CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
THE LAST MAN.
One morning John Adams, instead of going to work in his garden, as washis wont, took down his musket from its accustomed pegs above the door,and sallied forth into the woods behind the village. He had not gonefar when he heard a rustling of the leaves, and looking back, beheld thegraceful form of Sally bounding towards him.
"Are you going to shoot, father?" she said, on coming up.
The young people of the village had by this time got into the habit ofcalling Adams "father," and regarded him as the head of the community;not because of his age, for at this time he was only between thirty andforty years, but because of his sedate, quiet character, and a certainair of elderly wisdom which distinguished him. Even Edward Young, whowas about the same age, but more juvenile both in feeling andappearance, felt the influence of his solid, unpretending temperament,and laughingly acknowledged him King of Pitcairn.
"No, dear, I'm not goin' to shoot," said Adams, in reply, "I'm onlygoing up to Christian's outlook to try if I can find somethin' there,an' I always like to have the old blunderbuss with me. It feels sort ofcompany, you know, an' minds me of old times; but you'll not understandwhat I mean, Sall."
"No, because I've no old times to mind about," said Sally, with apeculiar smile. "May I go with you, father?"
"Of course you may. Come along, lass."
Adams held out his strong hand. Sally put her peculiarly small one intoit, and the two went slowly up the mountain-track together.
On reaching the top of a little knoll or plateau, they stopped, andturned to look back. They could see over the tops of the palm-grovesfrom that place. The track by which they had ascended was visible hereand there, winding among the flowering shrubs and trees. The villagelay far below, like a gem in a setting of bright green, which contrastedpleasantly with the warm clouds and the blue sea beyond. The sun wasbright and the air was calm--so calm that the voices of the children atplay came up to them distinctly in silvery ripples.
"How comes it, Sall, that you've deserted your post to-day?"
"Because the guard has been relieved; same as you say they do on board aman-of-war. I left the sprawlers in charge of Bessy Mills, and thestaggerers are shut into the green. You see, I'm feeling a little tiredto-day, and thought I would like to have a quiet walk in the woods."
She finished this explanation with a little sigh.
"Dear, dear me!" exclaimed Adams, with a look of amused surprise,"you're not becomin' sentimental are you, Sally?"
"What is sentimental, father!"
"Why, it's a--it's a sort of a feelin'--a sensation, you know, a kind ofall-overishness, that--d'ye see--"
He stopped short and stared with a perplexed air at the girl, who burstinto a merry laugh.
"That's one of your puzzlers, I think," she said, looking up slyly fromthe corners of her eyes.
"Well, Sall, that _is_ a puzzler," returned Adams, with aself-condemning shake of the head. "I never before felt so powerfullythe want o' dictionary knowledge. I'll be shot if I can tell you whatsentimental is, though I _know_ what it is as well as I know whatsix-water grog or plum-duff is. We must ask Mr Young to explain it.He's bin to school, you know, an' that's more than I have--more's thepity."
"Well," said Sally, as they proceeded on their way, "whatever senti--senti--"
"Mental," said Adams.
"Whatever sentimental is, I'm not that, because I'm just the same asever I was, for I often want to be quiet and alone, and I often am quietand alone in the bush."
"And what do you think about, Sall, when you're alone in the bush?" saidthe seaman, looking down with more interest than usual at the innocentface beside him.
"Oh, about heaps and heaps of things. I couldn't tell you in a monthall I think about; but one thing I think most about is a man-of-war."
"A man-of-war, Sall?"
"Yes; I would give anything to see a man-of-war, what you've so oftentold us about, with all its masts and sails, and bunks and guns andanchors, and officers and men. I often wonder _so_ much what new faceswould be like. You see I'm so used to the faces of yourself and MrYoung, and Mainmast and Susannah, and Toc and Matt and Dan and--"
"Just say the rest o' the youngsters, dear," interrupted Adams."There's no use in goin' over 'em all by name."
