 CHAPTER XII No sooner had Orlando and the Negro past round the cliff to which Roscoe had directed them, than they beheld a sight which was well calculated to fill them with anxiety and alarm. For there stood Zeppa, panting and wrestling with one of the themes that were in the habit of assailing him. The theme, on this occasion, was familiar enough to him. The stout branch of a tree which overhung his cave, at which his delirious brain had transformed into a living foe. No shout or cry issued from the poor man's compressed lips. He engaged in the deadly struggle with that silent resolve of purpose which was natural to him. The disease under which he labored had probably reached its climax, for he swayed to and fro in his futile efforts to wrench off the limb with a degree of energy that seemed more than human. His partially naked limbs showed the knotted muscles standing out rigidly. His teeth were clenched and exposed. His bloodshot eyes glared. The long, curling and matted hair of his head and beard was flying about in mild disorder, and his laboring chest heaved as if he fiercely, silently and hopelessly struggled. Oh, it was a terrible picture to be presented thus suddenly to the gaze of a loving son. Stay where you are, Ebony, I must meet him alone, whispered Orlando. Then, hastening forward with outstretched arms, he exclaimed, Father, instantly zeppelin't go his supposed enemy and turned round. The change in his aspect was as wonderful as it was sudden. The old, loving, gentle expression overspread his features, and the wild fire seemed to die out of his eyes as he held out both hands. Ah, once more, my son, he said, in the tenderest of tones, come to me. This is kind of you, Olly, to return so soon again. I had not expected you for a long time. Sit down beside me and lay your head upon my knee, so I like to have you that way, for I see you better. O Father, do Father, said Orlando, but the words were choked in his throat and tears welled from his eyes. Yes, Olly, said Zeppelin, with a startled look of joyful surprise, while he turned his head a little to one side, as if listening in expectancy. Speak again, dear boy, speak again. I have often seen you since you went to the spirit land that had never heard you speak till today. Speak once more, dear boy, that Olly could not speak. He could only hide his face in his father's bosom and sob aloud. No, don't cry, lad, you never did that before. What do you mean? That is unmanly. Not like my courageous boy was want to be, and you have grown so much since last I saw you. Why? You've even got a beard. Who ever heard of a bearded man sobbing like a child? And now I look at you closely, I see that you have grown wonderfully tall. It is very strange that all things seem strange since I came here. Only in all the many visits you have paid me, I have never seen you change till today. You have always come to me in the old boyish form. It may be very strange that Olly, my boy, and here Zephyr's voice became intensely earnest and pleading. You won't leave me again, will you? Surely they can well spare you from the spirit world for a time, just a little while. It would fill my heart with such joy and gratitude, and I'm your father, Olly. Surely I have a right to you. You're right than the angels have, haven't I? And then it would give me such joy, if you came back to your dear mother, whom I have not seen for so long, so very long. I will never leave you, father. Never, cried Orlando, throwing his arms round Zephyr's neck, and embracing him passionately. Nothing, you are going to lead me, cried Zephyr, with sudden alarm, as he clasped Orlando to him with an iron grip. You always embrace me when you are about to vanish out of my sight, but you shall not escape me this time. I have got you tighter than I ever had you before, and no thing shall separate us now. No thing, he repeated, in a shout, glaring at a spot in the bushes where Ebony, unable to restrain his feelings, had unwittingly come in to sight. Suddenly changing his purpose, Zephyr let go his son, and sprung like a tiger on the supposed theme. He went down before him like a bull rush, before the hurricane, but, unlike it, he did not rise again. The madman had pinned him to the earth, and was compressing his throat with both hands. It required all the united strength of his son, and the negro, to loosen his grasp, and even that would not have sufficed, had not the terrible flame, which had burned so long, died out. It seemed to have been suddenly extinguished by this last burst of fury, for Zephyr fell back, as helpless as an infant, in their hands. Indeed, he lay so still with his eyes closed, that Orlando trembled with fear, lest he should be dying. Now Ebony said he, taking the negro apart, when they had made the exhausted man as comfortable as possible on his rude couch in the cave. You run down to the ship, and fetch the doctor here, without delay. I will be able to manage him easily, when alone. Run as you never ran before. Don't let any soul come here, except the doctor, and yourself. Tell the captain I have found him, through God's mercy, but that he is very ill, and must be carefully kept from excitement, and that in the meantime nobody is to disturb us. The doctor will of course fetch physics, and tell him to bring his surgical instrument also, for if I mistake not, poor Roscoe needs his attention. Do bring up as much in the way as provisions, as you can carry, and one or two blankets, and Harkie make no mention of the pirate to anyone, away. During the delivery of this message, the negro listened eagerly, and stood quite motionless, like a black statue, with the exception of his glittering eyes. Yes, Musa, he said, at its conclusion, and almost literally banished from the scene. Orlando then turned to his father, the worn-out man still low perfectly quiet, with closed eyes, and countenance so pale that the dread of approaching death again seized on the sun. The breathing was, however, slow and regular, and what appeared to be a slight degree of moisture lay on the brow. The fact that the sick man slept soon became apparent, and when Orlando had assured himself of this, he arose, left the cave with careful tread, and glided, rather than walk, back to the place where the pirate had been left. There he still lay, apparently much exhausted. We have found him, thank God, said Orlando, seating himself on a bank, and I would faint hope that the worst is over, that he sleeps. But, poor fellow, you seem to be in a bad case. Can I do ought to relieve you? Nothing, replied Roscoe, with a weary sigh. I have sent for a surgeon. A surgeon, repeated the pirate, with a startled look. Then there must be a man of war off the coast, for South Sea traders are not used to carry surgeons. Ah, I forgot, you naturally don't wish to see any one connected with a man of war. Yes, there is one here. I came in her. But you can see this surgeon, without his knowing who or what you are. It will be sufficient for him to know that you are an unfortunate sailor, who had fallen into the hands of the savages. Yes, exclaimed Roscoe, grasping eagerly at the idea, and that's just what I am. Moreover, I ran away from my ship, but do you not feel it's your duty to give me up? What I shall feel is my duty to do, ultimately, is not a matter for present consideration. Just now you require surgical assistance. But how did you come here, and what do you mean by saying that you ran away from your ship? Roscoe, in reply, gave a brief but connected narrative of his career during the past three years, in which he made no attempt to asculpate himself, but, on the contrary, confessed his guilt and admitted his dessert of death. Yet, I shrink from death, he said, in conclusion. Is it not strange that I, who have faced death so often with perfect indifference, should draw back from it now with something like fear? A great writer, replied Orlando, who my father used to read to me at home, says that conscience makes cowards of us all, and the still greater authority says that the wicked flee when no man pursues. You are safe here, Roscoe, at all events, for the present, but you must not go near the cave again. Rest where you are, and I will search for some place where you may remain concealed till you are well. I shall return quickly. Leaving the pirate where he lay, Orlando returned to his father, and finding that he still slept, went off to search for a cave. He soon found a small one in the cliffs, suitable for his purpose. Thither he carried the pirate, laid him tenderly on a couch of branches and leaves, put food and water within his reach, and left him with a feeling of comfort and of contentment at heart that he had not experienced for many years. That night the surgeon of the furious ascended to the mountain cave. His approach was made known to Orlando, as he watched at the sick man's side by the appearance of Ebony's great eyes glittering at him over the bushes that encircled the cave's mouth. No wonder that poor Zepa had mistaken him for a demon. Holding up a finger of caution, Orlando glided towards him, seized his arm, and, after leading him to a safe distance, asked in a low voice, Well, have you brought the doctor? Hey, yes, Masa, and I bring Tommyo and Butch's too. Didn't I tell you to let no one else come near us? Said Orlando in a tone of vexation. That's true, Masa, but I know kin