The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Excepting the blow and the kick, this was just what the Otaheitan wanted. He ran straight into the bush, which was by that time growing dark under the shades of evening, and found Nehow leaning against a tree and groaning heavily, though in a suppressed tone.
"Quick, come with me to the spring and wash my back," he cried, starting up.
They did not converse in broken English now, of course, but in their native tongue.
"What has happened?" asked Timoa, anxiously.
While Nehow explained the nature of the cruel treatment he had just received, they ran together to the nearest water-course. It chanced to be pretty full at the time, heavy rain having fallen the day before.
"There; oh! ha-a! not so hard," groaned the unfortunate man, as his friend laved the water on his lacerated back.
In a few minutes the salt was washed out of the wounds, and Nehow began to feel easier.
"Where is Menalee?" he asked, abruptly, as he sat down under the deep shadow of a banyan-tree.
"In his master's hut, I suppose," answered Timoa. "Go find him and Tetaheite; fetch them both here," he said, with an expression of ferocity on his dark face.
Timoa looked at him with an intelligent grin.
"The white men must die," he said.
"Yes," Nehow replied, "the white men shall die."
Timoa pointed to the lump which had been raised on his s.h.i.+n, grinned again, and turning quickly round, glided into the underwood like an evil spirit of the night.
At that time Menalee was engaged in some menial work in the hut of John Mills. Managing to attract his attention, Timoa sent him into the woods to join Nehow.
When Timoa crept forward, Tetaheite was standing near to a large bush, watching with intense interest the ongoings of Christian, Adams, and Young. These three, in pursuance of the philanthropic principle which had begun to operate, were playing an uproarious game with the children round a huge bonfire; but there was no "method in their madness;" the children, excepting Thursday October Christian and Sally, were still too young for concerted play. They were still staggerers, and the game was simply one of romps.
Tetaheite's good-humoured visage was glistening in the firelight, the mouth expanded from ear to ear, and the eyes almost closed.
Suddenly he became aware of a low hissing sound. The mouth closed, and the eyes opened so abruptly, that there seemed some necessary connection between the two acts. Moving quietly round the bush until he got into its shadow, his dark form melted from the scene without any one observing his disappearance.
Soon the four conspirators were seated in a dark group under shade of the trees.
"The time has come when the black man must be revenged," said Nehow.
"Look my back. Salt was rubbed into these wounds. It is not the first time. It shall be the last! Some of you have suffered in the same way."
It scarcely needed this remark to call forth looks of deadly hate on the Otaheitan faces around him.
"The white men must die," he continued. "They have no mercy. We will show none."
Even in the darkness of that secluded spot the glistening of the eyes of these ill-treated men might have been seen as they gave ready a.s.sent to this proposal in low guttural tones.
"How is it to be done?" asked Menalee, after a short pause.
"That is what we have met to talk about," returned Nehow. "I would hear what my brothers have to say. When they have spoken I will open my mouth."
The group now drew closer together, and speaking in still lower tones, as if they feared that the very bushes might overhear and betray them, they secretly plotted the murder of the mutineers.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE INFLUENCE OF INFANCY, ALSO OF VILLAINY.
While the dark plots referred to in the last chapter were being hatched, another life was introduced into the little community in the form of a third child to Fletcher Christian,--a little girl. Much though this man loved his two boys, a tenderer, though not, perhaps, a deeper region of his heart was touched by his daughter. He at once named her Mary. Who can tell the mult.i.tude of old memories and affections which were revived by this name? Might it not have been that a mother, a sister, some lost though not forgotten one, came forcibly to mind, and accounted, in some degree at least, for the wealth of affection which he lavished on the infant from the day of her birth? We cannot tell, but certain it is that there never was a more devoted father than this man, who in England had been branded with all that was ferocious, mean, desperate,--this hardened outlaw, this chief of the mutineers.
Otaheitan mothers are not particular in the matter of infant costume.
Little Mary's dress may be described in one word--nothing. Neither are such mothers much troubled with maternal anxieties. Long before a European baby would have been let out of the hands of mother or nurse, even for a moment, little Molly Christian was committed to the care of her delighted father, who daily bore her off to a favourite resort among the cliffs, and there played with her.
