The Madman and the Pirate

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TEN.

  We change the scene once more, and transport our readers over the oceanwaves to a noble ship which is breasting those waves right gallantly.It is H.M.S. "Furious."

  In a retired part of the ship's cabin there are two savage nobles who donot take things quite as gallantly as the ship herself. These are ourfriends Tomeo and Buttchee of Ratinga. Each is seated on the cabinfloor with his back against the bulkhead, an expression of woe-begonedesolation on his visage, his black legs apart, and a ship's bucketbetween them. It were bad taste to be too particular as to detailshere!

  On quitting Ratinga, Tomeo and his brother chief had said that nothingwould rejoice their hearts so much as to go to sea. Their wish wasgratified, and, not long afterwards, they said that nothing couldrejoice their hearts so much as to get back to land! Such is thecontradictoriness of human nature.

  There was a stiffish breeze blowing, as one of the man-of-war's-menexpressed it and "a nasty sea on"--he did not say on what. There musthave been something nasty, also, on Tomeo's stomach, from the violentway in which he sought to get rid of it at times--without success.

  "Oh! Buttchee, my brother," said Tomeo (of course in his nativetongue), "many years have passed over my head, a few white streaks beginto--to--" He paused abruptly, and eyed the bucket as if with anintention.

  "To appear," he continued with a short sigh; "also, I have seen manywars and suffered much from many wounds as you--you--ha!--you know,Buttchee, my brother, but of all the--"

  He became silent again--suddenly.

  "Why does my brother p-pause?" asked Buttchee, in a meek voice--as ofone who had suffered severely in life's pilgrimage.

  There was no occasion for Tomeo to offer a verbal reply.

  After a time Buttchee raised his head and wiped his eyes, in which weremany tears--but not of sorrow.

  "Tomeo," said he, "was it worth our while to forsake wives and children,and church, and hymns, and taro fields, and home for th-this?"

  "We did not leave for this," replied Tomeo, with some acerbity, for heexperienced a temporary sensation of feeling better at the moment; "weleft all for the sake of assisting our friends in--there! it comes--it--"

  He said no more, and both chiefs relapsed into silence--gazing the whileat the buckets with undue interest.

  They were interrupted by the sudden entrance of Ebony.

  "Come, you yaller-cheeked chiefs; you's die if you no make a heffort.Come on deck, breeve de fresh air. Git up a happetite. Go in for saltpork, plum duff, and lop-scouse, an' you'll git well 'fore you kin sayJack Rubinson."

  Tomeo and Buttchee looked up at the jovial negro and smiled--imbecilesmiles they were.

  "We cannot move," said Tomeo and Buttchee together, "because we--w--"Together they ceased giving the reason--it was not necessary!

  "Oh dear!" said Ebony, opening his great eyes to their widest. "You nokin lib long at dat rate. Better die on deck if you _mus'_ die; moreheasy for you to breeve up dar, an' more comf'rable to fro you overboardw'en you's got it over."

  With this cheering remark the worthy negro, seizing the chiefs each by ahand, half constrained, half assisted them to rise, and helped them tostagger to the quarter-deck, where they were greeted by Orlando, CaptainFitzgerald, Waroonga, and the missionary.

  "Come, that's right," cried the captain, shaking the two melancholychiefs by the hand, "glad to see you plucking up courage. Tell them,Mr Zeppa, that we shall probably be at Sugar-loaf Island to-morrow, ornext day."

  The two unfortunates were visibly cheered by the assurance. To do themjustice, they had not quite given way to sea-sickness until then, forthe weather had been moderately calm, but the nasty sea and stiff breezehad proved too much for them.

  "Are you sure we shall find the island so soon?" asked Orlando of thecaptain in a low, earnest tone, for the poor youth's excitement andanxiety deepened as they drew near to the place where his father mightpossibly be found--at the same time a strange, shrinking dread of whatthey might find made him almost wish for delay.

  "I am not sure, of course," returned the captain, "but if my informationis correct, there is every probability that we shall find it to-morrow."

