The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  THE DAWN OF A BETTER DAY.

  The eighteenth century passed away, and as the nineteenth began itscourse, a great and marvellous change came over the dwellers on thelonely island in that almost unknown region of the Southern Seas. Itwas a change both spiritual and physical, the latter resulting from theformer, and both having their roots, as all things good must have, inthe blessed laws of God.

  The change did not come instantaneously. It rose upon Pitcairn with thesure but gradual influence of the morning dawn, and its progress, likeits advent, was unique in the history of the Church of God.

  No preacher went forth to the ignorant people, armed with the powers ofa more or less correct theology. No prejudices had to be overcome, orpre-existing forms of idolatry uprooted, and the people who had to bechanged were what might have been deemed most unlikely soil--mutineers,murderers, and their descendants. The one hopeful characteristic amongthem was the natural amiability of the women, for Young and Adams didnot display more than the average good-humour of men, yet these amiablewomen, as we have seen, twice plotted and attempted the destruction ofthe men, and two of them murdered in cold blood two of their ownkinsmen.

  It may, perhaps, have already been seen that Young and Adams were of agrave and earnest turn of mind. The terrible scenes which they hadpassed through naturally deepened this characteristic, especially whenthey thought of the dreadful necessity which had been forced on them--the deliberate slaying of Matthew Quintal, an act which caused them to_feel_ like murderers, however justifiable it may have seemed to them.

  Like most men who are under deep and serious impressions, they kepttheir thoughts to themselves. Indeed, John Adams, with his gravematter-of-fact tendencies and undemonstrative disposition, wouldprobably never have opened his lips on spiritual things to his companionif Young had not broken the ice; and even when the latter did venture todo so, Adams resisted at first with the dogged resolution of anunbelieving man.

  "We've been awful sinners, John Adams," said Young one afternoon as theywere sauntering home from their plantations to dinner.

  "Well, sir, no doubt there's some truth in what you say," replied Adams,slowly, "but then, d'ye see, we've bin placed in what you may call awfulcircumstances."

  "That's true, that's true," returned Young, with a perplexed look, "andI've said the same thing, or something like it, to myself many a time;but, man, the Bible doesn't seem to harmonise with that idea somehow.It seems to make no difference between big and little sinners, so tospeak, at least as far as the matter of salvation is concerned; and yetI can't help feeling somehow that men who have sinned much ought torepent much."

  "Just so, sir," said John Adams, with a self-satisfied air, "you'reright, sir. We have been awful sinners, as you say, an' now we've gotto repent as hard as we can and lead better lives, though, of course, wecan't make much difference in our style o' livin', seein' that ourcircumstances don't allow o' much change, an' neither of us has bin muchgiven to drink or swearin'."

  "Strange!" rejoined Young. "You almost echo what I've been saying tomyself over and over again, yet I can't feel quite easy, for if we haveonly got to repent and try to lead better lives, what's the use of ourtalking about `Our Saviour?' and what does the Bible mean in such wordsas these: `Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'`Only believe.' `By grace are ye saved, through faith, and that not ofyourselves, it is the gift of God.' `By the works of the law shall noflesh living be justified.'"

  "Do you mean to say, sir, that them words are all out of the Bible?"asked Adams.

  "Yes, I know they are, for I read them all this morning. I had a longhunt after the Bible before I found it, for poor Christian never told mewhere he kept it. I turned it up at last under a bit of tarpaulin inthe cave, and I've been reading it a good deal since, and I confess thatI've been much puzzled. Hold on a bit here," he added, stopping andseating himself on a flowering bank beside the path; "that old complaintof mine has been troubling me a good deal of late. Let's rest a bit."

  Young referred here to an asthmatic affection to which he was subject,and which had begun to give him more annoyance since the catching of asevere cold while out shooting among the hills a year before.

  "From what you say, sir," said Adams, thoughtfully, after they had satdown, "it seems to me that if we can do _nothing_ in the matter o'workin' out our salvation, and have nothin' to do but sit still an'receive it, we can't be to blame if we don't get it."

  "But we may be to blame for refusing it when it's offered," returnedYoung. "Besides, the Bible says, `Ask and ye shall receive,' so thatknocks away the ground from under your notion of sitting still."

  "P'r'aps you're right, sir," continued Adams, after a few minutes'thought, during which he shook his head slowly as if not convinced; "butI can't help thinkin' that if a man only does his best to do his dooty,it'll be all right with him. That's all that's required in HisMajesty's service, you know, of any man."

