John Frewen, South Sea Whaler

“Out on the reef somewhere, fishing. Serena and the baby are in the breadfruit grove behind the village. I sent them there, as it is cooler than the house. I shall walk over there for them before it becomes too dark. Ah, here comes the breeze at last.”

“Lilo is a good boy, a good boy,” said the old man as he rose and held out his hand; “he is very proud of calling himself your tausea,13 and that he ‘sailed’ the Lupetea so many hundreds of miles.”

“He is indeed a good boy. I do not think we should ever have reached land had it not been for him.”

As the bent figure of the old trader disappeared along the path that led to his own house, which was half a mile away, Mrs. Marston reseated herself, and with her sunbrowned hands folded in her lap, gazed dreamily out upon the glassy ocean, and gave herself up to reverie.

When, in an agony of fear, she had obeyed Villari’s request to go below, she had locked herself in her own cabin, and after putting her infant to sleep, had sat up with the girl Serena, waiting for the morning. The pistol which the Italian had given her she laid upon the little table, and Serena, who knew of Villari’s infatuation for her mistress, sat beside her with a knife in her hand.

“I cannot shoot with the little gun which hath six shots, lady,” said the girl, “but I can drive this knife into his heart.”

Half an hour passed without their being disturbed, and then they heard Villari call out to let draw the head sheets, and in a few minutes the schooner was running before a sharp rain squall from the northward. As they sat listening to the spattering of the rain on the deck above, one of the skylight flaps was lifted, and, to their joy, their names were called by the boy Lilo.

“Serena, Ami! ‘Tis I, Lilo. Do not shoot at me,” he cried, and at the same moment Villari came to the skylight and said—

“The boy wants to stay below with you, Mrs. Marston. I did not know he was on board till a little while ago.” Then the flap was lowered, and they saw no more of him till the morning.

The delight of Lilo at finding Mrs. Marston and Serena together was unbounded, and for some minutes the boy was so overjoyed at seeing them again, that even Mrs. Marston, terrified and agitated as she was at Villari’s conduct, had to smile when he took her feet in his hands and pressed them to his cheek. As soon as his excitement subsided, he told them of what had occurred after he had been put down into the foc’sle.

About a quarter of an hour after the boat had gone, the scuttle was opened, and one of the sailors who were left on board told him to come up on deck. Villari was at the wheel, and was in a very bad temper, for he angrily demanded of the two seamen what they meant by keeping him on board, instead of sending him on shore in the boat. One of the men, who was called “Bucky” and who had evidently been drinking, made Villari a saucy answer, and said that he had kept the boy below with a view to making him useful. The mate, he said, “knew all about it,” and Villari had better “keep quiet.” In another moment Villari knocked him senseless with a belaying pin, and then, ordering the other man to let draw the head sheets, put the helm hard up, and the schooner stood away from the land, just as a rain squall came away from the northward. As soon as Bucky became conscious, Villari spoke to him and the other seaman, cautioned them against disobedience, and said that if they did their duty, he would divide a hundred pounds between them when the schooner reached Noumea in New Caledonia. The men then asked him whether he meant to leave the mate and the other four hands behind?

“Yes, I do,” he replied, “that is why I am giving you fifty pounds each. But if you try on any nonsense with me, I’ll shoot you both. Now go for’ard and stand by to hoist the squaresail as soon as the squall dies away—this boy will lend a hand.”

As soon as the squaresail was set, Villari told Lilo to call down the skylight to Mrs. Marston.

“He told me,” concluded the boy, “that although I shall have to cook for every one on board, I was to be your servant, and that I was to always sleep in the cabin. And he himself is going to sleep in the deck house behind the galley, for I saw that he has a lamp in there, and all his things, and he asked me to bring him some writing paper, and ink, and pens. Where shall I get them?”

Mrs. Marston found the articles for him, and Lilo at once took them to Villari, who was at the wheel.

“Put them in the deck-house,” he said, “and tell one of the men to come aft, and take the wheel. Then go below again and remain there. If any one puts foot in the cabin, you can shoot him with the pistol I gave to Serena.”

“Ami,” said the boy anxiously, when he retained, “he is vale (mad), for his eyes are the eyes of one who is mad. The land is now far astern, and the ship is speeding fast away from it. What doth this mean?”

