The Madman and the Pirate

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER THREE.

  But Orley's mother refused to be comforted. What she had heard or readof pirates induced her to believe that mercy must necessarily beentirely banished from their hearts; and her husband, she knew fullwell, would sooner die than join them. Therefore, she argued in herdespair, Antonio must have perished.

  "But mother," said Orley, in a soothing tone, "you must remember thatRosco and his men are not regular pirates. I only heard them shout`Hoist the black flag!' when they seized me; but that does not provethat they did hoist it, or that Rosco agreed to do so. They were onlymutineers, you see, and not hardened villains."

  "Hardened enough when they threw you overboard, my son," returned poorlittle Madame Zeppa, with a sob.

  "True; but that was in the hurry of the rising, and without orders fromRosco, as far as I know. Besides, mother, have you not often told methat God will never forsake His own children? Surely, then, He will notforsake father."

  "No, oh, no! the good Lord will never forsake him. He will certainlydeliver his soul from sin and death; but God sometimes sees fit to allowthe bodies of His children to suffer and die. It may be so now."

  "Yes, mother, but also it may _not_ be so now. Let us take a hopefulview, and do what we can to find out--to find--to--"

  Poor Orlando broke down here, laid his head on his little mother'sshoulder, and wept for his mind had suddenly run itself blank. What wasthere to find out? what could they do? Nothing, absolutely nothing,except pray; and they did that fervently.

  Then Orley went out to consult again with his friends. Alas! there wasno other outlet for their grief, save prayer and consultation, foraction was, in the circumstances, impossible.

  "Bin t'ink, t'inkin' horroble hard all last night. Couldn' sleep awink," said Ebony one day, some weeks after the return of Orlando, when,according to custom, he and the native missionary and his wife, with thechiefs Tomeo and Buttchee, assembled for a consultation in thepalm-grove.

  "What have you been thinking about?" asked Orley.

  "Yous fadder, ob course."

  "Of course," repeated the boy, "but what have you been thinking abouthim--anything new?"

  "Not zackly noo," returned the negro, with a very earnest look, "but olet'oughts turned in a noo d'rection. Sit down, Tomeo, an' I will tellyou--an' try to forgit yous hat if poss'ble. It's 'xtroarnar goodlookin', a'most as much good lookin' as yousself, so you got no occashinto be always t'inkin' about it."

  We may remark here that both Tomeo and Buttchee understood a little ofEbony's English, though they could not speak a word. The reader willunderstand, therefore, that when we put words in their mouths we onlygive a free translation of their language. In like manner Ebonyunderstood a little of the Ratinga tongue, but could not speak much ofit, and Waroonga, who himself spoke uncommonly bad, though fluent,English, interpreted when necessary.

  "Well, you mus' know," said Ebony, "dat jus before I goes to bed las'night I heat a little too much supper--"

  "You doos that every night" interrupted Buttchee, with a grin.

  Ebony ignored the interruption, and continued--

  "So, you see, I dream berry bad--mos' drefful dreams! Yes. Well, whatI dream was dis. I see Massa Zeppa forced by de pierits to walk deplank--"

  "What's that?" asked Tomeo.

  Waroonga looked at Ebony for an explanation, and then translated--

  "When pirates want to kill people they sometimes tie up their eyes, andbind their hands, and make them walk along a plank stickin' over theship's side, till they fall off the end of it into the sea, where theyare left to drown."

  Tomeo looked at Buttchee with a grin and nodded, as though he thoughtthe mode of execution rather a good one; then, recollecting suddenlythat any mode of slaying innocent men was inconsistent with hischaracter as a convert to Christianity, he cast a glance of awfulsolemnity at Waroonga, and tried to look penitent.

  "Well, hims walk de plank like a man," continued Ebony, "hims doodeberyting like a man. An' w'en hims topple into de sea hims give sitcha most awful wriggle dat his bonds bu'sted. But hims berry sly, wasMassa Zeppa--amazin' sly. I t'ought him lie on's back zif him be dead.Jest move a leetle to look like drownin', an' w'en he long way astern,he slew round, off wid de hanky fro hims eyes an' larf to hisseff likeone o'clock. Den he swum'd to a island an' git ashore, and climb up derocks, an' sit down--an'--an'--dat's all."

