Читать книгу: «Coral Island», страница 18

CHAPTER XXXI.

A strange and bloody battle—The lion bearded in his den—Frightful scenes of cruelty, and fears for the future.

We had ascertained from the teacher the direction to the spot on which the battle was to be fought, and after a walk of two hours reached it. The summit of a bare hill was the place chosen; for, unlike most of the other islanders, who are addicted to bush-fighting, those of Mango are in the habit of meeting on open ground. We arrived before the two parties had commenced the deadly struggle, and, creeping as close up as we dared among the rocks, we lay and watched them.

The combatants were drawn up face to face, each side ranged in rank four deep. Those in the first row were armed with long spears; the second, with clubs to defend the spearmen; the third row was composed of young men with slings; and the fourth consisted of women, who carried baskets of stones for the slingers, and clubs and spears with which to supply the warriors. Soon after we arrived, the attack was made with great fury. There was no science displayed. The two bodies of savages rushed headlong upon each other and engaged in a general melee, and a more dreadful set of men I have never seen. They wore grotesque war-caps made of various substances and decorated with feathers. Their faces and bodies were painted so as to make them look as frightful as possible; and as they brandished their massive clubs, leaped, shouted, yelled, and dashed each other to the ground, I thought I had never seen men look so like demons before.

We were much surprised at the conduct of the women, who seemed to be perfect furies, and hung about the heels of their husbands in order to defend them. One stout young women we saw, whose husband was hard pressed and about to be overcome: she lifted a large stone, and throwing it at his opponent’s head, felled him to the earth. But the battle did not last long. The band most distant from us gave way and were routed, leaving eighteen of their comrades dead upon the field. These the victors brained as they lay; and putting some of their brains on leaves went off with them, we were afterwards informed, to their temples, to present them to their gods as an earnest of the human victims who were soon to be brought there.

We hastened back to the Christian village with feelings of the deepest sadness at the sanguinary conflict which we had just witnessed.

Next day, after breakfasting with our friend the teacher, we made preparations for carrying out our plan. At first the teacher endeavoured to dissuade us.

“You do not know,” said he, turning to Jack, “the danger you run in venturing amongst these ferocious savages. I feel much pity for poor Avatea; but you are not likely to succeed in saving her, and you may die in the attempt.”

“Well,” said Jack, quietly, “I am not afraid to die in a good cause.”

The teacher smiled approvingly at him as he said this, and after a little further conversation agreed to accompany us as interpreter; saying that, although Tararo was unfriendly to him, he had hitherto treated him with respect.

We now went on board the schooner, having resolved to sail round the island and drop anchor opposite the heathen village. We manned her with natives, and hoped to overawe the savages by displaying our brass gun to advantage. The teacher soon after came on board, and setting our sails we put to sea. In two hours more we made the cliffs reverberate with the crash of the big gun, which we fired by way of salute, while we ran the British ensign up to the peak and cast anchor. The commotion on shore showed us that we had struck terror into the hearts of the natives; but seeing that we did not offer to molest them, a canoe at length put off and paddled cautiously towards us. The teacher showed himself, and explaining that we were friends and wished to palaver with the chief, desired the native to go and tell him to come on board.

We waited long and with much impatience for an answer. During this time the native teacher conversed with us again, and told us many things concerning the success of the gospel among those islands; and perceiving that we were by no means so much gratified as we ought to have been at the hearing of such good news, he pressed us more closely in regard to our personal interest in religion, and exhorted us to consider that our souls were certainly in as great danger as those of the wretched heathen whom we pitied so much, if we had not already found salvation in Jesus Christ. “Nay, further,” he added, “if such be your unhappy case, you are, in the sight of God, much worse than these savages (forgive me, my young friends, for saying so); for they have no knowledge, no light, and do not profess to believe; while you, on the contrary, have been brought up in the light of the blessed gospel and call yourselves Christians. These poor savages are indeed the enemies of our Lord; but you, if ye be not true believers, are traitors!”

I must confess that my heart condemned me while the teacher spoke in this earnest manner, and I knew not what to reply. Peterkin, too, did not seem to like it, and I thought would willingly have escaped; but Jack seemed deeply impressed, and wore an anxious expression on his naturally grave countenance, while he assented to the teacher’s remarks and put to him many earnest questions. Meanwhile the natives who composed our crew, having nothing particular to do, had squatted down on the deck and taken out their little books containing the translated portions of the New Testament, along with hymns and spelling-books, and were now busily engaged, some vociferating the alphabet, others learning prayers off by heart, while a few sang hymns,—all of them being utterly unmindful of our presence. The teacher soon joined them, and soon afterwards they all engaged in a prayer which was afterwards translated to us, and proved to be a petition for the success of our undertaking and for the conversion of the heathen.