stopped him. So soon as they hear that Antonio Zepa and Favre sick in the mountains, days fall they must go see him. I say that he say no. They say they don't care. I say me knock them both down. They say they turn me inside out if I don't hold my tongue. What could this year nigger do? Days too much for me. So they followed. And here they am with the doctor, waiting about 200 yards down, therefore leave to come. But I say, Masa, days good sort of fellows after all. Do whatever you tell them, good for go messages, perhaps, and save this year niggers poor legs. Ebony made the latter suggestion with the grin so broad that in the darkness his face became almost luminous with teeth and gums. Well, I suppose we must make the most of the circumstances, said Orlando. Come, lead me to them. It was found that though the strong affection of the two chiefs for Zepa had made them rebellious in the matter of visiting the spot, the same affection and their regard for Orlando rendered them submissive as lambs and willing to do absolutely whatever they were told. Orlando, therefore, had no difficulty in prevailing on them to delay their visit to his father till the following day. Meanwhile, he caused them to encamp in a narrow pass close at hand, and the better to reconcile them to their lot imposed upon them the duty of mounting guard each alternate couple of hours during the night. He will do well, said the doctor, after examining the patient. This sleep is life to him. I will give him something when he awakes, but the awakening must be left to nature. Whether he recovers his reason after what he has passed through remains to be seen. You say he has been wandering for some time here in a state of insanity. How came that about? It is a long and sad story, doctor, said Orlando, evading the question, and I have not time to tell it now, for I want you to visit another patient. Another patient, repeated the surgeon, in surprise. Ah, one of the natives, I suppose? No, a white man. He is a sailor who ran away from his ship, and was caught by the natives and tortured. Come then, let us go and see the poor fellow at once. Does he live far from here? Close at hand, answered Orlando, as he led the way, and perhaps, doctor, it would be well not to question the poor man at present. As to his being here in such a plight, he seems very weak and ill. When the surgeon had examined Roscoe's feet, he led Orlando aside. It is a bad case, he said. Both legs must be amputated below the knee, if the man's life is to be saved. Must it be done now? Immediately, can you assist me? I have assisted at amateur operations before now, said Orlando, and at all events you can count on the firmness of my nerves and on blind obedience. But stay, I must speak to him first, alone. Roscoe said to you, as he knelt by the pirate's couch, your sins had been severely punished, and your endurance sorely tried. Not more than I deserve, Orlando. But I grieve to tell you that your courage must be still further tried. The doctor says that both feet must be amputated. A frown gathered on the pirate's face, and he compressed his lips for a few moments. And the alternative, he asked, is death? Again, there was a brief pause. Then he said slowly, almost bitterly, O death, you have hovered over my head pretty steadily ablate. It is a question whether I had not better let you come on, and end these weary struggles, rather than become a hopeless cripple in the prime of life. Why should I fear death now more than before? Have you any hope of eternal life, Roscoe? How can I tell? What do I know about eternal life? Then you are not prepared to die, and let me earnestly assure you that there is something well worth living for, though at present you do not, you cannot know it. Enough, let it be, as the doctor advises, said the pirate, in a tone of resignation. That night the operation was successfully performed, and the unfortunate man was afterwards carefully tended by Ebony. Next day, Tommyo and Butchi were told that their old friend Zepa could not yet be seen, but that he required many little comforts from the furious, which must be brought up with as little delay as possible. That was sufficient for getting themselves in their anxiety to aid their friend, these affectionate warriors went off on their mission, and were soon out of sight. When Zepa awoke at last with a deep sigh, it was still dark. This was fortunate, that he could not see whose hand administered the physic, and was too listless and weak to inquire. It was bright day when he awoke the second time, and looked up inquiringly in his son's face. What, are you still there, Ollie? He said faintly, while the habitual sweet expression stole over his pale features, though it was quickly followed by the perplexed look. But how comes this change? You look so much older than you are, dear boy. Would God that I could cease this dreaming? You are not dreaming now, Father. I am indeed Ollie. You have been ill and delirious, but thanks to God are getting well again. What, exclaim the invalid, has it been all a dream, then? Were you not thrown into the sea by the mutineers, and have I not been wandering for months or years on a desert island? But then, if these things be all dreams, he added, opening his eyes wide, and fixing them intently on Orlando's face. How come, if that I still dream the change in you? You are Ollie, yet not Ollie. How is that? Yes, all that is true, dear, dear Father, said the youth, gently clasping one of the helpless hands that lay crossed on Zephyr's broad chest. I was thrown overboard by the mutineers years ago, but thank God I was not drowned, and you have been wandering here in very ill for years. But thank God again, you are better, and I have been mercifully sent to deliver you. I can't believe it, Ollie, for I have so often seen you, and you have so often given me the slip. Yet there does seem something very real about you just now, very real. Though so changed, yet it is the same voice, and you never spoke to me before in my dreams except once. Yes, I think it was once that you spoke. I remember it well, for the sound scent such a thrill to my heart. Oh, God forbid that it should again fade away, as it has done so often. It will not fade, Father. The time you speak of was only yesterday, when I found you. You have been sleeping since, and a doctor is attending you. A doctor? Where did he come from? At that moment, Ebony approached with some food in a tin pan. The invalid observed him at once. Ebony, can that be you? Why, when, oh, my poor brain feels so light, it seems as if a puff of wind would blow it away. I must have been very ill. Sepper spoke feebly, and closed his eyes, from which one or two tears issued. Blessed tears, the first he had shed for many a day. His reason is restored, whispered the doctor in Orlando's ear. But he must be left to rest. Orlando's heart was too full to find relief through the lips. I cannot understand it at all, resumed Sepper, reopening his eyes. Lest of all can I understand you, Olly, but my hope is in God. I would sleep now, but you must not let go my hand. Orlando held it tighter. One word more, your dear mother, is well and longs to see you. A profound, long-drawn sigh followed, as if an insupportable burden had been removed from the wearied soul. And Sepper sank into a sleep so peaceful that it seemed as if the spirit had forsaken the worn out frame, that a steady, gentle heaving of the chest told that life was still there. During the hours that followed, Orlando sat quite motionless, like a statue, firmly grasping his father's hand. CHAPTER XIII A few days after the discovery of Zepa by his son, a trading vessel chanced touch at the island, the captain of which no sooner saw the British man of war than he lowered his jig, went aboard in a state of great excitement, and told how that, just two days before, he had been chased by a pirate in latitude so-and-so and longitude something else. A messenger was immediately sent in hot haste to Sugarloaf Mountain to summon Orlando. I'm sorry to be obliged to leave you in such a hurry, said Captain Fitzgerald, as they were about to part, but duty calls and I must obey. I promise you, however, either to return here or to send your mission vessel for you, if it be available. Rest assured that you shall not be altogether forsaken. Having uttered these words of consolation, the captain spread his sails and departed, leaving Orlando and his father, Warunga, Tomeo, Bucci, Ebony, and Roscoe on Sugarloaf Island. Several days after this, Warunga entered the hut of Ongelu and sat down. The chief was amusing himself at the time by watching his Prime Minister Waputa playing with little Lippi, who had become a favourite at the palace since Zepa had begun to take notice of her. I would plover with the chief, said the missionary. Let Lippi be gone, said the chief. Waputa rolled the brown child unceremoniously out of the hut and composed his humorous features into an expression of solemnity. My brother, continued the missionary, has agreed to become a Christian and burn his idols? Yes, replied Ongelu with an emphatic nod, for he was a man of decision. I like to hear what you tell me. I feel that I am full of naughtiness. I felt that before you came here. I have done things that I knew to be wrong, because I have been miserable after doing them, yet when in passion I have done them