I was awakened shortly after daybreak by Tom. He called to me that it was a fine morning, with a pleasant air of wind, and that I was wanted at the wheel whilst he and the others trimmed sail. I passed through the cabin-door to the wheel, and found the morning fair and bright indeed, the air delicate and soft as a tender day in May at home; the wind was north, blowing directly for the island, which, when I went on deck, was off the starboard beam, a giant lump of land, truly, and more imposing than Teneriffe, as I have heard sailors say, because of its colour and loneliness, though the mighty Canary peak soars to nearly double Tristan’s altitude.
It stood at a distance of seven or eight miles. The upper half of the mountain was clothed in motionless lines or wreaths of steam-white cloud, but the snow-clad summit sparkled in the early sunshine and looked like the moon, but more brilliant, soaring out of vapour. The base was of a dark and sullen hue.
Will loosed the lighter sails, the yards were squared, and the brig floated slowly toward the island. I saw no ship, and was mightily thankful. We got breakfast; and when that meal was ended, Tom bid me prepare the table for company; he said some of the islanders would come aboard when we hove to again, and must be hospitably welcomed. I made the best show to be contrived out of the brig’s larder, and put some of the Old Stormy’s wine on the swing trays. Whilst this was doing, Tom went into his cabin and carefully shaved and dressed himself. They had found clothes belonging to the murdered master and mate of the brig, and neither Tom nor Bates had scrupled to wear them.
When my sweetheart stepped out, he was more like his old self in appearance than I had seen him for many a long day. He wore blue cloth trousers and waistcoat, and the round jacket that had come from the Childe Harold’s slop-chest; the collar of his sailor shirt lay open and exposed his finely shaped throat above the black silk handkerchief carelessly tied there. He had found and put on a sealskin cap, which suited him admirably well.
‘This is a good, hospitable spread,’ said he, looking at the table. ‘This will warm the cockles of the corporal’s heart. The poor fellows are not always dealt with as though they came off hungry—at least by French and Yankee whalers.’
He took up the brig’s glass, and I followed him to the top of the house, wishing Will good morning with a kiss of my hand as I passed him at the wheel. Bates, on top of the house, stood soberly surveying the island. He said to Tom: ‘The yarn’s to be left to you, I take it, Butler, and my part’s to nod?’
‘That’s it,’ said Tom.
He pointed the glass and carefully swept the island and the sea on either hand of it, then bade me look. The huge volcanic rock was now between three and four miles off. The base was of perpendicular cliffs of lava, about fifty feet high. Beyond was a level strip of land, backed by the mountain, which rose abruptly to about four thousand feet, then shelved peakwise to its star-searching height. The swell burst against the iron foot of the island and boiled in a wool-white line. Thick heaps of white cloud clung to the towering eminence, but the summit remained visible, a delicate white, glittering like a sugar-loaf in the rich morning blue.
‘D’ye see the houses, Marian?’ said Tom. ‘Look away to the left, low down.’
I pointed the telescope, and presently saw a number of little cottages, situated on the north extreme of the long level strip of land. I did not quickly distinguish the buildings. They were of the colour of the mass of rock, and mingled with the background.
You’ll suppose I gazed with passionate interest. There before me, large in the lenses of the telescope, lay my new home. I wondered which of the cottages might fall to Tom and me—whether we should have to build for ourselves. How was life spent upon that island? How did the slender community occupy and amuse themselves? Tom had talked to me of farming, seal-hunting, fishing, cultivating fruit-trees in the sunny and sleepy hollows of the several little craters. But surely the days were peaceful and to be happily spent; and if that lovely island did but give Tom the safety and heart-ease I prayed for, I’d be willing to pass my whole life upon it, and share a grave in it with my dear one.
Thus ran my thoughts whilst I looked. I put the telescope in Tom’s hand again; he eyed me inquiringly and anxiously. I answered his look by saying, ‘It is beautiful and calm and grand; I can imagine no spot I would choose before it.’
