“Always a-preaching, the old tub-thumper,” I heard William say to himself; but he made no further reference to the subject.
It was now quite dark, and we lay whispering, in the damp hollow under the great stone. Our plan was to crawl away at the first blush of dawn, when men generally sleep most soundly; that William should enter one of the unguarded houses (for these people never stole, and did not know the meaning of the word “thief”), that he should help himself to provisions, and that meanwhile I should have a boat ready to start in the harbour.
This larcenous but inevitable programme we carried out, after waiting through dreadful hours of cold and shivering anxiety. Every cry of a night bird from the marsh or the wood sent my heart into my mouth. I felt inconceivably mean and remorseful, my vanity having received a dreadful shock from the discovery that, far from being a god, I was to be a kind of burnt-offering.
At last the east grew faintly grey, and we started, not keeping together, but Bludger marching cautiously in my rear, at a considerable distance. We only met one person, a dissipated young man, who, I greatly fear, had been paying his court to a shepherdess in the hills. When he shouted a challenge, I replied, Erastes eimi, which means, I am sorry to say, “I am a lover,” and implied that I, also, had been engaged in low intrigue. “Farewell, with good fortune,” he replied, and went on his way, singing some catch about Amaryllis, who, I presume, was the object of his unhallowed attentions.
We slipped into the silent town, unwalled and unguarded as it was, for as one of their own poets had said, “We dwell by the wash of the waves, far off from toilsome men, and with us are no folk conversant.” They were a race that knew war only by a vague tradition, that they had dwelt, at some former age, in an island, perhaps New Zealand, where they were subject to constant annoyance from Giants,—a likely story. Thence they had migrated to their present home, where only one white man had ever been cast away—one Odysseus, so their traditions declared—before our arrival. Him, however, they had treated hospitably, very unlike their contemplated behaviour to Bludger and me.
I am obliged to make this historical digression that the reader may understand how it happened, under Providence, that we were not detected in passing through the town, and how Bludger successfully accomplished what, I fear, was by no means his first burglary.
We parted at the chief’s house, Bill to secure provisions, and I to unmoor a boat, and bring her round to a lonely bay on the coast, where my companion was to join me.
I accomplished my task without the slightest difficulty, selected a light craft,—they did not use canoes, but rowed boats like coracles,—and was lying at anchor, moored with a heavy stone, in the bay.
The dawn was now breaking in the most beautiful colours—gold, purple, crimson, and green—across the sea. All nature was still, save for the first pipe of awakening birds.
There was a delicate fragrance in the air, which was at once soft and keen, and, as I watched the red sunlight on the high cliffs, and on the smooth trunks of the palm trees, I felt, strange to say, a kind of reluctance to leave the island.