by Nordhoff
"My God, Byam!" he said in a low voice.
Slenderly and strongly made, in the first bloom of young womanhood, and with her magnificent dark hair unbound, Maimiti made a picture worth traveling far to behold. She stood for a moment with a hand on the elder woman's shoulder, and then, gathering her kilt about her, she ran nimbly up a gnarled limb that overhung the deep water. Poising herself for an instant high above the pool, she sprang into the water with a merry shout, and I saw her swimming with slow easy strokes along the bottom, two fathoms deep. Christian, a capital swimmer, went in head first, and Hina followed him with a great splash. For an hour or more we frolicked in the pool, startling shoals of small speckled fish like trout, and making the cool green tunnel overhead echo with laughter.
The Indians of Tahiti rarely bathe in the sea except when a great surf is running. At such times the more daring among the men and women delight in a sport they call horue—swimming out among the great breakers with a light board about a fathom long, and choosing their moment to come speeding in, a quarter of a mile or more, on the crest of a high feathering sea. Their daily bathing is done in the clear cool streams which flow down from the mountains everywhere, and though they bathe twice, and often three times each day, they look forward to the next bath as though it were the first in a month. Men, women, and children bathe together with a great hubbub of shouting and merriment, for this is the social hour of their day, when friends are met, courtships carried on, and gossip and news exchanged.
After our bath we dried ourselves in the sun, while the girls combed out their hair with combs of bamboo, curiously carved. Christian was a gentleman, and very far from a rake, though of a warm and susceptible temperament. He lagged behind with young Maimiti while we walked back to the house, and once, turning my head by chance, I saw that the two were walking hand in hand. They made a handsome couple—the young English seaman and the Indian girl. The kindly fate which veils the future from us gave me no inkling of what lay in store for these two—destined to face together, hand in hand as I saw them now, long wanderings and suffering, and tragedy. Maimiti cast down her eyes, while a blush suffused her clear olive cheeks with crimson, and strove gently to release her hand; but Christian held her fast, smiling at me.
"Every sailor must have his sweetheart," he said, half lightly and half in earnest, "and I've found mine. I'll stake my life there's not a truer lass in all these islands!"
Hina smiled gravely and touched my arm as a hint to leave Christian to his courting. She had liked him at first sight, and knew his rank on board. And thanks to the uncanny fashion in which news of every sort spreads among the people of Tahiti, she knew that he had had no traffic with the women who infested the ship.
CHAPTER VII.—CHRISTIAN AND BLIGH
From the day of his meeting with Maimiti, Christian missed no opportunity of visiting us, arriving by day or by night as his duties on board the Bounty permitted. The Indians, who felt no need of unbroken sleep, were frequently up and about during the night, and often made a meal at midnight when the fishers returned from the reef. Old Hitihiti oftentimes awakened me merely from a desire to converse, or when he suddenly recollected some word which had escaped his memory during the day. I grew accustomed to this casual and broken sleep, and learned, like my host, to make up during the afternoon for what was lost at night.
Christian was soon accepted by the household as the avowed lover of Maimiti. He seldom came without some little gifts for her, and the others, and his visits were anticipated with eager pleasure. He was a man of moods; at sea I had seen him stern, reticent, and almost intimidating for a fortnight at a time. Then all at once he would unbend, shake off his preoccupation, and become the heartiest and gayest of companions. No man knew better how to make himself agreeable to others when he chose; his sincerity, his education, which went beyond that of most sea officers of the time, and the charm of his manner combined to win the respect of men and women alike. And the ardour of his nature, his handsome person and changing moods, made him what women call a romantic man.
One night, when I had been about six weeks at the house of Hitihiti, I was awakened gently in the Indian fashion by a hand on my shoulder. The flare of a candlenut made a dim light in the house, and I saw Christian standing over me, with his sweetheart at his side.
"Come down to the beach, Byam," he said; "they have built a fire there. I have something to tell you."