  "I hopes we shall," remarked Waroonga. "It would be a grand blessing ifthe Lord will gif us the island and your father in same day."

  "Mos' too good to be true," observed Ebony, who was a privilegedindividual on board, owing very much to his good-humoured eccentricity."But surely you not spec's de niggers to tumbil down at yous feet all atwance, Massa Waroonga?"

  "Oh no, not at once. The day of miracle have pass," returned themissionary. "We mus' use the means, and then, has we not the promisethat our work shall not be in vain?"

  Next day about noon the Sugar-loaf mountain rose out of the sea like agreat pillar of hope to Orlando, as well as to the missionary. CaptainFitzgerald sailed close in, sweeping the mountain side with histelescope as he advanced until close under the cliffs, when he lay-toand held a consultation with his passengers.

  "I see no habitations of any kind," he said, "nor any sign of thepresence of man, but I have heard that the native villages lie at thelower side of the island. Now, the question is, whether would it suityour purposes best to land an armed party here, and cross over to thevillages, or to sail round the island, drop anchor in the mostconvenient bay, and land a party there?"

  Orlando, to whom this was more directly addressed, turned to themissionary.

  "What think you, Waroonga? You know native thought and feeling best."

  "I would not land armed party at all," answered Waroonga. "But CappinFitzgald know his own business most. What he thinks?"

  "My business and yours are so mingled," returned the captain, "that Ilook to you for advice. My chief duty is to obtain information as tothe whereabouts of the pirate vessel, and I expect that such informationwill be got more readily through you, Waroonga, than any one else, for,besides being able to speak the native language, you can probablyapproach the savages more easily than I can."

  "They are not savages," returned Waroonga quietly, "they are God'signorant children. I have seen worse men than South sea islanders withwhite faces an' soft clothin' who had not the excuse of ignorance."

  "Nay, my good sir," said the captain, "we will not quarrel about terms.Whatever else these `ignorant children' may be, I know that they arebrave and warlike, and I shall gladly listen to your advice as tolanding."

  "If you wish to go to them in peace, do not go to them with arms," saidWaroonga.

  "Surely you would not advise me to send an unarmed party among armedsav--children?" returned the captain, with a look of surprise, whileOrlando regarded his friend with mingled amusement and curiosity.

  "No. You best send no party at all. Jis' go round the island, put downangker, an' leave the rest to me."

  "But what do you propose to do?" asked the captain.

  "Swum to shore with Bibil."

  Orlando laughed, for he now understood the missionary's plan, and in afew words described the method by which Waroonga had subdued the nativesof Ratinga.

  "You see, by this plan," he continued, "nothing is presented to thenatives which they will be tempted to steal, and if they are verywarlike or fierce, Waroonga's refusal to fight reduces them to a stateof quiet readiness to hear, which is all that we want. Waroonga'stongue does the rest."

  "With God's Holy Spirit and the Word," interposed the missionary.

  "True, that is understood," said Orlando.

  "That is not _always_ understood," returned Waroonga.

  "The plan does not seem to me a very good one," said Captain Fitzgeraldthoughtfully. "I can have no doubt that it has succeeded in time past,and may probably succeed again, but you cannot expect that the natives,even if disposed to be peaceful, will accept your message at once. Itmay take weeks, perhaps months, before you get them to believe thegospel, so as to permit of my men going ashore unarmed, and in themeantime, while you are engaged in this effort, what am I to be doing?" />
  "Wait God's time," answered Waroonga simply. "But time presses. Thepirate vessel, where-ever it may be, is escaping me," said the captain,unable to repress a smile. "However, I will at all events let you makethe trial and await the result; reminding you, however, that you willrun considerable risk, and that you must be prepared to accept theconsequences of your rather reckless proceedings."

  "I hope, Waroonga," said Orlando, when the captain left them to giveorders as to the course of the ship, "that you will let me share thisrisk with you?"

