CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
REFERS TO THINGS SPIRITUAL AND PHYSICAL.
It was not until some years had elapsed after the death of Edward Young,that John Adams became _seriously_ impressed with the greatresponsibility of his position.
In the year 1804 a son was born to him, whom he named George, whetherafter the King of England or a relative of his own we are not preparedto state. After the King very likely, for Adams, although a mutineer,was a loyal subject at heart, and never ceased to condemn and deplorethe act of mutiny into which, after all, he had been surprised ratherthan willingly led.
This infant, George, was the last of this first generation, and hisfather was extremely proud and fond of him. Having already threedaughters, he seemed to have peculiar satisfaction in the advent of ason; and having latterly acquired the habit of mingling a dash ofScriptural language with his usual phraseology, he went about the firstday or two after the child's birth, murmuring, "I've gotten a man-childfrom the Lord--a man-child, let's be thankful; an' a regular ship-shape,trim little craft he is too."
There can be no doubt that the seaman's naturally serious mind becamemore profoundly impressed with religion shortly after this event. Adream which he appears to have had deepened his impressions. Like mostdreams, it was not in itself very definite or noteworthy, but we have nodoubt it was used as a means towards perfecting the good work which hadbeen already begun. At all events, it is certain that about this timeAdams began to understand the way of life more clearly, and to teach itmore zealously to the little community which was fast growing up aroundhim. The duties which he had undertaken to fulfil were now no longercarried on merely because of his promise to Edward Young and a sense ofhonour. While these motives did indeed continue to operate with alltheir original force, he was now attracted to his labour out of regardto the commands of God, and a strong desire for the welfare of the soulscommitted to his charge.
Naturally he fell into one or two errors of judgment. Among otherthings, he at first imagined that it was his duty to attempt the keepingof all the Jewish festivals, and to institute a fast twice in the week.These errors were, however, corrected by increased knowledge in thecourse of time.
But it must not be supposed that this earnest searcher after truthbecame ascetic or morose. Despite his mistakes, and the somewhat severediscipline which he was thereby led to impose on himself and thecommunity, the effect on him and his large family of the Scriptures--pure, unadulterated, and without note or comment--was to create love toGod, to intensify their love for each other, to render them anxious toimitate the example and walk in the footsteps of Jesus, and to causethem to _rejoice_ at all times. It was quite evident, ere long, thatthe whole community had drunk deeply into the spirit of such passages inthe Word as these:--"Delight thyself in the Lord,"--"By love serve oneanother,"--"Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say,rejoice,"--"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, asunto the Lord and not unto men,"--"Ask and ye shall receive, seek and yeshall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you,"--"Let each esteemother better than himself."--"Whatsoever ye would that men should dounto you, do ye even so to them."--"Love is the fulfilling of thelaw,"--"Let not the sun go down upon your wrath."
The last text was a favourite one with Adams, who occasionally foundthat even among the tractable and kindly troop he had to deal with, sinwas by no means extinct.
Do not suppose, good reader, that we are now attempting to depict aspecies of exceptional innocence which never existed, an Arcadia whichnever really had a local habitation. On the contrary, we are takingpains to analyse the cause of a state of human goodness and felicity,springing up in the midst of exceptionally unpromising circumstances,which has no parallel, we think, in the history of mankind; which notonly did exist, but which, with modifications, does still exist, and hasbeen borne witness to through more than half a century by men of variedand unquestionable authority, including merchant-skippers, discoverers,travellers, captains and admirals in the Royal Navy. The point that wewish to press is, not that the enviable condition of things we havedescribed is essentially true, but that this condition has been broughtabout by the unaided Word of God; that Word which so many now-a-dayswould fain underrate, but which for those who are taught by the HolySpirit is still the power of God unto salvation.
The hilarity of the Pitcairners increased rather than diminished astheir love for the Bible deepened. Fun and solemnity are notnecessarily, and never need be, antagonistic. Hand in hand these twohave walked the earth together since Adam and Eve bid each othergood-morning in the peaceful groves of Paradise. They are subject, nodoubt, to the universal laws which make it impossible for two things tofill the same place at the same time, and they sometimes do get, as itwere, out of step, and jostle each other slightly, which calls forth agentle shake of the head from the one and a deprecatory smile from theother; but they seldom disagree, and never fight.
