John Frewen, South Sea Whaler by George Lewis Becke (great books of all time .txt) 📖

rapidly added in Samoan, "_Ua alu ia i moana?_" ("Has he gone upon the sea?")

"Yes, Loise. He has gone upon the sea, but will soon return. Where is Malu?"

"Here, lady," replied a woman's voice in the soft Samoan tongue, and a pleasant-faced, grey-haired woman of fifty came down the steps, and took the child from her mother's arms, and as she did so, whispered, "The tide hath turned to the ebb."{*}

* Note by the Author.--Nearly all Polynesians and
Micronesians believed most firmly that the dissolution of
soul from body always (excepting in cases of sudden death by
violence or accident) occurred when the tide is on the ebb.
From a long experience of life in the Pacific Islands, the
writer is thoroughly imbued with and endorses that belief.
The idea of the passing away of life with the ebbing of the
tide will doubtless seem absurd to the European and
civilised mind, but it must be remembered that an inborn and
inherited belief, such as this, does, with many so-called
semi-savage races, produce certain physical conditions that
are well understood by pathologists.

"Ay, good Malu. I know it. So keep the child within thy own room, so that the house may be quiet."

Old Malu, who had nursed Mrs. Raymond's mother, bent her head in assent, and went inside, and her mistress sat down in one of the cane-work lounge chairs on the wide verandah and closed her eyes, for she was wearied, physically and mentally. Her nerves had been strained greatly by the events of the day, and now the knowledge that within a few feet of where she sat, a life was passing away, and a woman's heart was breaking, saddened her greatly.

"I must not give way," she thought. "I must go and see how the wounded men are doing."

But ere she knew it, there came the low but hoarse murmuring cries of myriad terns and gulls flying homewards to the land, mingled with the deep evening note of the blue mountain pigeons; and then kindly slumber came, and rest for the troubled brain and sorrowing heart.

She had slept for nearly an hour when a young native girl servant, who had been left to wait upon Mrs. Marston, came quickly but softly along the verandah and touched her arm.

"Awake, Marie,{*} and come to the white lady."

* It will doubtless strike the reader as being peculiar that
an educated and refined woman such as I have endeavoured to
portray in Mrs. Raymond would allow a servant to address her
by her Christian name. But the explanation is very simple:
In many European families living in Polynesia and in
Micronesia the native servants usually address their masters
and mistresses and their children by their Christian names--
unless it is a missionary household, when the master would
be addressed as "Misi "(Mr.) and the mistress as "Misi
fafine "(Mrs.). The difference does not in the least imply
that the servant speaks to the lay white man and his wife in
a more familiar manner than he would to his spiritual
teacher. No disrespect nor rude familiarity is intended--
quite the reverse; it is merely an affectionate manner of
speaking to the employer, not _as_ an employer, but as the
friend of the household generally. It is related of the
martyred missionary John Williams, that a colleague of his
in Tahiti once reproved a native youth for addressing Mr.
Williams as "Viriamu" (Williams) instead of "Misi Yiriamu"
(Mr. Williams), whereupon the pioneer of missionary
enterprise in the South Seas remarked--" It does not matter,
Mr. -----, I infinitely prefer to be called
'Viriamu' than 'Tione Viriamu Mamae' (the Sacred, or
Reverend, John Williams)."

She rose and followed the girl to the room where Marston lay. His wife was kneeling by him with her lips pressed to his.

Marie Raymond knelt beside her, and passed her arm around her waist.


CHAPTER X


Closely followed by the five native boats, that in which Raymond was seated with Malie, and which was steered by Randall Cheyne, first came alongside, and the latter called out to Foster, who was standing in the waist, to pass down the end of the tow line. This was at once done, and then, as Malie and Raymond left the boat and ascended to the deck, Cheyne went ahead with his tow line, and was soon joined by the native craft, and within a quarter of an hour the _Esmeralda_ was moving through the water.

The instructions given to the half-caste by the chief and Frewen were to tow the ship to the south-east, with the land on the port hand. This would not only take her out of danger, but would prevent suspicion being engendered in the minds of the mutineers by their seeing that she was actually being taken away from, instead of towards the land. Both Frewen and Malie had decided that she was not to be re-captured till she was well into soundings, for events might arise which would necessitate her being brought to an anchor, especially if continuous heavy rain should fall during the night.