When we were come within two miles of the shore, the brig’s topsail was backed and her light sails furled; by the time this was done I, who had secured the helm and gone to the deck-house top to take another view of the lava-coloured swelling places, spied a white boat making for us; by help of the glass I counted four men in her. She came along quickly. We went to the gangway to receive the boat, and Will stood by with a line.
Tom, looking through the telescope, exclaimed, ‘The corporal’s not one of them! I believe I recollect the stroke oar—it’s Peter Green, a Dutchman.’
‘The corporal may be dead,’ said I.
‘It will not matter,’ he answered.
The white whale-boat swept alongside; the coil of line flung by Will was caught; three of the fellows scrambled aboard by way of the main-chains, and the fourth followed quickly after thrusting the boat, secured by the line, clear of the brig. Three of them were elderly men, and one middle-aged; they were dressed in large grass hats, blue jackets, and two of them in trousers of a fearnought. Tom stepped up to the man that had pulled stroke, and, giving his hand, said:
‘You’re Peter Green. Do you remember me?’
The fellow had an old homely Dutch face, withered by the wear of weather, the smallest eyes I ever saw in a man, lodged deep in mere gimlet-holes under the grey and white of his shaggy brows. I was pleased, however, by his look of simple kindness and good-nature. He stared with a wrinkled, smiling face at Tom, and said, ‘Yaw, we hov met; vhas it on dot island?’
Tom named the date of his visit, the ship, and was recalling one or two incidents, when Peter Green again shook hands: ‘To be sure! I remembers you now. And how vhas you, sir, after all dis time?’ and he cast his little eyes around the decks as though in search of the crew. ‘Dis vhas your lady, I expect?’ said he, looking at me and touching his hat.
Tom slightly inclined his head and said: ‘This is Mr. Bates, chief mate, and yonder young gentleman, Mr. Johnstone, this lady’s cousin.’
‘Und dese,’ said Peter Green, waving his hand toward his three mates, who stood near him, ‘vhas my goodt neighbours and friendts—Mr. Alexander Cotton, dot vhas long in your Royal Navy; Mr. Andrew Hagan, dot hails from Boston; and Mr. William Daly, dot vhas likewise of your navy.’
Each man, as his name was pronounced, saluted with a deep sea-bow. I regarded them earnestly; they were to be neighbours of mine soon. What was the colour of their wives, and how many children had they?
‘You’re in time for dinner,’ said Tom. ‘Step into the cabin, will you? Johnstone, my lad, give an eye to the brig whilst I entertain our friends here.’
We entered the deck-house in a body.
‘Bit short-handed, capt’n, ain’t ye?’ said old Cotton, gazing about him with slow motions of the head.
‘We’ll come to that soon,’ said Tom. ‘Friends, seat yourselves and fall to. Marian, there’s a chair for you next Peter Green. Bates, I’ll trouble you to uncork some of that wine on the swing trays.’
My presence seemed to embarrass the poor islanders; they did not speak whilst their plates were being heaped. They eyed me shyly and would not eat after they had been served.
‘This is good ham—this is middling beef, Mr. Green,’ said Tom. ‘It’s the best welcome our little ship will allow us to give you.’
Peter Green bowed his head with the courteous gesture of a fine old gentleman, and then, observing that everybody was served, he stood up and, with a countenance of great devotion, said grace. The others hung their heads in a posture of prayer. Mr. Bates was greatly impressed; Tom and I exchanged looks—I saw that he was well pleased that I should have witnessed so soon this little illustration of the islanders’ habits. Grace said, the three old fellows and the others ate heartily, and conversation then flowed.
‘How is Corporal Glass?’ asked Tom.
‘He vhas not very well to-day,’ answered Peter Green. ‘Dot cancer troubles him. But I tell him he vhas goodt for many years.’
‘Please God!’ said William Daly.
‘Anything called off you lately?’ said Tom.
‘Nothing for five weeks,’ answered Hagan, with a nasal accent, ‘and she was a French whaler.’
‘Got a clergyman yet?’
‘Nein,’ answered Peter Green. ‘Der governor wrote by a South-Seaman to der Bishop of Cape Town. Der vhas no reply yet.’