  "True, but if a man _doesn't_ do his best, what then? Or if he is socareless about learning his duty that he scarce knows what it is, and inconsequence falls into sundry gross mistakes, what then? Moreover,suppose that you and I, having both done our duty perfectly up to thetime of the mutiny, were now to go back to England and say, like the badboys, `We will never do it again,' what would come of it, think you?"

  "We'd both be hanged for certain," answered Adams, with emphasis.

  "Well, then, the matter isn't as simple an you thought it, at leastaccording to _your_ view."

  "It is more puzzlin' than I thought it," returned Adams; "but thenthat's no great wonder, for if it puzzles you it's no wonder that itshould puzzle me, who has had no edication whatever 'xcep what I'vepicked up in the streets. But it surprises me--you'll excuse me, MrYoung--that you who's bin at school shouldn't have your mind more clearabout religion. Don't they teach it at school?"

  "They used to read a few verses of the Bible where I was at school,"said Young, "and the master, who didn't seem to have any religion inhimself, read over a formal prayer; but I fear that that didn't do usmuch good, for we never listened to it. Anyhow, it could not be calledreligious teaching. But were you never at school, Adams?"

  "No, sir, not I," answered the seaman, with a quiet laugh; "leastwisenot at a reg'lar true-blue school. I was brought up chiefly in thestreets of London, though that's a pretty good school too of its kind.It teaches lads to be uncommon smart, I tell you, and up to a thing ortwo, but it don't do much for us in the book-larnin' way. I canscarcely read even now, an' what I have of it was got through spellin'out the playbills in the public-house windows. But what d'ye say, sir,now that we both seem inclined to turn over a new leaf, if you was toturn schoolmaster an' teach me to read and write a bit better than I cando at present? I'd promise to be a willin' scholar an' a good boy."

  "Not a bad idea," said Young, with a laugh, as he rose and continued thedescent of the track leading to the settlement.

  The village had by this time improved very much in appearance, goodsubstantial cottages, made of the tafano or flower wood, and the aruni,having taken the place of the original huts run up at the period oflanding. Some of the cottages were from forty to fifty feet long, byfifteen wide and thirteen high. It was evident that ships were, partlyat least, the model on which they had been constructed; for thesleeping-places were a row of berths opposite the door, each with itsseparate little window or porthole. There were no fireplaces, the rangeof the thermometer on the island being from 55 degrees to 85 degrees,and all cooking operations were performed in detached outhouses andovens.

  In the chief of these cottages might have been found, among the manymiscellaneous objects of use and ornament, two articles which lay aparton a shelf, and were guarded by Young and Adams with almost reverentialcare. These were the chronometer and the azimuth compass of the_Bounty_.

  The cottages, some of which had two stories, were arranged so as toenclose a large grassy square, which was guarded by a strong p
alisadefrom the encroachments of errant hogs, goats, and fowls. This spot,among other uses, served as a convenient day-nursery for the babies, andalso a place of occasional frolic and recreation to the elder children.

  To the first of these was added, not long after the death of theirrespective fathers, Edward Quintal and Catherine McCoy. To John Adams,also, a daughter was born, whom he named Hannah, after a poor girl whohad been in the habit of chucking him under the chin, and giving himsugar-plums when he was an arab in the streets of London--at least so hejestingly remarked to his spouse on the day she presented the new babyto his notice.

  On the day of which we write, Young and Adams found the squareabove-mentioned in possession of the infantry, under command of theirself-elected captain, Otaheitan Sally, who was now, according to JohnAdams, "no longer a chicken." Being in her eleventh year, and, like hercountry-women generally at that age, far advanced towards big girlhood,she presented a tall, slight, graceful, and beautifully moulded figure,with a sweet sprightly face, and a smile that was ever disclosing herfine white teeth. Her profusion of black hair was gathered into a knotwhich hung low on the back of her pretty round head. She was crownedwith a wreath of wild-flowers, made and presented by her troops. It isneedless to say that every one of these, big and little, waspassionately attached to Sally.

  Chief among her admirers now, as of old, was Charlie Christian, who,being about eight years of age, well grown and stalwart like his father,was now almost as tall as his former nurse.

  Charlie had not with years lost one jot of that intensely innocent andguileless look of childhood, which inclined one to laugh while he merelycast earnest gaze into one's face; but years had given to him a certaingravity and air of self-possession which commanded respect, even fromthat volatile imp, his contemporary, Dan McCoy.