While we were thus engaged a canoe put off from shore and several savages leaped on deck, one of whom advanced to the teacher and informed him that Tararo could not come on board that day, being busy with some religious ceremonies before the gods, which could on no account be postponed. He was also engaged with a friendly chief who was about to take his departure from the island, and therefore begged that the teacher and his friends would land and pay a visit to him. To this the teacher returned answer that we would land immediately.

“Now, lads,” said Jack, as we were about to step into our little boat, “I’m not going to take any weapons with me, and I recommend you to take none either. We are altogether in the power of these savages, and the utmost we could do, if they were to attack us, would be to kill a few of them before we were ourselves overpowered. I think that our only chance of success lies in mild measures. Don’t you think so?”

To this I assented gladly, and Peterkin replied by laying down a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss, and divesting himself of a pair of enormous horse-pistols with which he had purposed to overawe the natives! We then jumped into our boat and rowed ashore.

On reaching the beach we were received by a crowd of naked savages, who shouted a rude welcome, and conducted us to a house or shed where a baked pig and a variety of vegetables were prepared for us. Having partaken of these, the teacher begged to be conducted to the chief; but there seemed some hesitation, and after some consultation among themselves, one of the men stood forward and spoke to the teacher.

“What says he?” inquired Jack when the savage had concluded.

“He says that the chief is just going to the temple of his god and cannot see us yet; so we must be patient, my friend.”

“Well,” cried Jack, rising; “if he won’t come to see me, I’ll e’en go and see him. Besides, I have a great desire to witness their proceedings at this temple of theirs. Will you go with me, friend?”

“I cannot,” said the teacher, shaking his head; “I must not go to the heathen temples and witness their inhuman rites, except for the purpose of condemning their wickedness and folly.”

“Very good,” returned Jack; “then I’ll go alone, for I cannot condemn their doings till I have seen them.”

Jack arose, and we, having determined to go also, followed him through the banana groves to a rising ground immediately behind the village, on the top of which stood the Buré, or temple, under the dark shade of a group of iron-wood trees. As we went through the village, I was again led to contrast the rude huts and sheds, and their almost naked savage-looking inhabitants, with the natives of the Christian village, who, to use the teacher’s scriptural expression, were now “clothed and in their right mind.”

As we turned into a broad path leading towards the hill, we were arrested by the shouts of an approaching multitude in the rear. Drawing aside into the bushes we awaited their coming up, and as they drew near we observed that it was a procession of the natives, many of whom were dancing and gesticulating in the most frantic manner. They had an exceedingly hideous aspect, owing to the black, red, and yellow paints with which their faces and naked bodies were bedaubed. In the midst of these came a band of men carrying three or four planks, on which were seated in rows upwards of a dozen men. I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said,—

“Oh, Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple. We shall only be horrified without being able to do any good, for I fear they are going to kill them.”

Jack’s face wore an expression of deep compassion as he said, in a low voice, “No fear, Ralph; the sufferings of these poor fellows are over long ago.”

I turned with a start as he spoke, and, glancing at the men, who were now quite near to the spot where we stood, saw that they were all dead. They were tied firmly with ropes in a sitting posture on the planks, and seemed, as they bent their sightless eye-balls and grinning mouths over the dancing crew below, as if they were laughing in ghastly mockery at the utter inability of their enemies to hurt them now. These, we discovered afterwards, were the men who had been slain in the battle of the previous day, and were now on their way to be first presented to the gods, and then eaten. Behind these came two men leading between them a third, whose hands were pinioned behind his back. He walked with a firm step, and wore a look of utter indifference on his face, as they led him along; so that we concluded he must be a criminal who was about to receive some slight punishment for his faults. The rear of the procession was brought up by a shouting crowd of women and children, with whom we mingled and followed to the temple.

Here we arrived in a few minutes. The temple was a tall circular building, open at one side. Around it were strewn heaps of human bones and skulls. At a table inside sat the priest, an elderly man, with a long gray beard. He was seated on a stool, and before him lay several knives, made of wood, bone, and splinters of bamboo, with which he performed his office of dissecting dead bodies. Farther in lay a variety of articles that had been dedicated to the god, and among them were many spears and clubs. I observed among the latter some with human teeth sticking in them, where the victims had been clubbed in their mouths.