“I cannot tell thee, Lilo,” she replied, speaking in Samoan, “but as thou sayest, he is mad. Let us trust in God to protect us.”

She rose and went into the main cabin, and looked at the tell-tale compass, which swung over the table, and saw that the schooner was heading south-west, which would be the course for New Caledonia.

All that night the Lupetea swept steadily and swiftly along over a smooth sea, and then at daylight, Mrs. Marston, who had fallen asleep, was aroused by a loud cry of alarm from Lilo.

She sprang from her berth, and saw that the boy was kneeling beside Villari, who was lying dead at the foot of the companion, with a pistol in his hand.

“He hath killed himself, Ami,” said the boy. “As I sat here watching, I heard two shots on deck, and then the ship came to the wind, and as I was about to go on deck, Villari came down, and standing there, put the pistol to his head and killed himself.”

“Come on deck,” she cried, “and see what has become of the men.”

Her fears that Villari had killed the two seamen were verified—they were both lying dead, one beside the wheel, and the other on the main deck. In the deckhouse was a wildly-incoherent and unfinished letter, to her containing expressions of the most passionate devotion, and begging her to pray for his soul.

The first thing to be done was to consider how to dispose of the bodies of poor Villari and the unfortunate seamen. The land was now fifty miles distant, and Lilo, pointing to the eastern horizon, assured Mrs. Marston that bad weather was coming on, and that sail should be taken in as quickly as possible.

“Let Serena and I cast the dead men overboard,” he said; “‘tis better than that we should keep them on board, for we know not how long it may be ere we get to land again.”

Mrs. Marston shuddered.

“As you will, Lilo. When it is done, I will come on deck again and help with the sails.”

An hour later the schooner was racing under close-reefed canvas before a half-gale from the eastward.

“Let us steer to the westward,” Lilo had said to his mistress. “We cannot beat back to Samoa against such a wind as this, which may last many days. And straight to the west lieth Uea, on which live some white men who will succour us.”

There was no general chart on board, but Mrs. Marston knew that Uea (Wallis Island) was due west from Samoa, and distant about two or three hundred miles.

For twelve hours the Lupetea ran swiftly before a rapidly increasing sea, and by night time Lilo was so exhausted in trying to keep her from broaching to, that Serena came to his assistance. Neither he nor Mrs. Marston knew how to heave-to the vessel; but, fearful of running past Wallis Island in the night, they did the very thing they should not have done—lowered and made fast both mainsail and foresail, and let the vessel drive under bare poles.

Worn out with his exertions, Lilo still stuck manfully to his steering, when, looking behind him, he saw a black, towering sea sweeping down upon the schooner. Uttering a cry of alarm, he let go the wheel, and darted into the cabin after Mrs. Marston, who had just left the deck.

Then came a tremendous crash, and the Lupetea shook and quivered in every timber, as the mighty avalanche of water fell upon and buried her; smashing the wheel to splinters, snapping off the rudder head, and sweeping the deck clean of everything movable.

A month later the vessel drifted ashore on Anouda Island, just as Mrs. Marston was beginning to despair.

CHAPTER XIX

Darkness had fallen upon the little island, as with the girl Serena and her infant charge, Mrs. Man-ton was walking back to the house. Lilo had not yet returned, but as they emerged from the breadfruit grove, they heard the sound of many voices, and then came a cry that made their hearts thrill—

“Te vaka nui, Te vaka nui!” (“A ship! a ship!”) and almost at the same moment Lilo and a score of natives came rushing along the path in search of the white lady.

“A ship! aship!” shouted Lilo, who was almost frantic with excitement, “your ship—your own ship! The ship that came to Samatau!”

“How know you, Lilo?” cried Mrs. Marston tremblingly. “How can you tell it is my ship? And where is it?”

As soon as the boy was able to make himself heard through the clamour of his companions, he told Mrs. Marston that whilst he was engaged in fishing along the shore of an unfrequented little bay on the north end of the island, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a large ship, which he instantly recognised as the Esmeralda. She came around a headland with a number of her hands aloft taking in sail, and dropped anchor about half a mile from the land. Lilo waited some time to see if a boat would come on shore, and also ran out to the edge of the reef, and tried to attract the attention of the people on board, but no notice was taken of him. Then, as darkness was coming on, he set off for the village at a run to tell his mistress.