again. I have wondered why I was miserable. Now I know. You tell me the great father was whispering to my spirit. It must be true. I have resisted him, and he made me miserable. I deserve it. I deserve to die. When any of my men dare to resist me, I kill them. I have dared to resist the great father, yet he has not killed me. Why not? You tell me he is full of love and mercy even to his rebels. I believe it. You say he sent his son Jesus to die for me, and to deliver me from my sins. It is well. I accept this Savior, and all my people shall accept him. My brother's voice makes me glad, returned Warunga. But while you can accept this Savior for yourself, it is not possible to force other people to do so. Not possible, cried the despotic chief with vehemence. Do you not know that I can force my people to do whatever I please? At least I can kill them if they refuse. You cannot do that and, at the same time, be a Christian. But, resumed on Galoo, with a look of, so to speak, fierce perplexity, I can at all events make them burn their idols. True, but that would only make them hate you in their hearts, and perhaps worship their idols more earnestly and secret. Know, my brother, there is but one weapon given to Christians, but that is a sharp and powerful weapon. It is called love. We must win others to Christ by voice and example. We may not drive them. It is not permitted. It is not possible. The chief cast his frowning eyes on the ground, and so remained for some time, while the missionary silently prayed. It was a critical moment. The man so long accustomed to despotic power could not easily bring his mind to understand the process of winning men. He did indeed know how to win the love of his wives and children, for he was naturally of an affectionate disposition, but as to winning the obedience of warriors or slaves the thing was preposterous. Yet he had sagacity enough to perceive that while he could compel the obedience of the body, or kill it, he could not compel the obedience of the soul. How can I, he said at last, with a touch of indignation still in his tone? I, a chief and a descendant of chiefs, stoop to ask, to beg, my slaves, to become Christians. It may not be. I can only command them. Woe, exclaimed Baputa, unable to restrain his approval of the sentiment. You cannot even command yourself on Galoo to be a Christian. How, then, can you command others? It is the great Father who has put it into your heart to wish to be a Christian. If you will now take his plan, you will succeed. If you refuse and try your own plan, you shall fail. Stay, cried the chief, suddenly laying such a powerful grasp on Marunga's shoulder that he winced. Did you not say that part of his plan is the forgiveness of enemies? I did. Must I, then, forgive the returans if I become a Christian? Even so. Then it is impossible. What, forgive the men whose forefathers have tried to rob my forefathers of their mountains since our nation first sprang into being? Forgive the men who have for ages fought with our fathers and tried to make slaves of our women and children, though they always failed because they are cowardly dogs. Forgive the returans? Never. Impossible. With man this is impossible. With the great Father all things are possible. Leave your heart in his hands, Angulu. Don't refuse his offer to save you from an unforgiving spirit, as well as from other sins, and that which to you seems impossible will soon become easy. No, never reiterated the chief with decision, as he cut further conversation short by rising and stocking out of the hut, closely followed by the sympathetic Waputa. Marunga was not much depressed by this failure. He knew that truth would prevail in time, and did not expect that the natural enmity of man would be overcome at the very first sound of the gospel. He was therefore agreeably surprised when, on the afternoon of that same day, Angulu entered the hut, which had been set apart for him and the two Ratinga chiefs, and said, Come, brother, I have called a council of my warriors. Come, you shall see the working of the great Father. The missionary rose at once and went after the chief with much curiosity, accompanied by Tomeo and Buchi, Zepa and his son, with Ebene and the pirate being still in the mountains. Angulu led them to the top of a small hill on which a sacred hut or temple stood. Here the prisoners of war used to be slaughtered, and here the orgies of heathen worship were want to be practiced. An immense crowd of natives, indeed the entire tribe except the sick and infirm, crowned the hill. This, however, was no new sight to the missionary, and conveyed no hint of what was pending. The crowd stood in two orderly circles, the inner one consisting of the warriors, the outer of the women and children. Both fell back to let the chief and his party pass. As the temple hut was open at one side, its interior, with the horrible instruments of execution and torture, as well as skulls, bones, and other ghastly evidences of former murder, was exposed to view. On the center of the floor lay a little pile of rudely carved pieces of timber, with some loose coconut fiber beneath them. A small fire burned on something that resembled an altar in front of the hut. The chief, standing close to this fire, cleared his throat and began an address with the words, men, warriors, women and children, listen. And they did listen with such rapt attention that it seemed as if not only ears but eyes, mouths, limbs, and muscles were engaged in the listening act, for this mode of address, condescending as it did to women and children, was quite new to them, and portended something unusual. Since these men came here, continued the chief, pointing to Wurunga and his friends, we have heard many wonderful things that have made us think. Before they came we heard some of the same wonderful things from the great white man, whose head is light, but whose heart is wise and good. I have made up my mind now to become a Christian. My warriors, my women, my children, need not be told what that is. They have all got ears and have heard. I have assembled you here to see my gods burned, he pointed to the pile in the temple, and I ask all who are willing to join me in making this fire a big one. I cannot compel your souls. I could compel your bodies, but I will not. He looked round very fiercely as he said this, as though he still had half a mind to kill one or two men to prove his point. And those who stood nearest to him moved uneasily, as though they more than half expected him to do some mischief. But the fierce look quickly passed away, and he went on in gentle, measured tones. Wurunga tells me that the Book of the Great Father says, Those who become Christians must love each other. Therefore we must no more hate or quarrel or fight or kill, not even our enemies. There was evident surprise on every face, and a good deal of decided shaking of heads as if such demands were outrageous. Moreover, it is expected of Christians that they shall not revenge themselves, but suffer wrong patiently. The eyebrows rose higher at this. Still more, it is demanded that we shall forgive our enemies. If we become Christians we must open our arms wide and take the returns to our hearts. This was a climax, as Angalu evidently intended, for he paused a long time, while loud expressions of dissent and defiance were heard on all sides, though it was not easy to see who uttered them. Now, warriors, women and children, here I am, a Christian. Who will join me? I will, exclaimed Waputa, stepping forward with several idols in his arms, which he tossed contemptuously into the temple. There was a general smile of incredulity among the warriors, for Waputa was well known to be a time-server. Nevertheless they were mistaken, for the jester was in earnest this time. Immediately after that an old white-headed warrior, bent nearly double with infirmity in years, came forward and acted as Waputa had done. Then, turning to the people, he addressed them in a weak, trembling voice. There was a great silence, for this was the patriarch of the tribe, had been a lion-like man in his youth, and was greatly respected. I join the Christians, he said slowly. Have I not lived and fought for long, very long? Yes, yes, for many voices. And what good has come of it? demanded the patriarch. Have not the men of the mountain fought with the men of the swamp since the mountain and the swamp came from the hand of the great father? A pause, and again, yes, yes, for many voices. And what good has come of it? Here is the mountain, yonder is the swamp. As they were from the beginning. And what the better are we that the swamp has been flooded, and the mountain drenched with the blood of our fathers? Hatred has been tried from the beginning of time, and has failed. Let us now, my children, try love, as the great father counsels us to do. A murmur of decided applause followed the old man's speech, and Angalu, seizing him by both shoulders, gazed earnestly into his withered face. Had they been Frenchmen, these two would no doubt have kissed each other's cheeks. If Englishmen, they might have shaken hands warmly. Being Polynesian savages, they rubbed noses. Under the influence of this affectionate act, a number of the warriors ran off, fetched their gods, and threw them on the temple floor. Then Angalu, seizing a brand from the fire, thrust it into