As soon as Raymond and the stalwart chief ascended to the poop, the pseudo-captain received them most affably, complimented them on the smart manner in which the boats had gone ahead with the line, and then asked them to take some refreshment The offer was accepted, for neither had had the inclination to eat anything on shore--they, like their men, were too eager to get possession of the ship to trouble about food.

Ryan sat at the table with them as they ate, and repeated his fiction regarding the accident to his chief officer, at which the planter politely expressed his concern. Then the mutineer, in a casual sort of a way, asked Raymond if there had been any English or American war-ships cruising about Samoa lately.

"No, not for a long time, but I did hear that the American corvette _Adams_ was expected here last year, but she must have passed by here, and gone on to Fiji There is always work for a man-of-war there at any time--the Fijians are a rough lot, and hardly a month passes without some European trader or sailor being killed and eaten, or else badly hurt. Even at the present time all the people living in the eastward islands of the Fiji Group are rank cannibals. It is a place to be avoided."

"Ah, well, I won't go near there," said the mutineer, somewhat meditatively.

"No, of course not," said the planter; "I suppose that your course for Batavia will take you to the northwest after you leave here--Fiji is six hundred miles to the south-west."

"I did think of putting in there when my mate met with his accident--thought I would find a doctor there; but now, thanks to your friend, I shall not need one for him--he is much better already."

"That is fortunate," said Raymond: "he might have died before you could reach the port of Levuka in Fiji. And besides that, I doubt if you would find a doctor living there. I have never heard of any medical man being settled in Fiji. On the other hand you could have left him on shore, where he would at least have met with good nursing from some of the English ladies there; and you could easily have obtained another mate; there are dozens of ex-skippers and mates idling about in Fiji."

Ryan had learnt all he wanted to know, and he changed the subject. He was still anxious about Almanza not living--for no one could tell what might occur to the _Esmeralda_ if he died and the ship was left without a navigator. He (Ryan) and Foster would have had no objection to ridding themselves of him, were either one of them able to navigate the ship as far as the Philippine Islands. They had all three previously agreed with the rest of the crew as to their future plans, after they had disposed of Marston and those who were faithful to him. When within sight of Luzon--and abreast of Manila--the ship was to be scuttled, and the mutineers with their plunder in two boats were to make for a part of the coast where there was a village, well-known to Rivas and Garcia. Here the money was to be divided, and every man was to shift for himself--some to go to Manila, others taking passage to that den of thieves, the Portuguese settlement of Maoao, where they meant to enjoy themselves after their manner.

When Raymond and the chief returned on deck, they found the ship was making good progress through the smooth sea, the natives in the boats singing a melodious chorus as, all in perfect unison, they plunged their broad-bladed paddles in the water, and the tow line surged and shook off thousands of phosphorescent drops at every united stroke. The night was dark, but not quite starless, and presently Frewen, who was talking to Foster, remarked that some heavy rain would fall in a short time.

"Our natives won't like that," said Raymond to "Captain Ryan"; "like all Kanakas, they hate being wetted with rain, though they will spend half a day in the rivers bathing and playing games in the water."

"A few bottles of grog will keep up their courage," said Frewen, "especially some rum. Have you any to spare, captain?"

"Any amount."

"Then I'll tell Cheyne to let the boats come alongside in turn, and we'll give all the natives a good rousing nip before the rain comes."

He walked for'ard and stood on the topgallant foc'sle and gave a loud hail.

"Boat ahoy!"

The singing ceased in an instant, and then Randall's voice answered--

"Hallo! what is it?"

"Come aboard and get a glass of grog. Tell the men in the other boats they can follow in turn."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the half-caste in such loud tones that he was heard distinctly on the after-deck, "they'll be glad enough of it; we'll get plenty of cold fresh water presently outside, and some rum to put inside will be just the thing."

Both Raymond and the two Greeks laughed, and then a minute or two later Cheyne and his boat's crew were alongside, and were given a pint of rum between them. They drank it off "neat," and after lighting their pipes, went back to their boat, and let another come alongside. She was manned by a dozen natives, who were all given a stiff glass of grog. They remained but a few minutes, and then went off to give place to the third boat, in which were twenty men. They scrambled over the side, laughing and talking, and then, just as the first five or six of them had been served, the rain poured suddenly down and made such a terrific noise that the shouts of the men in the other boats could not be heard, and the ship was at once enveloped in a thick steamy mist, which rendered even objects on deck invisible.

"It will only last about ten minutes," shouted Frewen to Ryan as they, with Raymond and Malie, took shelter in the companion-way.

"Where are