‘Parsons ain’t penguins,’ said Cotton. ‘I tell ’ee, captain, the clergyman as comes to live amongst us ’ll be a-dedicating of his life to his Maker, arter a fashion you may overhaul the lot of your parishes at home afore finding the like of.’
‘Are there many young children among you, Mr. Green?’ said I.
‘Why, yaw, considering, marm. Dere vhas t’ree generations of us;’ and he named the number of children.
‘Don’t time hang a little heavily with you?’ said Mr. Bates.
‘Well, we gets up early and we turns in early,’ answered Daly, ‘and what’s between somehow seems to slide out unbeknown. We turns a day up as you turns a sandglass up, and the stuff runs so fast and sly that it always seems to be time to go to bed or time to be getting up.’
‘It vhas eighteen hoondred and twenty-four dot Corporal Glass vhas governor,’ said Peter Green. ‘Dot vhas joost fourteen years; und a leetle while ago, when we keep his birthday, he vhas saying it vhas all der same as fourteen days, so queek vhas time.’
‘Any of you left lately?’ said Mr. Bates.
‘Two men took on home-sick last year,’ answered Hagan.
‘How’s the school getting on?’ inquired Tom.
‘Foorst class,’ answered Green. ‘But I tell you vhat ve wants. Ve want more young men. Dere vhas too many fimmen.’
‘Too many of either will eat you up!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘When I was last here, Glass told me that the island could never be got to support more than two hundred people.’
‘Vell, dot vhas right.’
‘Will the corporal be able to come aboard? I want to see him.’
‘Not to-day, I expect,’ said the grey-haired old man-of-war’s man named Daly. ‘That there lip of his is a-worriting him. We’ll put ye ashore, capt’n. The governor’ll be glad to welcome ye.’
‘We’re well off for potatoes,’ said Hagan, ‘and there are a few stones of prime beef at your sarvice. Goats grow scarce. Water-casks want filling?’
‘Why, perhaps. I must see to it,’ said Tom.
‘Vhat might der be in your holdt to barter mit?’ asked Peter Green.
‘Much that’ll prove useful to the island,’ said Tom; ‘and that’s one of the matters I wish to see Governor Glass about.’
‘Come ashore with us, capt’n,’ said the Dutchman.
‘I can’t leave the brig,’ answered Tom. ‘We’re short-handed.’
‘So! I vash vondering where der crew vhas.’
‘Gone dead?’ inquired Hagan.
‘No. They took the boat and ran from the brig in mid-ocean. There were five of them and a cook. The beauties left a note behind them to let us know what had become of them, that we shouldn’t feel uneasy. Mr. Peter Green, your British merchant seaman slowly and steadily improves, morally and intellectually. He has hauled down his bloody flag and chucked his blunderbuss to the mermaids, and now ships as a respectable man under a house flag and is rarely guilty of worse crimes than swearing away his captain’s liberty and life, or slitting a windpipe in the middle watch and making off in the ship’s quarter-boat.’
‘I do not exactly understand you, sir,’ said Peter Green, who had sat straining his withered, good-natured Dutch face to catch Tom’s meaning, his few black fangs of teeth slowly masticating the while, as though he chewed the cud.
‘There ha’n’t been no blood shed, I hope?’ said the old fellow Cotton.
‘The aforemast crew of the brig consisted of five seamen and a cook,’ said Tom. ‘They said that stuff there,’ and here he pointed to a piece of salt beef, ‘wasn’t sweet enough for such choice gums as theirs, so they stole the boat and made off—a new way of running from a ship, Mr. Cotton, eh?’—the old man-of-war’s man gravely inclined his wrinkled face—‘and left us too short-handed to enable me to go ashore with you now and visit Governor Glass. But he’ll come aboard, I hope?’
‘Vhere vhas you from, capt’n?’ inquired Peter Green.
‘The brig’s from the Mersey.’
‘How’s the Mersey a-looking?’ exclaimed Daly, with an expression of eagerness in his old eyes.
