The Madman and the Pirate. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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was by nature a cook, but church-building occupied his leisure moments, and he prided himself upon being not only cleverer, but considerably blacker, than the islanders.
“Now you keep out ob de road, leetil Za.” This was addressed to Zariffa, who, by that time, could not only toddle but trowel, besides being able to swim like a duck. “Take care, missy Za, dat clumsy feller wid the big stone—let him fall, and—oh!”
The negro gave vent to a yell, for the accident he feared actually occurred. The clumsy native let a huge piece of coral-rock fall from his shoulder, which just missed crushing the brown little girl. It dropped on a mass of soft lime, which flew up in all directions, making Zariffa piebald at once, and, what was more serious, sending a lump straight into Tomeo’s face. This was too much for the great man. He seized the culprit by the neck, and thrust his brown visage down upon the lime, from which he arose white, leaving a beautiful cast of his features behind him.
Tomeo was pacified at once. He burst into a loud laugh, while the guilty man slunk humbly away, not, however, without receiving a salute from Buttchee’s active foot in passing.
At this moment Zeppa came up, holding his son Orlando, a well-grown lad of fourteen, by the hand. He at once observed the captain of the schooner, and, going forward, shook hands with him and the mate. He had made their acquaintance the day before, when the vessel anchored in the lagoon.
“I have come to say good-bye, Mr Zeppa. We have finished taking in fresh water sooner than I had expected, and will be ready to sail with the evening breeze.”
“Indeed? I regret this for various reasons” replied Zeppa, in a soft musical voice, that one scarcely expected to issue from such a capacious chest. There was about the man an air of gentle urbanity and tenderness which might have induced a stranger to suppose him effeminate, had not his manly looks and commanding stature rendered the idea absurd. “In the first place,” he continued, “my wife and I had hoped to show you some hospitality. You know we seldom have visitors to this out-of-the-way island. Then we wanted your advice with regard to the building of our church, which, you see, is progressing rapidly; and last, but not least, I wished to ask a favour, which it will be impossible to grant if you sail to-night.”
“Perhaps not impossible,” said Captain Daniel, whose gruff nature was irresistibly mellowed by the sweet spirit of the giant who addressed him. “What d’ye want me to do?”
“I meant to ask a passage in your vessel for my son and myself to the island of Otava. It is not far off, and you said yesterday that you intend to pass close to it. You see, I am something of a trader, as well as a missionary-schoolmaster; but if you sail to-night I have not time to get ready.”
“If that’s all your difficulty,” returned the captain, “I’ll delay till to-morrow night. A day won’t make much difference—will it, Mr Rosco?” he said, turning to the mate.
“You know best” replied the mate somewhat sharply, “I don’t command the schooner.”
The captain looked at the officer with an angry frown, and then, turning quickly to Zeppa, said—
“Well, if that time will do, it is settled. You and your son may go with me. And, see here, I’ve brought a box of figs for your wife, since you won’t take anything for the help you gave me this morning.”
“You shall present it yourself,” said Zeppa, with a pleased smile.
“Hi! Ebony,” hailing the negro, “tell Marie to come here. She is in the palm-grove.”
Ebony found his mistress and delivered his message.
Madame Zeppa was a pretty little fair woman, of French extraction. She had been a lady’s-maid, and, having been born and brought up chiefly in England, spoke English fluently, though with a slightly foreign accent derived from her mother.
“Missis,” said the negro, in a low voice, and with a mysterious look, as he followed her out of the palm-grove, “massa him wants to go wid schooner. Don’ let him go.”
“Why not, Ebony?”
“Kase I no likes him.”
“You don’t like the schooner?”
“No, de cappin ob de skooner. Hims bad man for certin. Please don’ let massa go.”
“You know I never give master his orders,” returned madame, with a light laugh.
“Better if you did, now an’ den,” muttered the negro, in a tone, however, which rendered the advice not very distinct.
The fair little woman received the box of figs graciously; the captain and mate were invited to the abode of Zeppa, where they met the native missionary, and soon after returned to their vessel to make preparations for departure.
“Marie,” said Zeppa that night as they, with their boy, sat down to rest after the labours of the day, “I expect to be away about three weeks. With anything of a wind the schooner will land us on Otava in two or three days. Business won’t detain me long, and a large canoe, well manned, will bring Orlando and me back to you in a week or so. It is the first time I shall have left you for so long since our wedding. You won’t be anxious, little woman?”
“I would not be anxious if I were sure you went with good people,” returned Marie, with a slightly troubled look; “but are you sure of the captain?”
“I am sure of nobody except you, Marie,” returned her husband, with a smile that contained a dash of amusement in it.
“And me, father,” said Orlando, assuming an injured look.
“Well, Orley, I can’t say that I am quite sure of you, you rascal,” returned his father playfully. “That spice of mischief in your composition shakes me at times. However, we will leave that question to another time. Meanwhile, what makes you doubt the captain, Marie?”
“Ebony seems to doubt him; and I have great faith in Ebony’s judgment.”
“So have I; but he is not infallible. We should never get on in life if we gave way to groundless fears, dear wife. Besides, have we not the promise, ‘Lo, I am with you alway?’”
On the following afternoon a fresh breeze sprang up and the piratical-looking schooner, bowing gracefully before it, sailed across the now ruffled lagoon and stood out to sea, while Marie with the missionary and his wife, and a crowd of natives, stood at the end of the coral wharf, waving farewell to Zeppa and his son as long as their figures could be distinguished. After that, they continued to gaze at the diminishing vessel until it melted like a little speck at the meeting-place of sea and sky.
That night an event which had been long pending was precipitated.
Captain Daniel had given way to his fierce temper so often during the voyage, and had behaved with such cruel tyranny to his crew, that they had resolved to stand it no longer. His harsh conduct to the mate, in particular, who was a favourite with the men, had fostered the spirit of indignation, and the mate himself, being a man of no fixed principles, although good-natured enough when not roused, had at last determined to side with the men. He was a man of fierce passions, and had been roused by his superior’s tyranny and insolence to almost uncontrollable fury; but he had not at that time been guilty of absolute insubordination.
When the vessel’s course had been laid that night—which chanced to be a Friday, as some of the crew afterwards remembered—and the cabin lamp had been lighted, the captain sent for the mate, who saw by his looks that a storm was brewing.
“What did you mean, sir,” began the captain at once, “by that insolent reply you made to me on shore yesterday?”
The young man might have answered temperately if they had been alone, but Zeppa was lying on a locker reading, and his son was also present, and Rosco knew that the captain meant to put him to shame before them. His spirit fired.
“Scoundrel!” he cried, “the measure of your iniquity is filled. You shall no longer command this schooner—”
Thus far he got when the captain, livid with rage, sprang up to rush at him. Zeppa also leaped up to aid in putting down what he clearly perceived