“We must hasten on board, Lilo,” said Mrs. Marston, as she walked hurriedly along beside him to the house. “Run quickly to the old white man, and ask him to send his boat here for me.”

But Manning had already heard the news, and his boat had not only been launched, but, manned by half a dozen stalwart Anoudans, was at that moment coming down inside the reef. The old trader’s half-caste son Joe was steering, and the moment the boat touched the beach, he sprang out and ran up to the house.

“Father sent me for you, Mrs. Marston. The old man is nearly off his head with excitement. He has sent a native out on the reef to burn a blue light so that it can be seen by the people on board the ship, who will then know that there are white people here.”

“Thank you, Joe,” she said, as, kissing her little Marie, and bidding Serena take her to Manning’s house, and there await her return from the ship, she ran swiftly to the boat, which at once pushed off, accompanied by twenty or thirty canoes—all crowded with natives.

“Look!” cried Joe Manning, “there is the blue light!”

Half a mile away, on a projecting horn of the reef, the blue flame was shedding its brilliant light, and clearly revealing the all but nude figure of the man who held it.

“Father said, Mrs. Marston, when he took those three blue lights ashore from the wreck of the Lupetea, that they might come in useful some night–” and then he uttered a yell of delight as a great rocket shot high up in air and burst; the ship had seen the blue light and was answering it!

“Hurrah! she sees the blue light!” he cried, and then with voice and gesture he urged his crew to greater exertions. They responded with a will, and then, as a second rocket shot upward, a deep “Aue!” of admiration was chorused forth by the occupants of the canoes, which were trying hard to keep pace with the swift whale-boat.

“We’ll see her as soon as we get round the north end, ma’am,” said the half-caste, as he swung the boat’s head towards a passage through the surrounding reef. Mrs. Marston made no reply; she was too excited to speak, as with parted lips and eager eyes she sat gazing straight ahead.

Ten minutes passed, and only the swish, swish of the canoe paddles and the boat’s oars broke the silence; then the high north point of the island was rounded, and the Esmeralda lay before them, so close, that even though it was dark, figures could be seen moving about her decks, which were well lit up.

Bidding his men cease pulling, and the natives in the canoes to keep silent for a moment, the burly half-caste hailed.

“Ship ahoy!”

“Hallo, there!” cried Prewen’s well-remembered voice, “we see you. Come round on the port side.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” shouted Manning, and then, unable to restrain himself, he expanded his mighty chest and bawled out—

“MRS. MARSTON IS HERE!”

In a moment or two there came an outburst of cheering from the ship, and then amidst the shouts and yells of the Anouda natives the boat dashed alongside, and Mrs. Marston ascended the ladder. A crowd of men were at the gangway, and almost ere her foot had touched the deck Frewen had grasped her hand.

“Thank God, we have found you at last, Mrs. Marston!”

She tried to speak, and then would have fallen, had not Randall Cheyne sprung forward and caught her.

“Carry her to the cabin, Randall,” said Frewen, “the poor little woman has fainted.”

Half an hour later, the chief officer ran up on the poop-deck and called out—

“All hands aft!”

As the crew—who had been eagerly listening to Joe Manning’s account of how Mrs. Marston had come to the island—crowded aft, the mate cried out—

“Boys, I want volunteers to man the starboard quarter-boat to bring Mrs. Marston’s baby on board.”

Such a wild rush was made for the boat falls that the good-natured officer had to interfere and pick out eight men, and with Lilo as pilot and himself in charge, the boat left the ship amid further cheering.

In the cabin Mrs. Marston, now looking bright and happy, was telling her story to Frewen and Cheyne.

“And now,” she said, as she concluded, “I am the very happiest woman in all the world, and oh! Captain Frewen, when I think I shall see Mrs. Raymond within a few days, I feel almost hysterical. I’m sure I won’t want to go to sleep for a week.”

Frewen laughed as he looked at the flashed, beautiful face. “Well, I don’t think you’ll get too much sleep to-night, for the men are as much excited as any one aft, and I sent word that they can have a bit of fun and make as much noise as they like until eight bells, and drink your and your baby’s health seven times.”

“Ah! my poor little baby. How cruel of me to forget her! Oh, please let me go for her.”