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I followed them out of the house, to where a fire of coconut husks burned bright and ruddy. The night was moonless and the sea so calm that the breakers scarcely whispered on the sand. Mats were spread around the fire, and Hitihiti's people lay about, conversing in low voices while fish roasted on the coals.
Christian sat down, his back to the bole of a coconut palm and an arm about Maimiti's waist, while I reclined near by. I knew at the first glance that his gaiety of the weeks past had been succeeded by one of his sombre moods.
"I must tell you," he said slowly, at the end of a long silence, "Old Bacchus died last night."
"Good God!" I exclaimed..."What..."
"He died, not of drink, as might have been supposed, but of eating a poisonous fish. We purchased about fifty pounds of fish from a canoe that came in from Tetiaroa, and your mess had a string of them fried for dinner yesterday. They were of a bright red colour and different from the others. Hayward, Nelson, and Morrison were close to death for six hours, but they are better now. The surgeon died at eight bells, four hours ago."
"Good God!" I repeated stupidly and mechanically.
"He will be buried in the morning, and Mr. Bligh bids you to be on hand."
At first the news dazed me and I did not realize the full extent of the loss; little by little the fact that Old Bacchus was no longer of the Bounty's company came home to me.
"A drunkard," said Christian musingly, as if to himself, "but beloved by all on board. We shall be the worse off for his death." Maimiti turned to me, and in the ruddy firelight I saw glistening in her eyes the easy tears of her race. "Ua mate te ruau avae hoe ," she said sorrowfully. (The old man with one leg is dead.)
"I have been many years at sea," Christian went on, "and I can tell you that the welfare of men on shipboard depends on things which seem small. A joke at the right moment, a kind word, or a glass of grog is sometimes more efficacious than the cat-of-nine-tails. With the surgeon gone, life on the Bounty will not be what it was."
Christian spoke no more that night, but sat gazing into the fire, a sombre expression in his eyes. Maimiti, a silent girl, laid her head on his shoulder and fell asleep, while he stroked her hair tenderly and absently. I lay awake for a long time, thinking of Old Bacchus and of the trick of fate which had so abruptly closed his career, on a heathen island, twelve thousand miles from England. Perhaps his jovial shade would be well content to haunt the moonlit groves of Tahiti, where the sea he loved was only a pistol shot away—its salt smell in the air and the thunder of its breakers sounding day and night. And he had died on shipboard, as he would have desired, safe from the dreaded years of retirement on shore. Christian was right, I thought; without Old Bacchus, life on the Bounty could not be the same.
We buried him on Point Venus, close to where Captain Cook had set up his observatory twenty years before. There was some delay in getting the consent of Teina, the great chief whom the English had believed to be king of Tahiti, and who was the first of the Pomares. At last all was arranged, and the Indians themselves dug the grave, laying it out very exactly east and west. It was not until four o'clock in the afternoon that Old Bacchus was laid to rest, Bligh reading the burial service and a great crowd of Indians—silent, attentive, and respectful—surrounding us. When the captain and the Bounty's people had gone on board to see to the auctioning of the dead man's effects, Nelson and Peckover remained on shore, the former still pale and shaken from fish poisoning. The Indians had dispersed, and only the three of us lingered by the new grave, covered with slabs of coral in the Indian style.
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Nelson cleared his throat and drew from a bag he carried three glasses and a bottle of Spanish wine. "We were his best friends on board," he said to Peckover, "you and Byam and I. I think it would please him if we added one small ceremony to the burial service Captain Bligh read so well." The botanist cleared his throat once more, handed us the glasses, and uncorked his bottle of wine. Then, baring our heads, we drank in silence to Old Bacchus, and when the bottle was empty we broke our glasses on the grave.
The relaxation of discipline which had followed the hardships of the Bounty's long voyage now came to an end as Bligh's harsh and ungovernable temper once more began to assert itself. I saw something of what was going on during my visits to the ship, and learned more from Hitihiti and Christian, who gave me to understand that there was much murmuring on board.
