Chapter XXXI: In Cannibal Islands

The crew of the derelict brig _Resolute_ had certainly not been idle during the year and a half and over they had been prisoners on the cannibal islands. It was perhaps a lucky day for the natives when their boats drew up upon the beach with the sailors, more dead than alive, without arms or clothes, except what they wore, completely at the mercy of the naked and fierce-looking savages that crowded round them.

Here was a chance for these islanders, such as might not occur again in a score of years. Nothing could be more to their taste than the programme mapped out by their chief, and to be carried out on the following day.

First, Revenge. For they could not forget that long ago a white man's ship had cast anchor in this very bay, and that they had treated the men who landed with kindness and hospitality, albeit they would have preferred picking their bones. They remembered that event, and they did not forget either that in return for their hospitality those white fiends stole their women and their little ones, and put out to sea. Revenge is sweet.

Secondly, a short but bloody massacre of these innocent white men.

And thirdly, a glorious feast of roasted flesh to follow--a feast of white men's flesh, that they should look back to with satisfaction and delight as long as they lived.

So next morning the island had been all _en gala_. Huge fires were built on which to roast the sailors whole, and big round stones made hot to place in their insides, so that both outside and inside they might be done to a turn.

But, lo! when they had dragged the miserable sailors out of the compound, and everybody was itching to club them, they had found they were little more than skin and bone and grief.

This would never do; they must be fed and fattened. So they were penned in the king's own compound. But somehow they couldn't or wouldn't fatten; and besides, the king began to be mightily entertained with them. Seeing that this was the case, not only the Yankee skipper himself, but his nine men--all the rest of his crew, by the way, had been drowned--set themselves to please. They danced, they sang, and they even boxed with each other, all for this sable and savage King Ota's delectation.

Ota soon found out he had drawn a real prize in the lottery of life, and would now no more have consented to kill and eat his prisoners than you, reader, would your pet and expensive pigeons.

But meanwhile another savage king on another island had heard of Ota's luck, and sent to beg for half the white men, that he too might be tickled and amused. Ota replied, saying he would see the other king skinned first.

Well, there was some skinning after this; for that other king invaded Ota's island, and the battle on the beach raged fierce and bloody for many a long hour. The Yankee skipper and his merry men had been obliged to join the fight on Ota's side, and victory was at last obtained. The other king's men fled seaward in their boats, leaving more than a hundred dead and wounded on the beach. But the dreadful cruelties to the prisoners, and the awful orgies that were carried on for many days afterwards, I have no language to describe.

When all the killed were eaten, the bones were taken to "ornament" the kraal of the king, round which the savage soldiers danced and howled for days and nights to the unearthly music of tom-toms and conch-shells, accompanied by rattles made of the dead men's skulls with pebbles in them, and much yelling and brandishing of spears.

This feast, from first to last, was so terrible that the hair of several of the sailors turned white before it ended.

But peace ever since then had reigned in King Ota's island, and he had even become friendly again with the king who lived on the other side of the water. However, Ota would never permit his white men to go on the sea in a boat or canoe. They were too useful to risk. They built him a whole cottage, and taught his people to do many wonderful things. They laid out gardens even, in which yams and sweet potatoes, with cassava root and many other vegetables, flourished most luxuriantly.

But for all the king's kindness to them--and in a savage kind of way he really did treat them well--the poor white men pined, and longed to see a ship appear on the horizon.

Every morning of their lives when they left the huts in which they slept, guarded as prisoners, they betook themselves towards the hill-top.

They told Ota they went thither to pray. Well, to their credit be it said, they did pray; but many was the wistful glance they cast seawards in hopes of catching sight of the coming ship.

* * * * * *

One morning the ship did heave in sight.

That ship was the little _Island Queen_.

Just an hour after she had first been sighted, Ota, the king, called his prisoners before him.

A translation of the speech he made then would read somewhat as follows:

"White men people. King Ota is the biggest king in all the wide world. There is no end to his greatness or his glory. He has destroyed his enemies in many a bloody battle both by sea and land, and cooked and eaten them afterwards. Even the birds of the air fly round the head of King Ota when he takes his walks abroad, and scream their worship in his large and willing ears. And the dark frigate bird, the _eewaoo_, carries the story of King Ota's glory to the utmost regions of the earth. King Ota's arm is very strong, but King Ota's heart is as big and soft as a _jeetee_ (the jelly fish). When Ota saw the poor white sailors land on his shore, his first thought was to club and eat them, after smearing his wives and little ones with their bright red blood. But his soft _jeetee_ heart forbade; so he has kept them, and is very kind to them. But now behold a white man's ship has appeared in the bay, and they may want to take the king's dear prisoners away. But they must not know they are here. I must hide them in the innermost shades of the forest, and keep them secure until the ship departs. Away with them guards, and if they attempt to escape kill them, and we will feast ourselves on their bodies."

This was a sad sentence, but there was no relenting in King Ota, so they were marched away into the depths of a dark wood, and imprisoned in a bamboo hut, which was guarded by the spearsmen of the savage king.

* * * * * *

"Now, Frank," said Fred, "what is to be done first?"

That is what Captain Arundel, of the model yacht _Island Queen_ said, as soon as the anchor was let go in the beautiful bay off the Isle of Ota.

"That's what I should like to know, Fred," was Frank's reply. "I'm ready to obey you in everything, and fight for you, and stick by you to the last; but, faith, Fred, I'm a poor hand at giving advice."

"I should say," said Mac, "we'd better first try to make friends with these black beggars."

"They don't look very friendly," said Frank.

This was true; for though many dug-outs had shoved off from the shore, they kept severely aloof from the little yacht.

Quambo was sent down below to question the two captured savages, whom it was thought advisable for the present to keep out of sight.

