In the Wrong Paradise, and Other Stories Page 3

  II. NARRATIVE OF MR. GOWLES. {6}

  "I must now, though in sore straits for writing materials, and havingentirely lost count of time, post up my diary, or rather commence mynarrative. So far as I can learn from the jargon of the strange and lostpeople among whom Providence has cast me, this is, in their speech, thelast of the month, Thargeelyun, as near as I can imitate the sound inEnglish. Being in doubt as to the true time, I am resolved to regard to-morrow, and every seventh day in succession, as the Sabbath. The verynatives, I have observed with great interest, keep one day at fixedintervals sacred to the Sun-god, whom they call Apollon, perhaps the sameword as Apollyon. On this day they do no manner of work, but _that_ ishardly an exception to their usual habits. A less industrious people(slaves and all) I never met, even in the Pacific. As to being more thancommon idle on one day out of seven, whether they have been taught somuch of what is _essential_ by some earlier missionary, or whether theymay be the corrupted descendants of the Lost Tribes (whom they do not,however, at all resemble outwardly, being, I must admit, of prepossessingappearance), I can only conjecture. This Apollon of theirs, in hisgraven images (of which there are many), carries a bow and arrows, _fierydarts of the wicked_, another point in common between him and Apollyon,in the Pilgrim's Progress. May I, like Christian, turn aside and quenchhis artillery!

  To return to my narrative. When I recovered consciousness, after thesinking of the Blackbird, I found myself alone, clinging to the mast. Nowwas I tossed on the crest of the wave, now the waters opened beneath me,and I sank down in the valleys of the sea. Cold, numbed, and all butlifeless, I had given up hope of earthly existence, and was nearlyinsensible, when I began to revive beneath the rays of the sun.

  The sea, though still moved by a swell, was now much smoother, and, butfor a strange vision, I might have believed that I was recovering mystrength. I must, however, have been delirious or dreaming, for itappeared to me that a foreign female, of prepossessing exterior, thoughsomewhat indelicately dressed, arose out of the waters close by my side,as lightly as if she had been a sea-gull on the wing. About her headthere was wreathed a kind of muslin scarf, which she unwound and offeredto me, indicating that I was to tie it about my waist, and it wouldpreserve me from harm. So weak and exhausted was I that, withoutthinking, I did her bidding, and then lost sight of the female.Presently, as it seemed (but I was so drowsy that the time may have beenlonger than I fancied), I caught sight of land from the crest of a wave.Steep blue cliffs arose far away out of a white cloud of surf, and,though a strong swimmer, I had little hope of reaching the shore insafety.

  Fortunately, or rather, I should say, providentially, the current andtide-rip carried me to the mouth of a river, and, with a great effort, Igot into the shoal-water, and finally staggered out on shore. There wasa wood hard by, and thither I dragged myself. The sun was in mid heavensand very warm, and I managed to dry my clothes. I am always mostparticular to wear the dress of my calling, observing that it has apeculiar and gratifying effect on the minds of the natives. I soon driedmy tall hat, which, during the storm, I had attached to my button-hole bya string, and, though it was a good deal battered, I was not withouthopes of partially restoring its gloss and air of British respectability.As will be seen, this precaution was, curiously enough, the human meansof preserving my life. My hat, my black clothes, my white neck-tie, andthe hymn-book I carry would, I was convinced, secure for me a favourablereception among the natives (if of the gentle brown Polynesian type),whom I expected to find on the island.

  Exhausted by my sufferings, I now fell asleep, but was soon wakened byloud cries of anguish uttered at no great distance. I started to myfeet, and beheld an extraordinary spectacle, which at once assured methat I had fallen among natives of the worst and lowest type. The darkplaces of the earth are, indeed, full of horrid cruelty.

  The first cries which had roused me must have been comparatively distant,though piercing, and even now they reached me confused in the notes of amelancholy chant or hymn. But the shrieks grew more shrill, and Ithought I could distinguish the screams of a woman in pain or dread fromthe groans drawn with more difficulty from a man. I leaped up, and,climbing a high part of the river bank, I beheld, within a couple ofhundred yards, an extraordinary procession coming from the inner countrytowards the mouth of the stream.

  At first I had only a confused view of bright stuffs--white, blue, andred--and the shining of metal objects, in the midst of a crowd partlyconcealed by the dust they raised on their way. Very much to my surpriseI found that they were advancing along a wide road, paved in a peculiarmanner, for I had never seen anything of this kind among the heathentribes of the Pacific. Their dresses, too, though for the most part merewraps, as it were, of coloured stuff, thrown round them, pinned withbrooches, and often clinging in a very improper way to the figure, didnot remind me of the costume (what there is of it) of Samoans, Fijians,or other natives among whom I have been privileged to labour.