Peter Green thrust in again.? ‘Vhere vhas you bound?’
‘The cargo’s consigned to Cape Town.’
‘Dis vhas a leedle out of your road.’
‘Why, yes. But I’ve called to see Corporal Glass.’
‘Dere vhas t’ree shipwreckt men on der island,’ said Peter Green, ‘dot ve vhas glad to get rid of, und dot vhas very thankful to ship mit you.’
‘Call ’em two,’ said Hagan; ‘the sick man’s no use.’
‘Dot vhas a very bad look-out for der ship und her people!’ exclaimed Peter Green, whose glass I had filled with wine. ‘Tell der story, Mr. Hagan.’
‘Why,’ said Hagan, speaking through his nose, ‘it was like this: I had stepped out of my cottage just as day was a-breaking to take a look ’round; away out nor’-west I see something black—just a black speck. Wal, I borrows the governor’s glass and makes out a ship’s boat, with an oar stepped and something white flying from the head of it. Three of our people, Miller, Riley, and Swain, agree with me to go and have a look at the boat. So we launches, and what do we find? A boat with four men in her; one man dead, another seemingly dying, t’other two too weak to sit up. We got ’em ashore, buried the body, and brought the others to. Him that seemed dying is a bit better, but he looks queer, and, to my mind, ain’t a-going to last. He hurt himself somewheres insides when the scramble happened in the fire. The other two are all right, and all three want to get away.’
‘Survivors of a fire. I take it?’ said, Tom.
‘Yaw,’ answered Green.
‘Smart little barque,’ said Hagan; ‘burned to the water’s edge. The people got away in two boats. Them that’s ashore is the skipper and mate and an able seaman.’
‘Who’s the sick man?’ said Mr. Bates.
‘Der mate,’ answered Peter Green.
‘How long have they been with you?’ I asked.
‘T’ree weeks, marm. Captain,’ exclaimed the Dutchman, turning to Tom, ‘did you know the leedle ship? She vhas called—she vhas called—ach, my memory!’
‘The Arab Chief,’ said Hagan.
‘The Arab Chief!’ exclaimed Tom, speaking slowly.
‘Did you know her, sir?’ asked Peter Green.
‘A fine clipper barque of six hundred and thirty tons,’ said Tom, speaking deliberately, with so sudden a change of voice that the islanders looked hard at him.
‘That’s the vessel,’ exclaimed Hagan.
‘You have her master and his mate on the island?’
‘Aye,’ replied Green.
‘Bates, hand me that bottle,’ said Tom. He poured out a quarter of a tumblerful of rum, mixed a little water with it, and swallowed the draught. ‘Do you know the names of the master and mate?’ he inquired, after a pause.
‘Very vell indeed, if dey vhas not pursers’ names,’ answered Green. ‘Von vhas Captain Samuel Rotch. Der odder vhas Meester Nodder. Der man vhas John Collins.’
‘I’ll return in a minute. I must look to the brig,’ said Tom, and walked out of the deck-house.
I was thunderstruck. I could not credit my senses. I looked at Mr. Bates, who looked at me, and I felt my face as white as the cloth upon the table. Rotch and Nodder on that island! The two fiends who had sworn away Tom’s liberty, made a felon of him, ruined, degraded, shipwrecked his life, forcing him down here to hide his guiltless head in the shadow and solitude of the towering ocean mountain upon whose shore calamity had cast them—those two incarnate devils within reach of an easy boat’s row, and themselves willing to ship in the brig and sail away in her! I thought my heart had stopped breathing. I could scarcely fetch a breath.
Peter Green looked hard at me and said: ‘Poor lady, I hope you did not feel ill, marm?’
‘Take no notice of the lady,’ said Mr. Bates. ‘These attacks are passing, and due to the heavy rolling. Drink a little wine,’ said he. He passed me a small glassful. He then added: ‘The fresh air will revive you; I recommend you to join the captain on deck.’