“You are too late,” said Frewen with a smile, “the mate has just gone, and he’ll bring her to you before another hour has passed. He has taken your boy Lilo with him as pilot.”

Mrs. Marston sighed contentedly, and then looked round at the familiar cabin.

“Oh, how I shall love to see Samatau again, Captain Frewen, and oh! how wonderful it is that the Esmeralda of all ships should be the one to find me. If only Mrs. Raymond could know I was safe and on board talking to you of her!”

“She will indeed be yery happy; and yet, do you know, Mrs. Marston, that she always said you were not dead, although when month after month passed by, and a most careful search had been made of all the islands within a radius of six hundred miles, and no trace of the Lupetea was found, Mr. Raymond himself lost all hope.”

“How long was it before Mr. Raymond knew of what had occurred on board that night off Lotofanga?” she asked.

“Mrs. Raymond herself told him on the following afternoon, when, to his astonishment, she arrived at Samatau in a native beat. It seems that after Hutton landed them—she, little Loisé, and Olivee—on the reef, they were met by a party of natives who were returning from a fishing excursion. These people at once took them to the village, where, of course, they were very kindly treated.

“Mrs. Raymond, who was half mad with anxiety for you, asked the chief to provide her with a boat to return to Samatau and tell her husband of what had happened. They left after an hour’s rest and almost foundered in the same squall which overtook the Lupetea. However, they reached Samatau a little before sunset. Raymond at once sent Meredith and Rudd to Apia to charter two or even three local schooners to sail in search of the Lupetea, and for over a month whilst I was there a most unremitting search was kept up, and letters were sent all over the Pacific asking the traders at the various islands to keep a good look-out either for the schooner or any wreckage which might come ashore.

“I arrived at Samatau in the Esmeralda about a fortnight after Villari left there, and found Mrs. Raymond alone and distracted with fear for your safety. During the following week, one of the schooners which were out searching for you returned. Raymond was on board. He had been searching through the windward islands of the Fiji Group, but without of course finding a trace of the missing vessel. On the way back, though, they spoke a Tahitian barque, whose captain told them that the bodies of Hutton and the four men who were with him had been found on the reef at Savai’i a few days after the scoundrels had put Mrs. Raymond ashore at Lotofanga. The boat had evidently been driven ashore during the stormy weather which prevailed for three or four days afterwards.

“After remaining ashore for a day only, Raymond again sailed—this time to make a search among the Friendly Islands; and I, with Mr. Rudd and Overseer Lorimer to assist me, sailed for the Solomon Group. We decided, instead of proceeding direct to the Solomons for our cargo of black humanity, to first cruise through the New Hebrides Group, in the hope we might learn something of the Lupetea.”

“It makes me feel as if I were a real missing princess, Captain Frewen.”

“So you were—until to-night. Well, from the New Hebrides we went north to the Solomons, where we were singularly fortunate in getting five hundred natives in a few weeks without any trouble. I landed them at Samatau without losing a single man, and they are now working on the new plantation as happy as sand-boys.

“Raymond was at home when I returned, but there was still one vessel away looking for you—the cutter Alrema and Niya—and in fact we long since decided not to entirely abandon the search for a full year.

“I left on a second trip for the Solomons just nine days ago, and we sighted this island early this morning. I did not think that we should hear anything of the Lupetea so far to the westward—over a thousand miles from Samoa—but as three of our coloured crew are down with fever, I decided to anchor, leave them here in care of the natives, and also find out if any wreckage had been seen. We could not see any signs of houses on this side of the island, but did see a man making gestures to the ship from the reef; however, as I did not intend to go ashore until the morning, we did not lower a boat. You can imagine our surprise when the glare of a blue light was seen.”

“Mate’s boat is alongside, sir,” announced the bos’un.

And in a few minutes the smiling Serena entered the cabin and placed little Marie in her mother’s arms.

Shortly after dawn the merry click of the windlass pawls told Mrs. Marston that the Esmeralda was getting underweigh again for Samoa—for the projected voyage to the Solomon Islands was of course abandoned. Old Manning and his stalwart sons came off to say goodbye, and at Mrs. Marston’s earnest request the trader consented to accept from her some hundreds of pounds’ worth of trade goods from the well-filled storeroom of the Esmeralda.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Marston, and God bless you and the little one, and give you all a safe passage to Samoa,” he cried, as he descended the side into his boat.

