Part 3 (1/2)
CHAPTER THREE.
But Orley's mother refused to be comforted. What she had heard or read of pirates induced her to believe that mercy must necessarily be entirely banished from their hearts; and her husband, she knew full well, would sooner die than join them. Therefore, she argued in her despair, Antonio must have perished.
”But mother,” said Orley, in a soothing tone, ”you must remember that Rosco and his men are not regular pirates. I only heard them shout 'Hoist the black flag!' when they seized me; but that does not prove that they did hoist it, or that Rosco agreed to do so. They were only mutineers, you see, and not hardened villains.”
”Hardened enough when they threw you overboard, my son,” returned poor little Madame Zeppa, with a sob.
”True; but that was in the hurry of the rising, and without orders from Rosco, as far as I know. Besides, mother, have you not often told me that G.o.d will never forsake His own children? Surely, then, He will not forsake father.”
”No, oh, no! the good Lord will never forsake him. He will certainly deliver his soul from sin and death; but G.o.d sometimes sees fit to allow the 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 hopeful view, and do what we can to find out--to find--to--”
Poor Orlando broke down here, laid his head on his little mother's shoulder, and wept for his mind had suddenly run itself blank. What was there 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 was no other outlet for their grief, save prayer and consultation, for action was, in the circ.u.mstances, impossible.
”Bin t'ink, t'inkin' horroble hard all last night. Couldn' sleep a wink,” said Ebony one day, some weeks after the return of Orlando, when, according to custom, he and the native missionary and his wife, with the chiefs Tomeo and b.u.t.tchee, a.s.sembled for a consultation in the palm-grove.
”What have you been thinking about?” asked Orley.
”Yous fadder, ob course.”
”Of course,” repeated the boy, ”but what have you been thinking about him--anything new?”
”Not zackly noo,” returned the negro, with a very earnest look, ”but ole t'oughts turned in a noo d'rection. Sit down, Tomeo, an' I will tell you--an' try to forgit yous hat if poss'ble. It's 'xtroarnar good lookin', a'most as much good lookin' as yousself, so you got no occas.h.i.+n to be always t'inkin' about it.”
We may remark here that both Tomeo and b.u.t.tchee understood a little of Ebony's English, though they could not speak a word. The reader will understand, therefore, that when we put words in their mouths we only give a free translation of their language. In like manner Ebony understood a little of the Ratinga tongue, but could not speak much of it, 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 b.u.t.tchee, with a grin.
Ebony ignored the interruption, and continued--
”So, you see, I dream berry bad--mos' drefful dreams! Yes. Well, what I dream was dis. I see Ma.s.sa Zeppa forced by de pierits to walk de plank--”
”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, and bind their hands, and make them walk along a plank stickin' over the s.h.i.+p's side, till they fall off the end of it into the sea, where they are left to drown.”
Tomeo looked at b.u.t.tchee with a grin and nodded, as though he thought the mode of execution rather a good one; then, recollecting suddenly that any mode of slaying innocent men was inconsistent with his character as a convert to Christianity, he cast a glance of awful solemnity at Waroonga, and tried to look penitent.
”Well, hims walk de plank like a man,” continued Ebony, ”hims dood eberyting like a man. An' w'en hims topple into de sea hims give sitch a most awful wriggle dat his bonds bu'sted. But hims berry sly, was Ma.s.sa 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 like one o'clock. Den he swum'd to a island an' git ash.o.r.e, and climb up de rocks, an' sit down--an'--an'--dat's all.”
”What! be that all?” asked Waroonga.