The savages assured Quambo that this really was Ota's island, but that he would doubtless not permit the white men to appear. If they could lure the crew of the _Island Queen_ on shore, they would, said they, kill and eat them, but they would not attack the vessel till nightfall.

This was a rather gloomy outlook, and as no white men could be seen on the beach, Fred could only come to the conclusion that they were hidden away somewhere. He determined, however, that he would not be deterred from landing and seeking an interview with the king on the beach.

So Fred, with Quambo and Mac, lowered the boat, and boldly proceeded to row towards the shore. Quambo was to act as interpreter.

The boat was fully armed with revolvers and rifles, with spears also, lest they might have to come into close quarters with the cannibals.

The canoes certainly did not scatter in all directions at the approach of the white men's boat, but they drew sullenly off.

When within thirty yards of the shore they lay on their oars, and immediately afterwards the beach swarmed with spear-armed, wildly-gesticulating savages. Among them was a personage arrayed in an old pilot jacket, and nothing else, so that with his long black legs sticking out from under he had anything but a very imposing appearance.

He had a spear in his right hand, and by a string in the other was leading along a good-sized pig, of all creatures in the world.

Conversation was at once opened up, and proceeded somewhat as follows:

_Quambo_. "Are you the king of this island?"

_Ota_. "I am King Ota, the greatest king in all the world."

_Quambo_. "And we are poor white men who want food and water."

_Ota_. "I have brought this pig to make you a present of. How much will you pay me for this pig?"

"That's a queer way of making a present," said Fred, when the king's words were interpreted. "Tell him we will give him a beautiful jacket and a pair of white duck trousers to hide his dirty black legs. Hold up the garments."

_Quambo_ (holding up the trousers and blue jacket). "Here, O great and good king, we have brought you a coat for your brave body, and a pair of white ducks for your lovely legs!"

_Ota_. "Land and leave them."

_Quambo_. "No, leave the pig, and we will land and exchange; but you must retire."

Fred now determined to bring matters to a crisis. These savages had never seen or heard of fire-arms, so now raising a rifle to his shoulder he took aim and fired, and, lo! Ota's pig dropped dead at his feet. The smoke had hardly cleared away till, with terrible shouts and shrieks, the savages had fled in all directions. For just one brief moment the greatest king in all the world stood looking down at poor piggie weltering in its gore, then with an eldritch scream he too fled away.

"Pull on shore quickly now, lads," cried Fred, and the boat was quickly beached. The pig was lifted on board, the jacket and trousers laid on the sands, and off they shoved again, and were soon once more safely on their own quarter-deck.

In an hour's time, however, they had the satisfaction of seeing King Ota come down to the beach, dress in the new clothes, then stride gallantly away, followed by all his sable suite.

Instead of lying at anchor all night, and probably thus courting an attack, it was thought advisable to put out to sea, where they could bid defiance to a whole fleet of armed canoes.

The king presented himself on the beach next day, but he had no pig. It was noticed too that not a woman or child was permitted to appear; and this Quambo assured Fred was a certain sign that these savages meant to fight.

Now fighting was no part of Fred's policy. With all his courage and daring it would be ruinous not only for his party, but for those he sought to rescue, to go to war with these savages. Against such numbers he could only act on the defensive, and this but for a very short time. So he determined to make friends by every means in his power. He once more, therefore, drew near to the beach and held parley with King Ota, or King Breeches, as Magilvray called him.

Fred informed him that he came now on a friendly mission; that he desired everlasting peace between the white men and the blacks; and that in proof of this if he, King Ota, would venture on board he should be treated kindly and receive many more presents, even a fire-stick such as he, Fred, had slain the pig with the day before.

The offer of a gun was certainly a great temptation, but it evidently was not great enough to induce King Ota to risk his sacred person on board the _Island Queen_.

"Would the white man leave the fire-stick on the beach and go away?" he asked.

"No; the white man would do nothing of the sort."

"Would the white man then kill something else?"

To this Fred made reply, that if the greatest king in all the world wanted a pig for his own dinner, and would bring one to the beach, the white man would kill it.

On this the king seemed suddenly to be struck by a happy thought. He held communication with his dusky warriors; a few of them retired to the bush, and after a while re-appeared dragging along a poor woman. She was stationed on the fore-shore, and stood there with drooping head patiently waiting for the death she expected. The king and his warriors stood aside at a safe distance. Then pointing to the woman Ota hailed the boat. "That is the pig that the greatest king in all the world wants to eat for dinner, make fire, quick, quick."

Fred felt strangely tempted to give the king himself a shot. So inhuman a monster he had never before held communication with.

At this moment a huge black-brown kite came wheeling round his dusky majesty's head; slowly it sailed tack and half tack.

Now Mac had been the best shot in the _San Salvador_. Fred gave him the rifle.

"Bring down that bird," he cried. "Pray don't miss."

Steady was the aim Magilvray now took. Bang went the rifle. The king's eyes were turned towards the poor woman, his face beaming with fiendish delight in the expectation of seeing her fall. Instead of that there alighted on his royal head a huge mass of blood and feathers. He uttered a yell that could have been heard a good mile off, and threw himself struggling on the ground.

It was a rash thing for Fred to do; but there was no help for it now, and almost before Quambo and Magilvray could get way on the boat spears were hurled after them, and a wild rush made towards the canoes.

That was indeed a race for life; but Quambo and Mac made the gig fly and skip across the water, and not only were they aboard, but the boat was hauled up, before the savages in their clumsy canoes could get alongside.

"Shake out the mainsail. Get the anchor up." These were the orders now.

Just one volley was fired at the advancing canoes, which staggered and sent them back, and before they had recovered from their consternation the sails were set, and the _Island Queen_ stood steadily out to sea.

But the shooting of that foul bird had ruined everything, as far as peace was concerned.