Part 19 (1/2)
”I now began to feel painfully anxious at Rokoa's protracted absence.
It was nearly midnight, and there had been ample time for one less active than he, to go to the sh.o.r.e and return. The terrible apprehension, that in spite of all the resources of his skill and courage, he had fallen into the hands of some of the parties of natives which seemed to be scattered about in the forest, gained every moment a stronger hold upon my mind.
”'He has either been taken, or else he finds that he cannot rejoin us, without too great risk,' said Barton, breaking a long silence, and speaking of that which each knew the other to be thinking about; 'we must start for the sh.o.r.e ourselves, if he does not come soon.'
”'Hark!' whispered Olla, 'some one is approaching from the wood.' Her quick ear had detected stealthy steps crossing the avenue. The next moment some one bounded lightly over the hedge at the side of the house, where the shadow of the bread-fruit trees fell darkest. Mowno started, and seemed agitated, and for an instant a suspicion that he had betrayed us, and was about to give us up, flashed through my mind. But the figure which came forward into the light, was that of Rokoa, and I felt pained at the wrong which my momentary doubts had done our inert, but well-meaning, host. Rokoa breathed quick and short. Without speaking, he pointed to the moon, now on the edge of the western horizon of forest, to intimate that he was punctual to the time set for his return.
”The sounds which I had before heard, were now borne more plainly than ever to our ears upon the night breeze. As soon as Rokoa recovered his breath, he said that we had not a moment to lose, but must commence our flight at once. He had pa.s.sed an armed party of more than twenty men, coming in the direction of the house, with the purpose, as he supposed, of demanding that we should be given up to them. Mowno seemed more displeased than alarmed at this intelligence, and earnestly repeated that no harm should befall us while beneath his roof, if he had to lay down his life in our defence. But Rokoa urged our immediate departure, before the arrival of the party which he had seen. Mowno then offered to accompany, and guide us to our boat, which Rokoa firmly declined, on the ground that his presence might endanger him, and, in the excited and determined mood of our enemies, could be no protection to us.
”We accordingly took a hurried leave of him, and Olla. 'Good-bye, Artua,' said the latter, 'Olla will not forget what you have told her of our great Father in the sky; she will ask him for a new heart that she too, may go when she dies, to the Christian heaven,' and she pointed upward, while a happy smile lighted up her intelligent, and, for the moment, serious countenance.
”We sprang over the hedge, and, Rokoa leading the way, proceeded swiftly but silently down the avenue. We pa.s.sed some distance beyond the point where we had struck into it in the morning, to avoid the neighbourhood of the village, then turning towards the sh.o.r.e, descended into the valley until we reached the stream. At this point, it was deep and narrow, with a rapid current, but we had no time to look for a ford.
Cries and shouts on the hill above us, showed that we were pursued, and a confused clamour from the village indicated the existence of some unusual commotion there. Tum-tums were beating fiercely, and the long dismal wail of the tuba-conch resounded through the echoing arches of the forest. We swam the stream as silently as possible, Barton holding his pistols above his head in one hand to keep the charges dry. As we climbed the further bank, and plunged into the wood of miros, we could hear the splas.h.i.+ng of the water caused by persons fording the brook a short distance below us, and opposite the village. In the same direction a mult.i.tude of candle-nut torches gleamed through the foliage, and revealed dusky forms hurrying hither and thither. We pushed on through the wood at the top of our speed, until suddenly the outlines of the marae, illuminated by the glare of a large bonfire, loomed up before us. A score of half-naked men, were dancing around the fire in front of the inclosure, with the wildest and most extravagant contortions of body. Seen by the fitful and wavering light, their painted countenances scarcely looked like those of human beings, and the grim, immovable idols, upon their pedestals, seemed vaster and more hideous than ever.
”As we turned, and plunged into the grove again, resuming our flight in a somewhat altered direction, an eager shout announced that we had been seen. But this cry proceeded, not from the group in front of the marae, who were wholly absorbed in their savage orgies, but from a straggling party of pursuers from the village, to whom the light of the bonfire had betrayed us. The chase was now no longer random or uncertain; they came on like hounds in full view of the game, uttering yells that caused the blood to curdle in my veins. My strength began to fail, and I felt a horrible spell creeping over me, like that which often in dreams, deprives us of the power to fly some appalling danger. Rokoa restrained his superior speed, and kept beside Barton and myself. 'Courage, Artua!' he said, 'we are near the sh.o.r.e,' and he offered me his hand to a.s.sist me, but I would not take it. Notwithstanding our utmost exertions our pursuers gained upon us. I was very nearly exhausted when we reached the ravine which divided the miro-grove from the bread-fruit plantation, and, as we struggled up its steep side, Barton panted and gasped so painfully for breath, that I dreaded each moment to see him fall to the ground incapable of proceeding further. But we knew that our lives were at stake, and forced ourselves to exertions which nature could not long support; still, the cries of our pursuers, the sound of their footsteps, and the cras.h.i.+ng of branches in their path, drew continually nearer.
