The Coral Island by Robert Michael Ballantyne (interesting books to read in english TXT) 📖

a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst

upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the

temple, the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar, and the

natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled

right and left through the woods in order to save their property,

leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees

around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to

flee in order to seek shelter, when the teacher ran toward us with

a knife in his hand.

 

“Thank the Lord,” he said, cutting our bonds, “I am in time! Now,

seek the shelter of the nearest rock.”

 

This we did without a moment’s hesitation, for the whistling wind

burst, ever and anon, like thunder-claps among the trees, and,

tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the

ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played

like forked serpents in the air; while, high above the roar of the

hissing tempest, the thunder crashed, and burst, and rolled in

awful majesty.

 

In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were

blown completely off the houses in many cases; and in others, the

houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of

this, the natives were darting to and fro, in some instances saving

their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the

storm of destruction that whirled around them. But, terrific

although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on

the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep,

and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist,

they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the

solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave

swept higher and higher on the beach, until the ocean lashed its

angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet

of white curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried

off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It

was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least,

to impress the mind of beholders with the might and the majesty of

God.

 

We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during

which time the storm raged in fury; but on the night following it

abated somewhat, and in the morning we went to the village to seek

for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of

danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings

of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to

wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the

mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards, but the

natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a

disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we

were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and

thrust us into our former prison.

 

It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the

first savage who seized him, with a well-directed blow of his fist,

but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again

prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before

us.

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.

 

Imprisonment - Sinking hopes - Unexpected freedom to more than one,

and in more senses than one.

 

FOR a long long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison,

during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being,

except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food.

 

There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have

felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my

inmost heart could never pass away, until death should make me

cease to feel the present was such a season.

 

During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at

our hearts every time we heard a foot-fall near the cave - dreading

lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time

dragged heavily on, we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to

experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom, that we

chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling

of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when

the savages would take us forth to die! But these changes took

place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter

thoughts; for there were times when we sat in that dark cavern on

our ledge of rock and conversed almost pleasantly about the past,

until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom

ventured to touch upon the future.

 

A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed; and a scanty supply

of yams and taro, brought to us once a-day, constituted our food.

 

“Well, Ralph, how have you slept?” said Jack, in a listless tone,

on rising one morning from his humble couch. “Were you much

disturbed by the wind last night?”

 

“No,” said I; “I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my

mother smiled upon me, and beckoned me to go to her; but I could

not, for I was chained.”

 

“And I dreamed, too,” said Peterkin; “but it was of our happy home

on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water

Garden; then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in

the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other, changed into

this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true.”

 

Peterkin’s tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of

his long imprisonment, that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I

should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to

the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I

pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of

happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how

bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and, in a short space,

how dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible

would have given me much light and comfort on this subject, if I

had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply

having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths.

 

While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the

cave, by saying, in a melancholy tone, “Oh, I wonder if we shall

ever see our dear island more.”

 

His voice trembled, and, covering his face with both hands, he bent

down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our

once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to

comfort him; but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no

hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to

pass my lips. While I hesitated, Jack sat down beside him, and

whispered a few words in his ear, while Peterkin threw himself on

his friend’s breast, and rested his head on his shoulder.

 

Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after, we heard

footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer

entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits,

however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he

would set down our meagre fare, as usual, and depart. But, to our

surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife

in his hand, and, going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound

his wrists, then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully

five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands

hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my

mind was, that the time had come to put us to death; and although,

as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength

of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near I felt all

the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill

of horror at the suddenness of our call

 

But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds, the savage pointed to

the cave’s mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the

open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing

under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears

trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out

first, he sprang towards him, and clasping him in his arms,

exclaimed, -

 

“Oh! my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you

are free!”

 

“Free!” cried Jack.

 

“Ay, free,” repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands

again and again; “free to go and come as you will. The Lord has

unloosed the bands of the captive and set the prisoners free. A

missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the

Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of

wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight.”

 

We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been

accustomed in our cavern to dream of deliverance, that we imagined

for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid

dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant

sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the

gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of

conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we

followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright

foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and

smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth, that we

were really delivered from prison and from death, rushed with

overwhelming power into our souls, and, with one accord, while

tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud long cheer of joy.

 

It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who

chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand

with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind,

and, forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of

Tararo.

 

The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget.

On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native

stood on his left hand, who, from his dress, seemed to be a

teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who, I at once

and rightly concluded, was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and

apparently past forty, with a bald forehead, and thin gray hair.

The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw,

and his clear gray eye beamed with a look that was frank, fearless,

loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in

the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on

fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had

come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile

overspread the missionary’s face as he advanced quickly to meet us,

and he shook us warmly by the hands.

 

“I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends,” he said. “My

friend, and your friend, the teacher, has told me your history; and

I thank our Father in heaven, with all my heart, that he