CHAPTER FIVE.
We left the poor madman, Antonio Zeppa, wandering aimlessly up into themountains of Sugar-loaf Island. Whether it was the loss of his belovedOrley alone that had turned his brain, or that loss coupled with theinjury to his head, we cannot tell, but certain it is that the outwardand visible violence of his great sorrow seemed to depart from him afterhe had entered the rugged defiles of the mountain range. His mentalmalady appeared to take the form of simple indifference and inactivity.Sometimes he muttered to himself as he went slowly and wearily along,but generally he was silent with his chin sunk upon his breast as hegazed upon the ground with lack-lustre eyes.
At other times he started and looked around him with a sharp, inquiring,almost timid, glance; but the gleam of memory--if such it was--soonpassed away, and his handsome face resumed the gentle, almost childish,look which had settled down on it. But never again did he give vent tothe heart-broken cries and wails which had marked the first stage of hisderangement.
The mutterings to which we have referred were seldom coherent; but thedisjointed utterances sufficed to indicate the natural character of theman. As the ruling passion is said to become dominant in death, so, inthis death of reason which appeared to have passed upon Zeppa, love ofhis wife and child and the natives of Ratinga, as well as profoundreverence and love to his God, became conspicuous in the brokensentences that occasionally dropped from his lips.
At first he had been like some grand instrument thrown wildly out oftune and swept by a reckless hand. Now he resembled the same instrumentwith the framework shattered, the strings hanging loose, and the musicof discord as well as harmony gone for ever.
Oh it was sad, inexpressibly sad, to see the grand and good man--theimage of himself, yet not himself, with bowed head and bent form, thevery personification of humility--wandering forth on that lonely islandof the southern seas!
After quitting the shore he continued slowly to ascend the mountainuntil he gained the summit. Here, seating himself on a rock, he liftedhis eyes and looked slowly around him.
It was a glorious sight that met his unintelligent gaze. On the sidewhich he had ascended, the mountain sloped abruptly into the sea, yetits precipices were not forbidding or gloomy, for they were clothed withthe luxuriant and lovely vegetation of those favoured regions.
The rocks were fringed with grasses and wild flowers; the cliffs weresoftened by palmated leaves and gorgeous shrubs. Wild fruits inabundance grew on every side; in short, the land presented theappearance of a terrestrial paradise.
On the other side of the range similar, but softer, scenery rolled awayfor several miles in easy slopes, until it terminated in a plain, thefarther end of which was bounded by the white sands of the shore.
Around all lay the great sea, like a transparent blue shield, on whichthe sun glinted in myriad ripples of burnished gold. Everywhere God'swork was glorious, but God's image in man was not there, for poor Zeppalooked upon it all with total indifference.
The schooner was still visible from that lofty outlook, like a snowflakeon the sea; but Zeppa saw it, or regarded it, not. On the shore of theisland furthest from the mountain, the clustering huts of a nativevillage could be seen; but Zeppa looked at it without a gleam ofinterest, and passed it over as if it were a group of ant-hills.
Hunger, however, soon claimed attention. After remaining motionless formore than an hour, he arose and plucked some fruit from a neighbouringtree.
"God is good--has always been good to me and mine," he murmured, as heplaced the fruit on the grass and sat down beside it.
Then, clasping his hands and closing his eyes, he asked a blessing onhis food in the same words and tone which he had been wont to use whenat home.
After his hunger was appeased, he again wandered about apparentlywithout aim; but as night began to descend, he sought and found aslightly hollowed part of a cliff with an overhanging ledge.
It was scarcely deep enough to be styled a cave, but appeared to be asufficient shelter in the maniac's eyes, for he busied himself ingathering ferns and dried grass, until he had made himself a comfortablecouch at the inner end of it.
Before lying down he knelt, clasped his hands, and poured out his soulin fervent prayer.