  "What! be that all?" asked Waroonga.

  "Dat's all," repeated the negro. "I no dream no more arter dat, 'causeI was woked by a fly what hab hoed up my nose, an' kep' bumblin' in itlike steam inside ob a kittle."

  "Well, Ebony," asked Orlando, "what conclusions do you draw from thatdream?"

  "I di'nt draw no kungklooshins from it 'cos I dunno what de are. Nebberhab notin' to do wid what I don' understan'. But what I was t'ink wasdis: in de days ob old, some time after Adam an' Eve was born, a sartinking, called Fair-ho, or some sitch name (Waroonga there knows all abouthim) had a dream, that siven swine came up--"

  "Kine, Ebony--not swine," interrupted the missionary, with agood-humoured smile, "which is all the same as cows."

  "Well, den, siven fat cows come up out ob a ribber, an' hoed slap atsiven thin cows--mis'rable skinny critters that--"

  "All wrong, Ebony," again interrupted Waroonga. "It's just the otherway. The skinny ones went at the fat ones."

  "Well, ob course you must be right," returned the negro, humbly, "thoughI'd have 'spected it was t'other way. But I s'pose the skinny ones wasso hungry that the fat ones hadn't a chance wid 'em. However, it don'tmatter. What I was goin' to say was that a good man, called Joseph,went to Fair-ho an' 'splained all his dream to him. Now, if Josephcould do dat, why shouldn't Waroonga 'splain my dream to me?"

  "Because I's not Joseph, Ebony, an you're not Pharoah," returnedWaroonga promptly.

  Tomeo and Buttchee turned looks of inquiry on Ebony as if to say, "Whatd'ye say to that, you nigger?" But the nigger said nothing for somemoments. He seemed not to have viewed the matter in that light.

  "Well, I don'no," he said at last with a deep sigh, "I t'ought I'd gethold ob suthin' when I kitch hold ob dat dream. But, I do b'lievemyself, dat part of it means dat Zeppa hims git on an island, anyhow."

  "If my dear father got upon _anything_, it must have been an island,"said Orlando sadly.

  "That's troo," remarked Mrs Waroonga. "Keep your mouth shut, myda'lin'."

  She referred to her brown baby, which she placed with some violence onher knee. It is well to remark here that little Zariffa had beensupplied with a coal-scuttle bonnet proportioned to her size, made byher mother out of native straw, and that she did not wear anything elsein the way of costume.

  After Ebony's dream had been thoroughly discussed in all its bearings,and viewed in every possible point of relation to their great sorrow,the council adjourned, as usual, to various duties about the flourishinglittle village, and Orlando went to lay the result before his mother,who, although she could not believe these deliberations would end inanything practical, found it impossible, nevertheless, to resist theinfluence of so much faith and strong hopefulness, so that she wassomewhat comforted, as it were, in spite of herself. Time flew by, andupwards of three years elapsed without anything happening at RatingaIsland to throw a single ray of light on the fate of the lost man.

  During that period, however, much that was interesting and encouragingoccurred to comfort the heart of the native missionary and the sorrowingMarie Zeppa. In the first place they received several visits from themission-vessel, with small supplies of such luxuries as sugar, tea, andcoffee for the body, and, for the spirit, a few bundles of tracts andbooks printed in the native tongue, among which, you may be sure, weremany copies of the Book of books, the blessed Bible. Carpenters' andsmiths' tools were also brought to them, so that they not only carriedon their house-building and other operations with greater ease thanheretofore, but even essayed the building of small boats withconsiderable success.

  On the oc
casion of these visits, supplies of clothing were also left forthe use of those converts who could be persuaded to put them on. But inthese matters of taste Waroonga was not so successful as he had been inspiritual things. After his first disastrous landing, he had found nodifficulty in persuading the natives to burn their false gods, and putaway their too numerous wives--reserving only one to each man;--but whenit was suggested that the usual bit of cloth round the loins was notquite sufficient for Christians, and that additional clothing wasdesirable, they betrayed decided symptoms of a tendency to rebel.