the loose coconut fiber, and set the pile in a blaze. Quickly the flames leaped into the temple thatch, and set the whole structure on fire. As the fire roared and leaped, Burunga, with Tameo and Buchi, started a hymn. It chanced to be one which Zepa had already taught the people, who at once took it up, and sent forth such a shout of praise as had never before echoed among the palm groves of that island. It confirmed the waverers, and thus, under the influence of sympathy, the whole tribe came that day to be of one mind. The sweet strains rolling over the plains and uplands reached the cliffs at last, and struck faintly on the ears of a small group assembled in a mountain cave. The group consisted of Zepa and his son Ebony and the pirate. It sounds marvelously like a hymn, said Orlando, listening. Ah, dear boy, it is one I taught the natives when I stayed with them, said Zepa, but it never reached so far as this before. Poor Zepa was in his right mind again, but oh, how weak and wan and thin the raging fever had left him. Roscoe, who was also reduced to a mere shadow of his former self, listened to the faint sound with a troubled expression, for it carried him back to the days of innocence when he sang it at his mother's knee. That's on common strange, said Ebony, never heard the sound come so far before. Hope to Scandrel's no gut hold of grog. Shame on you, Ebony, to suspect such a thing, said Orlando. You would be better employed getting things ready for tomorrow's journey than casting imputations on our hospitable friends. Darned nothing to get ready, Massa, returned the Negro. Everything's prepared to start out to breakfast. That's well, and I am sure the change to the seashore will do you good, Father, as well as Roscoe. You've both been too long here. The cave is not as dry as one could wish, and then you'll be cheered by the sound of children playing round you. Yes, it will be pleasant to have Lippy running out and in again, said Zepa. They did not converse much, for the strength of both Zepa and Roscoe had been so reduced that they could not even sit up long without exhaustion. But Orlando kept up their spirits by prattling away on every subject that came into his mind, and especially of the island of Ritinga. While they were thus engaged, they heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and next moment, Tomio and Bucci bounded over the bushes, glaring and panting from the rate at which they had raced up the hill to tell the wonderful news. Everything burnt, exclaimed Ebony, whose eyes and teeth showed so much white that his face seemed absolutely to sparkle. Everything, idols and temple, repeated the two chiefs in the Ritinga tongue, and in the same breath. And never Gwyn to fight no more, asked Ebony with a grin that might be more correctly described as a split from ear to ear. Nevermore, replied the chiefs. Next morning the two invalids were tenderly conveyed on litters down the mountain side and over the plain, and before the afternoon had passed away they found a pleasant temporary resting-place in the now Christian village. CHAPTER XIV. The slopes and knolls and palm-fringed cliffs of Ritinga were tipped with gold by the western sun one evening as he declined towards his bed in the Pacific, when Marie Zepa wandered with Betsy Waringa and her brown little daughter Zarifa towards the strip of bright sand in front of the village. The two matrons, besides being filled with somewhat similar anxieties as to absent ones, were naturally sympathetic and frequently sought each other's company, the lively Anglo-French woman whose vivacity was not altogether subdued, even by the dark cloud that hung over her husband's fate, took special pleasure in the sedate, earnest temperament, of her native missionary friend, whose difficulty in understanding a joke coupled with her inability to control her laughter when, after a painful explanation, she did manage to comprehend one, was a source of much interest, and undercurrent, as it were, of quiet amusement. Betsy, said Marie, as they walked slowly along, their naked feet, just laved by the rippling sea, why do you persist in wearing that absurd bonnet? If you would only let me cut four inches off the crown and six off the front, it would be much more becoming. Do let me, that's a dear. You know I was accustomed to cutting and shaping, when in England. But for what use? asked Betsy, turning her large brown eyes, so solemnly on her companion. It no seems too big to me, besides, when Brother Goebbins give him to me he— Who is Brother Goebbins? asked Marie, with a look of smiling surprise. Oh, you know, the Minster Goebbins. What come to the mission-station, just after me in Waringa, left for Ratinga? Oh, I see, the Reverend Mr. Goebbins. Well, what did he say about the bonnet? What did he say? Ah, he say much more, and I can remember, and he look at the bonnet, with the head of one side, and side and pitiful like— Ah, Betsy Waringa, says he, this just the thing for you, put it on, and take it to Ratinga. It'll press the natives there. Impress them, you mean, Betsy? Wow, perhaps it was that. Anyhow, I put it on, and he look at me so earnest and says, with a sigh, Betsy, says he, it mines me on my grandmother, and she was a good old soul. Brought me up, Betsy, she did. Wear it, for her sake and mine, I make a present of it to you. Ha, Betsy, said Marie, the Reverend Goebbins, must be a wag, I suspect. What a wag, Mary! Don't you know what a wag is? Oh, yes, I know, when little birds sit on a stone and shake him's tail. I've heard you and Orly say it wag. But Mr. Goebbins, he got no tail to wag, so how can he wag it? I didn't say he wagged it, Betsy. Returned, Marie, repressing a laugh. But you'll never get to understand what a wag means, so I won't try to explain. Look, Zarifa is venturesome. You'd better call her back. Zarifa was indeed venturesome, clad in a white flannel petticoat and a miniature coal-scuttle. She was, at that moment, waiting so deep into the clear sea that she had to raise the little garment as high as her brown bosom to keep it out of the water, and with all her efforts she was unsuccessful, for with that natural tendency of childhood to forget and neglect what cannot be seen she had allowed the rear part of the petticoat to drop into the sea. This, however, occasioned little or no anxiety to Betsy Waringa, for she was not an anxious mother, but when raising her eyes a little higher she beheld the tip of the back fin of a shark describing lively circles in the water as if it had centered the tender morsel and were searching for it. Her easy indifference vanished. She gave vent to a yell and made a bound that told eloquently of the savage beneath the missionary, and, in another instant, was up to her knees in the water with the coal-scuttle quivering violently. Seizing Sarifa, she squeezed her almost to the bursting point against her palpitating breast, while the shark headed seaward in bitter disappointment. Don't go so deep again, Ziffa, said the mother with a gasp, as she set her little one down on the sand. No, muster, said the obedient child, and she kept on the landward side of her parent thereafter with demonstrate of care. It may be remarked here that owing to Waringa's love for and admiration of white men, Sarifa's native tongue was English, broken, of course, to the pattern of her parents. It was a narrow escape, Betsy, said Marie, solemnized by the incident. Yes, thanks the Lord! replied the other, continuing to gaze out to sea, long after the cause of her alarm had disappeared. Oh, Marie! she added with a sigh. When will the dear men come home? The question drove all the playful humour out of poor Marie, and her eyes filled with sudden tears. When indeed, O Betsy, my men will never come, for Orly and the others I'd little fear. But, my Antonio! Poor Marie could say no more. Her nature was as quickly, though not as easily provoked, to deep sorrow as to gaiety. She covered her face with her hands. As she did so, the eyes of Betsy, which had for some time been fixed on the horizon, opened to their widest, and her countenance assumed a look so deeply solemn that it might have lent a touch of dignity even to the coal-skettle bonnet, if it had not bordered just a little too closely on the ridiculous. Oh, Marie! she exclaimed in a whisper so deep that her friend looked up with a startled air. See, look! a ship! A ship? Where? said the other, turning her eager gaze on the horizon. But she was not so quick-sighted as her companion, and when at length she succeeded in fixing the object with her eyes, she pronounced it a gull. No, it's not a gull. A ship! retorted Betsy. Asked Zarefa, her eyes are better than ours, suggested Marie. Come here, Zeefa! shouted Betsy. Zarefa came, and at the first glance exclaimed, A ship! The news spread in for a moment, for other and sharper eyes in the village had already observed the sail, and ere long the beach was crowded with natives. By that time most of the retinkins had adopted more or less, chiefly less, of European costume, so that the aspect of the crowd was anything but savage. It is true there were large proportions of brown humanity presented to view, such as arms, legs, necks, and chests. But these were picturesquely interspersed with striped cotton drawers, duck trousers, gay gursneys, red and blue fannel petticoats, numerous caps and