His words were now no longer incoherent and the burthen of his petitionwas--a blessing on the dear ones at home, and forgiveness of all hissins through Jesus Christ. It seemed evident judging by his words, thathe had forgotten the recent past, and imagined that Orlando was stillalive.
Then he lay down and fell asleep.
Thus days and weeks and months rolled on, and still the madman wanderedaimlessly among the mountain peaks.
The savages at the other end of the island never molested him, for,having no occasion to clamber up these rocky heights, they did notbecome aware of his existence until a considerable time had elapsed.
His discovery at last was the result of a crime.
One of the savages committed a theft in the native village, and fled forrefuge to the mountains. Wapoota, being a funny fellow, was a favouritewith his chief Ongoloo, and occupied a position somewhat analogous tothe court jester of old. Moreover, he was often consulted in seriousmatters by his chief--in short, was a sort of humorous prime minister.
But he could not resist the tendency to steal, and one day pilferedsomething or other from Ongoloo, who finally lost patience with him, forhe was an old offender.
Ongoloo, though neither a warlike nor ferocious fellow, vowed to cut outthe heart and liver of Wapoota, and expose them to public gaze.
Disliking publicity after this fashion, the thief fled, purposing toabide in the mountains until his chief's wrath should have evaporated.
Rambling one day in his mountain refuge, the dishonest savage turned ajutting point of rock, and suddenly stood face to face with Zeppa. Hisjaw dropped, his eyes glared, his knees smote together, and lemon-yellowtook the place of brown-ochre on his cheeks. It was an awkward place ofmeeting, for the path, if we may so style it, was a mere ledge, with aperpendicular cliff on one side, a precipice on the other.
And well might the savage by overcome with fear, on such a spot withsuch a man before him, for, in addition to his commanding stature, Zeppahad now the wild appearance resulting from long untrimmed locks and ashaggy beard.
Both locks and beard had also changed from black to iron-grey duringthese months of lonely wandering. His dress, too, had become muchdisordered and ragged, so that altogether his appearance and fierceaspect were eminently fitted to strike terror to the heart of a morecourageous man than Wapoota, who happened to be rather mild indisposition.
After the first stare of astonishment he sank on his knees and held uphis hands as if supplicating mercy. But he had nothing to fear from themaniac.
"My poor fellow," said Zeppa, in English, laying his hand on thenative's head and patting it, "do not fear. I will not harm you."
Of course Wapoota did not understand the words but he fully appreciatedthe action, and the lemon-yellow began to fade while the brown-ochrereturned.
Without uttering another word, Zeppa took Wapoota by the hand and ledhim to his cave, where he set before him such fruits as remained overfrom his last meal, and then, sitting down, gazed abstractedly on theground. Wapoota ate from fear of offending his host, rather thanhunger.
When he had finished, Zeppa rose, pointed to his couch at the inner partof the cave, nodded to him with a kindly smile, and left him.
At first the savage seemed disposed to make off when Zeppa's back wasturned, but when he saw him slowly ascend the hill with his head boweddown he changed his mind, made some significant grimaces--which we willnot attempt to explain--and lay down to sleep.
On his return, Wapoota tried to enter into conversation with his hostbut Zeppa only smiled, patted him gently on the head and shoulder, andpaid no further attention to him. The savage was somewhat overawed bysuch treatment.
Observing his host more closely, it soon began to dawn upon him that hewas in the
power of a madman, and some tinges of the lemon-yellowreappeared; but when he perceived that Zeppa was not merely a harmlessbut an exceedingly gentle madman, his confidence and the brown-ochrereasserted themselves.
Thus, for several days, the madman and the savage dwelt amicablytogether, and slept side by side during the night; but Zeppa made itvery apparent that he did not wish for his visitor's society during theday-time, and the visitor had the sense to let him wander forth alone.
Wapoota was mistaken when he calculated on the cooling of Ongoloo'swrath. That angry chief, bent on the fulfilment of his anatomical vow,set forth with a small party of picked men to explore the Sugar-loaf inquest of the runaway. He found him one day gathering fruits for Zeppa'ssupper--for Wapoota had already become a sort of attached Friday to thisunfortunate Crusoe.
