The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers by R. M. Ballantyne (10 ebook reader .txt) 📖

to see the water-party start. “Two or three of us offered also to stay, father, but Jim wouldn’t hear of it, an’ said he would cry all the time if we stayed. He said that May was all he wanted.”

“Dear little Jim,” said Adams, “I do believe he’s got more o’ God’s book into him, small though he is, than all the rest of us put together. An’ he’s not far wrong, neither, about May. She’s worth a dozen or’nary girls. Now then, lend a hand wi’ the canoe. Are you ready, Mistress Toc?”

“Quite,” replied the heroine of the day, with a pleased glance in Thursday’s somewhat sheepish face.

“An’ Dumplin’, is he ready?” said the seaman.

The hero of the day was held up in the arms of his proud father.

“Now then, lads, shove off!”

In a few minutes the canoe, with its precious freight and Thursday at the steering-paddle, was thrust through the wild surf, and went skimming over the smooth sea beyond. Immediately thereafter another canoe was launched, with John Adams and a miscellaneous cargo of children, women, and girls, including graceful Bessy Mills and pretty Sarah Quintal.

“Now then, here goes,” cried Matt Quintal, wading deep into the surf. “Are you coming, Dan?”

“I’m your man,” said Dan, following.

Both youths raised their hands and leaped together. They went through the first wave like two stalwart eels, and were soon speeding after the canoes, spurning the water behind them, and conversing as comfortably on the voyage as though the sea were their native element.

Close on their heels went two of the most athletic among the smaller boys, while one bold infant was arrested in a reckless attempt to follow by Otaheitan Sally, who had to rush into the surf after him.

Descended though he was of an amiable race, it is highly probable that this infant would have displayed the presence of white blood in his veins had his detainer been any other than Sally; but she possessed a power to charm the wildest spirit on the island. So the child consented to “be good,” and go along with her overland.

“Now, are you ready to go?” said Sally to Charlie, who was the only other one of the band left on the beach besides herself.

Poor Charlie stood looking innocently into the sparkling face of the brunette. He did not know what was the matter with him, still less did he care. He knew that he was supremely happy. That was enough. Sally, who knew quite well what was the matter—quite as well, almost, as if she had gone through a regular civilised education—laughed heartily, grasped the infant’s fat paw, and led him up the hill.

Truly it was a pleasant picnic these people had that day. Healthy and hearty, they probably came as near to the realisation of heaven upon earth as it is ever given to poor sinful man to know, for they had love in their hearts, and their religion, drawn direct from the pure fountain-head, was neither dimmed by false sentimentality on the one hand, nor by hypocrisy on the other.

Perhaps John Adams was the only one of the band who wondered at the sight, and thanked God for undeserved and unexpected mercy, for he alone fully understood the polluted stock from which they had all sprung, and the terrible pit of heathenish wickedness from which they had been rescued, not by him (the humbled mutineer had long since escaped from that delusion), but by the Word of God.

After proceeding a considerable distance along the rocky coast of their little isle, John Adams ordered the canoes to lie-to, while he made an attempt to catch a fresh cod for dinner.

Of course, Matt Quintal and Dan McCoy ranged up alongside, and were speedily joined by some of the adventurous small boys. Adams took these latter into the canoe, but the former he ordered away.

“No, no,” he said, while Sarah Quintal assisted to get out the bait and Bessy Mills to arrange the line. “No, no, we don’t want no idlers here. You be off to the rocks, Matt and Dan, an’ see what you can catch. Remember, he who won’t work shall not eat. There should be lots o’ crawfish about, or you might try for a red-snapper. Now, be off, both of you.”

“Ay, ay, father,” replied the youths, pushing off and swimming shoreward rather unwillingly.

“I don’t feel much inclined to go after crawfish or red-snappers to-day, Matt, do you?” asked Dan, brushing the curls out of his eyes with his right hand.

“No, not I; but we’re bound to do something towards the dinner, you know.”

At that moment there was a loud shouting and screaming from the canoe. They looked quickly back. Adams was evidently struggling with something in the water.

“He has hooked something big,” cried Matt; “let’s go see.”

Dan said nothing, but turned and made for the canoe with the speed of a porpoise. His companion followed.

Adams had indeed hooked a large cod, or something like it, and had hauled it near to the surface when the youths came up.

“Have a care. He bolts about like a mad cracker,” cried Adams. “There, I have him now. Stand clear all!”

Gently did the seaman raise the big fish to the surface, and very tenderly did he play him, on observing that he was not well hooked.

“Come along, my beauty! What a wopper! Won’t he go down without sauce? Pity I’ve got no kleek to gaff him. Not quite so close, Dan, he’ll get—Hah!”

The weight of the fish tore it from the hook at that moment, and it dropped.

Dropped, ay, but not exactly into its native element. It dropped into Dan’s bosom! With a convulsive grasp Dan embraced it in his strong arms and sank. Matt Quintal dived, also caught hold of the fish with both hands and worked his two thumbs deep into its gills. By the process called treading water, the two soon regained the surface. Sarah Quintal seized Dan McCoy by the hair, Bessy Mills made a grasp at Matt and caught him by the ear, while John Adams made a grab at the fish, got him by the nose, thrust a hand into his mouth, which was wide open with surprise or something else, as well it might be, and caught it by the tongue.