  "It will be wiser not. You are a strong man, an' sometimes fierce tobehold. They will want to fight you; then up go your blood, an' youwill want to fight them."

  "No, indeed, I won't," said Orlando earnestly.

  "I will promise to go in the spirit of a missionary. You know howanxious I am to get news of my dear father. How could you expect me toremain idle on board this vessel, when my soul is so troubled? You maydepend on me, Waroonga. I will do exactly as you bid me, and will placemyself peaceably in the power of natives--leaving the result, as youadvise, to God."

  The young man's tone was so earnest, and withal so humble, that Waroongacould not help acceding to his request.

  "Well, well," said Captain Fitzgerald, when he heard of it; "you seemboth to be bent on making martyrs of yourselves, but I will offer noopposition. All I can say is that I shall have my guns in readiness,and if I see anything like foul play, I'll bombard the place, and landan armed force to do what I can for you."

  Soon the frigate came in sight of Ongoloo's village, ran close in,brought up in a sheltered bay, and lowered a boat while the nativescrowded the beach in vast numbers, uttering fierce cries, brandishingclubs and spears, and making other warlike demonstrations--for thesepoor people had been more than once visited by so-called merchantships--the crews of which had carried off some of them by force.

  "We will not let a living man touch our shore," said Ongoloo to Wapoota,who chanced to be near his leader, when he marshalled his men.

  "Oh! yes, we will, chief," replied the brown humorist. "We will letsome of them touch it, and then we will take them up carefully, and havethem baked. A long-pig supper will do us good. The rest of them wewill drive back to their big canoe."

  By the term "long-pig" Wapoota referred to the resemblance that a nakedwhite man when prepared for roasting bears to an ordinary pig.

  A grim smile lit up Ongoloo's swarthy visage as he replied--

  "Yes, we will permit a few fat ones to land. The rest shall die, forwhite men are thieves. They deceived us last time. They shall neverdeceive us again."

  As this remark might have been meant for a covert reference to his ownthievish tendencies, Wapoota restrained his somewhat ghastly humour,while the chief continued his arrangements for repelling the invaders.

  Meanwhile, these invaders were getting into the boat.

  "What! you's not goin' widout me?" exclaimed Ebony, as one of thesailors thrust him aside from the gangway.

  "I fear we are," said Orlando, as he was about to descend the vessel'sside. "It was as much as I could do to get Waroonga to agree to let mego with him."

  "But dis yar nigger kin die in a good cause as well as you, massa," saidEbony, in a tone of entreaty so earnest that the men standing near couldnot help laughing.

  "Now then, make haste," sang out the officer in charge of the boat.

  Orlando descended, and the negro, turning away with a deeply injuredexpression, walked majestically to the stern to watch the boat.

  Waroonga had prepared himself for the enterprise by stripping off everyarticle of clothing save a linen cloth round his loins, and he carriednothing whatever with him except a small copy of God's Word printed inthe language of the islanders. This, as the boat drew near to shore, hefastened on his head, among the bushy curls of his crisp black hair, asin a nest.

  Orlando had clothed himself in a pair of patched old canvas trousers,and a much worn unattractive cotton shirt.

  "Stop now," said the missionary, when the boat was about five or sixhundred yards from the beach. "Are you ready?"

  "Ready," said Orlando.

  "Then come."

  He dropped quietly over the side and swam towards the shore. Orlando,following his example, was alongside of him in a few seconds.

  Both men were expert and rapid swimmers. The natives watched them inabsolute silence and open-mouthed surprise.

  A few minutes sufficed to carry the swimmers to the beach.

  "Have your rifles handy, lads," said the officer in charge of the boatto his men.

  "Stand by," said the captain of the "Furious" to the men at the guns.

  But these precautions were unnecessary, for when the swimmers landed andwalked up the beach they were seen by the man-of-war's-men to shakehands with the chief of the savages, and, after what appeared to be abrief palaver, to rub noses with him. Then the entire host turned andled the visitors towards the village.

