looking shrunk, with his hair touzled and his beard
apparentlygrowing all ways, but still Bastin alive, if very weak.
Bickley ran at him and made a cursory
examination with his
fingers.
"Nothing broken," he said
triumphantly. "He's all right."
"If you had hung over a towel for many hours in most violent
weather you would not say that," groaned Bastin. "My inside is a
pulp. But perhaps you would be kind enough to untie me."
"Bosh!" said Bickley as he obeyed. "All you want is something
to eat. Meanwhile, drink this," and he handed him the remains of
the whisky.
Bastin swallowed it every drop, murmuring something about
taking a little wine for his
stomach's sake, "one of the Pauline
injunctions, you know," after which he was much more cheerful.
Then we hunted about and found some more of the biscuits and
other food with which we filled ourselves after a fashion.
"I wonder what has happened," said Bastin. "I suppose that,
thanks to the skill of the captain, we have after all reached the
haven where we would be."
Here he stopped, rubbed his eyes and looked towards the saloon
door which, as I have said, had been wrenched off its hinges, but
appeared to have opened wider than when I observed it last. Also
Tommy, who was recovering his spirits, uttered a
series of low
growls.
"It is a most curious thing," he went on, "and I suppose I must
be
suffering from hallucinations, but I could swear that just now
I saw looking through that door the same
improper young woman
clothed in a few flowers and nothing else, whose photograph in
that
abominable and libellous book was
indirectly the cause of
our tempestuous voyage."
"Indeed!" replied Bickley. "Well, so long as she has not got on
the broken-down stays and the Salvation Army
bonnet without a
crown, which you may remember she wore after she had fallen into
the hands of your
fraternity, I am sure I do not mind. In fact I
should be
delighted to see anything so pleasant."
At this moment a
distinct sound of
female tittering arose from
beyond the door. Tommy barked and Bickley stepped towards it, but
I called to him.
"Look out! Where there are women there are sure to be men. Let
us be ready against accidents."
So we armed ourselves with pistols, that is Bickley and I did,
Bastin being fortified
solely with a Bible.
Then we
advanced, a
remarkable and dilapidated trio, and
d
ragged the door wide. Instantly there was a
scurry and we caught
sight of women's forms wearing only flowers, and but few of
these,
running over white sand towards groups of men armed with
odd-looking clubs, some of which were fashioned to the shapes of
swords and spears. To make an
impression I fired two shots with
my
revolver into the air,
whereupon both men and women fled into
groves of trees and vanished.
"They don't seem to be accustomed to white people," said
Bickley. "Is it possible that we have found a shore upon which no
missionary has set a foot?"
"I hope so," said Bastin, "
seeing that
unworthy as I am, then
the opportunities for me would be very great."
We stood still and looked about us. This was what we saw. All
the after part of the ship from forward of the
bridge had
vanished utterly; there was not a trace of it; she had as it were
been cut in two. More, we were some
considerable distance from
the sea which was still raging over a quarter of a mile away
where great white combers struck upon a reef and spouted into the
air. Behind us was a cliff,
apparently of rock but covered with
earth and
vegetation, and against this cliff, in which the prow
of the ship was buried, she, or what remained of her, had come to
anchor for the last time.
"You see what has happened," I said. "A great tidal wave has
carried us up here and
retreated."
"That's it," exclaimed Bickley. "Look at the debris," and he
pointed to torn-up palms, bushes and
seaweed piled into heaps
which still ran salt water; also to a number of dead fish that
lay about among them, adding, "Well, we are saved anyhow."
"And yet there are people like you who say that there is no
Providence!" ejaculated Bastin.
"I wonder what the views of Captain Astley and the crew are, or
rather were, upon that matter," interrupted Bickley.
"I don't know," answered Bastin, looking about him
vaguely. "It
is true that I can't see any of them, but if they are drowned no
doubt it is because their period of
usefulness in this world had
ended."
"Let's get down and look about us," I remarked, being anxious
to avoid further argument.
So we scrambled from the
remnant of the ship, like Noah
descending out of the ark, as Bastin said, on to the beach
beneath, where Tommy rushed to and fro, gambolling for joy. Here
we discovered a path which ran diagonally up the side of a cliff
which was
nowhere more than fifty or sixty feet in
height, and
possibly had once formed the shore of this land, or perhaps that
of a lake. Up this path we went, following the tracks of many
human feet, and reaching the crest of the cliff, looked about us,
basking as we did so in the beautiful morning sun, for the sky
was now clear of clouds and with that last awful effort, which
destroyed our ship, the
cyclone had passed away.