One day, on reaching his place of retirement, he was surprised to find a man in possession before him. Drawing nearer, he observed that the man also had a baby in his arms.
"Why, I declare, it's Edward Young!" he exclaimed, on going up.
"Of course it is," said the mids.h.i.+pman, smiling, as he held his own little daughter Jane aloft. "Do you think you are to have it all to yourself? And do you imagine that yours is the only baby in the world worth looking at?"
"You are right, Young," returned Christian, with the nearest approach to a laugh he had made for years. "Come now," he added, sitting down on a rock, and placing little Moll tenderly in the hollow of his left arm, so as to make her face his friend, "let's set them up, and compare notes; isn't she a beauty?"
"No doubt of it whatever; and isn't mine ditto?" asked the mids.h.i.+pman, sitting down, and placing little Poll in a similar position on his right arm.
"But, I say, if you and I are to get on amicably, we mustn't praise our own babies. Let it be an agreement that you praise my Poll, and I'll praise your Moll. Don't they make lovely _pendants_! Come, let us change them for a bit."
Christian agreeing to this, the infants were exchanged, and thereupon these two fathers lay down on the soft gra.s.s, and perpetrated practical jokes upon, and talked as much ineffable nonsense to, those two whitey-brown b.a.l.l.s, as if they had been splendid specimens of orthodox pink and white. It was observed, however, by the more sagacious of the wondering gulls that circled round them, that a state of perfect satisfaction was not attained until the babies were again exchanged, and each father had become exclusively engrossed with his own particular ball.
"Now, I say, Fletcher," remarked Young, rising, and placing himself nearer his friend, "it's all very well for you and me to waste our time and make fools of ourselves here; but I didn't merely come to show off my Polly. I came to ask what you think of that rumour we heard last night, that there has been some sort of plotting going on among the Otaheitan men."
"I don't think anything of it at all," replied Christian, whose countenance at once a.s.sumed that look of gravity which had become habitual to him since the day of the mutiny. "They have had too good reason to plot, poor fellows, but I have such faith in their native amiability of disposition, that I don't believe they will ever think of anything beyond a brief show of rebellion."
"I also have had faith in their amiability," rejoined Young; "but some of us, I fear, have tried them too severely. I don't like the looks they sometimes give us now. We did wrong at the first in treating them as servants."
"No doubt we did, but it would have been difficult to do otherwise,"
said Christian; "they fell so naturally into the position of servants of their own accord, regarding us, as they did, as superior beings. We should have considered their interests when we divided the land, no doubt. However, that can't well be remedied now."
"Perhaps not," remarked Young, in an absent tone. "It would be well, however, to take some precautions."
"Come, we can discuss this matter as we go home," said Christian, rising. "I have to work in my yam-plot to-day, and must deliver Molly to her mother."
They both rose and descended the slope that led to the village, chatting as they went.
Now, although the native men were of one mind as to the slaying of the Englishmen, they seemed to have some difference of opinion as to the best method of putting their b.l.o.o.d.y design in execution. Menalee, especially, had many objections to make to the various proposals of his countrymen. In fact, this wily savage was deceitful. Like Quintal and McCoy among the whites, he was among the blacks a bad specimen of humanity.
The consequence was that Timoa and Nehow, being resolved to submit no longer to the harsh treatment they had hitherto received, ran away from their persecutors, and took refuge in the bush.
To those who have travelled much about this world, it may sound absurd to talk of hiding away in an island of such small size; but it must be borne in mind that the miniature valleys and hills of the interior were, in many places, very rugged and densely clothed with jungle, so that it was, in reality, about as difficult to catch an agile native among them as to catch a rabbit in a whin-field.
Moreover, the two desperate men carried off two muskets and ammunition, so that it was certain to be a work of danger to attempt their recapture. In these circ.u.mstances, Christian and Young thought it best to leave them alone for a time.
"You may be sure," said the former, as they joined their comrades, "that they'll soon tire of rambling, especially when their ammunition is spent."