straw hats, as well as a few coal-skettles, though none of the latter could match that of Betsy Waringa for size and tremulosity. But there were other signs of civilization there, besides costume. For, in addition to the neat huts and gardens, and weight-washed church, there was a sound issuing from the pointed spire, which was anything but suggestive of the south sea savage. It was the church bell, a small one to be sure, but sweetly toned, which was being wrung violently, to call in all the fighting men from the woods and fields around. For at that time the retinkins had to be prepared for the reception of foes as well as friends. A trusty chief had been placed in charge of the village by Tomeo before he left. This man now disposed his warriors in commanding positions as they came trooping in, obedient to the call, and bade them keep out of sight and watch his signals from the beach. But now let us see what vessel it was that caused such commotion in Ratinga. She was a brig with nothing particularly striking in her rig or appointments, a mere trading vessel. But on her bulwarks at the bow, and on the heel of the bowsprit, was gathered a group that well deserves notice. For there, for most of all, and towering above the others, stood Antonio Zepa, holding on to a forestay, and gazing with intensity and fixedness at the speck of land which had just been sighted. Beside him, and not less absorbed, stood his valiant and amiable son. While around, in various attitudes, sat or stood the chiefs Tomeo and Bucci, Roscoe and Ebony, Angolo and Waputa, and little Lippi with her mother. But the native missionary was not there. He had positively refused to quit the desert which had so unexpectedly and suddenly began to blossom as the rose, and had remained to water the ground until his French should send for him. The chief and prime minister of the mountain men were there because, being large-minded, they wished to travel and see the world. And Lippi was there because Zepa liked her, while the mother was there because she liked Lippi, and refused to be parted from her. Great was the change which had come over Zepa during his convalescence. The wild locks and beard had been cut and trimmed. The ragged garments had been replaced by a suit belonging to Orly. And the air of wild despair, alternating with vacant simplicity, which characterized him in his days of madness, had given place to the old, sedate, sweet look of gentle gravity. It is true the grey hairs had increased in number, and there was a look, or rather an effect of suffering in the fine face which nothing could remove. But much of the muscular vigor and the erect gait had been regained during those months when he had been so carefully and untiringly nursed by his son on Sugarloaf Island. It was not so with the ex-pirate. Poor Roscoe was a broken man. The shock to his frame from the partial burning and the subsequent amputation of his feet had been so great that a return to anything like vigor seemed out of the question. But there was that in the expression of his faded face, and in the light of his sunken eye, which carried home the conviction that the ruin of his body had been the saving of his soul. I cannot tell you, Orly, how thankful I am, said Zepa, that this traitor happened to touch at the island. As I grew stronger, my anxiety to return home became more and more intense, and to say truth, I had begun to fear that Captain Fitzgerald had forgotten us altogether. No fear of that, Father. The Captain is sure to keep his promise. He will either return, as he said, or send some vessel to look after us. What are you gazing at, Ebony? Do steeple-massa look? cried the negro, his whole face quivering with excitement, and the whites of his eyes unusually obtrusive as he pointed to the ever-growing line of land on the horizon. You see him, glippering like fire. I do see something glittering, said Orlando, shading his eyes with his hand. Yes, it must be the steeple of the church. Father, look! It was not there when you left us. We'll soon see the hoses now. Thank God! murmured Zepa, in a jeep, tremulous voice. Can you see it, Roscoe? said Orly. The pirate turned his eyes languidly in the direction pointed out. I see the land, he said faintly, and I join in your father, in thanking God for that. But it is not home to me. Come, friend, said Zepa, laying his hand gently on the poor man's shoulder. Say not so. It shall be home to you yet. Please, God! If he has blotted out the past in the cleansing blood of the lamb, what is man that he should remember it? Cheer up, Roscoe. You shall find a home and a welcoming rotinga. Always returning good for evil, Zepa, said Roscoe, in a more cheerful voice. I think it is a tremendous weakness that crushes my spirits. But come, I'll try to cheer up, as you advise. That's right, Massa! cried Ebony, in an encouraging tone, and just look at the glippering steeple. He'll do use hot good, something like the fire and the wilderness, to do gypsons. To the Israelites, shall mean? said Orly. Ah, yes, to the Israelites, to be sure. I miss-membered. Oh, look! there's the housetops now, and a pine-grove, where we used to hold paveler. About you, Massa, already you was lost. And yes, that's the house. Use own house. You see the wife looking out to winder, very soon. I know as it's by the pigstie clothes, alongside where the big grumpers sows libs. That Zepa so fond of playing with. Oh, Libby, come here! You see little naked-ting. He caught up the child, and sat her on his broad shoulder. You see, the small little house? That's where Zepha loves to play. But she'll have you to play with soon. And then she'll forsake the old sow. Oh, I forget, you no understand in English. Hereupon Ebony began to translate his information, as best he could, into the language of the little creature, in which effort he was not very successful, being an indifferent linguist. Meanwhile the vessel gradually near the island stood into the lagoon, and finally dropped anchor. A boat was at once lowered and made for the shore. And oh, how intensely and intensely did those in the boat and those on the shore gaze at each other as the space between them diminished. They not look like enemies, said Betsy, in subdued tones. And I don't think they are armed, returned Marie, with palpitating heart. But I cannot yet make out the faces. Only, they seem to be white, some of them. Yes, and some of them's brown. Thus on shore, in the boat. Now, Den Massa, you see her, and ha-ha, there's Betsy. I know her among thousand. You see the bonnet tumbling about, like a jolly boat in a high sea. And Zepha too, with the little bonnet, all the same shape. Can you now see her? Zepha protested, rather anxiously, that he could not see them, and no wonder, for just then his eyes were blinded by tears, which no amount of wiping suffice to clear away. At that moment a shriek was heard on shore, and Betsy was seen to spring. We are afraid to say how many feet into the air. Dar! she recognize us now, exclaimed Ebony with delight. And it was evident that he was right, for Betsy continued to caper upon the sands, in a manner that can only be the result of joy or insanity, while the coal-scuttle beat, tempestuously, about her head, like an enraged balloon. Another moment, and the signal from the chief, brought the ambushed Christian warriors pouring down to the shore to see the long lost and loved ones reunited. While Ebony ran about in a state of frantic excitement, weeping copiously, and embracing everyone who came in his way. But who shall describe the agony of disappointment, endured by poor Betsy, when she found that Waringa was not among them? The droop of the spirits, the collapse of the coal-scuttle, language is impotent. We leave it to imagination, merely remarking that she soon recovered on the faith of the happiness which was yet in store for her. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 And now, once again, we find ourselves in the palm grove of Ratingvar Island. It is a fine autumn afternoon, the air is still as regards motion, but thrilling with the melody of merry human voices as the natives labour in the fields, and alive with the twittering of birds as they make love, quarrel, and make it up again in the bushes. Now and then a hilarious laugh bursts from a group of children, or a hymn rises from some grateful heart, for as yet there is no secular music in Ratingvar. In the lagoon lies a man of war, its sails neatly furled, and its trim-rigging, dark hull, and tapered spars perfectly reproduced in the clean water. As the sun sank lower towards the west, our friend Ebony might have been seen slowly climbing the side of one of the neighbouring hills with Richard Roscoe, the ex-pirate on his back. Set me down now, my friend, said Roscoe. You are far too good to me, and let me know what it is you have to say to me. You have quite roused my curiosity by your nods a mysterious manner. Out with it now, whatever it is. The Negro had placed Roscoe in such a position on a ledge of rock that he could see the lagoon and the ship at anchor. The ex-pirate had by that time recovered some of his former strength, and, although they rested on his countenance, an air of profound sadness, they mingled with it a hue of returning help, which none who saw him land had expected to see again. But the care of gentle hand and the power of glad emotions