We were
standing on a plain down which ran a little
stream of
good water
whereof Tommy drank
greedily, we following his
example. To the right and left of this plain, further than we
could see, stretched bushland over which towered many palms,
rather
ragged now because of the lashing of the gale. Looking
inland we perceived that the ground sloped
gently downwards,
ending at a distance of some miles in a large lake. Far out in
this lake something like the top of a mountain of a brown colour
rose above the water, and on the edge of it was what from that
distance appeared to be a tumbled ruin.
"This is all very interesting," I said to Bickley. "What do you
make of it?"
"I don't quite know. At first sight I should say that we are
standing on the lip of a
crater of some vast
extinct volcano.
Look how it curves to north and south and at the slope
runningdown to the lake."
I nodded.
"Lucky that the tidal wave did not get over the cliff," I said.
"If it had the people here would have all been drowned out. I
wonder where they have gone?"
As I spoke Bastin
pointed to the edge of the bush some hundreds
of yards away, where we perceived brown figures slipping about
among the trees. I suggested that we should go back to the mouth
of our path, so as to have a line of
retreat open in case of
necessity, and await events. So we did and there stood still. By
degrees the brown figures emerged on to the plain to the number
of some hundreds, and we saw that they were both male and
female.
The women were clothed in nothing except flowers and a little
girdle; the men were all armed with
wooden weapons and also wore
a
girdle but no flowers. The children, of whom there were many,
were quite naked.
Among these people we observed a tall person clothed in what
seemed to be a
magnificentfeather cloak, and, walking around and
about him, a number of
grotesque forms adorned with
hideous masks
and basket-like head-dresses that were surmounted by plumes.
"The king or chief and his priests or medicine-men! This is
splendid," said Bickley
triumphantly.
Bastin also contemplated them with
enthusiasm as raw material
upon which he hoped to get to work.
By degrees and very
cautiously they approached us. To our joy,
we perceived that behind them walked several young women who bore
wooden trays of food or fruit.
"That looks well," I said. "They would not make offerings
unless they were friendly."
"The food may be poisoned," remarked Bickley suspiciously.
The crowd
advanced, we
standing quite still looking as
dignified as we could, I as the tallest in the middle, with Tommy
sitting at my feet. When they were about five and twenty yards
away, however, that
wretched little dog caught sight of the
masked priests. He growled and then rushed at them barking, his
long black ears flapping as he went.
The effect was instantaneous. One and all they turned and fled
precipitately, who
evidently had never before seen a dog and
looked upon it as a
deadly creature. Yes, even the tall chief and
his masked medicine-men fled like hares pursued by Tommy, who bit
one of them in the leg, evoking a
terrific howl. I called him
back and took him into my arms. Seeing that he was safe for a
while the crowd reformed and once again
advanced.
As they came we noted that they were a
wonderfully handsome
people, tall and straight with
regularly shaped features and
nothing of the negro about them. Some of the young women might
even be called beautiful, though those who were
elderly had
become corpulent. The
feather-clothed chief, however, was much
disfigured by a huge growth with a narrow stalk to it that hung
from his neck and rested on his shoulder.
"I'll have that off him before he is a week older," said
Bickley, surveying this
deformity with great professional
interest.
On they came, the girls with the platters walking ahead. On one
of these were what looked like joints of baked pork, on another
some plantains and pear-shaped fruits. They knelt down and
offered these to us. We contemplated them for a while. Then
Bickley shook his head and began to rub his
stomach with
appropriate contortions. Clearly they were quick-minded enough for
they saw the point. At some words the girls brought the platters
to the chief and others, who took from them portions of the food
at
hazard and ate them to show that it was not poisoned, we
watching their throats the while to make sure that it was
swallowed. Then they returned again and we took some of the food
though only Bickley ate, because, as I
pointed out to him, being
a doctor who understood the use of antidotes; clearly he should
make the experiment. However, nothing happened; indeed he said
that it was very good.
After this there came a pause. Then suddenly Bastin took up his
parable in the Polynesian tongue which--to a certain extent--he
had acquired with so much pains.
"What is this place called?" he asked slowly and
distinctly,
pausing between each word.
His
audience shook their heads and he tried again, putting the
accents on different syllables. Behold! some bright spirit
understood him and answered:
"Orofena."
"That means a hill, or an island, or a hill in an island,"
whispered Bickley to me.
"Who is your God?" asked Bastin again.
The point seemed one upon which they were a little doubtful,
but at last the chief answered, "Oro. He who fights."
"In other words, Mars," said Bickley.
"I will give you a better one," said Bastin in the same slow
fashion.
Thinking that he referred to himself these children of Nature
contemplated his angular form
doubtfully and shook their heads.
Then for the first time one of the men who was wearing a mask and
a wicker crate on his head, spoke in a hollow voice, saying:
"If you try Oro will eat you up."
"Head priest!" said Bickley, nudging me. "Old Bastin had better
be careful or he will get his teeth into him and call them
Oro's."
Another pause, after which the man in a
feather cloak with the