Before this temple the bodies, which were painted with vermilion and soot, were arranged in a sitting posture; and a man, called a “dan-vosa” (orator), advanced, and, laying his hands on their heads, began to chide them, apparently, in a low bantering tone. What he said we knew not, but, as he went on, he waxed warm, and at last shouted to them at the top of his lungs, and finally finished by kicking the bodies over and running away, amid the shouts and laughter of the people, who now rushed forward. Seizing the bodies by a leg, or an arm, or by the hair of the head, they dragged them over stumps and stones and through sloughs, until they were exhausted. The bodies were then brought back to the temple and dissected by the priest, after which they were taken out to be baked.

Close to the temple a large fire was kindled, in which stones were heated red hot. When ready these were spread out on the ground, and a thick coating of leaves strewn over them to slack the heat. On this “lovo,” or oven, the bodies were then placed, covered over, and left to bake.

The crowd now ran, with terrible yells, towards a neighbouring hill or mound, on which we observed the frame-work of a house lying ready to be erected. Sick with horror, yet fascinated by curiosity, we staggered after them mechanically, scarce knowing where we were going or what we did, and feeling a sort of impression that all we saw was a dreadful dream.

Arrived at the place, we saw the multitude crowding round a certain spot. We pressed forward and obtained a sight of what they were doing. A large wooden beam or post lay on the ground, beside the other parts of the frame-work of the house, and close to the end of it was a hole about seven feet deep and upwards of two feet wide. While we looked, the man whom we had before observed with his hands pinioned, was carried into the circle. His hands were now free, but his legs were tightly strapped together. The post of the house was then placed in the hole, and the man put in beside it. His head was a good way below the surface of the hole, and his arms were clasped round the post. Earth was now thrown in until all was covered over and stamped down; and this, we were afterwards told, was a ceremony usually performed at the dedication of a new temple, or the erection of a chief’s house!

“Come, come,” cried Jack, on beholding this horrible tragedy, “we have seen enough, enough, far more than enough! Let us go.”

Jack’s face looked ghastly pale and haggard as we hurried back to rejoin the teacher, and I have no doubt that he felt terrible anxiety when he considered the number and ferocity of the savages, and the weakness of the few arms which were ready indeed to essay, but impotent to effect, Avatea’s deliverance from these ruthless men.

CHAPTER XXXII.

An unexpected discovery, and a bold, reckless defiance, with its consequences—Plans of escape, and heroic resolves.

When we returned to the shore, and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation, when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads.

We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us.

“And what is it that my friends wish to say to me?” he inquired.

The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared.

“Tell him,” said Jack, “that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl’s life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians.”

While this was being translated, the chiefs brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy, and at some length.

“What says he?” inquired Jack.

“I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy is even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge.”

Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. “Tell Tararo,” he exclaimed with flashing eye, “that if he does not grant my demand, it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea, if he does not give up the girl.”

“Nay, my friend,” said the teacher, gently, “I will not tell him that; we must overcome evil with good.’”

“What does my friend say?” inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack’s looks of defiance.

“He is displeased,” replied the teacher.

Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile.

“What are they doing there?” I inquired.

“I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one,” said the teacher.

At this moment a couple of men appeared leading a young girl between them; and, going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on the top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl, Avatea!

We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick coming fears.

“Oh! my dear young friend,” whispered the teacher, in a voice of deep emotion, while he seized Jack by the arm, “she is to be made a sacrifice even now!”

“Is she?” cried Jack, with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and, wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, “Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!”

It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and, doubtless, would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod, had not the teacher rushed in between them, and, raising his voice to its utmost, cried.—

“Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter. It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live or die.”

The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack’s former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and, waving his hand, said to his people,—“Desist. The young man’s life is mine.” Then, turning to Jack, he said, “You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one; why should you die?”

“Villain!” exclaimed Jack, passionately, “I may die, but, assuredly, I shall not perish alone. I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured.”

“You are very bold,” replied the chief, haughtily, “but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away, at least for three days.”

“You had better accept these terms,” whispered the teacher, entreatingly. “If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain, and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having.”

Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and, throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast, and hung down his head in silence.

Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and, therefore, would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter.

While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible, without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who, during the whole of the foregoing scene, had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet.

Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away, while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner.

On reaching the deck, we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and, laying his hand upon his shoulder, said,—

“Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are in our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment, we must act”—

“Act!” cried Jack, raising himself, and tossing back his hair wildly; “it is mockery to balk of acting when one is bound hand and foot. How can I act? I cannot fight a whole nation of savages single-handed. Yes,” he said, with a bitter smile, “I can fight them, but I cannot conquer them, or save Avatea.”

“Patience, my friend; your spirit is not a good one just now. You cannot expect that blessing which alone can insure success, unless you are more submissive. I will tell you my plans if you will listen.”

“Listen!” cried Jack, eagerly, “of course I will, my good fellow; I did not know you had any plans. Out with them. I only hope you will show me how I can get the girl on board of this schooner, and I’d up anchor and away in no time. But proceed with your plans.”