For many hours she remained on deck watching the green little island as it sunk astern, and thinking of the kindly-hearted old trader who had so cheered her by his simple piety and unobtrusive goodness. Then her thoughts turned joyfully to home—for the Raymonds’ house was home to her—and she sighed contentedly as the gallant Esmeralda, with every stitch of canvas that could be set, slipped gracefully over the blue Pacific on an east-south-east course, for it was the month of November, and light westerly winds had set in.

Two weeks on such a happy ship soon passed away, and then early one morning the grey dome of Mount Tofua stood out from the mantle of mist which hid its verdant sides; and ere the sun had dried the heavy night dews on the gaily-coloured crotons and waving pampas grass which grew just above the beach, the brave ship dropped anchor once more in Samatau Bay amidst a scene of the wildest confusion. For Raymond, as he had stood on the verandah with his wife, watching her sailing in, and wondering what had brought back Frewen so soon, saw this signal flying from her spanker gaff.

O

W

S

V

B

R

C

“What does it mean, Tom?” “Found. All well!” he shouted, and pitching his telescope clean over the tops of the wild orange-tree in front of the house, he rushed down to the beach, crying out the news as he ran.

Boats, canoes, and taumualuas by the score, all crowded with natives, who were shouting themselves hoarse, paddled furiously off to the ship; and ere her cable rattled through the hawse-pipe and the heavy anchor plunged down to its coral bed, her decks were filled with people, and Raymond, followed by the old chief Malie, was shaking hands warmly with “the missing princess” and her rescuer.

It is night at Samatau, and the two ladies are sitting on the verandah. The house is very quiet.

“Amy?”

“Yes, Marie, dear.”

“Tom was asking me this morning if you have yet made up your mind to go on building that house.”

“Oh, dear, Marie. I have hardly given it a thought since I came back—and I’ve only been back a week!”

“Amy?”

“Marie?”

“I suppose, dear, that Captain Frewen won’t give up the Esmeralda altogether when he goes to America to see his people. He will come back, will he not?”

Mrs. Marston blushed. “I—I think so, dear. Come inside, and I’ll tell you.”

THE END

1

A wooden pole with a small pennon; used by whalers’ boats as a signal to the ship.

2

Chief—gentleman.

3

A whale-ship.

4

His full title, “Malië, warrior of Samatau.” The present King Malietoa of Samoa is a descendant.

5

A large native town on the south side of Upolu.

6

These boats are usually built from the wood of the breadfruit-tree. Not a single nail is used in their construction; every plank is joined to its fellow by lashings of coconut fibre.

7

A fact.

8

Note by the Author.—Nearly all Polynesians and Micronesians believed most firmly that the dissolution of soul from body always (excepting in cases of sudden death by violence or accident) occurred when the tide is on the ebb. From a long experience of life in the Pacific Islands, the writer is thoroughly imbued with and endorses that belief. The idea of the passing away of life with the ebbing of the tide will doubtless seem absurd to the European and civilised mind, but it must be remembered that an inborn and inherited belief, such as this, does, with many so-called semi-savage races, produce certain physical conditions that are well understood by pathologists.

9

It will doubtless strike the reader as being peculiar that an educated and refined woman such as I have endeavoured to portray in Mrs. Raymond would allow a servant to address her by her Christian name. But the explanation is very simple: In many European families living in Polynesia and in Micronesia the native servants usually address their masters and mistresses and their children by their Christian names— unless it is a missionary household, when the master would be addressed as “Misi “(Mr.) and the mistress as “Misi fafine “(Mrs.). The difference does not in the least imply that the servant speaks to the lay white man and his wife in a more familiar manner than he would to his spiritual teacher. No disrespect nor rude familiarity is intended— quite the reverse; it is merely an affectionate manner of speaking to the employer, not as an employer, but as the friend of the household generally. It is related of the martyred missionary John Williams, that a colleague of his in Tahiti once reproved a native youth for addressing Mr. Williams as “Viriamu” (Williams) instead of “Misi Yiriamu” (Mr. Williams), whereupon the pioneer of missionary enterprise in the South Seas remarked—” It does not matter, Mr. –, I  infinitely   prefer  to  be  called ‘Viriamu’  than ‘Tione Viriamu Mamae’ (the Sacred, or Reverend, John Williams).”