Thus it came to pass that though John Adams, as time went on, read morethan ever of the Bible to his audiences, and dilated much on theparables, he did not dismiss Robinson Crusoe, or expel Gulliver, or puta stop to blind-man's-buff. On the contrary, waxing courageous underthe influence of success, he cast off his moorings from the skeletons ofthe stories to which he had at first timidly attached himself, andcrowding all sail alow and aloft, swept out into the unexplored seas ofpure, unadulterated, and outrageous fiction of his own invention.
"Them's the stories for me," Daniel McCoy was wont to say, whencommenting on this subject. "Truth is all very well in its way, youknow, but it's a great bother when you've got to stick to it; of courseI mean when story-tellin'."
Neither John Adams nor his pupils knew at that time, though doubtlesstheir descendants have learned long ere now, that after all truth is invery deed stranger than fiction.
As time passed changes more or less momentous occurred in the lonelyisland. True, none of those convulsions which rack and overturn thelarger communities of men on earth visited that favoured spot; butforces of Nature were being slowly yet surely developed, which began totell with considerable effect on the people of Pitcairn.
They were not, however, much troubled by the ills that flesh is heir to.Leading, as they did, natural and healthy lives, eating simple and to alarge extent vegetable fare, and knowing nothing of the abominations oftobacco or strong drink, their maladies were few and seldom fatal.
John Adams himself had the constitution of a horse. Nevertheless, hewas troubled now and then with a bad tooth, and once had a regularattack of raging toothache. As none of the people had ever even heardof this malady, they were much alarmed and not a little solemnised byits effects on their chief.
Walking up and down the floor of his house, holding his afflicted jawwith both hands, the poor man endeavoured to endure it with fortitude;but when the quivering nerve began, as it were, to dance a hornpipeinside of his tooth, irrepressible groans burst from him and awed thecommunity.
"Is it _very_ bad, John?" asked his sympathetic wife, who was cleaningup the house at the time.
"Ho-o-o-rible!" answered John.
"I'm _very_ sorry, John," said the wife.
"Oh-o-o-o-oh!" groaned the husband.
When it became known in the village that Adams was suffering from somemysterious complaint that nearly drove him mad, two or three of thechildren, unable to restrain their curiosity, ran to his house andpeeped in at the open door and windows. The sufferer either disregardedor did not see them.
In a few minutes the poor man's steps became more frantic, and anothergroan burst from him. Then he stopped in the middle of the room,uttered a deep growl, and stamped.
At this the heads of the peeping children disappeared. They gazed ateach other in solemn wonder. They had never seen the like of thisbefore. To stamp on the floor without an apparent reason, and withoutbeing done in fun, was beyond their comprehension.
"Where's the tool-box, lass?" gasped Adams suddenly.
His helpmate brought to him an old h
and-box for nails and small tools,which had once done service in the _Bounty_.
With eager haste Adams selected a pair of pincers, and, seizing histooth therewith, he began to twist.
At the same time his features began to screw up into an expression ofagony.
"Howgh!" he exclaimed, between a gasp and a short roar, as the pincersslipped. And no wonder, for it was a three-fanged grinder of thelargest size, situate in the remote backwoods of the under jaw.
He tried again, and again failed. Then a third time, and thendiscovered that, up to a certain point, his will was free to act, butthat beyond that point, the agony was so intense that the muscles of thehand and arm refused to act responsive to the will. In othercircumstances he might have moralised on this curious fact. As it washe only moaned aloud. Two of the children, of peculiarly sympatheticnatures, echoed the moan unintentionally. They immediately vanished,but soon peeped up again in irresistible curiosity.
"Old 'ooman," said Adams, "this is out o' sight the worst fit as ever Ihad. Just fetch me a bit of that small strong cord out o' the cupboardthere."
Mrs Adams did as she was bid, and her husband, making a sailor-likeloop on it, fastened the same round his tooth, which was not difficult,for the evil grinder stood unsupported and isolated in the jaw.
"Now," said her husband, "you take hold o' the end o' this and haul;haul hard,--don't be afraid."
Mrs Adams felt nervous, and remonstrated, but being persuaded after atime to try again, she gave a vigorous pull, which drew from the unhappyman a terrible yell, but did not draw the tooth.