The teacher smiled sadly: “Ah! my friend, if one fathom of your anchor chain were to rattle, as you drew it in, a thousand warriors would be standing on your deck. No, no, that could not be done. Even now, your ship would be taken from you were it not that Tararo has some feeling of gratitude toward you. But I know Tararo well. He is a man of falsehood, as all the unconverted savages are. The chief to whom he has promised this girl is very powerful, and Tararo must fulfil his promise. He has told you that he would do nothing to the girl for three days; but that is because the party who are to take her away will not be ready to start for three days. Still, as he might have made you a prisoner during those three days, I say that God has given them to us.”

“Well, but what do you propose to do?” said Jack, impatiently.

“My plan involves much danger, but I see no other, and I think you have courage to brave it. It is this: There is an island about fifty miles to the south of this, the natives of which are Christians, and have been so for two years or more, and the principal chief is Avatea’s lover. Once there, Avatea would be safe. Now, I suggest that you should abandon your schooner. Do you think that you can make so great a sacrifice?”

“Friend,” replied Jack, “when I make up my mind to go through with a thing of importance, I can make any sacrifice.”

The teacher smiled. “Well, then, the savages could not conceive it possible that, for the sake of a girl, you would voluntarily lose your fine vessel; therefore as long as she lies here they think they have you all safe: so I suggest that we get a quantity of stores conveyed to a sequestered part of the shore, provide a small canoe, put Avatea on board, and you three would paddle to the Christian island.”

“Bravo!” cried Peterkin, springing up and seizing the teacher’s hand. “Missionary, you’re a regular brick. I didn’t think you had so much in you.”

“As for me,” continued the teacher, “I will remain on board till they discover that you are gone. Then they will ask me where you are gone to, and I will refuse to tell.”

“And what’ll be the result of that?” inquired Jack.

“I know not. Perhaps they will kill me; but,” he added, looking at Jack with a peculiar smile, “I too am not afraid to die in a good cause!”

“But how are we to get hold of Avatea?” inquired Jack.

“I have arranged with her to meet us at a particular spot, to which I will guide you to-night. We shall then arrange about it. She will easily manage to elude her keepers, who are not very strict in watching her, thinking it impossible that she could escape from the island. Indeed, I am sure that such an idea will never enter their heads. But, as I have said, you run great danger. Fifty miles in a small canoe, on the open sea, is a great voyage to make. You may miss the island, too, in which case there is no other in that direction for a hundred miles or more; and if you lose your way and fall among other heathens, you know the law of Feejee—a cast-away who gains the shore is doomed to die. You must count the cost, my young friend.”

“I have counted it,” replied Jack. “If Avatea consents to run the risk, most certainly I will; and so will my comrades also. Besides,” added Jack, looking seriously into the teacher’s face, “your Bible,—our Bible, tells of ONE who delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in his fists and the waters in the hollow of his hand.”

We now set about active preparations for the intended voyage; collected together such things as we should require, and laid out on the deck provisions sufficient to maintain us for several weeks, purposing to load the canoe with as much as she could hold consistently with speed and safety. These we covered with a tarpaulin, intending to convey them to the canoe only a few hours before starting. When night spread her sable curtain over the scene, we prepared to land; but, first, kneeling along with the natives and the teacher, the latter implored a blessing on our enterprise. Then we rowed quietly to the shore and followed our sable guide, who led us by a long detour, in order to avoid the village, to the place of rendezvous. We had not stood more than five minutes under the gloomy shade of the thick foliage when a dark figure glided noiselessly up to us.

“Ah! here you are,” said Jack, as Avatea approached. “Now, then, tell her what we’ve come about, and don’t waste time.”

“I understan’ leetl English,” said Avatea, in a low voice.

“Why, where did you pick up English?” exclaimed Jack, in amazement; “you were dumb as a stone when I saw you last.”

“She has learned all she knows of it from me,” said the teacher, “since she came to the island.”

We now gave Avatea a full explanation of our plans, entering into all the details, and concealing none of the danger, so that she might be fully aware of the risk she ran. As we had anticipated, she was too glad of the opportunity thus afforded her to escape from her persecutors to think of the danger or risk.

“Then you’re willing to go with us, are you?” said Jack.

“Yis, I am willing to go.”

“And you’re not afraid to trust yourself out on the deep sea so far?”

“No, I not ’fraid to go. Safe with Christian.”

After some further consultation, the teacher suggested that it was time to return, so we bade Avatea good night, and having appointed to meet at the cliff where the canoe lay, on the following night, just after dark, we hastened away—we to row on board the schooner with muffled oars—Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages.