The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers by R. M. Ballantyne (best books to read for women txt) 📕

No wonder that there was wild excitement on the lonely island at the sight of this sail, for, with the exception of the ship that had been seen years before, and only for a few minutes, by Sally and Matt Quintal, no vessel of any kind had visited them during the space of nineteen years.

“I’ve longed for it, old ’ooman, as nobody but myself can understand,” said Adams, in a low, earnest voice to his wife, who stood on the cliffs beside him. Although nearly blind, Mrs Adams was straining her eyes in the direction of the strange sail. “And now that it’s come,” continued her husband, “I confess to you, lass, I’m somewhat afeared to face it. It’s not that I fear to die more than other men, but I’d feel it awful hard to be took away from you an’ all them dear child’n. But God’s will be done.”

“They’d never take you from us, father,” exclaimed Dinah Adams, who overheard this speech.

“There’s no sayin’, Di. I’ve forfeited my life to the laws of England. I tell ’ee what it is, Thursday,” said Adams, going up to the youth, who was gazing wistfully like the others at the rapidly approaching vessel, “it may be a man-o’-war, an’ they may p’r’aps want to ship me off to England on rather short notice. If so, I must go; but I’d rather not. So I’ll retire into the bushes, Toc, while you go aboard in the canoe. I’ll have time to think over matters before you come back with word who they are, an’ where they hail from.”

While Thursday went down to the beach, accompanied by Charlie, to prepare a canoe for this mission, the ship drew rapidly near the island, and soon after hove to, just outside of Bounty Bay. As she showed no colours, and did not look like a man-of-war, Adams began to feel easier in his mind, and again going out on the cliffs, watched the canoe as it dashed through the surf.

Under the vigorous strokes of Thursday and Charlie Christian, it was soon alongside the strange ship. To judge from the extent to which the men opened their eyes, there is reason to believe that those on board of that strange ship were filled with unusual surprise; and well they might be, for the appearance of our two heroes was not that which voyagers in the South Pacific were accustomed to expect. The remarks of two of the surprised ones, as the canoe approached, will explain their state of mind better than any commentary.

“I say, Jack, it ain’t a boat; I guess it’s a canoe.”

“Yes, Bill, it’s a canoe.”

“What d’ye make ’em out to be, Jack?”

“Men, I think; leastwise they’re not much like monkeys; though, of coorse, a feller can’t be sure till they stand up an’ show their tails,—or the want of ’em.”

“Well, now,” remarked Bill, as the canoe drew nearer, “that’s the most puzzlin’ lot I’ve seen since I was raised. They ain’t niggers, that’s plain; they’re too light-coloured for that, an’ has none o’ the nigger brick-dust in their faces. One on ’em, moreover, seems to have fair curly hair, an’ they wears jackets an’ hats with something of a sailor-cut about ’em. Why, I do b’lieve they’re shipwrecked sailors.”

“No,” returned Jack, with a critical frown, “they’re not just the colour o’ white men. Mayhap, they’re a noo style o’ savage, this bein’ raither an out-o’-the-way quarter.”

“Stand by with a rope there,” cried the captain of the vessel, cutting short the discussion, while the canoe ranged longside.

“Ship ahoy!” shouted Thursday, in the true nautical style which he had learned from Adams.

If the eyes of the men who looked over the side of the ship were wide open with surprise before, they seemed to blaze with amazement at the next remark by Thursday.

“Where d’ye hail from, an’ what’s your name?” he asked, as Charlie made fast to the rope which was thrown to them.

“The Topaz, from America, Captain Folger,” answered the captain, with a smile.

With an agility worthy of monkeys, and that might have justified Jack and Bill looking for tails, the brothers immediately stood on the deck, and holding out their hands, offered with affable smiles to shake hands. We need scarcely say the offer was heartily accepted by every one of the crew.

“And who may you be, my good fellows?” asked Captain Folger, with an amused expression.

“I am Thursday October Christian,” answered the youth, drawing himself up as if he were announcing himself the king of the Cannibal Islands. “I’m the oldest son of Fletcher Christian, one of the mutineers of the Bounty, an’ this is my brother Charlie.”

The sailors glanced at each other and then at the stalwart youths, as if they doubted the truth of the assertion.

“I’ve heard of that mutiny,” said Captain Folger. “It was celebrated enough to make a noise even on our side of the Atlantic. If I remember rightly, most of the mutineers were caught on Otaheite and taken to England, being wrecked and some drowned on the way; the rest were tried, and some acquitted, some pardoned, and some hanged.”

“I know nothin’ about all that,” said Thursday, with an interested but perplexed look.

“But I do, sir,” said the man whom we have styled Jack, touching his hat to the captain. “I’m an Englishman, as you knows, an’ chanced to be in England at the very time when the mutineers was tried. There was nine o’ the mutineers, sir, as went off wi’ the Bounty from Otaheite, an’ they’ve never bin heard on from that day to this.”