On beholding his countrymen, the thief's visage underwent a series ofremarkable changes, for he knew that escape was impossible, and theexpression of his chief's face forbade him to hope for mercy.
"I have found you, mine enemy," growled Ongoloo--of course in the nativetongue.
"Mercy!" exclaimed Wapoota, in a piteous tone. "Mercy no longer dwellsin my breast," returned the chief.
In proof of the truth of this assertion he ordered his men to seize andbind Wapoota, and proceed at once with the execution of his cruelpurpose.
The unfortunate wretch, unable to face the appalling prospect gave ventto a series of terrible shrieks, and struggled fiercely while they boundhim. But in vain would he have struggled if his cries for mercy had notreached other ears than those of his countrymen.
Not far from the spot where the thief had been captured, Zeppa chancedto be sitting, idly toying with the branch of a tree which he hadfashioned into a rude staff wherewith to climb the mountain more easily.
When the first shriek ran among the cliffs, it seemed to startle themaniac out of the depressing lethargy under which he had laboured solong. He sprang up and listened, with dilated eyes and partly openmouth.
Again and again the shrieks rang out, and were echoed from cliff tocliff.
As a tigress bounds to the rescue of her young, so sprang Zeppa down thehillside in the direction of the cries. He came suddenly to the edge ofa cliff which overlooked the scene, and beheld a savage just about toplunge a knife into Wapoota's breast.
Zeppa gave vent to a tremendous roar, which terminated in a wild laugh.Then he wrenched a mass of rock from the cliffs and hurled it down.
The height was greater than any sane man would have ventured to leapeven to save his life; but the maniac gave no time to thought.
He followed the mass of rock with another wild laugh, and next momentstood in the midst of the savage group.
These men were no cowards. They were Ongoloo's picked warriors, andwould have scorned to fly before a single foe, however large or fierce.
But when they saw plainly that Zeppa was a white man and a maniac, theyturned, with one consent, and fled as if a visitant from the netherrealms had assailed them.
Zeppa did not follow. All his sudden wrath vanished with the enemy. Heturned calmly to the prostrate man, cut his bonds, and set him free.Then, without saying a word, he patted him on the shoulder, and wanderedlistlessly away with his head dropped as of old.
You may be sure that Wapoota did not hesitate to make good use of hisfreedom. He fled on the wings--or legs--of fear to the mostinaccessible recesses of the mountains, from which he did not emergetill night had enshrouded land and sea. Then he crept stealthily backto Zeppa's cave, and laid himself quietly down beside his friend.
The inherent tendency of Zeppa's nature was towards peace and goodwill.Even in his madness and misery his spirit trickled, if it did not run,in the customary direction. His dethroned reason began, occasionally,to make fitful efforts after some plan which it sought to evolve. Butbefore the plan could be arranged, much less carried out, the dull senseof a leaden grief overwhelmed it again, and he relapsed into the oldcondition of quiet apathy.
Chance, however, brought about that which the enfeebled intellect couldnot compass.
One day--whether inadvertently or not we cannot tell--Zeppa wandereddown in the direction of the native settlement. That same day Ongoloowandered towards the mountain, and the two men suddenly met so close toeach other that there was no possibility of escape to either.
But, sooth to say, there was no thought of escape in the breast ofeither. Ongoloo, being a brave savage, was ashamed of having given wayto panic at his first meeting with the madman. Besides, he carried hishuge war-club, while his opponent was absolutely unarmed--havingforgotten to take his usual staff with him that day.
As for Zeppa, he had never at any time feared the face of man, and, inhis then condition, would have faced man or fiend with equalindifference. But the sight of the savage chief seemed to recallsomething to his mind. He stood with his arms crossed, and anexpression of perplexity on his countenance, while Ongoloo assumed anattitude of defence.