"Well, I'm so used to them that I can't fancy how any other faces can bedifferent, and yet I heard Mr Young say the other day that there's notwo faces in the world exactly alike, and you know there must behundreds and hundreds of faces in the world."
"Ay, there's thousands and thousands--for the matter o' that, there'smillions and millions of 'em--an it's quite true that you can't everpick out two that would fit into the same mould. Of course," continuedAdams, in an argumentative tone, "I'm not goin' for to say but that youcould find a dozen men any day with hook noses an' black eyes an' lankyhair, just as you can find another dozen with turn-up noses an' greyeyes an' carroty hair; but what I mean to say is, that you won't find notwo of 'em that han't got a difference of some sort somewheres. It'svery odd, but it's a fact."
"Another puzzler," said Sally, with a laugh.
"_Just_ so. But what else do you think about, Sall?"
"Sometimes I think about those fine ladies you've told us of, who driveabout in grand carriages with horses. Oh, these horses; what I wouldgive to see horses! Have they got tails, father?"
"Tails!" cried Adams, with a laugh, "of course they have; long hairyones, and manes too; that's hair down the back o' their necks, dear.See here, fetch me that bit of red stone and I'll draw you a horse."
Sally brought the piece of red stone, and her companion, sitting downbeside a smooth rock, from which he wiped the dust with the sleeve ofhis shirt, began, slowly and with compressed lips, frowning eyebrows,and many a hard-drawn sigh, to draw the portrait of a horse.
Adams was not an artist. The drawing might have served almost equallywell for an ass, or even for a cow, but Sally watched it with intenseinterest.
"You see, dear," said the artist, commenting as the work proceeded,"this is his head, with a turn-up--there--like that, for his nose. Alittle too bluff, no doubt, but no matter. Then comes the ears, two of'em, somewhat longish--so, not exactly fore an' aft, as I've made 'em,but ath'ort ships, so to speak, only I never could understand howpainters manage to make one thing look as if it was behind another. Ican't get behind the one ear to put on the other one nohow."
"A puzzler!" ejaculated Sally.
"Just so. Well, you have them both, anyhow, only fore an' aft, as Isaid before. Well, then comes his back with a hollow--so, for people tosit in when they go cruisin' about on shore; then here's his legs--somethin' like that, the fore ones straight an' the aft ones crooked."
"Has he only two legs," asked Sally, in surprise, "one before an' onebehind?"
"No, dear, he's got four, but I've the same difficulty wi' them that Ihad wi' the ears--one behind the other, you know. However, there youhave 'em--so, in the fore-an'-aft style. Then he's got hoofs at the endo' the legs, like the goats, you know, only not split up the middle,though why they're not split is more than I can tell; an' there's a sorto' curl behind, a little above it--the fetlock I think they call it, butthat's far beyond my powers o' drawin'."
"But you've forgot the tail," said Sally.
"So I have; think o' that now, to forget his tail! He'd never do thathimself if he was alive. It sticks out from hereabouts. There you haveit, flowin' quite graceful down a'most to his heels. Now, Sally, that'sa horse, an' not much to boast of after all in the way of a likeness,though I say it that shouldn't."
"How I _should_ like to see a real one!" said the girl, gazing intentlyat the wild caricature, while her instructor looked on with a benignantsmile.
"Then I often think of the poor people Mr Young is so fond of tellingus stories about," continued Sally, as they resumed their upward path,"though I'm much puzzled about them. Why are they poor? Why are theynot rich like other people?"
"There's a many reasons why, dear," continued Adams, whose knowledge ofpolitical economy was limited; "some of 'em don't work, an' some of 'emwon't work, and some of 'em can't work, an' what between one thing an'another, there's a powerful lot of 'em everywhere."
Sally, whose thirst for knowledge was great, continued to ply poor JohnAdams with questions regarding the poor, until he became so involved in"puzzlers" that he was fain to change the subject, and for a time theytalked pleasantly on many themes. Then they came to the steep parts ofthe mountains, and relapsed into silence. On reaching another plateauor flat knoll, where they turned to survey the magnificent panoramaspread out before them, Sally said, slowly--
"Sometimes when I'm alone in the bush I think of God. Mr Young hasbeen talking to me about Him lately, and I am wondering and wanting toknow more about Him. Do you know anything about Him, father?"
