Chapter X: Afloat on Summer Seas

When Leona, in her quiet and earnest way, undertook--very many months ago--the terrible task of converting this cannibal island to Christianity, she often trembled to think that when she was no longer among the poor creatures, they might revert to their old savage customs and manners.

She prayed for strength and for hope.

Both came. Early one morning, even before she had left her cot, a suggestion appeared to come floating across her mind, and she determined to act upon it at once.

There were several reverend old men among the islanders, who had always been looked up to by their juniors and inferiors. They had been seers, in a manner of speaking--seers and fetishmen. But they had, under the ministry of Leona, abandoned all pretensions of being seers, and cast the fetish behind them.

These men were voluble speakers. Why not teach them specially, and train them to preach? She carried out the idea, and elected Wooma, the most earnest and eloquent of them, to be pastor of the island; the others would also preach occasionally, but in other respects they would be elders of the Palm-Leaf Church.

The plan succeeded beyond her utmost expectations.

Antonio made Wooma a present of a little harmonium that he had on board, and taught an elder to lead the music, while a choir of black boys and girls took up the singing.

Leona now felt assured that the good seed sown, and which had taken root so speedily and so firmly, would spring up and nourish like a green bay-tree. He who rules on earth and in heaven, she told herself, would not permit that tree to wither and perish.

* * * * *

In another month’s time the _Zingara_ was being got ready for sea once again.

Her cargo was not a heavy one, but it was very valuable; and as they passed through that mist of islands which dot the Pacific Ocean almost from the western coast of South America to the far Philippine Isles and the rugged shores of Borneo, they would have ample opportunity of adding to their cargo.

Farewell! Ah, what sadness breathes in that one wee word. It is one that in print should be put in the faintest type; and when spoken it should be but breathed or whispered.

Says the Anglo-Scottish poet Byron--

“Farewell!
For in that word--that fatal word--howe’er
We promise--hope--believe--there breathes despair.”

* * * * *

Not so, poet of my earliest years! For if we meet no more here below, may we not hope to meet again in another and better world than this? Then why “despair”?

Leona’s parting with her congregation, and her last sermon, were quite affecting. Strange how the religion of Christ can soften the heart of even the savage.

There was not a dry eye in all that little church, as they crowded round her to touch her hand before she departed. Hardly, indeed, could they prevail upon themselves to let her depart.

Just before Leona’s boat rounded a wooded cape in the lagoon, and would be seen no more by those she was leaving, she looked back. They were still all there--disconsolate, dreary.

She stood up in the boat, and waved her handkerchief.

It was a wet one.

Hitherto she had borne up well; but now, woman-like, she sank down in the stern-sheets of the boat, and burst into tears.

Teenie got on to her lap, and with her arms around Leona’s neck did all a child could do to comfort and cheer her.

But the ship’s anchor was now up, her sails filled, and she was soon far away at sea, with the island looking once more like a green cloud afloat in the sky. Then Leona’s heart grew calmer.

* * * * *

Captain Antonio had taken away with him four sturdy natives, simply because they had expressed a desire to see Britain and Britain’s kindly Queen.

He soon had them dressed in European fashion, in jackets and trousers of duck; a costume all in white, that made them look darker in skin than they really were.

They became fairly good sailors in time, however, and were most obedient to command.

Very great friends of Teenie’s did those white-jacketed, converted savages become. Like most girl children who have been born and bred in the country, Teenie was fond of horses. So she would put a bit in the mouth of one, with long ribbons as a bridle, and mounting on the neck of the other, who represented the dog-cart, crack her little whip, and drive madly round and round the decks, till even those sturdy natives themselves would confess to feeling tired.

What a long long voyage was before those mariners! Twenty thousand miles and over. Can you conceive of such a distance, reader?

Yet, on the whole, they were lucky, and had favouring breezes.

They visited many little fairy isles, but only when the natives were friendly, and brought fruit and fish to barter for beads and gaily-coloured cotton cloth.

As this cloth can be bought in England for about twopence a yard, it is an excellent thing to barter with; and glass beads are certainly cheap enough.

Some of the islands on which they landed--I really forget their names--were large and mountainous, and inhabited by peace-loving natives, who made them heartily welcome--islands of romance; islands of dell and dingle, adown which rivulets, with water clear as crystal, ran singing to the sea.

The hills or mountains on these islands were often wooded to the very top, but from betwixt the tall tree stems, our two young heroes, with Teenie and Johnnie Smart, could catch glimpses of the distant sea, than which no ocean in all the world can look brighter or bluer--islands of woods, but islands of wild flowers as well, that carpeted all the earth, and covered and clung to the trees, embracing and beautifying everything.

Islands too of bright-winged birds, and of splendidly Nature-painted butterflies, that, as they floated in the sunshine, looked like animated fans.

Four-winged dragon-flies often went whirring past. These were of very large dimensions, and shining in crimson, blue, or gold.

In little pools or tiny backwaters by the river, it was a treat for the boys, and for Teenie most of all, to see one or two great butterflies, with wings as broad as an envelope, alight and wade gingerly into the water to bathe their bodies and legs, and even their eyes and heads. But they folded their wings during the bath--it would not suit their purpose to wet these.

And here, too, were kingfishers of such lovely colours that it would be worth a naturalist’s while to come and study there, although he should have to live in the islands for months.

Nothing did our heroes find either that could hurt, apart from the ever busy ever bloodthirsty mosquito, or some jet-black wasps that made their nests or paper hives on the lime-trees.

_Re_ the mosquito, although it may be a digression--and you are at liberty therefore to skip it--I would like to tell my readers something curious. The same holds good, you will understand, about the mosquito’s second cousin, the gnat, who dwells in Merrie England, and sucks our blood by night.

Well then, first and foremost, it is only the lady-mosquito who bites and bleeds us; the gentleman mosquito is quiet and social. After she has filled herself with blood, she seeks out some quiet spot near to a pool of stagnant water. There she meditates on things in general for five or six days. Then off she flies, and alighting gently on the water, lays her eggs, and--drops down dead. After floating about a few days, the eggs give birth to tiny swimming _larvæ_. These swim about and grow fast, frequently casting their skins to allow of expansion.

Later on they pass into the nympha stage, and soon float on the top of the water. After a time, the shell or little coffin cracks along the top, and out comes a pure white mosquito. He stands on his empty shell till he photographs down to his proper colour, and his wings get dry and rigid. Then away he flies, with all the sunny world before him. I don’t respect the mosquito, and the larva for its size is a perfect tiger, eating everything it can come across, if soft enough--even the dead body of its late mother is devoured, so that these wild islands of the Pacific contain not only cannibal men, but cannibal mosquitoes.

But limes were not the only fruit on those charming isles. There were oranges, plantains, and bananas, the luscious and flesh-like pomolo, the pine-apple, the ubiquitous cocoa-nut and guavas, that tasted like strawberries smothered in cream.

The _Zingara_ took in thousands of cocoa-nuts, also cassava-root, and many boxes of arrowroot, besides gum-copal, and nutmegs and spices.

* * * * *

Fain would they have landed at Borneo; but some kind of internecine war was going on there, and Antonio had no desire to be mixed up therein. So on he went past Singapore, far to the north, through the Straits of Sunda, ’twixt Sumatra and Java, and in a few weeks’ time they found themselves far away on the blue bosom of the Indian Ocean, sailing west and by south, and bearing up for the heath-clad hills that stand sentry over Capetown.

END OF BOOK II