The Coral Island - Robert Michael Ballantyne (little readers txt) 📗
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upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the
temple, the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar, and the
natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled
right and left through the woods in order to save their property,
leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees
around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to
flee in order to seek shelter, when the teacher ran toward us with
a knife in his hand.
“Thank the Lord,” he said, cutting our bonds, “I am in time! Now,
seek the shelter of the nearest rock.”
This we did without a moment’s hesitation, for the whistling wind
burst, ever and anon, like thunder-claps among the trees, and,
tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the
ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played
like forked serpents in the air; while, high above the roar of the
hissing tempest, the thunder crashed, and burst, and rolled in
awful majesty.
In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were
blown completely off the houses in many cases; and in others, the
houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of
this, the natives were darting to and fro, in some instances saving
their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the
storm of destruction that whirled around them. But, terrific
although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on
the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep,
and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist,
they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the
solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave
swept higher and higher on the beach, until the ocean lashed its
angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet
of white curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried
off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It
was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least,
to impress the mind of beholders with the might and the majesty of
God.
We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during
which time the storm raged in fury; but on the night following it
abated somewhat, and in the morning we went to the village to seek
for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of
danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings
of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to
wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the
mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards, but the
natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a
disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we
were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and
thrust us into our former prison.
It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the
first savage who seized him, with a well-directed blow of his fist,
but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again
prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before
us.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Imprisonment - Sinking hopes - Unexpected freedom to more than one,
and in more senses than one.
FOR a long long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison,
during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being,
except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food.
There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have
felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my
inmost heart could never pass away, until death should make me
cease to feel the present was such a season.
During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at
our hearts every time we heard a foot-fall near the cave - dreading
lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time
dragged heavily on, we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to
experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom, that we
chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling
of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when
the savages would take us forth to die! But these changes took
place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter
thoughts; for there were times when we sat in that dark cavern on
our ledge of rock and conversed almost pleasantly about the past,
until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom
ventured to touch upon the future.
A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed; and a scanty supply
of yams and taro, brought to us once a-day, constituted our food.
“Well, Ralph, how have you slept?” said Jack, in a listless tone,
on rising one morning from his humble couch. “Were you much
disturbed by the wind last night?”
“No,” said I; “I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my
mother smiled upon me, and beckoned me to go to her; but I could
not, for I was chained.”
“And I dreamed, too,” said Peterkin; “but it was of our happy home
on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water
Garden; then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in
the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other, changed into
this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true.”
Peterkin’s tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of
his long imprisonment, that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I
should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to
the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I
pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of
happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how
bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and, in a short space,
how dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible
would have given me much light and comfort on this subject, if I
had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply
having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths.
While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the
cave, by saying, in a melancholy tone, “Oh, I wonder if we shall
ever see our dear island more.”
His voice trembled, and, covering his face with both hands, he bent
down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our
once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to
comfort him; but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no
hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to
pass my lips. While I hesitated, Jack sat down beside him, and
whispered a few words in his ear, while Peterkin threw himself on
his friend’s breast, and rested his head on his shoulder.
Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after, we heard
footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer
entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits,
however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he
would set down our meagre fare, as usual, and depart. But, to our
surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife
in his hand, and, going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound
his wrists, then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully
five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands
hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my
mind was, that the time had come to put us to death; and although,
as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength
of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near I felt all
the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill
of horror at the suddenness of our call
But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds, the savage pointed to
the cave’s mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the
open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing
under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears
trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out
first, he sprang towards him, and clasping him in his arms,
exclaimed, -
“Oh! my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you
are free!”
“Free!” cried Jack.
“Ay, free,” repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands
again and again; “free to go and come as you will. The Lord has
unloosed the bands of the captive and set the prisoners free. A
missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the
Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of
wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight.”
We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been
accustomed in our cavern to dream of deliverance, that we imagined
for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid
dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant
sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the
gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of
conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we
followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright
foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and
smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth, that we
were really delivered from prison and from death, rushed with
overwhelming power into our souls, and, with one accord, while
tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud long cheer of joy.
It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who
chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand
with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind,
and, forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of
Tararo.
The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget.
On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native
stood on his left hand, who, from his dress, seemed to be a
teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who, I at once
and rightly concluded, was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and
apparently past forty, with a bald forehead, and thin gray hair.
The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw,
and his clear gray eye beamed with a look that was frank, fearless,
loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in
the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on
fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had
come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile
overspread the missionary’s face as he advanced quickly to meet us,
and he shook us warmly by the hands.
“I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends,” he said. “My
friend, and your friend, the teacher, has told me your history; and
I thank our Father in heaven, with all my heart, that he
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