Christianity! Let us pray together
that the time may come when, on these shores, where paternal love has
triumphed, I may see a temple rise to the Father of all,—the God of
peace and love.”
He kneeled down, and the king and all his people followed his example.
Without understanding the words of his prayer, I joined in the spirit of
it with all my heart and soul.
I then presented my offerings to the king, increasing them considerably.
I would willingly have given all my treasures in exchange for him he had
restored to me. My sons also gave something to each of the savages, who
incessantly cried _tayo, tayo_. I begged Mr. Willis to tell the king I
gave him my canoe, and hoped he would use it to visit us in our island,
to which we were returning. He appeared pleased, and wished to accompany
us in our pinnace, which he seemed greatly to admire; some of his people
followed him on board to row, the rest placed themselves in the canoes.
We soon entered the sea again, and, doubling the second point, we came
to an arm of the sea much wider, and deep enough for our pinnace, and
which conducted us to the object of our dearest hopes.
* * * * *