had brought miraculously on the man, body and soul. I has heard Massa and Captain Fitzroy talking about you, said the Negro, crossing his arms on his chest, and regarding his questioner with a somewhat quizzical expression. Ha, I thought so. I am wanted, eh? Well, yes, you is wanted, but you is not better yet, so far as I know. Ah, Ebony returned Roscoe, shaking his head. I have long expected it, and now I am prepared to meet my deserved fate, like a man. I may humbly say, a Christian man, thanks to God, the Saviour, and Zepa, the instrument. But tell me, what did the Commander of the Man of War say? What did he say? Well, I tell you, first he hoed into Massa's house and shook hands with Mrs. Also, with Mrs. Varunga, what happened to be widow, and him so friendly that he nigh shook a debonnet off her head. Then they talked about good many things, and after a while, Dick happened turned full on Massa, and so I was told, Miss Zepa, that you's got that William Roscoe to pilot here. Ho, you should have seen poor Massa's face, how it grow long. I most think it also grow a little pale, and Mrs, she gives a squeak, what she couldn't help, and Betsy, she give a groan, and jump up, slap on her debonnet, back to the front, and begin to clear out, but Dick Captain jump up and stop her. Many apologies, says the hypocrite, for stopping a lady, but I don't want any alarm given. You know that the pirates lie and forfeited in his country, so of course, you'll give him up. And what said Zepa to that, asked Roscoe eagerly. I was just going to tell you, Massa, you see, I was in the back kitchen, and did time and heard every word. Well, see, Massa, awfully slow and unwilling life, I cannot deny that Roscoe is in the island, but I do assure you, sir, that he's quite unable to do any further mischief to anyone, for and Massa stop all of a sudden. Well, says Dick Captain, why you not go on? Has you a description of him? He asked. Oh yes, says Dick Captain, drawing out a paper and reading it. The very tin, as like you it was, as two peas, even to the small mile on side of your nose. But it's saying nothing about your feet. Clearly, he never heard of that, and Massa, he noticed that, seems to me, that he says, well, Captain Fitzgerald, it may be your duty to seize this pyre and deliver him up to justice, but it's no duty of mine to help you. Ah, and as to that, says the Captain, I'll easily find him without your assistance. I have a party of men with me, and no one knows or even suspects the reason of my visit. But all of you who now hear me must promise not to say a word about this matter till my search is over. I believe you to be an honourable Christian, Zepa, who cannot break his word. May these ladies be relied on. Day, May, says Massa, in a voice of woe, that most made me cry. So, when I hear that I tinks to myself, O you British hypocrite, you's not so clever as you tinks, that Ebony's got to winners of you. And when day, I slips out of the back, winder and run to use cottage, and ask if you'd like to have a ride on my back as usual. And you say yes, and now yours here, and I dare say to Captain, looking for you. It is very kind of you, Ebony, said Roscoe, with a deep sigh and a shape at the head. Very kind, both of you and Zepa, but your efforts cannot now avail me. Just consider if the description of me possessed by Captain Fitzgerald is as faithful and minute as you say, the mere absence of my feet could not deceive him. Besides, when I am found, if the commander of the man of war asked me my name, I will not deny it. I will give myself up. But if you do, day will hang you, said Ebony, in a somewhat exasperated tone. Even so, it is my fate, and I deserved. But it would be murder to hang an innocent man, what's been reformed, and don't mean for to do no more mischief, not only so, but can't. I fear you won't get the broken law to look at it in that light, Ebony. Broken law, what does I care for the broken law? But tell me, Mesa, have your makeup used mine to give yourself up? I have, returned Roscoe sadly. Quite sure and certain? Quite, returned Roscoe, with a faint smile at the poor Negro's persistency. Well then, you come and have a last ride on my back. Surely you know can refuse, so smaller favor, to dish out black holes. What's carried you so often? A fore you die. Of course not, my poor fellow, but to what purpose? Of what use will it be to delay matters? It will only prolong the captain's search, needlessly. Oh, never mind. There's good lots of huts in the place to keep the hypocrite going. Plenty of time for a last little ride. Besides, I want you to see a place I discover not long ago. Most curious place you never see. Come along then, said Roscoe, thinking at right to Huna, one who had been more like a brother than a servant to him, during his long illness. Stoop down, now then, heave. In a twinkling, Roscoe was on the back of his black horse, which carried him a considerable distance in among the hills. Ah, Ebony, said the rider at last, I feel sure you are deceiving me, that you hope to conceal me here, but it is of no use, I tell you, for I won't remain concealed. No matter, I not deceive you, I bring you here to show you, to strona replace, I have discover, and ask you what you think of him. Well, show it me quickly, and then let us hasten home. Without replying, the negro clambered up a somewhat steep and rugged path, which brought them to the base of a low precipice, which was partially fringed with bushes. Pushing one of these aside, he entered a small cabin, not much larger than a sentry box, which seemed to have no outlet, that Ebony, placing his right foot on a projection of rock, just large enough to receive it, raised himself upwards, so as to place his left foot on another projection, which enabled him to get on what appeared to be a shelf of rock. Rising up, he entered another cabin. A strange place truly, but very dark, said Roscoe, does it extend far? You'll see, just now, muttered the negro, obtaining a light by means of flint and steel, with which he kindled a torch. You see, I've been exploring here before, and got tings ready. So saying, he carried Roscoe through several winding passages, until he gained a cabin so large and high that the torch was unable to reveal either its extent or its roof. Wonderful, why did you not tell us of this place before Ebony? Because I only just discovered him. That awed past. I think he've slendered place for hide our women and children if we're ever attacked by savages. See, I even made some few preparations, got straw into corner for lyre. Soon get meat and drink, if him's required. Very suitable indeed, but if you have brought me here to hide, as I still suspect, my poor fellow, you have troubled yourself in vain, for my mind is made up. That's very sad, Massa, very sad. Returned Ebony with a deep sigh, but you no object, sit on the straw for a bit, and let me rest. There now, you's growing heavier every day, Massa. I stick the torch here for light. Look, here you see, I have a few tings. This is one big rope, with a loop on him. And what may that be for, ask Roscoe, with some curiosity, for tie up our enemies, when we's catch them. This way, you understand? As he spoke, Ebony passed the loop over Roscoe's shoulders and drew it tight so as to render his arms powerless, and before the latter realised what he was about, his legs were also securely bound. Surely you do not mean to keep me here by force, cried Roscoe angrily. I's much afraid, Massa, that's exactly what I mean. Come, come, Ebony, you have carried this chest far enough, unbind me. Very sorry to oblige you, Massa, but that's impossible just now. I command you, sir, to undo this rope, cried Roscoe fiercely. There's a good deal of the old ring about that, sir, that is not a pirate capper now, and I ain't one of the pirate crew. Roscoe saw at once the absurdity of giving way to anger and restrained himself, but you cannot restrain my voice, Ebony. He continued, and I promise you that I will shout till I am heard. Shout away, Massa, much as you please, bust your lungs, if you like, for you're in the bowels of the hill here. Roscoe felt that he was in the Negro's powers and remained silent. I was very sorry to leave you tied up, said Ebony, rising to quit the place, but when the men is foolish like little boys, they must be treated the same. Distraught will keep you comfortable. I dint leave to torch, but I'll soon send you food by a shore messenger, and come back myself soon as ever I can. Stay, Ebony, I'm at your mercy, and as no good can come of my remaining bound, I must get in, will you unbind me if I promise to remain quiet? With pleasure, said the Negro cheerfully, as his glistening teeth showed themselves, you promise to wait here till I come for you. I promise, and you promise not to shout, I do. In a moment the rope was cast off, and Roscoe was free. Then Ebony, bidding him keep up his heart, glided out at the cabin, and left him in profound darkness. Captain Fitzgerald searched the island high and low, far and wide, without success, being guided during the search cheaply by Ebony. That while in Negro, on returning to the village, found that the search had already begun, the captain had taken care that no one, save those to whom he had already spoken, should know what or who he was searching for, so that the pirate might not be prematurely