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

tone, laying his hand on his comrade’s shoulder and pointing towards a certain part of the ship. “What is that?”

Ned looked with an expression of awe in the direction indicated.

“What is it that puzzles you?” asked the Captain, not a little amused by their looks.

“The beast! the beast!” said Toc.

“What, d’you mean the cow?”

“Is it a cow?” asked Toc in wonder.

“Of course it is. Did you never see a cow before?”

“No, never. I thought it was a big goat, or a horned sow,” returned the young man, as he approached the quiet animal cautiously. “I say, Ned, it’s a cow! It don’t look much like the things that father Adams used to draw, do it?”

Ned agreed that Adams’s representation fell far short of the original, and for some time they stood cautiously examining the strange creature, and gently touching its sides.

Just then a little black terrier came bounding forward and frisked round the Captain.

“Ha!” exclaimed Edward Young, with an intelligent look, “I know that beast, Toc; it’s a dog! I’m sure it is, for I have read of such things in Carteret, and father has described ’em often, so have the women. They have dogs, you know, on some islands.”

But the surprise and interest raised in them by two animals were nothing to what they felt on being conducted over the ship and shown all the details of stores and armament in a man-of-war. The surprise changed sides, however, when, on being asked to partake of luncheon, these men stood up, clasped their hands, shut their eyes, and asked a blessing before commencing to eat, in the familiar phrase, “For what we are about to receive,” etcetera.

Of course Captains Staines and Pipon went on shore, where they were received by Adams, hat in hand, and by the rest of the population down to the minutest infant, for no one would consent to miss the sight, and there was no sick person to be looked after. Up at the village the pigs and poultry had it all their own way, and made the most of their opportunity.

It was curious to mark the air of respect with which Adams regarded the naval uniform which had once been so familiar. As he stood conversing with the officers, he occasionally, in sailor-like fashion, smoothed down his scanty locks, for although little more than fifty at that time, care, sorrow, and anxiety had given his countenance an aged and worn look, though his frame was still robust and healthy.

In the course of the interview, Captain Pipon offered to give him a passage to England, with any of his family who chose to accompany him. To his surprise Adams at once expressed a desire to go.

We know not whether this was a piece of pleasantry on Adams’s part, but when he sent for his old wife and daughters to tell them of it, the scene of distress that ensued baffles description. The old woman was in despair. Dinah Adams burst into tears, and entreated the officers not to take her dear father away. Her sister Rachel flung her arms round her father’s neck and held on. Hannah Adams clasped her hands and wept in silent despair, and even George, at that time about ten years of age, and not at all given to the melting mood, felt a tear of sympathy trickling down his nose. Of course, when the cause of the ebullition became known, the whole Pitcairn colony was dissolved in tears or lamentations, insomuch that Adams gave up all idea of leaving them. We firmly believe that he never had any intention of doing so, but had merely thrown out the hint to see what effect it would have.

Like Captain Folger of the Topaz, the captains of the Britain and Tagus wrote eloquent and enthusiastic letters to the Admiralty about their discovery, but the dogs of war were still loose in Europe. Their Lordships at Whitehall had no time to devote to such matters, and once again the lonely island was forgotten.

It is a curious coincidence that death came close on the heels of this visit, as it had come on that of the Topaz. Scarcely had the two frigates left when Matthew Quintal took a fit while out fishing in his canoe and was drowned. About the same time Jack Mills was killed by falling from the rocks when out after gulls’ eggs. Thus poor Bessy Quintal lost her husband and brother in the same year, but she was not without comfort. She had been early taught to carry her cares to Jesus, and found Him now a very present help. Besides, she had now two little sons, John and Matthew, who were old enough to fondle her and sympathise with her to some extent, though they scarce understood her sorrow; and her fast friend and comforter, Sally Christian, did not fail her in the hour of need. Indeed, that warm-hearted Otaheitan would have taken poor Bessy into her house to live with her and Charlie, but for the difficulty that six riotous little creatures of her own, named Fletcher, Edward, Charles, Isaac, Sarah, and Maria, already filled it to overflowing.

A little more than six years after this, there came a visitant of a rare and heart-gladdening kind, namely, a parcel of books. Although the Government of England was too busy to think of the far-off isle, there were Englishmen who did not forget her. The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, happening, in 1819, to hear of an opportunity of communicating with Pitcairn, made up and despatched to it a parcel of books, containing, besides Bibles and Prayer-books, “works of instruction fitted for all ages.” Who can imagine the delight produced by this gift to minds which had been well educated and were thirsting for more knowledge? It must have been as food to the starving; as water to the dry ground.

Four years after that, a whale-ship from London, named the Cyrus, touched in passing.

As this visit was a noteworthy epoch in the lonely island, we shall devote a new chapter to it.