Another moment, and a wild cheer from the boys announced that the fish was safe in the canoe.

“We’re entitled to dinner now, father,” said Dan, laughing.

“Not a bit of it, you lazy boys; that fish is only big enough for the girls. We want something for the men and child’n. Be off again.”

With much more readiness the youths, now gratified by their success, turned to the outlying rocks of a low promontory which jutted from the inaccessible cliffs at that part. Effecting a landing with some difficulty, they proceeded to look for crawfish, a species of lobster which abounds there.

Leaning over a ledge of rock, and peering keenly down into a clear pool which was sheltered from the surf, Dan suddenly exclaimed, “There’s one, Matt; I see his feelers.”

As he spoke he dived into the water and disappeared. Even a pearl diver might have wondered at the length of time he remained below. Presently he reappeared, puffing like a grampus, and holding a huge lobster-like creature in his hands.

“That’ll stop the mouths of two or three of us, Matt!” he exclaimed, looking round.

But Matt Quintal was nowhere to be seen. He, too, had seen a fish, and gone to beard the lobster in his den. In a few seconds he reappeared with another crawfish.

Thus, in the course of a short time, these youths captured four fine fish, and returned to the canoe, swimming on their backs, with one in each hand.

While things were progressing thus favourably at sea, matters were being conducted not less admirably, though with less noise, on land.

The canoe containing Mrs Toc and the celebrated baby went direct to the landing-place at Martin’s Cove, which was a mere spot of sand in a narrow creek, where landing was by no means easy even for these expert canoemen.

Here the women kindled a fire and heated the culinary stones, while Toc and some of the others clambered up the cliffs to obtain gulls’ eggs and cocoa-nuts.

Meanwhile Charlie Christian and Otaheitan Sally and the staggerer wended their way overland to the same rendezvous slowly—remarkably slowly. They had so much to talk about; not of politics, you may be sure, nor yet of love, for they were somewhat shy of that, being, so to speak, new to it.

“I wonder,” said Charlie, sitting down for the fiftieth time, on a bank “whereon time grew” to such an extent that he seemed to take no account of it whatever; “I wonder if the people in the big world we’ve heard so much of from father lead as pleasant lives as we do.”

“Some of ’em do, of course,” said Sally. “You know there are plenty of busy people among them who go about working, read their Bible, an’ try to make other people happy, so of course they must be happy themselves.”

“That’s true, Sall; but then they have many things to worry them, an’ you know we haven’t.”

“Yes, they’ve many things to worry them, I suppose,” rejoined Sall, with a pensive look at the ground. “I wonder what sort of things worry them most? It can’t be dressin’ up grand, an’ goin’ out to great parties, an’ drivin’ in lovely carriages. Nobody could be worried by that, you know.”

Charlie nodded his head, and agreed with her entirely.

“Neither can it be money,” resumed Sall, “for money buys everything you want, as father says, and that can be nothin’ but pleasure. If their yam-fields went wrong, I could understand that, because even you and I know somethin’ about such worries; but, you see, they haven’t got no yam-fields. Then father says the rich ones among ’em eat an’ drink whatever they like, and as much as they like, and sleep as long as they like, an’ we know that eatin’ an’ drinkin’ an’ sleepin’ don’t worry us, do they, Charlie?”

Again Charlie accorded unmeasured assent to Sall’s propositions.

“I can understand better,” continued Sall, “how the poor ones among ’em are worried. It must worry ’em a good deal, I should think, to see some people with far more than they want, when they haven’t got half as much as they want; an’ father says some of ’em are sometimes well-nigh starvin’. Now, it must be a dreadful worry to starve. Just think how funny it would feel to have nothin’ to eat at all, not even a yam! Then it must be a dreadful thing for the poor to see their child’n without enough to eat. Yes, the poor child’n of the poor must be a worry to ’em, though the child’n of the rich never are.”

At this point a wild shriek from the little child caused Sally’s heart to bound. She looked up, and beheld the fat legs of her charge fly up as he went headlong over a precipice. Fortunately the precipice was only three feet high, so that when Sally and Charlie ran panting to the spot, he was already on his feet, looking much surprised, but none the worse for his tumble.

This incident sobered the inquisitive friends, and brought them back from fanciful to actual life. They hurried over the remainder of the journey, and arrived at Martin’s Cove just as the picnic party were beginning dinner.

Feasting is a commonplace and rather gross subject, having many points of similitude in all lands. We shall therefore pass over this part of the day’s enjoyment, merely remarking that, what with fish and lobster, and yams and cocoa-nuts, and bananas and plantains, and sundry compounds of the same made into cakes, and clear water from the mountain-side, there was ample provision for the wants of nature. There was no lack, either, of that feast which is said to flow from “reason” and “soul” There was incident, also, to enliven the proceedings; for