CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
The slopes and knolls and palm-fringed cliffs of Ratinga were tippedwith gold by the western sun one evening as he declined towards his bedin the Pacific, when Marie Zeppa wandered with Betsy Waroonga and herbrown little daughter Zariffa towards the strip of bright sand in frontof the village.
The two matrons, besides being filled with somewhat similar anxieties asto absent ones, were naturally sympathetic, and frequently sought eachother's company. The lively Anglo-French woman, whose vivacity was notaltogether subdued even by the dark cloud that hung over her husband'sfate, took special pleasure in the sedate, earnest temperament of hernative missionary friend, whose difficulty in understanding a joke,coupled with her inability to control her laughter when, after painfulexplanation, she did manage to comprehend one, was a source of muchinterest--an under-current, as it were, of quiet amusement.
"Betsy," said Marie, as they walked slowly along, their naked feet justlaved by the rippling sea, "why do you persist in wearing that absurdbonnet? If you would only let me cut four inches off the crown and sixoff the front, it would be much more becoming. Do let me, there's adear. You know I was accustomed to cutting and shaping when inEngland."
"But what for the use?" asked Betsy, turning her large brown eyessolemnly on her companion. "It no seems too big to me. Besides, whenbrudder Gubbins give him to me he--"
"Who is brudder Gubbins?" asked Marie, with a look of smiling surprise.
"Oh! _you_ know. The min'ster--Gubbins--what come to themission-station just afore me an' Waroonga left for Ratinga."
"Oh! I see; the Reverend Mr Gubbins--well, what did _he_ say about thebonnet?"
"W'at did he say? ah! he say much mor'n I kin remember, an' he look atthe bonnet with's head a one side--so sad an' pitiful like. `Ah! BetsyWaroonga,' ses he, `this just the thing for you. Put it on an' take itto Ratinga, it'll press the natives there.'"
"Impress them, you mean, Betsy."
"Well, p'raps it was that. Anyhow I put it on, an' he looked at me _so_earnest an' ses with a sigh, `Betsy,' ses he, `it minds me o' mygrandmother, an' she _was_ a good old soul--brought me up, Betsy, shedid. Wear it for her sake an' mine. I make a present of it to you.'"
"Ah! Betsy," said Marie, "the Reverend Gubbins must be a wag, Isuspect."
"W'at's a wag, Marie?"
"Don't you know what a wag is?"
"Oh, yis, _I_ know. When leetil bird sit on a stone an shake hims tail,I've heerd you an Orley say it wag--but misser Gubbins he got no tail towag--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 toexplain. Look! Zariffa is venturesome. You'd better call her back."
Zariffa was indeed venturesome. Clad in a white flannel petticoat and aminiature coal-scuttle, she was at that moment wading so deep into theclear sea that she had to raise the little garment as high as her brownbosom to keep it out of the water; and with all her efforts she wasunsuccessful, for, with that natural tendency of childhood to forget andneglect what cannot be seen, she had allowed the rear-part of thepetticoat to drop into the sea.
This, however, occasioned little or no anxiety to Betsy Waroonga, forshe was not an anxious mother; but when, raising her eyes a littlehigher, she beheld the tip of the back-fin of a shark describing livelycircles in the water as if it had scented the tender morsel and weresearching for it, her easy indifference vanished. She gave vent to ayell and made a bound that told eloquently of the savage beneath themissionary, and, in another instant was up to the knees in the waterwith the coal-scuttle quivering violently. Seizing Zariffa, shesqueezed her almost to the bursting point against her palpitatingbreast, while the shark headed seaward in bitter disappointment.
"Don't go so deep agin, Ziffa," said the mother, with a gasp, as she sether little one down on the sand.
"No, musser," said the obedient child; and she kept on the landward sideof her parent thereafter with demonstrative care.
It may be remarked here that, owing to Waroonga's love for, andadmiration of, white men, Zariffa's native tongue was English--broken,of course, to the pattern of her parents.
"It was a narrow escape, Betsy," said Marie, solemnised by the incident.
"Yes, thank the Lord," replied the other, continuing to gaze out to sealong after the cause of her alarm had disappeared.
"Oh! Marie," she added, with a sigh, "when will the dear men comehome?"