Suddenly a beaming smile overspread Zeppa's face. We have already saidthat his smile had fascination in it. The effect on the savage was toparalyse him for the moment. Zeppa advanced, took Ongoloo's facebetween both hands, and, placing his nose against that of the chief,gently rubbed it.
For the benefit of the ignorant, we may explain that this is the usualsalutation of friendship among some of the South Sea Islanders.
Ongoloo returned the rub, and dropped his club. He was obviously gladof this peaceful termination to the rencontre.
Then, for the first time, it occurred to Zeppa to use the language ofRatinga. The chief evidently understood it.
"God is love," said Zeppa solemnly, pointing upward with his finger."God forgives. You will forgive, and so be like God."
The chief was completely overawed by Zeppa's grandeur and gentleness.He had never before seen the two qualities combined.
Zeppa took him by the hand, as he had previously taken Wapoota, and ledhim up into the mountains. The chief submitted meekly, as if he thoughta being from the better world were guiding him. On reaching the cavethey found Wapoota arranging the supper-table--if we may so express it--for he had been in the habit of doing this for some time past, aboutsunset, at which time his protector had invariably returned home--alas!it was a poor home!
To say that Wapoota was transfixed, or petrified, on beholding Ongoloo,would not convey the full idea of his condition. It is useless to saythat he glared; that his knees smote, or that lemon-yellow supplantedbrown-ochre on his visage. Words can do much, but they cannot describethe state of that savage on that occasion. The reader's imagination ismuch more likely to do justice to the situation. To that we leave it.
But who, or what language, shall describe the state of mind into whichboth Ongoloo and Wapoota were thrown when Zeppa, having brought themclose to each other, grasped them firmly by their necks and rubbed theirnoses forcibly together. There was no resisting the smile with whichthis was dune. The chief and the thief first glanced at each other,then at their captor, and then they laughed--absolutely roared--afterwhich they rubbed noses of their own accord, and "made it up."
We may remark, in passing, that Ongoloo was not sorry for thereconciliation, because Wapoota had become necessary to him both incouncil and during relaxation, and of late he had come to feellow-spirited for want of his humourist.
But both of them were much concerned to observe that after thisreconciliation, the reconciler relapsed into his pensive mood andrefused to be interested in anything.
They tried in vain to rouse him from his strange apathy--which neitherof them could at all understand. Next day Ongoloo took occasion to givehim the slip, and returned to his village.
Zeppa cared nothing for that. He did not even ask Wapoota what hadbecome of him.
At this time a new idea occurred to Wapoota, who had been ordered by hischief to induce Zeppa to visit the native village. It struck him thatas he had been led, so he might lead. Therefore one morning he waiteduntil Zeppa had finished
breakfast, and when he rose, as was his wont,to go off for the day, Wapoota took him gently by the hand and led himforth. To his surprise--and comfort, for he had had strong misgivings--Zeppa submitted. He did not seem to think that the act was peculiar.
Wapoota led him quietly and slowly down the mountain side, and so, bydegrees, right into the native village, where Ongoloo was, of course,prepared to meet and welcome him.
He was received by the head men of the tribe with deep respect andconducted to a tent which had been prepared for him, where Wapoota, whohad constituted himself his servant--or lieutenant--made him comfortablefor the night.
Zeppa at first expressed some surprise at all the fuss that was maderegarding him, but soon ceased to trouble himself about the matter, andgradually relapsed into his old condition. He was content to remainwith the natives, though he did not cease his lonely wanderings amongthe hills, absenting himself for days at a time, but always returning,sooner or later, to the tent that had been provided for him in thevillage.
Now, in Sugar-loaf Island, there was a tribe that had, for years past,been at war with the tribe into whose hands Zeppa had thus fallen, and,not long after the events just narrated, it chanced that the Raturatribe, as it was named, resolved to have another brush with their oldenemies, the subjects of Ongoloo. What they did, and how they did it,shall be seen in another chapter.