Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood Trader. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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because he usually comes at night, and seldom stays more than an hour or two.”
“A most uncomfortable style of acquaintance,” said Corrie, trying to look wise, which was an utterly futile effort, seeing that his countenance was fat and round, and rosy, and very much the reverse of philosophical. “But how do you know that the grampus is not the pirate?”
“Because he is one of Gascoyne’s men.”
“Oh! his name is Gascoyne, is it?—a most piratical name it is. However, since he is your friend, Henry, it’s all right; what’s tother’s name?”
“Bumpus—John Bumpus.”
On hearing this, the boy clapped both hands to his sides, expanded his eyes and mouth, shewed his teeth, and finally gave vent to roars of uncontrollable laughter, swaying his body about the while as if in agony.
“Oh, clear!” he cried, after a time, “John Bumpus, ha! ha! ha! what a name!—John Bumpus, ha! ha! the grampus—why, it’s magnificent, ha! ha!” and again the boy gave free vent to his merriment, while his companion looked on with a quiet grin of amusement.
Presently, Corrie became grave, and said, “But what of the third, the little chap, all over gold lace? P’r’aps he’s the pirate. He looked bold enough a’most for anything.”
“Why, you goose, that’s the commander of his Britannic Majesty’s frigate Talisman.”
“Indeed? I hope his Britannic Majesty has many more like him.”
“Plenty more like him. But come, boy; what have you heard of this pirate, and what do you mean about a wounded nigger?”
“I just mean this,” answered the lad, suddenly becoming serious, “that when I was out on the mountain this morning, I thought I would cross the ridge, and when I did so, the first thing I saw was a schooner lying in the bay at the foot of the hill, where you and I have so often gone chasing pigs together; well, being curious to know what sort of a craft she was, I went down the hill, intendin’ to go aboard; but before I’d got half way through the cocoanut grove, I heard a horrible yell of a savage; so, thinks I, here comes them blackguard pagans again, to attack the settlement; and before I could hide out of the way, a naked savage almost ran into my arms. He was sea-green in the face with fright, and blood was running over his right arm.
“The moment he saw me, instead of splitting me up with his knife and eating me alive, as these fellers are so fond of doin’, he gave a start, and another great cry, and doubled on his track like a hare. His cry was answered by a shout from half a dozen sailors, who burst out of the thicket at that moment, and I saw they were in pursuit of him. Down I went at once behind a thick bush, and the whole lot o’ the blind bats passed right on in full cry, within half an inch of my nose. And I never saw sich a set o’ piratical-looking villains since I was born. I felt quite sure that yon schooner is the pirate that has been doing so much mischief hereabouts, so I came back as fast as my legs could carry me, to tell you what I had seen. There, you have got all that I know of the matter now.”
“You are wrong, boy—the schooner you saw is not the pirate, it is the Foam. Strange, very strange!” muttered Henry.
“What’s strange,” inquired the lad.
“Not the appearance of the wounded nigger,” answered the other; “I can explain all about him, but the sailors—that puzzles me.”
Henry then related the morning’s adventure to his young companion.
“But,” continued he, after detailing all that the reader already knows, “I cannot comprehend how the pirates you speak of could have landed without their vessel being in sight; and that nothing is to be seen from the mountain tops except the Talisman on the one side of the island and the Foam on the other, I can vouch for. Boats might lie concealed among the rocks on the shore, no doubt. But no boats would venture to put ashore with hostile intentions, unless the ship to which they belonged were within sight. As for the crew of the Foam, they are ordinary seamen, and not likely to amuse themselves chasing wounded savages, even if they were allowed to go ashore, which I think is not likely, for Gascoyne knows well enough, that that side of the island is inhabited by the pagans, who would as soon kill and eat a man as they would a pig.”
“Sooner,—the monsters,” exclaimed the boy indignantly, for he had, on more than one occasion, been an eye-witness, of the horrible practice of cannibalism which prevails, even at the present day, among some of the South Sea islanders.
“There is mystery here,” said Henry, starting up, “and the sooner we alarm the people of the settlement, the better. Come, Corrie, we shall return to the house and let the British officer hear what you have told me.”
When the lad had finished relating his adventure to the party, in Widow Stuart’s cottage, Gascoyne said quietly, “I would advise you, Captain Montague, to return to your ship and make your preparations for capturing this pirate, for that he is even now almost within range of your guns, I have not the slightest doubt. As to the men appearing piratical-looking fellows to this boy, I don’t wonder at that; most men are wild enough when their blood is up. Some of my own men are as savage to look at as one would desire. But I gave strict orders this morning, that only a few were to go ashore, and these were to keep well out of sight of the settlement of the savages. Doubtless, they are all aboard by this time. If you decide upon anything like a hunt among the mountains, I can lend you a few hands.”
“Thank you, I may perhaps require some of your hands,” said Montague, with a dash of sarcasm in his tone; “meanwhile, since you will not favour me with your company on board, I shall bid you good afternoon.”
He bowed stiffly, and, leaving the cottage, hastened on board his ship, where the shrill notes of the boatswain’s whistle, and the deep hoarse tones of that officer’s gruff voice, quickly announced to the people on shore that orders had been promptly given, and were in course of being as promptly obeyed.
During the hour that followed these events, the captain of the Foam was closeted with Widow Stuart and her son, and the youthful Corrie was engaged in laying the foundations of a never-to-die friendship with John Bumpus, or, as that eccentric youngster preferred to style him, Jo Grampus.
Chapter Five
The pastor’s household—Preparations for war
When the conference in the widow’s cottage closed, Henry Stuart and Gascoyne hastened into the woods together, and followed a narrow footpath which led towards the interior of the island. Arriving at a spot where this path branched into two, Henry took the one that ran round the outskirts of the settlement towards the residence of Mr Mason, while his companion pursued the other which struck into the recesses of the mountains.
“Come in,” cried the missionary, as Henry knocked at the door of his study. “Ah, Henry, I’m glad to see you. You were in my thoughts this moment. I have come to a difficulty in my drawings of the spire of our new church, and I want your fertile imagination to devise some plan whereby we may overcome it. But of that I shall speak presently. I see from your looks that more important matters have brought you hither. Nothing wrong at the cottage, I trust?”
“No, nothing—that is to say, not exactly wrong, but things, I fear, are not altogether right in the settlement. I have had an unfortunate rencontre this morning with one of the savages, which is likely to lead to mischief, for blood was drawn, and I know the fellow to be revengeful. In addition to this, it is suspected that Durward, the pirate, is hovering among the islands, and meditates a descent on us. How much truth there may be in the report I cannot pretend to guess; but Gascoyne, the captain of the Foam, has been over at our cottage, and says he has seen the pirate, and that there is no saying what he may venture to attempt, for he is a bold fellow, and, as you know, cannot have a good-will to missionary settlements.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said the pastor, in answer to the last remark. “It is well known that wherever a Christian settlement is founded in these islands, that place becomes a safe port for vessels of all sorts—pirates as well as others, if they sail under false colours and pretend to be honest traders;—while in all the other