The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne (ebook reader with highlight function .txt) 📕

It was many days after the events just narrated ere I recovered a little of my wonted spirits. I could not shake off the feeling for a long time that I was in a frightful dream, and the sight of our captain filled me with so much horror that I kept out of his way as much as my duties about the cabin would permit. Fortunately he took so little notice of me that he did not observe my changed feelings towards him, otherwise it might have been worse for me.

But I was now resolved that I would run away the very first island we should land at, and commit myself to the hospitality of the natives rather than remain an hour longer than I could help in the pirate schooner. I pondered this subject a good deal, and at last made up my mind to communicate my intention to Bloody Bill; for during several talks I had had with him of late, I felt assured that he too would willingly escape if possible. When I told him of my design he shook his head. “No, no, Ralph,” said he; “you must not think of running away here. Among some of the groups of islands you might do so with safety; but if you tried it here, you would find that you had jumped out of the fryin’-pan into the fire.”

“How so, Bill?” said I. “Would the natives not receive me?”

“That they would, lad; but they would eat you too.”

“Eat me!” said I in surprise. “I thought the South Sea Islanders never ate anybody except their enemies.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Bill. “I ’spose ’twas yer tender-hearted friends in England that put that notion into your head. There’s a set o’ soft-hearted folk at home that I knows on who don’t like to have their feelin’s ruffled; and when you tell them anything they don’t like—that shocks them, as they call it—no matter how true it be, they stop their ears and cry out, ‘Oh, that is too horrible! We can’t believe that!’ An’ they say truth. They can’t believe it, ’cause they won’t believe it. Now, I believe there’s thousands o’ the people in England who are sich born drivellin’ won’t believers that they think the black fellows hereaways, at the worst, eat an enemy only now an’ then out o’ spite; whereas I know for certain, and many captains of the British and American navies know as well as me, that the Feejee Islanders eat not only their enemies but one another—and they do it not for spite, but for pleasure. It’s a fact that they prefer human flesh to any other. But they don’t like white men’s flesh so well as black; they say it makes them sick.”

“Why, Bill,” said I, “you told me just now that they would eat me if they caught me!”

“So I did, and so I think they would. I’ve only heard some o’ them say they don’t like white men so well as black; but if they was hungry they wouldn’t be particular. Anyhow, I’m sure they would kill you. You see, Ralph, I’ve been a good while in them parts, and I’ve visited the different groups of islands oftentimes as a trader. And thorough-goin’ blackguards some o’ them traders are—no better than pirates, I can tell you. One captain that I sailed with was not a chip better than the one we’re with now. He was trading with a friendly chief one day aboard his vessel. The chief had swam off to us with the things for trade tied atop of his head, for them chaps are like otters in the water. Well, the chief was hard on the captain, and would not part with some o’ his things. When their bargainin’ was over they shook hands, and the chief jumped overboard to swim ashore; but before he got forty yards from the ship, the captain seized a musket and shot him dead. He then hove up anchor and put to sea, and as we sailed along the shore he dropped six black fellows with his rifle, remarkin’ that ‘that would spoil the trade for the next-comers.’ But, as I was sayin’, I’m up to the ways o’ these fellows. One o’ the laws o’ the country is that every shipwrecked person who happens to be cast ashore, be he dead or alive, is doomed to be roasted and eaten. There was a small tradin’ schooner wrecked off one of these islands when we were lyin’ there in harbour during a storm. The crew was lost—all but three men, who swam ashore. The moment they landed, they were seized by the natives and carried up into the woods. We knew pretty well what their fate would be; but we could not help them, for our crew was small, and if we had gone ashore they would likely have killed us all. We never saw the three men again. But we heard frightful yelling and dancing and merrymaking that night; and one of the natives, who came aboard to trade with us next day, told us that the long pigs, as he called the men, had been roasted and eaten, and their bones were to be converted into sail-needles. He also said that white men were bad to eat, and that most o’ the people on shore were sick.”