John Adams had looked at his simple interrogator with surprise and not alittle perplexity.
"Well, to tell you the honest truth," said he, "I can't say that I doknow much about Him, more shame to me; an' some talks I've had latelywith Mr Young have made me see that I know even less than I thought Idid. But we'll ask Mr Young to explain these matters to us when wereturn home. As it happens. I've come up here to search for the verybook that tells us about God--His own book, the Bible. Mr Christianused to read it, an' kept it in his cave."
Soon afterwards the man and child reached the cave referred to. Onentering, they were surprised to find Young himself there before them.He was reading the Bible, and Adams could not help recalling hisprevious visit, when he had found poor Fletcher Christian similarlyoccupied.
"I didn't know you was here, Mr Young, else I wouldn't have disturbedyou," said Adams. "I just came up to see if I could find the book, forit seems to me that if you agree to carry out your notion of turnin'schoolmaster, it would be as well to have the school-book down besideus."
"_My_ notion of turning schoolmaster," said Young, with a faint smile;"it was _your_ notion, Adams. However, I've no objection to fall inwith it, and I quite agree about carrying the Bible home with us, for,to say truth, I don't feel the climbing of the mountain as easy as Iused to."
Again the faint smile played on the midshipman's lips for a moment ortwo.
"I'm sorry to hear you say that, sir," said Adams, with a look ofconcern.
"And it can't be age, you know," continued Young, in a tone ofpleasantry, "for I'm not much above thirty. I suspect it's thatasthmatic affection that has troubled me of late. However," he added,in a heartier tone, "it won't do to get downhearted about that. Come,what say you to begin school at once? We'll put you at the bottom ofthe class, being so stupid, and we'll put Sally at the top. Will youjoin, Sall?"
We need scarcely say that Sally, who was always ready for anything,whether agreeable to her or otherwise, assented heartily to theproposition, and then and there began to learn to read out of the Bible,with John Adams for a class-fellow.
Of course it was uphill work at first. It was found that Adams couldblunder on pretty well with the small words, but made sad havoc amongthe long ones. Still his condition was pronounced hopeful. As toSally, she seemed to take up the letters at the first sitting, and evenbegan to form some correct notion of the power of syllables. After ashort trial, Young said that that was quite enough for the first day,and then went on to read a passage or two from the Bible himself.
And now, for the first time, Otaheitan Sally heard the old, old story ofthe love of God to man in the gift of Jesus Christ. The name of Jesuswas, indeed, not quite unfamiliar to her; but it was chiefly as an oaththat her associations presented it to her. Now she learned that it wasthe name of Immanuel, God with us, the Just One, who died that sinfulman might be justified and saved from the power of sin.
She did not, indeed, learn all this at that time; but she had herreceptive mind opened to the first lessons of the glorious truth on thansummer evening on the mountain-top.
From this date forward, Edward Young became a real schoolmaster; for henot only taught Adams to read better than he had ever yet read, but hedaily assembled all the children, except the very little ones, and gavethem instruction in reading out of the Word of God. In all this JohnAdams gave him hearty assistance, and, when not acting as a pupil, didgood service in teaching the smaller children their letters.
But Young went a step further.
"John Adams," said he, one morning, "it has been much on my mind of latethat God has spared you and me in order that we may teach these womenand children the way of salvation through Jesus Christ."
"It may be as you say, sir," returned Adams, "but I can't exactly feelthat I'm fit to say much to 'em about that. I can only give the littleuns their A B C, an' p'r'aps a little figurin'. But I'll go in withyou, Mr Young, an' do my best."