The question drove all the playful humour out of poor Marie, and hereyes filled with sudden tears.
"When, indeed? Oh! Betsy, _my_ man will never come. For Orley and theothers I have little fear, but my Antonio--"
Poor Marie could say no more. Her nature was as quickly, though not aseasily, provoked to deep sorrow as to gaiety. She covered her face withher hands.
As she did so the eyes of Betsy, which had for some time been fixed onthe horizon, opened to their widest, and her countenance assumed a lookso deeply solemn that it might have lent a touch of dignity even to thecoal-scuttle bonnet, if it had not bordered just a little too closely onthe ridiculous.
"Ho! Marie," she exclaimed in a whisper so deep that her friend lookedup with a startled air; "see! look--a sip."
"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 lengthshe succeeded in fixing the object with her eyes, she pronounced it agull.
"No 'snot a gull--a sip," retorted Betsy.
"Ask Zariffa. Her eyes are better than ours," suggested Marie.
"Kumeer, Ziffa!" shouted Betsy.
Zariffa came, and, at the first glance, exclaimed. "A sip!"
The news spread in a moment for other and sharper eyes in the villagehad already observed the sail, and, ere long, the beach was crowded withnatives.
By that time most of the Ratingans had adopted more or less, chieflyless, of European costume, so that the aspect of the crowd was anythingbut savage. It is true there were large proportions of brown humanitypresented to view--such as arms, legs, necks, and chests, but these werepicturesquely interspersed with striped cotton drawers, duck trousers,gay guernseys, red and blue flannel petticoats, numerous caps and strawhats as well as a few coal-scuttles--though none of the latter couldmatch that of Betsy Waroonga for size and tremulosity.
But there were other signs of civilisation there besides costume, for,in addition to the neat huts and gardens and whitewashed church, therewas a sound issuing from the pointed spire which was anything butsuggestive of the South sea savage. It was the church bell--a smallone, to be sure, but sweetly toned--which was being rung violently tocall in all the fighting men from the woods and fields around, for atthat time the Ratingans had to be prepared for the reception of foes aswell as friends.
A trusty chief had been placed in charge of the village by Tomeo beforehe left. This man now disposed his warriors in commanding positions asthey came trooping in, obedient to the call, and bade them keep out ofsight and watch his signals from the beach.
But now let us see what vessel it was that caused such commotion inRatinga.
She was a brig, with nothing particularly striking in her rig orappointments--a mere trading vessel. But on her bulwarks at the bow andon the heel of the bowsprit was gathered a group that well deservesnotice, for there, foremost of all, and towering above the others, stoodAntonio Zeppa, holding on to a forestay, and gazing with intensity andfixedness 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 Buttchee, Roscoand Ebony, Ongoloo and Wapoota, and little Lippy with her mother!
But the native missionary was not there. He had positively refused toquit the desert which had so unexpectedly and suddenly begun to blossomas the rose, and had remained to water the ground until his friendsshould send for him.
The chief and prime mini
ster of the Mountain-men were there because,being large-minded, they wished to travel and see the world; and Lippywas there because Zeppa liked her; while the mother was there becauseshe liked Lippy and refused to be parted from her.
Great was the change which had come over Zeppa during his convalescence.The wild locks and beard had been cut and trimmed; the ragged garmentshad been replaced by a suit belonging to Orley, and the air of wilddespair, alternating with vacant simplicity, which characterised him inhis days of madness, had given place to the old, sedate, sweet look ofgentle gravity. It is true the grey hairs had increased in number, andthere was a look, or, rather, an effect, of suffering in the fine facewhich nothing could remove; but much of the muscular vigour and theerect gait had been regained during those months when he had been socarefully and untiringly nursed by his son on Sugar-loaf Island.
It was not so with the ex-pirate. Poor Rosco was a broken man. Theshock to his frame from the partial burning and the subsequentamputation of his feet had been so great that a return to anything likevigour seemed out of the question. But there was that in the expressionof his faded face, and in the light of his sunken eye, which carriedhome the conviction that the ruin of his body had been the saving of hissoul.