  Savages in all parts of the world are usually much influenced for goodor evil by the example of their chiefs. Those of Ratinga were noexception to the general rule, and the chiefs Tomeo and Buttchee did notencourage the putting on of clothes. In the matter of head-dress theyhad indeed given in; but when one day, Waroonga presented Tomeo with apair of what are called slop-made trousers, and advised him to put themon, slapping his own at the same time, and asserting (we trusttruthfully) that they were comfortable, Tomeo looked at them with an airof contempt and Buttchee, who was irreverent, laughed.

  After much persuasion, however, and being good-natured, he consented totry. He got one leg in easily enough, but when he attempted to put inthe other, not being accustomed to the feat, he staggered and had to letthe leg down. Raising it a second time, he made a successful plunge,got the foot in, lost his balance, made a frantic effort to disengagehis foot, and fell to the ground.

  "Sit down, my friend, and try it again," said Waroonga, encouragingly.

  Our missionary was of a gentle, loving disposition. His successes werein every case the result of suasion. He never sought to coerce men.Tomeo with childlike simplicity rebuked his own awkwardness, and humblyseated his huge body on a bank for another effort. In this position hegot his legs easily into the trousers and drew them on, but when hestood up to complete the operation, it was found that they were verymuch too small for him, besides which he had put them on with the backto the front!

  "Ah! my friend, they do not fit," said Waroonga, thinking it unnecessaryto refer to the error. "I will find a larger pair for you in the store.But try this coat. It is the kind worn by the white man when he goesto see his friends. It will be much easier to put on, I think." Sosaying, Waroonga produced a blue surtout with bright brass buttons.

  "No," said Tomeo, drawing himself up with dignity, and putting thegarment aside, "I do not require it. Has not a coat of skin been givento me? I want no other."

  And truly, the dark brown skin which fitted so perfectly to his muscularframe--tattooed as it was with many elegant devices--seemed to warranthis rejection of the ill-made surtout. But in Ratinga, as elsewhere,tastes differ. Buttchee's fancy was caught by the brass buttons, and hevolunteered to put on the coat, although he had looked with scorn on thetrousers.

  Like his brother chief, however, he experienced considerable difficulty,especially in distinguishing the difference between the left arm-holeand the breast pocket, despite the able assistance of Waroonga. At lasthe got the coat partially on, and with a mighty heave, forced it uponhis broad shoulders. Then he stood with arms awkwardly curved andextended, uncertain what to do next. He was by no means properly intothe garment, and his look of solemn inquiry said as much to themissionary.

  "Try another heave, my friend," said Waroonga, in a tone ofencouragement.

  Buttchee tried, with the result of a mysterious and incomprehensiblenoise at his back.

  "What is that?" he said quickly, with looks of alarm, as he endeavouredto glance over his shoulder.

  "I fear," replied Waroonga with some hesitation, "that the coat hasburst!"

  There could be no doubt whatever about that, for a long strip of thechief's back was visible, as if a gusset of brown leather had beenintroduced into the blue coat, from the waist to the collar.

  For a considerable time after this, both chiefs declined furtherexperiments in the clothing way, but ultimately Tomeo was induced towear a striped flannel jersey, and Buttchee, of his own accord, adopteda scarlet flannel petticoat that had been given to his wife. Thus wasthe ice of conservatism broken in the island of Ratinga, and liberalviews prevailed thenceforward in the matter of costume--whether to theadvancement of taste and decency remains to this day an open question,as all liberal and conservative questions will probably remain till thecrack of doom.

  One day, to the inexpressible surprise and joy of the islanders, a largevessel was seen to pass through the narrow opening in the coral reef,and cast anchor in the lagoon. The excitement on Ratinga was great, forvessels rarely had occasion to visit the island, although some of them,probably South Sea whalers, were seen to pass it on the horizon two orthree times a year.