I rose, and so did Peter Green, and offered me his hand as though to conduct me. I had now my voice, and, forcing a smile, begged him to keep his seat, and went slowly to the door. I found Will standing near the wheel, which was secured, and said to the lad: ‘Go in and get your dinner and hear the wonderful news. But say nothing. Be satisfied to listen, and answer no questions, lest the villains ashore get scent of us, and keep themselves out of Tom’s power.’
He gazed at me as though he believed me mad. I advanced a little way along the deck, so as to command a view of the top of the house. Up there stood Tom, grasping the brass rail, motionless, just as I recollected his figure once in the convict ship, his eyes rooted on the island. He was bare-headed. I re-entered the cabin for his cap, which lay on the deck beside his chair, and then went up the ladder. My sweetheart took the cap and put it on. The motions of his arms and head were mechanical, as though he had been mesmerised and moved only when commanded, but never before had I seen on his face the expression it now wore. It was a look of fierce, savage delight; his whole countenance was dark with a scowl, in which lurked a faint, terrible smile. But how is my weak tongue to express the outward aspect of his mood then? I dared not speak to him till he had addressed me. He turned his eyes presently from the island and said, with a voice and manner as fierce as his face:
‘What do you think of this? There is a God and there is a devil, and God always wins.’
‘Are they your men?’
‘Rotch and Nodder! Rotch and Nodder! The one the captain, the other mate of the Arab Chief! My men? What other man’s if not mine?’
‘Tom, you look mad. I feel as you do, but this is a moment for passionless thought. The islanders will be coming on deck in a moment or two; they’ll carry the story of your sudden strange agitation ashore. Rotch, if Rotch it be, may ask questions, get your description, and stop where he is. Do you mean that to happen?’ cried I; and when I had said this I felt the blood mount like fire to my face. I stretched out my hands toward the island, and in the fit of uncontrollable wrath that possessed me motioned like a mad woman, as though I beheld an apparition which my delirium compelled me to seize and drag. Again I could hardly breathe; and though my heart was bursting to counsel him, I could not utter a word. The sight of me in this state did him good; I mean it made him see the folly and uselessness of wild temper and raging words at such a time.
‘Yours is the passion, not mine,’ said he. ‘I have made up my mind. I know exactly what to do. I am glad to have you here to speak to. Words give relief—a little relief.’ And, clasping my arm, he led me to the extremity of the deck-house.
‘It’s too swift, startling, wonderful to bear!’ I cried, squeezing my brows to ease the vile ache of throbbing there. ‘What do you mean to do?’
‘Bring them into this brig and keep them in her till they confess, though I should have to sail about the world with them till the vessel goes to pieces,’ he answered.
‘Then you won’t settle upon that island?’
‘Not now—not yet awhile, not until I have received Messieurs Rotch and Nodder on board and dealt with them.’ He added: ‘I want time to think. My brain’s in a whirl. If Rotch hears that I’m the man who has charge of this brig, he’ll not come.’
‘Peter Green knows your name.’
‘I believe not. He has not called me by my name. Did he ask it below?’
‘Not in my hearing.’
‘Butler is no uncommon name, and I’m changed—too changed to be recognised by the scoundrel in any description of me Peter Green is capable of.’
‘But Corporal Glass may recollect you, Tom, and name the ship you arrived off the island in.’
‘That won’t help Rotch. He wouldn’t identify me as his man by hearing the name of a ship he’s not likely to have heard I sailed in.’ He looked at the island, and cried: ‘My scheme is wholly changed. But I have not yet formed a resolution. We’ll talk it over when the islanders are gone. Bates shall counsel me as well as you. Let me but get hold of them here, and by my heavenly Maker, Marian, they shall swing if they don’t sign a confession of my innocence.’
‘Tom, be calm now, dear. The islanders are leaving the cabin. Keep your feelings under. They stared at you at table. Here now may be God’s own gift of a chance to establish your innocence. Don’t risk it, don’t spoil it, by want of self-control.’
‘See to yourself,’ said he, almost smiling. And as he spoke these words the head of Peter Green showed above the top of the ladder. The four islanders, accompanied by Mr. Bates, came on to the deck-house roof.