"This'll never do," groaned John, feeling the rebellious molar with hisfinger; "it's as firm as a copper bolt yet. Come, wife, I'll tryanother plan. You go outside that door an' do what I bid you. Mind,never you heed what it means; you just obey orders exactly."
It was not necessary thus to caution poor tractable Mrs Adams. Shewent outside the door as bid.
"Now, then," said her husband, "when I cry, `Pull,' you shut the doorwith all your might--with a bang. D'ye hear?"
"Yes," replied the wife, faintly.
Fastening the cord once more round the tooth, the wretched sailorattached the other end to the handle of the door, and retiring tillthere was only about eight inches or a foot of "slack" cord left, stoodup and drew a long breath. The glaring children also drew long breaths.One very small one, who had been lifted on to the window-sill by anamiable companion, lay there on his breast visibly affected by alarm.
"Shut the door!" cried Adams.
There was a tremendous bang, followed by an instantaneous yell. Thechildren jumped nearly out of their own skins, and the little one on thewindow-sill fell flat on the ground in speechless horror; but the toothwas not yet out. The cord had slipped again.
"This is becomin' terrible," said Adams, with a solemn look. "I'll tell'ee what, lass; you run round to the smiddy an' tell Thursday that Iwant him d'rectly, an' look alive, old girl."
Mrs Adams hastened out, and scattering the children, soon returned withthe desired youth.
And a most respectable youth had Thursday October Christian become atthat time. He was over six feet high, though not quite sixteen years ofage, with a breadth of shoulder and depth of chest that would havebefitted a man of six-and-twenty. He had no beard, but he possessed adeep bass voice, which more than satisfied John Adams's oft-expressedwish of earlier days to hear the "sound of a man."
"Toc," said Adams, holding his jaw with one hand and the pincers in theother, "I've got a most astoundin' fit o' the toothache, and _must_ gitrid o' this grinder; but it's an awful one to hold on. I've tried itthree times myself wi' them pincers, an' my old 'ooman has tried it wi'this here cable--once with her fist an' once wi' the door as a sort o'capstan; but it's still hard an' fast, like the sheet-anchor of aseventy-four. Now, Toc, my lad, you're a stout young chap for your age.Just you take them pincers, lay hold o' the rascally thing, an' haulhim out. Don't be afeared. He _must_ come if you only heave with awill."
"What, father, do you mean that I'm to lay hold o' that tooth wi' thempincers an' wrench it bodily out of your head?"
"That's just about what I do mean, Toc," returned Adams, with a grimsmile. "Moreover, I want you to make no bungle of it. Don't let yournarves come into play. Just take a grip like a brave man, heave awaywi' the force of a windlass, an' don't stop for my yellin'."
Thus adjured, Thursday October took the pincers, and gazed with a lookof great anxiety into the cavernous mouth that Adams opened to his view.
"Which one is it, father, asked Toc," rolling up his shirt sleeves tothe shoulder and displaying arms worthy of Vulcan.
"Man alive! don't you see it? The one furthest aft, with a black holein it big enough a'most to stuff my George into."
Thursday applied the pincers gently. Adams, unable to use clear speechin the circumstances, said chokingly, "'At's 'e un--'ool away!" which,interpreted, is, "That's the one--pull away."
Toc pulled, Adams roared, the children quaked, and the pincers slipped.
"Oh, Toc, Toc!" cried Adams, with a remonstrative look, such as martyrsare said to give when their heads are not properly cut off; "is that allyou can do with your big strong arms? Fie, man, fie!"
This disparaging reference to his strength put poor Thursday on hismettle.
"I'll try again, father," he said.
"Well, do; an' see you make a better job of it this time."
The powerful youth got hold of the tooth a second time, and gave it aterrible wrench. Adams roared like a bull of Bashan, but Toc's heartwas hardened now; he wrenched again--a long, strong, and steady pull.The martyr howled as if his spinal marrow were being extracted. Tocsuddenly staggered back; his arm flew up, displaying a bloody tooth withthree enormous fangs. The "old 'ooman" shrieked, the child on thewindow-sill fell again therefrom in convulsions, and the others fledpanic-struck into the woods, where they displayed their imitativetendencies and relieved their feelings by tearing up wild shrubs by theroots, amid yells and roars of agony, during the remainder of the day.
The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers Page 24