alarmed. Great, therefore, was his surprise when he was accosted by the Negro, and asked in a mysterious manner to step aside with him out of earshot of the sailors who assisted him. What have you got to say to me, my man? He asked, when they had gone a few yards into the palm grove. You is looking for the pirate, said Ebony, in a hoarse whisper, and with a superhumanly intelligent gaze. Why, how came you to know that? Asked the captain, somewhat perplexed and thrown off his guard. Ho, ho, laughed Ebony, in a subdued voice. How's I comes to know that, eh? I come to know many things, by putting this and that together. Use, Captain, a man of all. Well, you know come here for nothing. Well, Roscoe, de pirate, de horrible scoundrel, hymns live here. Of course, you come for look for him. Officers of the British Navy got nothing else to do, but catch a hanged set of armours, eh? Is right? Well, no, return, Captain Fitzgerald, laughing, not altogether right, as to the duties of officers of the British Navy. However, you're right, as to my object, and I see that this pirate is no friend of yours. No friend, eh, no, not at all. Hymns far more nor that. I love him, as a brother, said the Negro, with intense energy. Captain Fitzgerald laughed again, for he supposed that the Negro spoke ironically, and Ebony extended his thick lips from ear to ear, because he foresaw and intended that the Captain would fall into that mistake. Now you lose no time in search for him, said Ebony, and dishe nigger will show you the way. Do, my fine fellow, and when we find him, I'll not forget your services. Use very good, and most too good, said Ebony, with an affectionate look at his new employer. So, as we have said, the village and island were searched high and low without success. At last, while the searching party was standing, baffled on the shore farthest from the village, Captain Fitzgerald stopped abruptly, and looking Zeppa in the face, exclaimed, Strange is it not, and the island so small comparatively? Quite unaccountable, answered Zeppa, who, with his son, had at last joined in the search out of sheer anxiety as to Roscoe's fate. Most perplexing, said Orlando. Most amazing, murmured Ebony, with a look of disappointment that baffles description. Suddenly the Negro pointed to the beach, exclaiming, Oh, I know that now, look there, you see two small canoes, there were three canoes there yesterday, the tide one of them, there now, look. They all looked eagling at the horizon, where a tiny speck was seen, it might have been a gull or an albatross. Impossible, said Zeppa, where could he hope to escape to in that direction, no island within a thousand miles. A desperate man does anything matter. Well, I shall soon find out, for the wind blows in that direction, said the Captain, wheeling about and returning to his ship. Soon the sails were spread, the anchor weighed, the coral reef passed, and the good ship was leaping merrily over the sea in pursuit of the pirate, while Ebony was seated on the straw beside Roscoe, expanding his mouth to an extent that it had never reached before, and causing the cabin to ring with uproarious laughter. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 OF THE MAD MAN AND THE PIRATE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. THE MAD MAN AND THE PIRATE by R. M. Ballantyne Chapter 16 It needs scarcely be said that the man of war did not overtake the pirate's canoe. She cruised about for some days and the hope was falling in with it. Then her course was altered, and she was steered once more for Ratinga. But the elements seemed to league with Ebony in this matter, for ere she sighted the island there burst upon her one of those tremendous hurricanes with which the southern seas are at times disturbed. So fierce was the tempest that the good ship was obliged to present her stern to the howling blast, and scud before it under bare poles. When the wind abated, Captain Fitzgerald found himself so far from the scene of his recent visit, and so pressed for time, as well as with the claims of other duties, possibly according to Ebony, the capturing and hanging of other pirates, that he resolved to postpone his visit until a more convenient season. The convenient season never came. Captain Fitzgerald returned home to die, and with him died the memory of Roscoe the pirate, at least as far as public interest in his capture and punishment was concerned. For some of the captain's papers were mislaid and lost, and among them the personal description of the pirate, and the account of his various misdeeds. But Roscoe himself did not die. He lived to prove the genuine nature of his conversion, and to assist Warunga in his good work. As it is just possible that some reader may doubt the probability, perhaps even the possibility, of such a change, we recommend him to meditate on the fact that Saul of Tarsus, the persecutor, became Paul, the loving apostle of the Lord. One morning, not long after the events just narrated, Zepa came to Roscoe's hut with a bundle under his arms. He was followed by Marie, Betsy, Zarefa, and Lippi with her mother. By that time Lippi had been provided with a bonnet similar to that of her friend Zepha, and her mother had been induced to mount a flannel petticoat, which she wore tied round her neck or her waist, as her fancy or her forgetfulness inclined her. The party had accompanied Zepha to observe the effect of this bundle on Roscoe. That worthy was seated on a low couch constructed specially for him by Ebony. He was busy reading. Welcome, friends all, he said, with a look of surprise at the deputation-like visit. We have come to present you with a little gift, Roscoe, said Zepha, unrolling the bundle and holding up to view a couple of curious machines. Wooden legs, exclaimed Roscoe, with something between a gasp and a laugh. That's what they are, Roscoe. We have been grieved to see you creeping about in such a helpless fashion, and dependent on Ebony, or some other strong-backed fellow, when you wanted to go any distance. So Orlando and I put our heads together and produced a pair of legs. While he was speaking the onlookers gazed an open-eyed and mouthed expectancy, for they did not feel quite sure how their footless friend would receive the gift. It is kind, very kind of you, he said, on recovering from his surprise. But how am I to fix them on? There's no hole to shove the ends of my poor legs into. Oh, you don't shove your legs into them at all, said Zepha. You've only got to go on your knees into them. See, this part will fit your knees pretty well. Then you strap them on, make them fast, and away you go. Let's try them. To the delight of the women and children, Roscoe was quite as eager to try on the legs as they were to see him do it. The bare idea of being once more able to walk quite excited the poor man, and his hands trembled as he tried to assist his friend in fixing them. Keep your hands away altogether, said Zepha. You only delay me. There now. There's tight as two masts. Hold on to me while I raise you up. At that moment, Tamio, Bucci, Ebony, Angolo, Waputa, and Orlando came upon the scene. What a shame, Father, cried the latter, to begin without letting us know. Orly, I'm sorry you found us at it. Marie and I had planned giving you a surprise by making Roscoe walk up to you. Never mind, cried Roscoe impatiently. Just set me on my pins, and I'll soon walk into him. Now then, hoist away. Orly and his father each seized an arm, and next moment Roscoe stood up. Now, Dan, don't hurry him. Hurrah! cried Ebony, giving a cheer of encouragement. Have a care, friends. Don't let me go, said Roscoe anxiously, clutching his supporters next with a convulsive grasp. I'll never do it, Zepha. I feel that if you quit me for an instant, I shall go down like a shot. No fear. Here, cut him a staff, Ebony, said Zepha. That'll be equal to three legs, you know, and even a stool can stand alone with three legs. The staff was cut and headed to the learner, who, planning it firmly on the ground before him, leaned on it, and exclaimed, Let go! in tones which instantly suggested the anchor to his friends. The order was obeyed, and the ex-pirate stood swaying to and fro, and smiling with almost childlike delight. Presently he became solemn, lifted one leg, and set it down again with marvellous rapidity. Then he lifted the other leg, with the same result. Then he lifted the staff, but had to replace it smartly to prevent falling forward. I fear I can only do duty as a motionless tripod, he said rather anxiously. Never fear, Massa. Oh, look out! The latter exclamation was caused by Roscoe falling backwards. To prevent which catastrophe he made a wild flourish with his arms, and a sweep with his staff, which just grazed the negro's cheek. Zepha, however, caught him in his arms, and set him up again. Now then, try once more, he said, encouragingly. Roscoe tried, and in the course of half an hour, managed, with many a stagger and upheaval of the arms and staff, to advance about eight or ten yards. At this point, however, he chanced to place the end of the right leg on a soft spot of ground. Down it went instantly to the knee, and over went the learner on his side, snapping the leg short off in the fall. It would be difficult to paint the general disappointment at this sudden collapse of the experiment. A united groan burst from the party, including