chapter ten.
our hero and his comrades in distress become savage warriors for the nonce.
“friend,” said captain dall, taking the hand of the tall savage in his and speaking with some emotion, “you have been sent as our deliverer, i know, but how a south sea islander should happen to befriend us, and how you should come to speak english as well as ye do, is more than i can understand.”
“onderstand!” exclaimed larry; “it’s past belaif. it baits cock-fightin’ intirely.”
a grim smile crossed the painted face of the savage, as he said somewhat hurriedly:—
“i’m no more a south sea islander than you are, lads, but this is not the time for explanations. it’s enough for you to know, in the meantime, that i’m an englishman, and will befriend you if you agree to obey me.”
“obey ye!” cried larry with enthusiasm, “blissin’s on yer painted mug, it’s warship ye we will, av ye only git us out o’ this scrape.”
“that’s so,” said muggins, nodding his head emphatically, while mr cupples, in tones of the most awful solemnity, and with a look that cannot be described, vowed eternal friendship.
“well, then,” said the tall man, “we have no time to waste, for you are in a greater fix just now than ye think for. about myself it’s enough to know that i’m a runaway sailor; that i made my way among these fellers here by offering to join ’em and fight for ’em, and that i won their respect at first by knocking down, in fair stand-up fight, all the biggest men o’ the tribe. i don’t think they would have spared me even after that, but i curried favour with the chief and married one of his daughters. now i’m a great man among them. i didn’t hear of your having been brought here till half an hour ago, havin’ bin away with a war party in canoes. i returned just too late to save your comrades.”
“what! are they all dead?” asked will osten.
“ay, all, and if you don’t follow them it will only be by attending to what i tell you. my name is buchanan, but the savages can only manage to make bukawanga out o’ that. the word means fire, and ain’t a bad one after all!”
the man smiled grimly as he said this, and then resumed, more rapidly and sternly than before:—
“you have but one chance, and that is to join us. i have come to the village with the news that a neighbouring tribe is about to attack us. if you agree to help us to fight, i may manage to save you; if not your case is hopeless. there is no time for consideration. ay or no, that’s the word.”
“sure i’ll jine ye, mr bukkie whangy,” said larry o’hale, “wid all the pleasure in life. it’s always for fightin’ i am, at laist whin—”
“i don’t like to shed human blood,” said captain dall, interrupting, “where i’ve no quarrel.”
“then your own must be shed,” said bukawanga firmly.
“there’s no help for it, captain,” said will osten. “’tis better to fight for these men than to be murdered by them. what say you, mr cupples?”
“war,” replied the mate emphatically.
“ditto,” said muggins, nodding his head and buttoning his jacket.
“then strip, and we’ll paint you right off,” said bukawanga; “look alive, now!”
he fastened the torch which he held in his hand to a beam of the hut, and cut the bonds of the prisoners; then, going to the door, he summoned two men, who came in with a basket made of leaves, in which were several cocoa-nut shells filled with red, white, and black earth, or paint.
“what!” exclaimed will osten, “must we fight without clothing?”
“an’ wid painted skins?” said larry.
“yes, unless you would be a special mark for the enemy,” replied bukawanga; “but you have no chance if you don’t become in every way like one of us.”
seeing that the man was in earnest, they were fain to submit. after removing their clothes, the natives began diligently to paint them from head to foot, laying on the colours so thickly, and in such bold effective strokes, that ere long all appearance of nudity was removed. man is a strange being. even in the midst of the most solemn scenes he cannot resist giving way at times to bursts of mirth. philosophy may fail to account for it, and propriety may shudder at it, but the fact is undeniable. with death hovering, they knew not how near, over them, and the memory of the fearful things they had just witnessed strong upon them, they were compelled, now and then, to smile and even to laugh aloud, as the process of painting went on. there was some variety in the adornment of each, but let that of larry o’hale serve as an example. first of all his legs were rubbed all over with white earth, and his body with yellow. then, down each lower limb, behind, a palm-tree was drawn in red—the roots beginning at his heels, and the branches above spreading out on his calves. various fanciful devices were drawn on his breast and arms, and some striking circles on his back. last of all, one-half of his face was painted red, and the other half black, with a stripe of white extending from the root of his hair down to the point of his nose. it is needless to say that during the process the enthusiastic irishman commented freely on the work, and offered many pieces of advice to the operator. indeed, his tendency to improve upon existing customs had well-nigh put an end to the friendly relations which now subsisted between the white men and the natives, for he took a fancy to have a red stripe down each of his legs. either the native did not understand him, or would not agree to the proposal, whereupon larry took the brush and continued the work himself. at this the savage indignantly seized him by the arm and pinched him so violently that he lost temper, and, thrusting the red brush into the native’s face, hurled him to the ground. there was a yell and a rush at once, and it is probable that blood would have been shed had not bukawanga interposed.