  Thursday October Christian, who was less than a year younger than Sally,had also shot up into a long-legged boy, and bade fair to become a talland sturdy man. He, like his brother, was naturally grave and earnest,but was easily roused to action, and if he did not himself originatefun, was ever ready to appreciate the antics and mild wickedness of DanMcCoy, or to burst into sudden and uproarious laughter at the tumbles orludicrous doings of the sprawlers, who rolled their plump-made forms onthe soft grass.

  Not one of the band, however, had yet attained to the age which rendersyoung people ashamed of childish play. When Young and Adams appeared onthe scene, Sally, her hair broken loose and the wreath confusedlymingled with it, was flying round the square with Dolly Young on hershoulder, and chased by Charlie Christian, who pretended, in the mostobvious manner, that he could not catch her. Toc was sitting on thefence watching them, and perceiving his brother's transparent hypocrisy,was chuckling to himself with great delight.

  Matt Quintal and Dan McCoy, at the head of two opposing groups, wereengaged in playing French and English, each group endeavouring to pullthe other over a rope laid on the grass between them.

  Several of the others, being too little, were not allowed to join in thegame, and contented themselves with general scrimmaging and skylarking,while Edward Quintal, Catherine McCoy, and Hannah Adams, the most recentadditions to the community, rolled about in meaningless felicity.

  "Hold on hard," shouted Dan McCoy, whose flushed face and blue eyesbeamed and flashed under a mass of curling yellow hair, and who was theforemost boy of the French band.

  "I'm holdin' on," cried Matt Quintal, who was intellectually ratherobtuse.

  "Tight," cried Dan.

  "Tight," repeated Matt.

  "There, don't let go--oh! hup!"

  The grasp of Dan suddenly relaxed when Matt and his Englishmen werestraining their utmost. Of course they went back on the top of eachother in a wild jumble, while Dan, having put a foot well back, wasprepared, and stood comparatively firm.

  "You did that a-purpose," cried Matt, springing up and glaring.

  "I know you did it a-purpose," retorted Dan.

  "But--but I said that--that _you_ did it a-purpose," stammered Matt.

  "Well, an' didn't I say that you said that I said _you_ did ita-purpose?"

  A yell of delight followed this reply, in which, however, Matt did notjoin.

  Like his father, Matt Quintal was short in the temper--at least, shortfor a Pitcairn boy. He suddenly gave Dan McCoy a dab on the nose withhis fist. Now, as every one must know, a dab on the nose is painful;moreover, it sometimes produces blood. Dan McCoy, who also inherited ashortish temper from his father, feeling the pain, and seeing the blood,suddenly flushed to the temples, and administered to Matt a soundingslap on the side of the head, which sent him tumbling on the grass. ButMatt was not conquered, though overturned. Jumping up, he made a rushat Dan, who stood on the defensive. The other children, being moregentle in their natures, stood by, and anticipated with feelings of awethe threatened encounter; but Thursday October Christian, who hadlistened with eager ears, ever since his intelligence dawned, to theconversations of the mutineers, here stepped between the combatants.

  "Come, come," said he, authoritatively, in virtue of his greater age andsuperior size, "let's have fair play. If you must fight, do itship-shape, an', accordin' to the articles of war. We must form a ringfirst, you know, an' get a bottle an' a sponge and--"

  An appalling yell at this point nearly froze the marrow in everybody'sbones. It was caused by a huge pig, which, observing that the gate hadbeen left open, had entered the square, and gone up to snuff at one ofthe nude babies, who, seated like a whitey-brown petrifaction, gazedwith a look of horror in the pig's placid face.

  If ever a pig in this sublunary sphere regretted a foolish act, thatPitcairn pig must have been steeped in repentance to the latest day ofits life. With one howl in unison, the entire field, _minus_ theinfants, ran at that pig like a human tornado. It was of no avail thatthe pig made straight for the gate by which it had entered. That gatehad either removed or shut itself. In frantic haste, the unhappycreature coursed round the square, followed by its pursuers, who sooncaught it by the tail, then by an ear, then by the nose and the otherear, and a fore leg and two hind ones, and finally hurled it over thefence, amid a torrent of shrieks which only a Pitcairn pig could utteror a Pitcairn mind conceive. It fell with a bursting squeak, andretired in grumpy silence to ruminate over the dire consequences of atoo earnest gaze in the face of a child.

  "Well done, child'n!" cried John Adams. "Sarves him right. Come, now,to grub, all of you."

  Even though the Pitcairn children had been disobedient by nature, theywould have obeyed that order with alacrity. In a few brief minutes aprofound silence proclaimed, more clearly than could a trumpet-tongue,that the inhabitants of the lonely island were at dinner.