  But these observations give a more minute impression of what I saw than,for the moment, I had time to take in. The foremost part of theprocession consisted of boys, many of them almost naked. Their handswere full of branches, wreathed in a curious manner with strips of whiteor coloured wools. They were all singing, and were led by a womancarrying in her arms a mis-shapen wooden idol, not much unlike thosewhich are too frequent spectacles all over the Pacific. Behind the boysI could now distinctly behold a man and woman of the Polynesian type,naked to the waist, and staggering with bent backs beneath showers ofblows. The people behind them, who were almost as light in colour asourselves, were cruelly flogging them with cutting branches of trees.Round the necks of the unfortunate victims--criminals I presumed--werehung chains of white and black figs, and in their hands they held certainherbs, figs, and cheese, for what purpose I was, and remain, unable toconjecture. Whenever their cries were still for a moment, the woman whocarried the idol turned round, and lifted it in her arms with words whichI was unable to understand, urging on the tormentors to ply theirswitches with more severity.

  Naturally I was alarmed by the strangeness and ferocity of the natives,so I concealed myself hastily in some brushwood behind a large tree. Muchto my horror I found that the screams, groans, and singing only drewnearer and nearer. The procession then passed me so close that I couldsee blood on the backs of the victims, and on their faces an awful dreadand apprehension. Finally, the crowd reached the mouth of the river, atthe very place where I had escaped from the sea. By aid of a smallpocket-glass I could make out that the men were piling great faggots ofgreen wood, which I had noticed that some of them carried, on a spotbeneath the wash of high tide. When the pile had reached a considerableheight, the two victims were placed in the middle. Then, by some means,which I was too far off to detect, fire was produced, and applied to thewild wood in which the unhappy man and woman were enveloped. Soon,fortunately, a thick turbid smoke, in which but little flame appeared,swept all over the beach. I endeavoured to stop my ears, and turned myhead away that I might neither see nor hear more of this spectacle, whichI now perceived to be a human sacrifice more cruel than is customary evenamong the Fijians.

  When I next ventured to look up, the last trails of smoke were vanishingaway across the sea; the sun gazed down on the bright, many-colouredthrong, who were now singing another of their hymns, while some of thenumber were gathering up ashes (human ashes!) from a blackened spot onthe sand, and were throwing them into the salt water. The wind tossedback a soft grey dust in their faces, mixed with the surf and spray. Itwas dark before the crowd swept by me again, now chanting in whatappeared to be a mirthful manner, and with faces so smiling and happythat I could scarcely believe they had just taken part in such abominablecruelty. On the other hand, a weight seemed to have been removed fromtheir consciences. So deceitful are the wiles of Satan, who deludes theheathen most in their very religion! Tired and almost starved as I was,these reflections forced themselves upon me, even while I was ponderingon the dreadfu
l position in which I found myself. Way of escape from theisland (obviously a very large one) there was none. But, if I remainedall night in the wood, I must almost perish of cold and hunger. I hadtherefore no choice but to approach the barbarous people, though, from myacquaintance with natives, I knew well that they were likely either tokill and eat me, or to worship me as a god. Either event was toodreadful to bear reflection. I was certain, however, that, owing to thedress of my sacred calling, I could not be mistaken for a merebeach-comber or labour-hunter, and I considered that I might easilydestroy the impression (natural among savages on first seeing a European)that I was a god. I therefore followed the throng from a distance,taking advantage for concealment of turns in the way, and of trees andunderwood beside the road. Some four miles' walking, for which I wasvery unfit, brought us across a neck of land, and from high ground in themiddle I again beheld the sea. Very much to my surprise the cape onwhich I looked down, safe in the rear of the descending multitude, wasoccupied by a kind of city.

  The houses were not the mere huts of South Sea Islanders, but, thoughbuilt for the most part of carved and painted wood, had white stonefoundations, and were of considerable height. On a rock in the centre ofthe bay were some stone edifices which I took to be temples or publicbuildings. The crowd gradually broke up, turning into their owndwellings on the shore, where, by the way, some large masted vessels weredrawn up in little docks. But, while the general public, if I may sayso, slowly withdrew, the woman with the idol in her arms, accompanied bysome elderly men of serious aspect, climbed the road up to the centralpublic buildings.