”At last we had nearly traversed the breadth of the plantation, and the welcome sound of the waves, breaking upon the beach, greeted our ears.
Safety now seemed within our reach, and we summoned all our remaining energies for a final effort. The trees, growing more thinly as we approached the skirt of the wood, let in the light, and between their trunks I caught a glimpse of the sea. Right before us was a thicket, tangled with fern, and scarcely twenty yards beyond it lay the beach s.h.i.+ning in the star-light. As we turned a little aside to avoid the thicket, an appalling yell rang out from it, and half a dozen dark figures started from their ambush, and sprang into the path before us.
The old priest was at their head: my heart sank, and I gave up all as host. Rokoa, swinging up his ponderous club, bounded into their midst.
'Onward!' cried he, 'it is our only hope of escape.' His movements were light as those of a bird, and rapid as lightning. His first blow stretched the priest at his feet. The savages gave way before him, scattering to the right and left, as if a thunderbolt had fallen among them. Barton discharged both his pistols at once, and with fatal effect, as was witnessed by the groans that followed. Before they could rally or recover themselves, we had burst through their midst. As we reached the sh.o.r.e, I looked round and missed Barton--he was no longer beside me. An exulting cry behind us at once explained his absence: at the same time we could hear him call out in a voice broken by exhaustion, 'Save yourselves, you can do nothing for me!' Without an instant's hesitation, Rokoa turned, and we rushed back into the midst of our shouting enemies. Three or four of the party which had been in pursuit of us, were just coming up. The audacity and desperation of our attack seemed to confound them, and two of their number fell, almost without a struggle, beneath Rokoa's rapid and resistless blows. Two more of them, who were dragging Barton away, were compelled to leave him at liberty in order to defend themselves. At that moment a sudden shout from the water raised by our crew, who had either heard our voices, or seen us when we came out upon the sh.o.r.e, increased their panic by causing them to suppose that we were leading back our whole party to the fight. They hastily gave way before us, and we had all turned once more, and gained the beach before they recovered from their surprise, and perceived their mistake.
”Our boat was just outside the surf; where the crew were keeping her steady with their paddles. We hailed them, and plunged in the water to swim out to them. The natives, stung with shame and rage at having their prisoner torn from them in the very moment of triumph, with such reckless boldness, swarmed down to the beach and pursued us into the water. They seemed excited almost to frenzy at the prospect of our escape. Some standing upon the sh.o.r.e a.s.sailed the canoe with showers of stones, by which several of our men were wounded. Others swam out after us, as if about to endeavour to board the vessel, and did not turn back until we had hoisted our sail, and began to draw steadily from the land.
”And thus ends the story of the Cannibal Island of Angatan.”
”Is that all?” inquired Johnny, looking somewhat disappointed.
”Yes, that is all,” answered Arthur, ”it comes as near to being a cannibal story, as any thing I know. I did not see any one actually roasted and eaten, but if the savages had caught us, I suspect there would have been more to tell, and probably no one here to tell it.”
”But,” persisted Johnny, ”the story don't end there. You haven't told us about the rest of the voyage, and whether Rokoa found his brother at last.”
”O, that don't properly belong to _this_ story. According to all artistical rules I ought to end precisely where I have, in order to preserve the unities. But some other time, if you wish, I will tell you all about it.”
”Pray don't talk of artistical rules,” exclaimed Max, ”after showing yourself such an egregious bungler! You had there all the elements of a capital story, and you have just spoiled them.”
”'How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge,'” cried Browne, ”'come now, unmuzzle your wisdom,' and specify the blunders of which he has been guilty. I say, with Touchstone, 'instance briefly, shepherd; come, instance.'”
”Why, in the first place, there was a miserly spirit of economy in regard to his men. He should have invested the narrative with a tragic interest, by killing Rokoa and Barton, at least;--being the narrator he couldn't kill himself conveniently;--but he might, with good effect have been 'dangerously wounded.'”
”But suppose,” said Arthur, ”that I wanted Rokoa to figure in a future story, and so couldn't afford to kill him just yet?”
”A miserable apology! it evinces a lamentable poverty of imagination to make one character serve for two distinct tales.”
”Well, a further instance, 'gentle shepherd,'” cried Browne, ”'a more sounder instance.'”
”Then, again,” resumed Max, with an oracular air, ”it was a capital error to make Olla a married woman; what business I should like to know, can a married woman have in a story?--She belongs properly to the dull prosaic region of common life--not to the fairy land of romance. Now the charm of sentiment is as necessary to a perfect tale, as the interest of adventure, or the excitement of conflict, and had Olla been single, there would have been the elements of something beautifully sentimental.”