"I cannot tell you, Orley, how thankful I am," said Zeppa, "that thistrader happened to touch at the island. As I grew stronger my anxietyto return home became more and more intense; and to say truth, I hadbegun to fear that Captain Fitzgerald had forgotten us altogether."
"No fear of that, father. The captain is sure to keep his promise. Hewill either return, as he said, or send some vessel to look after us.What are you gazing at, Ebony?"
"De steepil, massa. Look!" cried the negro, his whole face quiveringwith excitement, and the whites of his eyes unusually obtrusive as hepointed 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 hishand; "yes, it must be the steeple of the church, father. Look, it wasnot there when you left us. We'll soon see the houses now."
"Thank God!" murmured Zeppa, in a deep, tremulous voice.
"Can you see it, Rosco?" said Orley.
The pirate turned his eyes languidly in the direction pointed out.
"I see the land," he said faintly, "and I join your father in thankingGod for that--but--but it is not _home_ to me."
"Come, friend," said Zeppa, laying his hand gently on the poor man'sshoulder, "say not so. It shall be home to you yet, please God. If Hehas blotted out the past in the cleansing blood of the Lamb, what is manthat he should remember it? Cheer up, Rosco, you shall find a home anda welcome in Ratinga."
"Always returning good for evil, Zeppa," said Rosco, in a more cheerfulvoice. "I think it is this tremendous weakness that crushes my spirits,but come--I'll try to `cheer up,' as you advise."
"Dat's right massa!" cried Ebony, in an encouraging tone; "an' jus' lookat the glipperin' steepil. He'll do yous heart good--somet'ing like defire in de wilderness to de Jipshins--"
"To the Israelites you mean," said Orley.
"Ah, yis--de Izlrights, to be sure. I mis-remembered. Ho! look; dar'sde house-tops now; an' the pine grove whar' we was use to hold palaver'bout you, Massa, arter you was lost; an'--yis--dat's de house--yous ownhouse. You see de wife lookin' out o' winder bery soon. I knows it byde pig-sty close 'longside whar' de big grumper sow libs, dat Ziffa's sofond o' playin' wid. Ho! Lippy, come here, you little naked ting," (hecaught up the child an' sat her on his broad shoulder). "You see desmall leetil house. Dat's it. Dat's whar' Ziffa lubs to play, butshe'll hab you to play wid soon, an' den she'll forsake de ole sow. Ho!but I forgit--you no understan' English."
Hereupon Ebony began to translate his information as he best could intothe language of the little creature, in which effort he was not verysuccessful, being an indifferent linguist.
Meanwhile the vessel gradually neared the island, stood into the lagoon,and, finally, dropped anchor. A boat was at once lowered and made forthe shore.
And oh! how intensely and intently did those in the boat and those onthe 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 palpitatingheart, "but I cannot yet make out the faces--only, they seem to bewhite, some of them."
"Yis, an' some of 'em's brown."
Thus--on the shore. In the boat:--
"Now den, massa, you sees her--an' ha! ha! dar's Betsy. I'd know her'mong a t'ousind. You sees de bonnit--tumblin' about like a jollyboatin a high sea; an' Ziffa too wid de leetil bonnit, all de same shape,kin you no' see her?"
Zeppa protested, rather anxiously, that he could _not_ see them, and nowonder, for just then his eyes were blinded by tears which no amount ofwiping sufficed to clear away.
At that moment a shriek was heard on shore, and Betsy was seen tospring, we are afraid to say how many feet, into the air.
"Dar', she's reco'nised us now!" exclaimed Ebony with delight; and itwas evident that he was right for Betsy continued to caper upon thesands in a manner that could only be the result of joy or insanity,while the coal-scuttle beat tempestuously about her head like an enragedballoon.
Another moment and a signal from the chief brought the ambushedChristian warriors pouring down to the shore to see the long-lost andloved ones reunited, while Ebony ran about in a state of franticexcitement, weeping copiously, and embracing every one who came in hisway.
But who shall describe the agony of disappointment endured by poor Betsywhen she found that Waroonga was _not_ among them? the droop of thespirits, the collapse of the coal-scuttle! Language is impotent. Weleave it to imagination, merely remarking that she soon recovered on thefaith of the happiness which was yet in store for her.