I was very much shocked and cast down in my mind at this terrible account of the natives, and asked Bill what he would advise me to do. Looking round the deck to make sure that we were not overheard, he lowered his voice and said, “There are two or three ways that we might escape, Ralph, but none o’ them’s easy. If the captain would only sail for some o’ the islands near Tahiti we might run away there well enough, because the natives are all Christians; an’ we find that wherever the savages take up with Christianity they always give over their bloody ways, and are safe to be trusted. I never cared for Christianity myself,” he continued in a soliloquising voice, “and I don’t well know what it means; but a man with half-an-eye can see what it does for these black critters. However, the captain always keeps a sharp lookout after us when we get to these islands, for he half-suspects that one or two o’ us are tired of his company. Then we might manage to cut the boat adrift some fine night when it’s our watch on deck, and clear off before they discovered that we were gone. But we would run the risk o’ bein’ caught by the blacks. I wouldn’t like to try that plan. But you and I will think over it, Ralph, and see what’s to be done. In the meantime it’s our watch below, so I’ll go and turn in.”

Bill then bade me good-night and went below, while a comrade took his place at the helm; but feeling no desire to enter into conversation with him, I walked aft, and leaning over the stern, looked down into the phosphorescent waves that gurgled around the rudder, and streamed out like a flame of blue light in the vessel’s wake. My thoughts were very sad, and I could scarce refrain from tears as I contrasted my present wretched position with the happy, peaceful time I had spent on the Coral Island with my dear companions. As I thought upon Jack and Peterkin, anxious forebodings crossed my mind, and I pictured to myself the grief and dismay with which they would search every nook and corner of the island in a vain attempt to discover my dead body; for I felt assured that if they did not see any sign of the pirate schooner or boat when they came out of the cave to look for me, they would never imagine that I had been carried away. I wondered, too, how Jack would succeed in getting Peterkin out of the cave without my assistance; and I trembled when I thought that he might lose presence of mind, and begin to kick when he was in the tunnel! These thoughts were suddenly interrupted and put to flight by a bright-red blaze, which lighted up the horizon to the southward and cast a crimson glow far over the sea. This appearance was accompanied by a low growling sound, as of distant thunder, and at the same time the sky above us became black, while a hot, stifling wind blew around us in fitful gusts.

The crew assembled hastily on deck, and most of them were under the belief that a frightful hurricane was pending; but the captain, coming on deck, soon explained the phenomena.

“It’s only a volcano,” said he. “I knew there was one hereabouts, but thought it was extinct.—Up, there, and furl topgallant sails! We’ll likely have a breeze, and it’s well to be ready.”

As he spoke, a shower began to fall, which, we quickly observed, was not rain, but fine ashes. As we were many miles distant from the volcano, these must have been carried to us from it by the wind. As the captain had predicted, a stiff breeze soon afterwards sprang up, under the influence of which we speedily left the volcano far behind us; but during the greater part of the night we could see its lurid glare and hear its distant thunder. The shower did not cease to fall for several hours, and we must have sailed under it for nearly forty miles—perhaps farther. When we emerged from the cloud, our decks and every part of the rigging were completely covered with a thick coat of ashes. I was much interested in this, and recollected that Jack had often spoken of many of the islands of the Pacific as being volcanoes, either active or extinct, and had said that the whole region was more or less volcanic, and that some scientific men were of opinion that the islands of the Pacific were nothing more or less than the mountain-tops of a huge continent which had sunk under the influence of volcanic agency.

Three days after passing the volcano, we found ourselves a few miles to windward of an island of considerable size and luxuriant aspect. It consisted of two mountains, which seemed to be nearly four thousand feet high. They were separated from each other by a broad valley, whose thick-growing trees ascended a considerable distance up the mountain-sides; and rich, level plains or meadow-land spread round the base of the mountains, except at the point immediately opposite the large valley, where a river seemed to carry the trees, as it were, along with it down to the white, sandy shore. The mountain-tops, unlike those of our Coral Island, were sharp, needle-shaped, and bare, while their sides were more rugged and grand in outline than anything I had yet seen in those seas. Bloody Bill was beside me when the island first hove in sight.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I know that island well. They call