the patient, for it at once became apparent that a man with a wooden leg, to say nothing of two, could only walk on a hard, beaten path, and as there were few such on the island, Roscoe's chance of a long ramble seemed to vanish. But Zepha and his son were not meant to be easily beaten. They set to work to construct feet for the legs, which should be broad enough to support their friend on softish ground, and these were so arranged with a sort of ball and socket joint that the feet could be moved up and down. In theory this worked admirably. In practice it failed, for after a staggering step or two the toes having been once raised refused to go down, and thus was produced the curious effect of a man stumping about on his heels. To overcome this difficulty the heels of the feet were made to project almost as much behind as the toes did in front, somewhat after the pattern of Ebony's pedal arrangements, as Roscoe remarked when they were being fitted on for another trial. At last, by dint of perseverance, the wooden legs were perfected, and Roscoe reacquired the art of walking to such perfection that he was to be seen almost at all times, and in all weathers, stumping about the village, his chief difficulty being that when he chanced to fall, which he often did, he was obliged either to get someone to help him up or to crawl home, for being unable to get his knees to the ground when the legs were on, he was obliged to unstrap them if no one was within hail. Now, during all this time Betsy Burunga remained quite inconsolable about her husband. But, my dear, you know he is quite safe, her friend Marie Zepa would say to her, for he is doing the master's work among Christian men. I know as that, Betty would reply, I am comforted a little when I think so. But what for not Zepa get a canoe ready and take me to him, a missionary not worth nothing without his wife? Marie sympathized heartily with this sentiment, but pointed out that it was too long and dangerous a voyage to be undertaken in a canoe, and that it was probable the mission ship would revisit Ratinga ere long, in which case the voyage could be undertaken in comfort and safety. But Betsy did not believe in the danger of a canoe voyage, nor in the speedy arrival of the mission ship. In fact, she believed in nothing at that time save in her own grief and the hardness of her case. She shook her head, and the effect on the coal-scuttle, which had now become quite palsy with age and hard service, was something amazing in so much that Marie's sympathy merged irresistibly into mirth. The good women's want of faith, however, received a rebuke not many weeks later. She was hastening one afternoon to an outlying field to gather vegetables in company with Zarifa, who had by that time grown into a goodly-sized girl. The pace induced silence, also considerable agitation in both bonnets. When they had cleared the village and reached Roscoe's hut near the entrance to the palm grove, they went up to the open door and looked in. But no one was there. He's holed out to walk, observed Zarifa with a light laugh, off a fawn to walk, and since he got to wooden legs, what was you want with him? asked Betsy, as they resumed their walk. Want to ask about the Bible lesson for tomorrow? Some things Meno can understand, and Roscoe great at the Bible now. Yes, I remember Betsy with the nod. There's many things in the Bible not easy to understand. Takes a deal of study, Zarifa, to make him out. Your father always say that. But Roscoe's first raid explained none of them. First raid, so your father say. Him was born for missionary. At that moment a cry was heard in the distance. They'd been ascending a winding path leading to the field to which they were bound. Sounds like man in distress said Betsy, breaking into a run, with that eager alacrity which usually characterizes the sympathetic. Zarifa replied not, but followed her mother. The cry was repeated, and at once recognized as being uttered by the man who was born for a missionary, but had mistaken his profession when he became a pirate. When they reached the spot whence it had apparently issued, the missionary, or ex-pirate, was nowhere to be seen. Hooroo, arse you! shouted Betsy, looking around. Here cried a half-smothered voice from somewhere in the earth. Oh, look! exclaimed Zarifa in a sort of squeal as she ran towards a spot where two strange plants seemed to have sprung up. Roscoe's legs had Betsy aghast, and she was right. The venturesome man had, with his accustomed hardy-hood, attempted that day to scale the mountain side, and had fallen into a hole by the side of the track, from which he could by no means extricate himself, because of its being a tightish fit, his head being down, and his legs were in the air. Oh, Betsy, pull me out, lass! I'm half-choked already, gasped the unfortunate man. But Betsy could not move him, much less pull him out, although heartily assisted by her daughter. Run, Zarifa, run and fetch men! Zarifa ran like a hunted deer, so anxious was she for the deliverance of her Bible instructor. On turning sharp round a bend in the track, she plunged into the bosom of Ebony. Oh, hi, busted I am! What's the matter, Zarifa? You travel like a cannonball! As he spoke, Zepa and his son, who had been walking behind Ebony, came up. The panting child only replied, Roscoe, quick! and ran before them to the fatal spot. Need we say that in a few moments the born missionary was drawn like a cork out of a bottle, and set down right end up. Then they carried him to a clear space once the sea was visible, condoling with him as they went. But here all thought of the accident and of everything else was banished for the moment by the sight of a ship on the horizon. It turned out to be the mission vessel, with supplies, and with a young native missionary or Bible reader. And thus in a few days not only Betsy Burunga, but Angalu and Waputa, with Lippie and her mother and Orlando, were enabled to return to Sugarloaf Island. The joy of the Sugarlovians at the return of their chiefs and friends is not to be described, for, despite the assurances of Burunga, they had begun to grow uneasy. Neither is it possible to describe the condition of the coal-scuttle bonnet after it had been crushed in the reckless embrace of Betsy's spouse, nor the delight of the uncles, aunts, brothers, cousins, nieces, and nephews of Lippie, when they got her safe back again, though awfully disguised by the miniature coal-scuttle and flaming petticoat. By that time the mountain men and the returans had rubbed noses, intermingled, intermarried, broken bows and spears, buried the war-hatchet, and otherwise made up their minds, like sane creatures, to dwell in peace. For savages come to this condition sometimes, civilized nations never do. Great, therefore, was their satisfaction when their mourning, at the prospect of losing Burunga, was turned into joy by the decision of the young native teacher who volunteered to take his place and remain with them as their permanent instructor in the way of righteousness. A dance was proposed by some of the chiefs as an appropriate way of expressing their joy and getting rid of superfluous energy. But as their only dance was a war dance it was thought better to celebrate the occasion by a grand feast, which, being preceded by games, wrestling, jumping, and running, etc., served the purpose equally well, if not better. Thus was an island, one from heathenism, in those far-off southern seas. And now, what shall we say in conclusion? Time and space would fail us, were we to continue the history of Ritinga Island down to the present time. We can only add that Burunga and Betsy returned home, that a stalwart son of Tomeo went in after years to Sugarloaf Island, and carried off Lippie as his bride, along with her mother, that a handsome son of Angalu took revenge by carrying Zarifa away from Ritinga without her mother, that regular and frequent intercourse was set up between the two islands by means of a little schooner, that Ebony stuck to his master and mistress through thick and thin to a good old age, that Orlando went to England, studied medicine, and returned again to Ritinga with a fair daughter of that favoured land, that Waputa's morals improved by degrees, that Bucci became more reconciled to European dress as he grew older, and that the inhabitants of the two islands generally became wiser and happier, though of course not perfect, through the benign influence of that Gospel which teaches man to do to others as he would have others do to him. Time, as usual, continued to work as marvellous changes as the years flew by, but of all the transformations he wrought, none was so striking as that produced in two men of Ritinga, who daily sat down, side by side, in front of their cottage by the sea, to watch a host of children of all ages, sizes, and complexions, which combulled merrily on the sands. These men were old and somewhat feeble, with hair like the driven snow, but their gentle expressions and ready smiles told of eternal youth within. As the one sat with his colossal frame still erect though spare, talking softly to his comrade, and the other sat slightly bent, with eyes gazing sometimes at the children, and sometimes at his wooden toes, how difficult, how almost impossible, to believe that, in former days, the one had been the madman, and the other, the pirate.