when the painting was completed, their protector led the white men (now no longer white!) to the hut of the chief. bukawanga was received somewhat coldly at first. the chief, a large, fine-looking old man, named thackombau, with an enormous head of frizzled hair, looked askance at the newcomers, and was evidently disposed to be unfriendly. observing this, and that the warriors around him scowled on them in a peculiarly savage manner, most of the prisoners felt that their lives hung, as it were, upon a thread. the aspect of things changed, however, when their friend stood up and addressed the assembly.
bukawanga had not yet said a word about the cause of his sudden return from the war expedition. it was, therefore, with much concern that the chief and his men learned that a neighbouring and powerful tribe, with which they had always been at enmity, were actually on the way to attack them; and when bukawanga talked of the needful preparations for defence, and, pointing to the prisoners, said that they were his countrymen, able to fight well, and willing to help them, there was a perceptible improvement in the looks of the party. finally, thackombau condescended to rub noses with them all, and they were ordered off to another hut to have supper. this latter arrangement was brought about by their deliverer, who knew that if they remained to sup with the natives they would be shocked, and, perhaps, roused to some act of desperate violence, by the horrible sight of portions of the bodies of their poor comrades, which, he knew, were to be eaten that night. he therefore sought to divert their thoughts from the subject by sitting down and relating many anecdotes connected with his own adventurous history, while they partook of a meal of which they stood much in need.
the dishes, although new to them, were by no means unpalatable. they consisted of baked pig and yams served on banana leaves, and soup in cocoa-nut shells. also a dish made of taro-tops, and filled with a creamy preparation of cocoa-nut done in an oven. bread-fruits were also served, and these tasted so like the crumb of wheaten loaf, that it was difficult to believe them to be the fruit of a tree. for drink they had the juice of the young cocoa—a liquid which resembles lemonade, and of which each nut contains about a tumblerful. there was also offered to them a beverage named ava, which is intoxicating in its nature, and very disgusting in its preparation. this, however, bukawanga advised them not to touch.
“now, mr bukkie whangy,” said larry, after having appeased his appetite, “if i may make so bowld as to ax—how came ye here?”
“the story is short enough and sad enough,” replied his new friend. “the fact is, i came here in a sandal-wood trader’s ship; i was so disgusted with the captain and crew that i ran away from them when they touched at this island for water. ’tis eight years ago now, and i have bin here ever since. i have regretted the step that i took, for the devilry that goes on here is ten times worse than i ever saw aboard ship. however, it’s too late for regret now.”
“ah! too late,” murmured will osten, and his thoughts leaped back to england.
“the worst of it is,” continued the runaway sailor, “that i have no chance of gettin’ away, for the cruelty of sailors to the natives of this island has rendered them desperate, and they murder every white man they can get hold of. indeed there would have been no chance for you but for the breaking out of war, and the fact that they are somewhat short of fightin’ men just now. not long after i landed on the island, an american whaler sent her boats ashore for water. they quarrelled, somehow, with the natives, who drove them into their boats with tremendous hooting and yells and some hard blows, although no blood was spilt. well, what did the scoundrels do but pulled aboard their ship, brought their big guns to bear on the people, and fired on several villages—killing and wounding a good many of ’em, women and children among the rest. that’s the way these fellows set the natives against white men. it was all i could do to prevent them from knocking out my brains after the thing happened.”
while bukawanga was speaking, a great commotion was heard outside.
“they’re gettin’ ready for action,” he said, springing up. “now, lads, follow me. i’ll get you weapons, and, hark-’ee,” he added, with a somewhat peculiar smile, “i heerd some of ’ee say ye don’t want to spill blood where ye have no quarrel. well, there’s no occasion to do so. only act in self-defence, and that’ll do well enough; d’ye understand?”
the man gave vent to a short chuckle as he said this, and then, leading his countrymen from the hut, conducted them towards a temple, near to which a large band of warriors was busily engaged in making preparations for the approaching fight.
