Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers
Thus, or in some such way, did this God-appointed pastor lead his little flock from day to day and year to year.
But to return from this digression.
We have said that the double wedding-day was one of mingled rejoicing, solemnity, and fun. If you insist on further explanation, good reader, and want to know something more about the rejoicing, we can only direct you to yonder clump of blossoming plants in the shade of the palm-grove. There you will find Charlie Christian looking timidly down into the gorgeous orbs of Otaheitan Sally as they hold sweet converse of things past, present, and to come. They have been so trained in ways of righteousness, that the omission of the world-to-come from their love-making, (not flirtation, observe), would be as ridiculous as the absence of reference to the wedding-day.
On the other side of the same knoll Daniel McCoy sits by the side of modest Sarah Quintal, his only half-tamed spirit torn by the conflicting emotions aroused by a compound of jollity, love, joy, thankfulness, and fun, which render his words too incoherent to be worthy of record.
In regard to solemnity, reader, we refer you to the little school-room, which also serves for a chapel, where John Adams, in tones befitting a bishop and with feelings worthy of an apostle, reads the marriage service in the midst of the assembled population of the island. He has a brass curtain-ring which did duty at the marriage of Thursday October Christian, and which is destined to do duty in similar circumstances in many coming years. The knots are soon tied. There are no sad tears, for at Pitcairn there are no partings of parents and children, but there are many tears of joy, for Adams’s words are telling though few, and his prayers are brief but deeply impressive, while the people, young and middle-aged, are powerfully sympathetic. The most of the girls break down when Adams draws to an abrupt close, and most of the youths find it hard to behave like men.
They succeed, however, and then the wedding party goes off to have a spell of fun.
If you had been there, reader, to behold things for yourself, it is not improbable that some of the solemnity of the wedding would have been scattered, (for you, at least), and some of the fun introduced too soon, for the costumes of the chief actors were not perfect; indeed, not quite appropriate, according to our ideas of the fitness of things.
It is not that we could object to the bare feet of nearly all the party, for to such we are accustomed among our own poor. Neither could we find the slightest fault with the brides. Their simple loose robes, flowing hair, and wreaths of natural flowers, were in perfect keeping with the beauty of their faces. But the garb of guileless Charlie Christian was incongruous, to say the least of it. During the visit of the Topaz a few old clothes had been given by the seamen to the islanders, and Charlie had become the proud possessor of a huge black beaver hat, which had to be put on sidewise to prevent its settling down on the back of his neck; also, of a blue dress-coat with brass buttons, the waist and sleeves of which were much too short, and the tails unaccountably long; likewise, of a pair of Wellington boots, the tops of which did not, by four inches, reach the legs of his native trousers, and therefore displayed that amount of brawny, well-made limbs, while the absence of a vest and the impossibility of buttoning the coat left a broad, sunburnt expanse of manly chest exposed to view. But such is the difference of opinion resulting from difference of custom, that not a muscle of any face moved when he appeared, save in open admiration, though there was just the shade of a twinkle for one moment in the eye of John Adams, for he had seen other, though not better, days.
Even Dan’s excitable sense of the ridiculous was not touched. Himself, indeed, was a greater guy than Charlie, for he wore a richly-flowered vest, so tight that it would hardly button, and had been split up the back while being put on. As he wore a shell-jacket, much too short for him, this accident to the vest and a portion of his powerful back were clearly revealed.
But these things were trifles on that great day, and when the fun did begin, it was kept up with spirit. First, the greater part of the population went to the beach for a little surf-sliding. It is not necessary to repeat our description of that exercise. The waves were in splendid order.
It seemed as if the great Pacific itself were pulsating with unwonted joy. The billows were bigger grander, almost slower and more sedate than usual. Outside it was dead calm. The fall of each liquid wall was more thunderous, its roar more deep-toned, and the confusion of the surf more riotous than ever. For average rejoicers this exercise might in itself have sufficed for one day, but they were used to it, and wanted variety; so the youths took to racing on the sands, and the maidens to applauding, while the elderly looked on and criticised. The small children went, loosely speaking, mad.
