Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers by R. M. Ballantyne (10 ebook reader .txt) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers by R. M. Ballantyne (10 ebook reader .txt) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
Ned looked with an expression of awe in the direction indicated.
“What is it that puzzles you?” asked the Captain, not a little amused by their looks.
“The beast! the beast!” said Toc.
“What, d’you mean the cow?”
“Is it a cow?” asked Toc in wonder.
“Of course it is. Did you never see a cow before?”
“No, never. I thought it was a big goat, or a horned sow,” returned the young man, as he approached the quiet animal cautiously. “I say, Ned, it’s a cow! It don’t look much like the things that father Adams used to draw, do it?”
Ned agreed that Adams’s representation fell far short of the original, and for some time they stood cautiously examining the strange creature, and gently touching its sides.
Just then a little black terrier came bounding forward and frisked round the Captain.
“Ha!” exclaimed Edward Young, with an intelligent look, “I know that beast, Toc; it’s a dog! I’m sure it is, for I have read of such things in Carteret, and father has described ’em often, so have the women. They have dogs, you know, on some islands.”
But the surprise and interest raised in them by two animals were nothing to what they felt on being conducted over the ship and shown all the details of stores and armament in a man-of-war. The surprise changed sides, however, when, on being asked to partake of luncheon, these men stood up, clasped their hands, shut their eyes, and asked a blessing before commencing to eat, in the familiar phrase, “For what we are about to receive,” etcetera.
Of course Captains Staines and Pipon went on shore, where they were received by Adams, hat in hand, and by the rest of the population down to the minutest infant, for no one would consent to miss the sight, and there was no sick person to be looked after. Up at the village the pigs and poultry had it all their own way, and made the most of their opportunity.
It was curious to mark the air of respect with which Adams regarded the naval uniform which had once been so familiar. As he stood conversing with the officers, he occasionally, in sailor-like fashion, smoothed down his scanty locks, for although little more than fifty at that time, care, sorrow, and anxiety had given his countenance an aged and worn look, though his frame was still robust and healthy.
In the course of the interview, Captain Pipon offered to give him a passage to England, with any of his family who chose to accompany him. To his surprise Adams at once expressed a desire to go.
We know not whether this was a piece of pleasantry on Adams’s part, but when he sent for his old wife and daughters to tell them of it, the scene of distress that ensued baffles description. The old woman was in despair. Dinah Adams burst into tears, and entreated the officers not to take her dear father away. Her sister Rachel flung her arms round her father’s neck and held on. Hannah Adams clasped her hands and wept in silent despair, and even George, at that time about ten years of age, and not at all given to the melting mood, felt a tear of sympathy trickling down his nose. Of course, when the cause of the ebullition became known, the whole Pitcairn colony was dissolved in tears or lamentations, insomuch that Adams gave up all idea of leaving them. We firmly believe that he never had any intention of doing so, but had merely thrown out the hint to see what effect it would have.
Like Captain Folger of the Topaz, the captains of the Britain and Tagus wrote eloquent and enthusiastic letters to the Admiralty about their discovery, but the dogs of war were still loose in Europe. Their Lordships at Whitehall had no time to devote to such matters, and once again the lonely island was forgotten.
It is a curious coincidence that death came close on the heels of this visit, as it had come on that of the Topaz. Scarcely had the two frigates left when Matthew Quintal took a fit while out fishing in his canoe and was drowned. About the same time Jack Mills was killed by falling from the rocks when out after gulls’ eggs. Thus poor Bessy Quintal lost her husband and brother in the same year, but she was not without comfort. She had been early taught to carry her cares to Jesus, and found Him now a very present help. Besides, she had now two little sons, John and Matthew, who were old enough to fondle her and sympathise with her to some extent, though they scarce understood her sorrow; and her fast friend and comforter, Sally Christian, did not fail her in the hour of need. Indeed, that warm-hearted Otaheitan would have taken poor Bessy into her house to live with her and Charlie, but for the difficulty that six riotous little creatures of her own, named Fletcher, Edward, Charles, Isaac, Sarah, and Maria, already filled it to overflowing.
A little more than six years after this, there came a visitant of a rare and heart-gladdening kind, namely, a parcel of books. Although the Government of England was too busy to think of the far-off isle, there were Englishmen who did not forget her. The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, happening, in 1819, to hear of an opportunity of communicating with Pitcairn, made up and despatched to it a parcel of books, containing, besides Bibles and Prayer-books, “works of instruction fitted for all ages.” Who can imagine the delight produced by this gift to minds which had been well educated and were thirsting for more knowledge? It must have been as food to the starving; as water to the dry ground.
Four years after that, a whale-ship from London, named the Cyrus, touched in passing.