“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Thursday, with sudden animation, “that’s us. The nine mutineers came to our island here, Pitcairn, an’ remained here ever since, an’ we’ve all bin born here; there’s lots more of us,—boys and girls.”

“You don’t say so!” exclaimed the captain, whose interest was now thoroughly aroused. “Are the nine mutineers all on Pitcairn still?”

Thursday’s mobile countenance at once became profoundly sad, and he shook his head slowly.

“No,” said he, “they’re all dead but one. John Adams is his name.”

“Don’t remember that name among the nine said to be lost,” remarked the Englishman.

“I’ve heard father say he was sometimes called John Smith,” said Thursday.

“Ah, yes! I remember the name of Smith,” said Jack. “He was one of ’em.”

“And is he the only man left on the island?” asked the captain.

“Yes, the only man,” replied Thursday, who had never yet thought of himself in any other light than a boy; “an’ if you’ll come ashore in our canoe, father’ll take you to his house an’ treat you to the best he’s got. He’ll be right glad to see you too, for he’s not seen a soul except ourselves for nigh twenty years.”

“Not seen a soul! D’ye mean to say no ship has touched here for that length of time?” asked the captain in surprise.

“No, except one that only touched an’ went off without discovering that we were here, an’ none of us found out she had bin here till we chanced to see her sailin’ away far out to sea. That was five years ago.”

“That’s very strange and interestin’. I’d like well to visit old Adams, lad, an’ I thank ’ee for the invitation; but I won’t run my ship through such a surf as that, an’ don’t like to risk leavin’ her to go ashore in your canoe.”

“If you please, sir, I’d be very glad to go, an’ bring off what news there is,” said Jack, the English sailor, whose surname was Brace.

At first Captain Folger refused this offer, but on consideration he allowed Jack to go, promising at the same time to keep as near to the shore as possible, so that if there was anything like treachery he might have a chance of swimming off.

“So your father is dead?” asked the captain, as he walked with Thursday to the side.

“Yes, long, long ago.”

“But you called Adams ‘father’ just now. How’s that?”

“Oh, we all calls ’im that. It’s only a way we’ve got into.”

“What made your father call you Thursday?”

“’Cause I was born on a Thursday.”

“H’m I an’ I suppose if you’d bin born on a Tuesday or Saturday, he’d have called you by one or other of these days?”

“S’pose so,” said Thursday, with much simplicity.

“Are you married, Thursday?”

“Yes, I’m married to Susannah,” said Thursday, with a pleased smile; “she’s a dear girl, though she’s a deal older than me—old enough to be my mother. And I’ve got a babby too—a splendid babby!”

Thursday passed ever the side as he said this, and fortunately did not see the merriment which him remarks created.

Jack Brace followed him into the canoe, and in less than half-an-hour he found himself among the wondering, admiring, almost awestruck, islanders of Pitcairn.

“It’s a man!” whispered poor Mainmast to Susannah, with the memory of Fletcher Christian strong upon her.

“What a lovely beard he has!” murmured Sally to Bessy Mills.

Charlie Christian and Matt Quintal chancing, curiously enough, to be near Sally and Bessy, overheard the whisper, and for the first time each received a painful stab from the green-eyed demon, jealousy.

But the children did not whisper their comments. They crowded round the seaman eagerly.

“You’ve come to live with us?” asked Dolly Young, looking up in his face with an innocent smile, and taking his rough hand.

“To tell us stories?” said little Arthur Quintal, with an equally innocent smile.

“Well, no, my dears, not exactly,” answered the seaman, looking in a dazed manner at the pretty faces and graceful forms around him; “but if I only had the chance to remain here, it’s my belief that I would.”

Further remark was stopped by the appearance of John Adams coming towards the group. He walked slowly, and kept his eyes steadily, yet wistfully, fastened on the seaman. Holding out his hand, he said in a low tone, as if he were soliloquising, “At last! It’s like a dream!” Then, as the sailor grasped his hand and shook it warmly, he added aloud a hearty “Welcome, welcome to Pitcairn.”

“Thank ’ee, thank ’ee,” said Jack Brace, not less heartily; “an’ may I ax if you are one o’ the Bounty mutineers, an’ no mistake?”

“The old tone,” murmured Adams, “and the old lingo, an’ the old cut o’ the jib, an’—an’—the old toggery.”

He took hold of a flap of Jack’s pea-jacket, and almost fondled it.

“Oh, man, but it does my heart good to see you! Come, come away up to my house an’ have some grub. Yes, yes—axin’ your pardon for not answerin’ right off—I am one o’ the Bounty mutineers; the last one—John Smith once, better known now as John Adams. But