‘Vell, und how vhas you now, marm?’ said the Dutchman.
I answered that the fresh air had made me feel well again.
‘Und you, captain? Vhat vhas your hurry? Vhas you afraid of der vetter? Der vetter vhas all right.’
‘Had any rollers here lately, Mr. Green?’ said Tom, in his ordinary voice.
‘I think dere vhas no rollers,’ answered the Dutchman, ‘since six weeks.’
‘You’re in for a spell of quiet weather, captain,’ said old Cotton. ‘We’re obliged to you for a first-rate blow-out. Dunno how it is; there’s a sweetness in wittles at sea which my old teeth never can find in grub ashore.’
Hagan, who had stepped to the end of the deck-house to see if the whale-boat rode safely, now joined us and exclaimed: ‘If you’d care to go ashore, capt’n, I’ll remain in the brig in your place.’
‘No, I won’t go ashore; it isn’t as though I hadn’t visited your island. Perhaps you’ll bring Glass off to-morrow.’
‘Vhat vhas your name again, captain?’ said Green. ‘Dot I may tell der governor vhen he asks who vhas his old friend in der brig.’
‘Don’t you tell him,’ exclaimed Tom, with a loud, forced, unnatural laugh. ‘There is sometimes pleasure to be got out of surprise, Mr. Green. Besides, curiosity may coax him into paying me a visit; name me, and the corporal will say, “Oh yes, I remember,” and stop ashore. I propose this,’ he continued, speaking rapidly as though to overwhelm immediate thought in his hearers by crowding new ideas upon them. ‘First, what can you let us have?’
Old Daly answered that they could supply the brig with a small quantity of fresh beef, plenty of potatoes, a little fruit, eggs, poultry, and goats’ flesh.
‘We shall want to fill our water-casks. Will the islanders do that for us if we send that boat?’ said Tom, pointing to the Childe Harold’s quarter-boat chocked in room of the brig’s long-boat.
‘Oh yes; that shall be done,’ said old Cotton.
‘We’ll take all you can let us have,’ continued Tom. ‘And, by way of exchange—Mr. Bates, be good enough to carry our friends into the hold and break out some cases of wearing apparel. They shall value the stuff for themselves.’
‘At once, sir?’ said Mr. Bates.
‘At once,’ responded Tom, stepping to the skylight to look at the time. ‘It’s a quarter to three. I shall want a wider offing for the night, and don’t want to tow that boat out to sea.’
The mate and the islanders went away in a body. Tom began to pace the deck, often gazing at the island, his brows knitted, his face very fierce and dark. I guessed by his looks he wished to be alone, and quietly descended the ladder, at the foot of which stood Will smoking a pipe.
‘Marian,’ he cried, ‘this is an amazing thing to happen!’
‘Aye, but you mustn’t look amazed. We mean to get the wretches in our power. Sooner than come aboard they’d climb to the top of that island to escape Tom if they suspected who we were.’
‘What does Butler mean to do?’
‘I can’t tell you, because he doesn’t himself know.’
‘Bringing those fellows aboard doesn’t look like your settling on the island, does it?’
‘Tom won’t settle on that island now, not if two of the castaways there are Rotch and Nodder and we can tempt them into the brig.’
‘And a precious good job for you!’ exclaimed the lad, with his eyes fixed on the island. ‘Look at it! Imagine living out your life there! You’ve dined with specimens of its male society. What are its ladies like? The worth of Butler’s love for you has sunk hideously in my esteem ever since he planned such a rat-hole as that for you to live on merely because he’s got to hide his head.’
‘Hold your tongue!’ I cried. ‘Your esteem! What sort of tape do boys like you measure the love of such a man as Tom with?’
The dear fellow puffed at his pipe with a little temper, but, controlling himself, said: ‘When the rogues come off they’ll see Butler and shout to be set ashore again.’
‘We are not fools,’ said I; and my head beginning to ache again, and this sort of talk being profitless, I went into the deck-house cabin and sat down.