As this visit was a noteworthy epoch in the lonely island, we shall devote a new chapter to it.
“My dear,” said Adams one morning to his spouse, as he was about to go forth to superintend the working of his busy hive, “I’m beginnin’ to feel as if I was gettin’ old, and would soon have to lay up like an old hulk.”
“You’ve done good service for the Master, John; perhaps He thinks you should rest now,” answered his wife. “You’ve got plenty able helpers to take the heavy work off your hands.”
“True, old woman, able, willin’, and good helpers, thank God, but they want a headpiece still. However, there’s a deal of life in the old dog yet. If that dear angel, Otaheitan Sally, were only a man, now, I could resign the command of the ship without a thought. But I’ve committed the matter to the Lord. He will provide in His own good time. Good-day, old girl. If any one wants me, you know where to send ’em.”
Not many days after that in which these remarks were made a sail was seen on the horizon. So few and far between had these visitants been that the excitement of the people was as wild as when the first ship appeared, and much more noisy, seeing that the juveniles had now become so very numerous.
The ship soon drew near. Canoes were sent off to board her. Thursday October, as of old, introduced himself, and soon the captain and several men were brought on shore, to the intense joy of the inhabitants.
One of the sailors who landed attracted Adams’s attention in a special manner, not so much because of his appearance, which was nothing uncommon, as because of a certain grave, kindly, serious air which distinguished him. This man’s name was John Buffett. Another of the men, named John Evans, less serious in manner, but not less hearty and open, made himself very agreeable to the women, especially to old Mrs Adams, to whom he told a number of nautical anecdotes in an undertone while the captain was chatting with Adams himself. Buffett spoke little.
After spending an agreeable day on shore, the sailors walked down to the beach towards evening to return to their ship.
“You lead a happy life here, Mr Adams,” said Buffett, in an earnest tone. “Would you object to a stranger staying among you!”
“Object!” said Adams, with a quick, pleasant glance. “I only wish the Lord would send us one; one at least who is a follower of Himself.”
John Buffett said no more, but that same evening he expressed to his captain so strong a desire to remain behind that he obtained leave, and next day was sent on shore.
The sailor named John Evans accompanied him to see him all right and bring off the latest news; but Evans himself had become so delighted with the appearance of the place and people, that he deserted into the mountains, and the ship had to sail without him.
Thus were two new names added to the muster-roll of Pitcairn.
John Buffett in particular turned out to be an invaluable acquisition. He was a man of earnest piety, and had obtained a fairly good education. Adams and he drew together at once.
“You’ll not object, p’r’aps,” said the former on the occasion of their first talk over future plans, “to give me a lift wi’ the school?”
“Nothing would please me better,” answered Buffett. “I’m rather fond o’ teachin’, to say truth, and am ready to begin work at once.”
Not only did Buffett thereafter become to Adams as a right arm in the school, but he assisted in the church services on Sundays, and eventually came to read sermons, which, for the fixing of them more effectually on the minds of the people, he was wont to deliver three times over.
But Buffett could tell stories as well as read sermons. One afternoon some of the youngsters caught him meditating under a cocoa-nut tree, and insisted on his telling the story of his life.
“It ain’t a long story, boys an’ girls,” said he, “for I’ve only lived some six-and-twenty years yet. I was born in 1797, near Bristol, and was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. Not takin’ kindly to that sort o’ work, I gave it up an’ went to sea. However, I’m bound to say, that the experience I had with the saw and plane has been of the greatest service to me ever since; and it’s my opinion, that what ever a man is, or whoever he may be, he should learn a trade; ay, even though he should be a king.”
The Pitcairn juveniles did not see the full force of this remark, but nevertheless they believed it heartily.
“It was the American merchant service I entered,” continued Buffett, “an’ my first voyage was to the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. I was wrecked there, and most o’ the crew perished; but I swam ashore and was saved, through God’s mercy. Mark that, child’n. It wasn’t by good luck, or good swimmin’, or chance, or fate, or anything else in the shape of a second cause, but it was the good God himself that saved, or rather spared me. Now, I say that because there’s plenty of people who don’t like to give their Maker credit for anything, ’cept when they do it in a humdrum, matter-of-course way at church.”
These last remarks were quite thrown away upon the children, whose training from birth had been to acknowledge the goodness of God in everything, and who could not, of course, comprehend the allusions to formalism.
“Well,” he continued, “after suffering a good deal, I was picked up by some Canadian fishermen, and again went to sea, to be once again wrecked and saved. That was in the year 1821. Then I went to England, and entered on board a ship bound for China, from which we proceeded to Manilla, and afterwards to California, where I stayed some time. Then I entered an English whaler homeward bound, intendin’ to go
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