  Moved by some impulse which I could hardly explain, I stealthily followedthem, and at last found myself on a rocky platform, a kind of publicsquare, open on one side to the sea, and shut in on either hand, and atthe back, by large houses with smooth round pillars, and decorated withodd coloured carvings. There was in the open centre of the square anobject which I recognized as an altar, with a fire burning on it. Somemen came out of the chief building, dragging a sheep, with chains offlowers round its neck. Another man threw something on the fire, whichburned with a curious smell. At once I recognized the savour of incense,against which (as employed illegally by the Puseyites) I had often firmlyprotested in old days at home. The spirit of a soldier of the Truthentered into me; weary as I was, I rushed from the dusky corner where Ihad been hidden in the twilight, ran to the altar, and held up my handwith my hymn-book as I began to repeat an address that had often silencedthe papistic mummers in England. Before I had uttered half a dozenwords, the men who were dragging the sheep flew at me, and tried to seizeme, while one of them offered a strange-looking knife at my throat. Ithought my last hour had come, and the old Adam awakening in me, Idelivered such a blow with my right on the eye of the man with the knife,that he reeled and fell heavily against the altar. Then assuming anattitude of self-defence (such as was, alas! too familiar to me in myunregenerate days), I awaited my assailants.

  They were coming on in a body when the veil of the large edifice in frontwas lifted, and a flash of light streamed out on the dusky square, as anold man dressed in red hurried to the scene of struggle. He wore a longwhite beard, had green leaves twisted in his hair, and carried in hishand a gilded staff curiously wreathed with wool. When they saw himapproaching, my assailants fell back, each of them kissing his own handand bowing slightly in the direction of the temple, as I rightly supposedit to be. The old man, who was followed by attendants carrying torchesburning, was now close to us, and on beholding me, he exhibited unusualemotions.

  My appearance, no doubt, was at that moment peculiar, and littlecreditable, as I have since thought, to a minister, however humble. Myhat was thrust on the back of my head, my coat was torn, my shirt open,my neck-tie twisted round under my ear, and my whole attitude was not onegenerally associated with the peaceful delivery of the message. Still, Ihad never conceived that any spectacle, however strange and unbecoming,could have produced such an effect on the native mind, especially in aperson who was manifestly a chief, or high-priest of some heathen god.Seeing him pause, and turn pale, I dropped my hands, and rearranged mydress as best I might. The old Tohunga, as my New Zealand flock used tocall their priest, now lifted his eyes to heaven with an air of devotion,and remained for some moments like one absorbed in prayer or meditation.He then rapidly uttered some words, which, of course, I could notunderstand, whereon his attendants approached me gently, with signs ofrespect and friendship. Not to appear lacking in courtesy, or inferiorin politeness to savages, I turned and raised my hat, which seemed stillmore to alarm the old priest. He spoke to one of his attendants, whoinstantly ran across the square, and entered the courtyard of a largehouse, surrounded by a garden, of which the tall trees looked over thewall, and wooden palisade. The old man then withdrew into the temple,and I distinctly saw him scatter, with the leafy bough of a tree, somewater round him as he entered, from a vessel beside the door. Thisconvinced me that some of the emissaries of the Scarlet Woman had alreadybeen busy among the benighted people, a conjecture, however, which provedto be erroneous.

  I was now left standing by the altar, the attendants observing me withrespect which I feared might at any moment take the blasphemous form ofworship. Nor could I see how I was to check their adoration, and turn itinto the proper channel, if, as happened to Captain Cook, and hasfrequently occurred since, these darkened idolaters mistook me for one oftheir own deities. I might spurn them, indeed; but when Nicholsonadopted that course, and beat the Fakirs who worshipped him during theIndian Mutiny, his conduct, as I have read, only redoubled theirenthusiasm. However, as events proved, they never at any time wereinclined to substitute me for their heathen divinities; very far from itindeed, though their peculiar conduct was calculated to foster in mybreast this melancholy delusion.

  I had not been left long to my own thoughts when I marked lightswandering in the garden or courtyard whither the messenger had been sentby the old priest. Presently there came forth from the court a man ofremarkable stature, and with an air of seriousness and responsibility. Inhis hand he carried a short staff, or baton, with gold knobs, and he worea thin golden circlet in his hair. As he drew near, the veil of thetemple was again lifted, and the aged priest came forward, bearing in hisarms a singular casket of wood, ornamented with alternate bands of goldand ivory, carved with outlandish figures. The torch-bearers crowdedabout us in the darkness, and it was a strange spectacle to behold thesmoky, fiery light shining on the men's faces and the rich coloureddresses, or lighting up the white idol of Apollon, which stood among thelaurel trees at the entrance of the temple.