Some there were who went off on their own accounts, and cast a few of those shadows which are said to precede “coming events.” Others, less poetically inclined just then, remained in the village to prepare roast pig, yam-pie, and those various delicacies compounded of fruits and vegetables, which they knew from experience would be in great demand ere long.
As evening descended they all returned to the village, and at sunset hauled down their flag.
This flag, by the way, was another souvenir of the Topaz. It was an old Union Jack, for which Adams had set up a flagstaff, having by that time ceased to dread the approach of a ship. By Jack Brace he had been reminded of the date of the king’s birthday, and by a strange coincidence that happened to be the very day on which the two couples were united. Hence there was a double, (perhaps we should say a treble), reason for rejoicing. As John Adams was now endeavouring to undo the evils of his former life, he naturally became an enthusiastic loyalist. On passing the flagstaff he called for three cheers for the British king, and with his own voice led off the first verse of the national anthem before hauling down the colours. Thereafter, assembling round the festive board in the school-room, they proceeded to take physical nourishment, with the memory of mental food strong upon them. Before the meal a profound hush fell on all the scene, and the deep voice of Adams was heard asking a blessing on the food they were about to receive. Thanks were returned with equal solemnity after meat. Then the tables were cleared, and games became the order of the evening. When a point of semi-exhaustion was reached, a story was called for, and the nautical pastor at once launched into oceans of imagination and fancy, in which he bid fair to be wrecked and drowned. During the recital of this the falling of a pin would have been heard, if there had been such a thing as a pin at Pitcairn to fall.
Last, but not least, came blind-man’s-buff. This exhausted the last spark of physical energy left even in the strongest. But the mental and spiritual powers were still vigorous, so that when they all sat down in quiescence round the room, and Toc took down the family Bible from its accustomed shelf and set it before Adams, they were all, young and old, in a suitable state of mind to join in the worship of Him who had given them the capacity, as well as the opportunity, to enjoy that glorious and ever memorable day.
Chapter Thirty Two
Another Visit from the Great World
If ever there had been a doubt of the truth of the proverb that example is better than precept, the behaviour of the young men and maidens of Pitcairn, after the wedding just described, would have cleared that doubt away for ever.
The demands upon poor Adams’s services became ridiculous, insomuch that he began to make laws somewhat in the spirit of the Medo-Persic lawmakers, and sternly refused to allow any man to marry under the age of twenty years, or any woman under eighteen. Even with this drag on the wheels, the evil—if evil it were—did not abate, but as time went on, steadily increased. It seemed as if, the ice having been broken, the entire population kept on tumbling into the water.
Among others, our once little friend Matthew Quintal married Bessy Mills.
The cares of the little colony now began to tell heavily on John Adams, for he was what is termed a willing horse, and would not turn over to another the duties which he could perform with his own hands. Besides acting the part of pastor, schoolmaster, law-maker, and law-enforcer, he had to become the sympathetic counsellor of all who chose to call upon him; also public registrar of events, baptiser of infants, and medical practitioner. It is a question whether there ever was a man placed in so difficult and arduous a position as this last mutineer of the Bounty, and it is not a question at all, but an amazing and memorable fact, that he filled his unique post with statesmanlike ability.
As time went on, he, of course, obtained help, sympathy, and counsel from the men and women whom he had been training for God around him; but he seems to have been loath formally to hand over the helm, either wholly or in part, to any one else as long as he had strength to steer the ship.
We have said that England was too much engaged with her European wars to give much thought to this gem in her crown, which was thus gradually being polished to such a dazzling brightness. She knew it was but a little gem, if gem at all, and at such a distance did not see its brilliant sheen. Amid the smoke and turmoil of war she forgot it; yet the God of Battles and the Prince of Peace were winning a grand, moral, bloodless victory in that lonely little island.
It was not till the year 1814, six years after the visit of the Topaz, that the solitude of Pitcairn was again broken in upon by visitors from the outside world.