Each man on the ship, as I have said, had his Indian friend, who felt it his duty to send out to his taio frequent gifts of food. The seamen quite naturally regarded this as their own property, to be disposed of as they wished, but Bligh soon put an end to such ideas by announcing that all that came on board belonged to the ship, to be disposed of as the captain might direct. It was hard for a seaman whose taio had sent out a fine fat hog of two or three hundredweight to see it seized for ship's stores, and to be forced to dine on a small ration of poor pork issued by Mr. Samuel. Even the master's hogs were seized, though Bligh had at the moment forty of his own.
I witnessed unpleasant scenes of this kind one morning when I had gone on board to wait upon Mr. Bligh. The captain had gone ashore and was not expected for some time, so I loitered by the gangway, watching the canoes put out from shore. Young Hallet, the petulant and sickly-looking midshipman whom I liked least of those in the berth, was on duty to see that no provisions were smuggled on board, and he stepped to the gangway as a small canoe, paddled by two men, came alongside. Tom Ellison, the youngest of the seamen and the most popular with all hands, was in the bow of the canoe. He dropped his paddle, clambered up the ship's side, touched his forelock to Hallet, and leaned down to take the gifts his taio handed up to him. They were a handful of the Indian apples called vi, a fan, with a handle made of a whale's tooth, curiously carved, and a bundle of the native cloth. The Indian grinned up at Ellison, waved his hand, and paddled away. Hallet stooped to take up the apples laid on deck, and began to eat one, saying, "I must have these, Ellison."
"Right, sir," said Ellison, though I could see that he regretted his fruit. "You'll find them sweet!"
"And this fan," said the midshipman, taking it from Ellison's hand. "Will you give it to me?"
"I cannot, sir. It comes from a girl. You've a taio of your own."
"He pays me no attention these days, What have you there?"
"A bundle of tapa cloth."
Hallet stooped to feel the thick bundle and gave the seaman an evil smile. "It feels uncommonly like a sucking pig. Shall I call Mr. Samuel?" Ellison flushed and the other went on, without giving him time to reply, "See here! A bargain—the fan's mine, and I say nothing about the pig."
Without a word, the young seaman snatched up his bundle and strode off to the forecastle in a rage, leaving the fan in his superior's hands. I was about to utter angry words when Samuel, the captain's clerk, walked aft. Hallet stopped him. "Do you want a bit of tender pork?" he asked in a low voice. "Then go to the forecastle. I suspect that Ellison has a sucking pig wrapped up in a bale of the Indian cloth!" Samuel gave him a nod and a knowing leer, and passed. I stepped forward.
"You little swine!" I said to Hallet.
"You've been spying on me, Byam!" he squeaked.
"And if you were not such a contemptible little sneak, I'd do more than that!"
The captain's boat was approaching, and, swallowing my anger, I began to prepare the manuscript of my week's work for his inspection. Half an hour later, when the interview with Bligh was over and we came on deck, I found Christian at the gangway, to receive a gift of provisions and other things sent out by Maimiti, a great landowner in her own right.
There were a brace of fat hogs, as well as taro, plantains, and other vegetables; fine mats, Indian cloaks, and a pair of very handsome pearls from the Low Islands. Bligh strolled to the gangway, and, seeing the hogs, called for Samuel and ordered him to take them over for ship's stores. Christian flushed.
"Mr. Bligh," he said, "I meant these hogs for my own mess."
"No!" answered the captain harshly.
He glanced at the mats and cloaks, which Christian was about to send below. "Mr. Samuel," he went on, "take charge of these Indian curiosities, which may be useful for trading in other groups."
"One moment, sir," protested Christian. "These things were given me for members of my family in England."
Instead of replying, the captain turned away contemptuously toward the gangway. Maimiti's servant was handing up to Christian a small package done up in the tapa cloth. "Pearls," said the man in the Indian tongue. "My mistress sends them to you, to be given your mother in England." Still deeply flushed with anger, Christian took the package from the man's hand.