  With a heart almost bursting from the combined effects ofdisappointment, humiliation, and grief, poor Ebony stood at the stern ofthe man-of-war, his arms crossed upon his brawny chest, and his greateyes swimming in irrepressible tears, a monstrous bead of which wouldevery now and then overflow its banks and roll down his sable cheek.

  Suddenly the heart-stricken negro clasped his hands together, bowed hishead, and dropped into the sea!

  The captain, who had seen him take the plunge, leaped to the stern, andsaw him rise from the water, blow like a grampus, and strike out forland with the steady vigour of a gigantic frog.

  "Pick him up!" shouted the captain to the boat, which was by that timereturning to the ship.

  "Ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply.

  The boat was making straight for the negro and he for it. Neitherdiverged from the straight course.

  "Two of you in the bow, there, get ready to haul him in," said theofficer.

  Two sturdy sailors drew in their oars, got up, and leaned over the bowwith outstretched arms. Ebony looked at them, bestowed on them atremendous grin, and went down with the oily ease of a northern seal!

  When next seen he was full a hundred yards astern of the boat, stillheading steadily for the shore.

  "Let him go!" shouted the captain.

  "Ay, ay, sir," replied the obedient officer.

  And Ebony went!

  Meanwhile our missionary, having told the wondering savages that hebrought them _good news_, was conducted with his companion to Ongoloo'shut. But it was plain that the good news referred to, and even Waroongahimself, had not nearly so great an effect on them as the sight ofOrlando, at whom they gazed with an expression half of fear and half ofawe which surprised him exceedingly.

  "Your story is not new to us," said Ongoloo, addressing the missionary,but gazing at Orlando, "it comes to us like an old song."

  "How so?" exclaimed Waroonga, "has any one been here before with thegrand and sweet story of Jesus and His love."

  The reply of the savage chief was strangely anticipated and checked atthat moment by a burst of childish voices singing one of the beautifulhymns with which the inhabitants of Ratinga had long been familiar. Asthe voices swelled in a chorus, which distance softened into fairy-likestrains, the missionary and his companion sat entranced and bewildered,while the natives looked pleased, and appeared to enjoy theirperplexity.

  "Our little ones," said Ongoloo, after a few minutes' pause, "areamusing themselves with singing. They often do that."

  As he spoke the party were startled and surprised by the suddenappearance of Ebony, who quietly stalked into the circle and seatedhimself beside the missionary with the guilty yet defiant air of a manwho knows that he has done wrong, but is resolved at all hazards to havehis way. Considering the turn that affairs had taken, neither Orlandonor Waroonga were sorry to see him.

  "This is a friend," said the latter in explanation, laying his hand onthe negro's shoulder. "But tell me, chief, we are impatient for toknow, where learned you that song?"

 
"From one who is mad," replied the chief still gazing earnestly atOrlando.

  "Mad!" repeated the youth, starting up and trembling withexcitement--"how know you that? Who--where is he? Ask him, Waroonga."

  The explanation that followed left no doubt on Orlando's mind that hisfather was bereft of reason, and wandering in the neighbouring mountain.

  If there had been any doubt, it would have been swept away by the chief,who quietly said, "the madman is _your father_!"

  "How does he know that Waroonga?"

  "I know, because there is no difference between you, except years--and--"

  He did not finish the sentence, but touched his forehead solemnly withhis finger.

  "Does he dwell alone in the mountains?" asked Orlando.

  "Yes, alone. He lets no one approach him," answered Ongoloo.

  "Now, Waroonga," said Orlando, "our prayers have been heard, and--atleast partly--answered. But we must proceed with caution. You mustreturn on board and tell Captain Fitzgerald that I go to search for myfather _alone_."

  "Wid the help ob dis yar nigger," interposed Ebony.

  "Tell him on no account to send men in search of me," continued Orlando,paying no attention to the interruption; "and in the meantime, you knowhow to explain my purpose to the natives. Adieu."

  Rising quickly, he left the assembly and, followed modestly but closelyby the unconquerable negro, set off with rapid strides towards themountains.