In that year two frigates, H.M.S. Britain and Tagus, commanded respectively by Captain Sir F. Staines and Captain Pipon, came unexpectedly on Pitcairn Island while in pursuit of an American ship, the Essex, which had been doing mischief among the British whalers.
It was evening when the ships sighted Pitcairn, and were observed by one of the almost innumerable youngsters with which the island had by that time been peopled. With blazing eyes and labouring breath, the boy rushed down the cliffs, bounded over the level ground, and burst into the village, shouting, “Ships!”
No warwhoop of Red Indians ever created greater excitement. Pitcairn swarmed at once to the cliffs with flushed faces, glittering eyes, and hopeful looks. Yes, there they were, and no mistake,—two ships!
“They’re men-o’-war, father,” said Thursday October Christian, a little anxiously.
“So I see, lad; but I won’t hide this time. I don’t believe they’d think it worth while hangin’ me now. Anyhow, I’ll risk it.”
Many of the people spent the whole of that night on the cliffs, for, as it was too late to attempt a landing, Captain Staines did not venture to approach till the following morning.
Soon after daybreak the ships were seen to stand inshore, and a canoe was launched through the surf to meet them. As on the occasion of the visit of the Topaz, Thursday was deputed to represent the islanders. He was accompanied by Edward Young, now a handsome youth of eighteen years of age. As on the previous boarding of a ship, Toc amazed the sailors by shouting in English to “throw him a rope.” Being now possessed of a wardrobe, he had in his heart resolved to appear in a costume worthy of the great occasion. For this end he had put on a vest without sleeves, trousers that had done duty in the Topaz, and were much too short, and a beaver hat which he had jauntily ornamented with cock-tail feathers, and wore very much on the back of his head.
Thursday met the eager inquiries of Sir F. Staines with his usual good-humoured off-hand urbanity, and gave his name in full; but a sudden change came over his face while he spoke—a look of amazement, mingled with alarm.
“Look! look there, Ned,” he said, in a low 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.
Chapter Thirty Three
New Arrivals and Strange Adventures
“My dear,” said Adams one morning to his spouse, as he was about to go forth to superintend the working of his busy hive, “I’m beginnin’ to feel as if I was gettin’ old, and would soon have to lay up like an old hulk.”
“You’ve done good service for the Master, John; perhaps He thinks you should rest now,” answered his wife. “You’ve got plenty able helpers to take the heavy work off your hands.”
“True, old woman, able, willin’, and good helpers, thank God, but they want a headpiece still. However, there’s a deal of life in the old dog yet. If that dear angel, Otaheitan Sally, were only a man, now, I could resign the command of the ship without a thought. But I’ve committed the matter to the Lord. He will provide in His own good time. Good-day, old girl. If any one wants me, you know where to send ’em.”
Not many days after that in which these remarks were made a sail was seen on the horizon. So few and far between had these visitants been that the excitement of the people was as wild as when the first ship appeared, and much more noisy, seeing that the juveniles had now become so very numerous.
The ship soon drew near. Canoes were sent off to board her. Thursday October, as of old, introduced himself, and soon the captain and several men were brought on shore, to the intense joy of the inhabitants.
One of the sailors who landed attracted Adams’s attention in a special manner, not so much because of his appearance, which was nothing uncommon, as because of a certain grave, kindly, serious air which distinguished him. This man’s name was John Buffett. Another of the men, named John Evans, less serious in manner, but not less hearty and open, made himself very agreeable to the women, especially to old Mrs Adams, to whom he told a number of nautical anecdotes in an undertone while the captain was chatting with Adams himself. Buffett spoke little.
After spending an agreeable day on shore, the sailors walked down to the beach towards evening to return to their ship.
“You lead a happy life here, Mr Adams,” said Buffett, in an earnest tone. “Would you object to a stranger staying among you!”
“Object!” said Adams, with a quick, pleasant glance. “I only wish the Lord would send us one; one at least who is a follower of Himself.”
John Buffett said no more, but that same evening he expressed to his captain so strong a desire to remain behind that he obtained leave, and next day was sent on shore.
