The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean
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Transcribed from the 1884 Thomas Nelson and Sons edition by David Price,email ccx074@pglaf.org
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The Coral Island:A Tale of the Pacific Ocean
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BY
ROBERT MICHAEL BALLANTYNE,AUTHOR OF "HUDSON'S BAY; OR, EVERY-DAY LIFE IN THE WILDS OF NORTHAMERICA;"SNOW-FLAKES AND SUN-BEAMS; OR, THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS;""UNGAVA: A TALE OF THE ESQUIMAUX," ETC., ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY DALZIEL.
London:THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.1884.
Preface
I was a boy when I went through the wonderful adventures herein set down.With the memory of my boyish feelings strong upon me, I present my bookspecially to boys, in the earnest hope that they may derive valuableinformation, much pleasure, great profit, and unbounded amusement fromits pages.
One word more. If there is any boy or man who loves to be melancholy andmorose, and who cannot enter with kindly sympathy into the regions offun, let me seriously advise him to shut my book and put it away. It isnot meant for him.
RALPH ROVER
CHAPTER I.
The beginning--My early life and character--I thirst for adventure inforeign lands and go to sea.
Roving has always been, and still is, my ruling passion, the joy of myheart, the very sunshine of my existence. In childhood, in boyhood, andin man's estate, I have been a rover; not a mere rambler among the woodyglens and upon the hill-tops of my own native land, but an enthusiasticrover throughout the length and breadth of the wide wide world.
It was a wild, black night of howling storm, the night in which I wasborn on the foaming bosom of the broad Atlantic Ocean. My father was asea-captain; my grandfather was a sea-captain; my great-grandfather hadbeen a marine. Nobody could tell positively what occupation _his_ fatherhad followed; but my dear mother used to assert that he had been amidshipman, whose grandfather, on the mother's side, had been an admiralin the royal navy. At anyrate we knew that, as far back as our familycould be traced, it had been intimately connected with the great waterywaste. Indeed this was the case on both sides of the house; for mymother always went to sea with my father on his long voyages, and sospent the greater part of her life upon the water.
Thus it was, I suppose, that I came to inherit a roving disposition. Soonafter I was born, my father, being old, retired from a seafaring life,purchased a small cottage in a fishing village on the west coast ofEngland, and settled down to spend the evening of his life on the shoresof that sea which had for so many years been his home. It was not longafter this that I began to show the roving spirit that dwelt within me.For some time past my infant legs had been gaining strength, so that Icame to be dissatisfied with rubbing the skin off my chubby knees bywalking on them, and made many attempts to stand up and walk like a man;all of which attempts, however, resulted in my sitting down violently andin sudden surprise. One day I took advantage of my dear mother's absenceto make another effort; and, to my joy, I actually succeeded in reachingthe doorstep, over which I tumbled into a pool of muddy water that laybefore my father's cottage door. Ah, how vividly I remember the horrorof my poor mother when she found me sweltering in the mud amongst a groupof cackling ducks, and the tenderness with which she stripped off mydripping clothes and washed my dirty little body! From this time forthmy rambles became more frequent, and, as I grew older, more distant,until at last I had wandered far and near on the shore and in the woodsaround our humble dwelling, and did not rest content until my fatherbound me apprentice to a coasting vessel, and let me go to sea.
For some years I was happy in visiting the sea-ports, and in coastingalong the shores of my native land. My Christian name was Ralph, and mycomrades added to this the name of Rover, in consequence of the passionwhich I always evinced for travelling. Rover was not my real name, butas I never received any other I came at last to answer to it as naturallyas to my proper name; and, as it is not a bad one, I see no good reasonwhy I should not introduce myself to the reader as Ralph Rover. Myshipmates were kind, good-natured fellows, and they and I got on verywell together. They did, indeed, very frequently make game of and banterme, but not unkindly; and I overheard them sometimes saying that RalphRover was a "queer, old-fashioned fellow." This, I must confess,surprised me much, and I pondered the saying long, but could come at nosatisfactory conclusion as to that wherein my old-fashionedness lay. Itis true I was a quiet lad, and seldom spoke except when spoken to.Moreover, I never could understand the jokes of my companions even whenthey were explained to me: which dulness in apprehension occasioned memuch grief; however, I tried to make up for it by smiling and lookingpleased when I observed that they were laughing at some witticism which Ihad failed to detect. I was also very fond of inquiring into the natureof things and their causes, and often fell into fits of abstraction whilethus engaged in my mind. But in all this I saw nothing that did not seemto be exceedingly natural, and could by no means understand why mycomrades should call me "an old-fashioned fellow."
Now, while engaged in the coasting trade, I fell in with many seamen whohad travelled to almost every quarter of the globe; and I freely confessthat my heart glowed ardently within me as they recounted their wildadventures in foreign lands,--the dreadful storms they had weathered, theappalling dangers they had escaped, the wonderful creatures they had seenboth on the land and in the sea, and the interesting lands and strangepeople they had visited. But of all the places of which they told me,none captivated and charmed my imagination so much as the Coral Islandsof the Southern Seas. They told me of thousands of beautiful fertileislands that had been formed by a small creature called the coral insect,where summer reigned nearly all the year round,--where the trees wereladen with a constant harvest of luxuriant fruit,--where the climate wasalmost perpetually delightful,--yet where, strange to say, men were wild,bloodthirsty savages, excepting in those favoured isles to which thegospel of our Saviour had been conveyed. These exciting accounts had sogreat an effect upon my mind, that, when I reached the age of fifteen, Iresolved to make a voyage to the South Seas.
I had no little difficulty at first in prevailing on my dear parents tolet me go; but when I urged on my father that he would never have becomea great captain had he remained in the coasting trade, he saw the truthof what I said, and gave his consent. My dear mother, seeing that myfather had made up his mind, no longer offered opposition to my wishes."But oh, Ralph," she said, on the day I bade her adieu, "come back soonto us, my dear boy, for we are getting old now, Ralph, and may not havemany years to live."
I will not take up my reader's time with a minute account of all thatoccurred before I took my final leave of my dear parents. Suffice it tosay, that my father placed me under the charge of an old mess-mate of hisown, a merchant captain, who was on the point of sailing to the SouthSeas in his own ship, the Arrow. My mother gave me her blessing and asmall Bible; and her last request was, that I would never forget to reada chapter every day, and say my prayers; which I promised, with tears inmy eyes, that I would certainly do.
Soon afterwards I went on board the Arrow, which was a fine large ship,and set sail for the islands of the Pacific Ocean.