"Thank you, Adams, thank you. I feel sure that you will do well, andthat God will bless our efforts. Do you know, John, I think mydifficulties about the _way_ are somewhat cleared up. It's simpler thanI thought. The whole work of our salvation is already accomplished byour blessed Lord Jesus. All we have got to _do_ is, _not to refuse it_.You see, whatever I know about it is got from the Bible, an' you canjudge of that as well as I. Besides the passages that I have alreadyshown you about believing, I find this, `Come unto me all ye that labourand are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;' and this, `Whosoeverwill, let him come;' and this, `Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die.'So you see there's no doubt the _offer_ is made to every one who will;and then it is written that the Holy Spirit is able to make us willing.If God entreats us to `come,' and provides the `way,' what is it thathinders but unwillingness? Indeed, the Word says as much, for I find itwritten, `Ye _will_ not come to me, that ye might have life.'"
"What you say seems very true, sir," replied Adams, knitting his browsand shaking his head dubiously; "but then, sir, do you mean to say aman's good behaviour has nothin' to do with his salvation at all?"
"Nothing whatever, John, as far as I can make out from the Bible--atleast, not in the matter of _procuring_ his salvation. As a consequenceof salvation, yes. Why, is it not said by the Lord, `If ye love me,keep my commandments?' What could be plainer or stronger than that? IfI won't behave myself because of love to my Lord, I'll not do it on anylower ground."
Still John Adams shook his head. He admitted that the arguments of hisfriend did seem unanswerable, but,--in short, he became an illustrationof the truth of the proverb, `A man convinced against his will is of thesame opinion still.' He had promised, however, to render all the aid inhis power, and he was not the man to draw back from his word. When,therefore, Edward Young proposed to read daily prayers out of the Churchof England Prayer-book, which had been taken from the _Bounty_ with theBible and Carteret's _Voyages_, he made no objection; and he wassimilarly `agreeable,' as he expressed it, when Young further proposedto have service forenoon and afternoon on Sundays.
For some months these various occupations and duties were carried onwith great vigour, much to the interest of all concerned, the nativewomen being quite as tractable scholars as the children.
We cannot tell now whether it was the extra labour thus undertaken byYoung, or some other cause, that threw him into bad health; but certainit is, that a very few months later, he began to feel his strength giveway, and a severe attack of his old complaint, asthma, at last obligedhim to give up the work for a time. It is equally certain that at thisimportant period in the history of the lonely island, the `good seed'was sown in `good ground,' for Young had laboured in the name of theLord Jesus, and the promise regarding such work is sure: "Your labour isnot in vain in the Lord."
"I must knock under for a time, John," he said, with a wearied look, onthe occasion of his ceasing to work. He had of late taken to callingAdams by his Christian name, and the latter had been made unaccountablyuneasy thereby.
"Never mind, sir," said the bluff seaman, in an encouraging tone. "Youjust rest yourself for a bit, an' I'll carry on t
he school business,Sunday services an' all. I ain't much of a parson, no doubt, but I'lldo my best, and a man can't do no more."
"All right, John, I hand it over to you. A short time of loafing aboutand taking it easy will set me all to rights again, and I'll resumeoffice as fresh as ever."
Alas! poor Edward Young's day of labour was ended. He never moreresumed office on earth.
Shortly after the above conversation he had another and extremelyviolent attack of asthma. It prostrated him completely, so that forseveral days he could not speak. Afterwards he became a little better,but it was evident to every one that he was dying, and it was touchingto see the earnest way in which the tearful women, who were so fond ofhim, vied with each other in seeking to relieve his sufferings.
John Adams sat by his bedside almost continually at last. He seemed torequire neither food nor rest, but kept watching on hour after hour,sometimes moistening the patient's lips with water, sometimes reading afew verses out of the Bible to him.
"John," said the poor invalid one afternoon, faintly, "your hand. I'mgoing--John--to be--for ever with the Lord--the dear Lord!"
There was a long pause, then--
"You'll--carry on--the work, John; not in your own strength, John--inHis?"
Adams promised earnestly in a choking voice, and the sick man seemed tosink to rest with a smile on his lips. He never spoke again. Next dayhe was buried under the palm-trees, far from the home of his childhood,from the land which had condemned him as a heartless mutineer.
The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers Page 21