The sailor named John Evans accompanied him to see him all right and bring off the latest news; but Evans himself had become so delighted with the appearance of the place and people, that he deserted into the mountains, and the ship had to sail without him.
Thus were two new names added to the muster-roll of Pitcairn.
John Buffett in particular turned out to be an invaluable acquisition. He was a man of earnest piety, and had obtained a fairly good education. Adams and he drew together at once.
“You’ll not object, p’r’aps,” said the former on the occasion of their first talk over future plans, “to give me a lift wi’ the school?”
“Nothing would please me better,” answered Buffett. “I’m rather fond o’ teachin’, to say truth, and am ready to begin work at once.”
Not only did Buffett thereafter become to Adams as a right arm in the school, but he assisted in the church services on Sundays, and eventually came to read sermons, which, for the fixing of them more effectually on the minds of the people, he was wont to deliver three times over.
But Buffett could tell stories as well as read sermons. One afternoon some of the youngsters caught him meditating under a cocoa-nut tree, and insisted on his telling the story of his life.
“It ain’t a long story, boys an’ girls,” said he, “for I’ve only lived some six-and-twenty years yet. I was born in 1797, near Bristol, and was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. Not takin’ kindly to that sort o’ work, I gave it up an’ went to sea. However, I’m bound to say, that the experience I had with the saw and plane has been of the greatest service to me ever since; and it’s my opinion, that what ever a man is, or whoever he may be, he should learn a trade; ay, even though he should be a king.”
The Pitcairn juveniles did not see the full force of this remark, but nevertheless they believed it heartily.
“It was the American merchant service I entered,” continued Buffett, “an’ my first voyage was to the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. I was wrecked there, and most o’ the crew perished; but I swam ashore and was saved, through God’s mercy. Mark that, child’n. It wasn’t by good luck, or good swimmin’, or chance, or fate, or anything else in the shape of a second cause, but it was the good God himself that saved, or rather spared me. Now, I say that because there’s plenty of people who don’t like to give their Maker credit for anything, ’cept when they do it in a humdrum, matter-of-course way at church.”
These last remarks were quite thrown away upon the children, whose training from birth had been to acknowledge the goodness of God in everything, and who could not, of course, comprehend the allusions to formalism.
“Well,” he continued, “after suffering a good deal, I was picked up by some Canadian fishermen, and again went to sea, to be once again wrecked and saved. That was in the year 1821. Then I went to England, and entered on board a ship bound for China, from which we proceeded to Manilla, and afterwards to California, where I stayed some time. Then I entered an English whaler homeward bound, intendin’ to go home, and the Lord did bring me home, for he brought me here, and here I mean to stay.”
“And we’re all so glad!” exclaimed Dolly Young, who had now become an enthusiastic, warm-hearted, pretty young woman of twenty-three summers.
Dolly blushed as she spoke, but not with consciousness. It was but innocent truthfulness. John Buffett paused, and looked at her steadily. What John Buffett thought we are not prepared to say, but it may be guessed, when we state that within two months of that date, he and Dolly Young were united in marriage by old Adams, with all the usual ceremonial, including the curtain-ring which did duty on all such occasions, and the unfailing game of blind-man’s-buff.
John Evans was encouraged, a few months later, to take heart and do likewise. He was even bolder than Buffett, for he wooed and won a princess; at least, if John Adams was in any sense a king, his second daughter Rachel must have been a princess! Be this as it may, Evans married her, and became a respected member of the little community.
And now another of these angel-like visits was looming in the distance. About twelve years after the departure of the Britain and Tagus, one of H.M. cruisers, the Blossom, Captain Beechy, sailed out of the Great Unknown into the circlet of Pitcairn, and threw the islanders into a more intense flutter than ever, for there were now upwards of fifty souls there, many of whom had not only never seen a man-of-war, but had had their imaginations excited by the glowing descriptions of those who had. This was in 1825.
The Blossom had been fitted out for discovery. When Buffett first recognised her pennant he was in great trepidation lest they had come to carry off Adams, but such was not the case. It was merely a passing visit. Three weeks the Blossom stayed, during which the captain and officers were entertained in turn at the different houses; and it seems to have been to both parties like a brief foretaste of the land of Beulah.