  Immediately four canoes full of natives put off to visit the stranger;but on reaching her they were sternly told to keep off, and the orderwas silently enforced by the protruding muzzle of a carronade, and theforbidding aspect of several armed men who looked over the side. "Weare men of peace," said Waroonga, who was in the foremost canoe, "andcome as Christian friends."

  "We are men of war," growled one of the men, "an' don't want no friends,Christian or otherwise."

  "We came to offer you hospitality," returned the missionary in aremonstrative tone.

  "An' we came to take all the hospitality we want of you without waitin'for the offer," retorted the sailor, "so you'd better go back to whereyou came from, an' keep yourselves quiet, if ye don't want to be blowedout o' the water."

  This was sufficient. With disappointed looks the natives turned theircanoes shoreward and slowly paddled home.

  "Depend upon it, this is another pirate," said Orlando, when Waroongareported to him the result of his visit.

  "What would you advise us to do?" asked Waroonga.

  Lest the reader should be surprised at this question, we must remind himthat Orlando had, in the course of these three years, grown up almost tomanhood. The southern blood in his veins, and the nature of the climatein which he had been born and brought up, may have had something to dowith his early development; but, whatever the cause, he had, at theearly age of eighteen, become as tall and nearly as powerful as hisfather had been, and so like to him in aspect and manner, that thenatives began to regard him with much of that respect and love whichthey had formerly entertained towards Antonio. Of course Orlando hadnot the sprinkling of grey in his short black curly hair which hadcharacterised the elder Zeppa; but he possessed enough of the blackbeard and moustache, in a soft rudimental form, to render theresemblance to what his sire had been very remarkable. His poor littlemother left the management of all her out-of-door affairs with perfectconfidence to her son. Tomeo and Buttchee also had begun to regard himas his father's successor.

  "I would advise you to do nothing," said Orley, in reply to Waroonga'squestion, "beyond having all the fighting men of the village preparedfor action, and being ready at a moment's notice to receive thestrangers as friends if they choose to come as such."

  "Well, then, Orley, I will be ready for them, as you tell to me, if theycomes in peace; if not, you must go and carry out your own advice, foryou is manager of all secular affairs here."

  In the afternoon a large boat, full of men armed to the teeth, put offfrom the side of the strange vessel, which was barque-rigged, and rowedto the beach near the mouth of a small stream. Evidently the object ofthe visit was to procure fresh water. Having posted his men in ambush,with orders to act in strict accordance with his signals, Orlandosauntered down alone and unarmed to the place where the sailors werefilling their water-casks.

  "Is your captain here?" he asked quietly.

  The men, who were seemingly a band of thorough ruffians, looked at himin surprise, but went on filling their casks.

  "I am the captain," said one, stepping up to the youth with an insolentair.

  "Indeed!" said Orlando, with a look of surprise.

  "Yes, indeed, and let me tell you that we have no time to troubleourselves wi' you or yours; but since yo
u've put yourself in our power,we make you stay here till we've done watering."

  "I have no intention of leaving you," replied Orley, seating himself ona rock, with a pleasant smile.

  "What d'ee say to kidnap the young buck?" suggested one of the men; "hemight be useful."

  "Perhaps he might be troublesome," remarked Orlando; "but I would adviseyou to finish your work here in peace, for I have a band of threehundred men up in the bush there--not ordinary savages, let me tell you,but men with the fear of God in their hearts, and the courage of lionsin their breasts--who would think it an easy matter to sweep you all offthe face of the earth. They are ready to act at my signal--or at myfall--so it will be your wisdom to behave yourselves."

  The quiet, almost gentle manner in which this was said, had a powerfuleffect on the men. Without more words they completed the filling of thecasks, and then, re-embarking, pushed off. It was obvious that theyacted in haste. When they had gone about a couple of boat-lengths fromthe beach, one of the men rose up with a musket, and Orlando distinctlyheard him say--

  "Shall I send a bullet into him?"

  "If you do, the captain will skin you alive," was the reply from one ofthe other men.

  The alternative did not seem agreeable to the first speaker, for he laiddown his musket, and resumed his oar.

  Soon after the boat reached her, the sails of the stranger were spread,and she glided slowly out of the lagoon.