"Did he say pearls?" put in Bligh. "Come—let me see them!" Samuel craned his neck and I admit that I did the same. Reluctantly, and in angry silence, Christian unwrapped the small package to display a matched pair of pearls as large as gooseberries, and of the most perfect orient. Samuel, a London Jew, permitted himself an exclamation of astonishment. After a moment's hesitation, Bligh spoke.
"Give them to Mr. Samuel," he ordered. "Pearls are highly prized in the Friendly Islands."
"Surely, sir," exclaimed Christian angrily, "you do not mean to seize these as well! They were given me for my mother!"
"Deliver them to Mr. Samuel," Bligh repeated.
"I refuse!" replied Christian, controlling himself with a great effort.
He turned away abruptly, closing his hand on the pearls, and went below. A glance passed between the captain and his clerk, but though Bligh's hands were clasping and unclasping behind his back, he said no more.
It was not hard to imagine the feelings of the Bounty's people at this time—rationed in the midst of plenty, and treated like smugglers each time they returned from shore. There must have been much angry murmuring in the forecastle, for the contrast between life on shore and life on the ship was oversharp. I had a home and my mother to return to, but the seamen could look forward to nothing in England save the prospect of the press gang, or begging on the Portsmouth streets. It seemed to me that if Mr. Bligh continued as he had begun, we should soon have desertions or worse.
Going on board to report myself one morning in mid-January, I found the captain pacing the quarter-deck in a rage. I stood to leeward of him for some time before he noticed me, and then, catching his eye, I saluted him and said, "Come on board, sir."
"Ah, Mr. Byam," he said, coming to a halt abruptly. "I cannot run over your work to-day; we'll put it off till next week. The ship's corporal and two of the seamen—Muspratt and Millward—have deserted. The ungrateful scoundrels shall suffer for this when I get my hands on them! They took the small cutter and eight stand of arms and ammunition. I have just learned that they left the cutter not far from here and set out for Tetiaroa in a sailing canoe." Mr. Bligh paused, his face set sternly, and seemed to reflect. "Has your taio a large canoe?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"In that case I shall put the pursuit in your hands. Ask for Hitihiti's canoe and as many of his men as you think necessary, and sail for Tetiaroa to-day. The wind is fair. Secure the men without using force if you can, but secure them! Churchill may give you some trouble. Should you find that they are not on the island, return to-morrow if the wind permits."
When I had taken leave of the captain, I found Stewart and Tinkler in the berth.
"You've heard the news, of course," said Stewart.
"Yes; Mr. Bligh told me, and I've the task of catching the men." Stewart laughed. "By God! I don't envy you!"
"How did they make off with the cutt
er?" I asked.
"Hayward was mate of the watch, and was fool enough to take a caulk. The men stole away with the cutter while he slept. Bligh was like a madman when he learned it. He's put Hayward in irons for a month, and threatens to have him flogged on the day of his release!"
An hour later I found Hitihiti at the house, and told him of my orders and of the captain's request for the loan of his large sailing canoe. He agreed at once to let me have her, with a dozen of his men, and insisted on accompanying the expedition himself.
My host's vessel was of the kind called va'a motu —a single sailing canoe, about fifty feet long and two foot beam. On the larboard side, at a distance of about a fathom from the hull, was a long outrigger, or float, made fast to cross booms fore and aft, which crossed the gunwales and were lashed fast to them. Her mast was tall and strongly stayed, and her great sail of closely woven matting was bordered with a light frame of saplings.
I watched idly while Hitihiti's retainers rolled the vessel out from her shed where she was kept, carefully oiled and chocked high above the ground. They fetched the mast and stepped it, and set up the standing rigging all ataut. Then, in their leisurely fashion, the women of the household fetched bunches of newly husked drinking nuts and other provisions for the voyage. The men seemed to look forward eagerly to the expedition—a break in the dreamy monotony of their lives. Counting on taking the deserters by surprise, they seemed to have no fear of the muskets, but Hitihiti asked me with some concern if I were sure that Churchill and his companions had no pistols. When I assured him that the deserters were not provided with pistols, he brightened at once, and began to speak of the voyage.