Naturally, Captain Beechy was anxious to test the truth of the glowing testimony of former visitors. He had ample opportunity, and afterwards sent home letters quite as enthusiastic as those of his predecessors in regard to the simplicity, truthfulness, and genuine piety alike of old and young.
If a few hours’ visit had on former occasions given the community food for talk and reflection, you may be sure that the three weeks’ of the Blossom’s sojourn gave them a large supply for future years. It seemed to Otaheitan Sally, and Dinah Adams, and Dolly and Polly Young, and the rest of them, that the island was not large enough now to contain all their new ideas, and they said so to John Adams one evening.
“My dears,” said John, in reply, laying his hand on that of Sally, who sat beside him on their favourite confabulation-knoll, which overlooked Bounty Bay, “ideas don’t take up much room, and if they did, we could send ’em out on the sea, for they won’t drown. Ah! Sall, Sall—”
“What are you thinking of, dear father?” asked Sally, with a sympathetic look, as the old man stopped.
“That my time can’t be long now. I feel as if I was about worn-out.”
“Oh, don’t say that, father!” cried his daughter Hannah, laying her cheek on his arm, and hugging it. “There’s ever so much life in you yet.”
“It may be so. It shall be so if the Lord will,” said Adams, with a little smile; “but I’m not the man I was.”
Poor John Adams spoke truly. He had landed on Pitcairn a slim young fellow with broad shoulders, powerful frame, and curling brown hair. He was now growing feeble and rather corpulent; his brow was bald, his scanty locks were grey, and his countenance deeply care-worn. No wonder, considering all he had gone through, and the severe wound he had received upwards of thirty years before.
Nevertheless, Hannah was right when she said there was a good deal of life in the old man yet. He lived after that day to tie the wedding-knot between his own youngest child George, and Polly Young. More than that, he lived to dandle George’s eldest son, Johnny, on his knees, and to dismiss him in favour of his little brother Jonathan when that child made his appearance.
But before this latter event the crowning joy of John Adams’s life was vouchsafed to him, in the shape of a worthy successor to his Pitcairn throne.
The successor’s name was neither pretty nor suggestive of romance, yet was closely allied with both. It was George Nobbs. He arrived at the island in very peculiar circumstances, on the 15th of November 1828, and told his story one afternoon under the banyan-tree to Adams and Buffett, and as many of the young generation as could conveniently get near him, as follows:—
“Entering the navy at an early period of life, I went through many vicissitudes and experiences in various quarters of the globe. But circumstances induced me to quit the navy, and for a short time I remained inactive, until my old commander offered to procure me a berth on board a ship of eighteen guns, designed for the use of the patriots in South America.
“Accepting the offer, I left England early in 1816 for Valparaiso, and cruised there for sixteen months, taking many prizes. While on board of one of our prizes I was taken prisoner, and carried into Callao, where I and my comrades were exposed to the gaze and insults of the people. Here, for many months, I walked about the streets with fifty pounds weight of iron attached to me, on a spare diet of beans and Chili peppers, with a stone at night for a pillow. We were made to carry stones to repair the forts of the place. There were seventeen of us. Five or six of our party died of fever and exposure to the sun, after which our guardians became careless about us. We managed to get rid of our irons by degrees, and at length were left to shift for ourselves. Soon after, with some of my comrades, I escaped on board a vessel in the bay, and succeeded in getting put on board our own vessel again, which was still cruising in these seas.
“Entering Valparaiso in the latter part of 1817, I had now an opportunity of forwarding about 140 pounds to my poor mother in England, who was sorely in need of help at the time. Some time after that I went with a number of men in a launch to attempt the cutting out of a large merchant ship from Cadiz. We were successful, and my share of the prize-money came to about 200 pounds, one hundred of which I also sent to my mother. After this I took a situation as prize-master on board a vessel commanded by a Frenchman. Deserting from it, I sought to discover a road to Guayaquil through the woods, where I suffered great hardships, and failed in the attempt.”
