Arriving there, they were consigned to as near a substitute for a prison as the island afforded, a strongly built outhouse, their hurts being attended to and food and drink supplied them. Then they were left under guard, being informed that any attempt on their part to break loose would be followed immediately by their being tied up, for as they had chosen to behave as wild beasts, they must look to be treated as dangerous, and every precaution taken against them. Thoroughly cowed for the time by the rough handling they had received, the only argument they could understand, they attempted no protest against their confinement, but sullenly accepted what was given them and done for them like men accustomed to bow submissively to the inevitable. And thus they were left to themselves, the guard keeping close watch outside.
Meanwhile the conduct of C. B. came under strong discussion. No one attempted to suggest that he had acted wrongly, for all were agreed that it was a matter of deepest thankfulness to God that he had arrived so opportunely and acted as promptly as he had done, and yet there was something disquieting, not merely to the community, but to himself, in the fact that he had given way to such an outburst of savagery. And all felt how terrible a thing it would have been if he had slain either or both of the villains, as he would most likely have done had he carried a weapon. He attempted no justification, showed no repentance for his action, but frankly admitted that he was horrified to find that he had so much of the savage in him. And strange as it may seem, though all looked upon him as quite a hero, it is no less true that with their admiration was mingled another feeling which they could not conceal, a feeling which made them hold themselves slightly aloof from him and the sense of which cut him to the quick.
This, added to his previous unrest of spirit, decided him in his half-formed idea of leaving the island at the first opportunity and seeing the world. There was just a trace of bitterness in the thought that his resolution should have been fixed by an event of which he could not but feel proud, and could not help thinking should have made all his acquaintances proud of him too. But there it was, and no amount of meditation or self-examination would avail to alter it. So at the earliest opportunity when he was alone with his parents he told them of his resolve. For a few minutes neither spoke, and then his still beautiful mother broke the silence, saying—
“Have you consulted the Lord about it, dear boy?”
“Yes, mother,” he replied truly, “but I have not asked for any guidance in the matter, for I feel, I have long felt, led to go. And I don’t believe that such a strong inclination as I have towards something that certainly is not wrong can be of the evil one. Besides it is not my own pleasure I am seeking, neither am I tired of my lovely home, but—well, I must go, that’s all.”
Thereafter his father and mother regarded the matter as settled, only mother like, Grace hoped that it might be a long time before an opportunity came—she wanted to keep her boy as long as possible. But it fell out that only a fortnight afterwards an extraordinary event for the islanders occurred: two vessels arrived off the landing place in one day and hove-to, one the British war-vessel Thetis, and the other the American whale-ship Eliza Adams, of New Bedford. Joyfully the boats’ crews sprang into their craft and pulled out to the vessels, one visiting the man-o’-war to convey the respects of the whole community to the representative of the country they loved so well, and the other, steered by C. B., to the whale-ship to inquire after their wants.
As soon as Philip, who was in charge of the first boat, had climbed on board and had saluted the deck, he inquired for the captain, and first, in time-honoured fashion, begged him to consider the resources of the island at his disposal and to do them the honour of paying them a visit to the shore in their boat. The captain having gravely accepted the latter invitation and declared his intention of paying for whatever produce they might supply, Philip informed him that they had a favour to ask which they earnestly hoped he would see his way to grant, and then proceeded to tell him the story of their undesirable visitors, assuring him that the peace of the island had been destroyed since their arrival, and that now matters were worse than ever, since the miscreants must needs be watched day and night lest they should escape and do some fiendish deed in revenge, adding that on their own showing they were capable of any villainy. The captain listened patiently, and as soon as Philip had done talking replied in cheery tones—
“Make your mind easy, Mr. Adams; it’s not only a pleasure to grant your request to take these scoundrels off your hands, but my duty. I have been officially warned of their escape by the authorities and told to look out for them, and I shall be only too glad to rid you of them.”
Philip thanked the captain and requested the loan of a couple of pairs of handcuffs, saying that he would not put the captain to the trouble of sending a boat for them but would bring them off. The captain immediately assented, and in five minutes’ time the boat was flying shoreward with the captain and two of his officers seated in the stern sheets, quite glad of the opportunity afforded them of visiting this wonderful little community whose fame as a model settlement had spread all over the English-speaking world.
But the joy of the islanders who can depict, when Philip told them of their approaching deliverance from the misery under which they had laboured. Do not think them selfish or unmindful of their obligations to their fellow-men because they were glad to get rid of these undesirables. Had the latter been amenable to kindness or at all to be influenced by goodness so palpably manifested towards them, things would have been quite different. Every effort had been made, more by practice even than precept, to soften those flinty natures, but all such attempts had been met by the most brutal and hideous language as well as threats, of diabolical revenge if ever the chance came. It delighted those foul creatures to see the islanders wince at the awful words and blanch at what they were by no means inclined to regard empty threats, although it was happily impossible for them to realize fully the significance of some of the worst of them.