C. B. looked bewildered from one to the other, and then went on with his work, with a deep sigh of despair at his inability to comprehend this peculiarly selfish form of affection.
He could see, however, that it behoved him to be careful in his intercourse with others, no matter how friendly they might be, not that he felt the least fear of Merritt, but that he realized to the full that the latter’s love for him had humanized and made gentle a nature essentially savage and morose. He felt in a very special measure responsible for Merritt, having an indefinable idea that he might one day be able to hail him not only as a chum but as a brother Christian. Not that C. B. had ever attempted to proselytize; he had absolutely none of the missionary spirit except that he always did live before his fellows as seeing Him who is invisible, and the example of such a life often preaches louder than any amount of spoken words. And his heart had greatly rejoiced when on several occasions during the night watches Merritt had asked him in a casual off-hand sort of way to tell him what Christianity really was.
But I am forgetting altogether that the ship is at anchor in the harbour of Honolulu, and that C. B., in a strange port for the first time in his life, became carried away, quite bewildered by the wonderful scene on deck. For the ship was overrun by both Kanakas from the shore and visitors from the other ships, all manner of island produce for sale was being continually hoisted on board, and all round the ship, like so many dusky mermaidens, disported a very shoal of girls, forbidden to come on board by the captain’s stern orders. That gentleman, however, seeing how impossible it was for his men to work under the present conditions, and being moreover of a very kindly disposition, gave orders that as soon as the decks were cleared up work should cease for the remainder of the day, so that the men should be able to enjoy the change without breaking any rules or getting into trouble. Then he called all officers and boat steerers aft and gave them stringent orders to watch that no women or liquor were allowed on board, as he didn’t want any gratuitous trouble. Also to keep a good lookout that nothing of small portable size was left lying about for the natives to steal, and especially that no rope under any pretence was flung to a boat, since it is a frequent trick of theirs played upon unwary seafarers to haul as much of a rope flung to them as possible into a canoe and then—cut it off as high up as they can reach—which of course causes serious trouble the first time the rope is let go, if it is, as usual, a portion of the ship’s running gear.
These orders required a great deal of energy and watchfulness to carry out, but nobody seemed to take them seriously except C. B., and in consequence he was kept extremely busy, especially as to his slight annoyance he was continually being addressed in the Kanaka tongue by natives who looked upon him as one of themselves, though not full blood. For the Pitcairn Islanders, handsome as they undoubtedly are, do show and probably always will show, both in complexion and feature, a striking resemblance to the stock from which their maternal ancestors were derived, and this by a well-known peculiarity is far more pronounced in the case of males than of females. Now C. B. hardly knew a word of Kanaka, for he had not fraternized at all with the natives on board, having been early advised to keep his place, so when these dusky Hawaiians smilingly saluted him with “Aloha,” to which he cheerily responded, and then went on to talk to him, his blank stare of non-understanding and his vigorous pantomime to that effect puzzled them beyond measure.
It was evident that they did not believe him at first, by their scornful looks. They took him for a renegade, a half-breed ashamed of his parentage, which is indeed an unpardonable offence in their eyes, they having a vigorous hatred of all forms of snobbery, until presently mixing with the Kanakas forward, they heard such an account of C. B.’s goodness, his prowess as a fighter and his ability as a whaleman, that they changed their minds concerning him, and were ready to accord him supernatural honours. He, of course, noticed the deference they paid him, the instant obedience to his lightest word, the anxiety to please him manifested on every side, but ascribed it to their innate kindliness, to everything in fact but its true reason. It was not until they began to bring him tribute in the way of presents, fruit, eggs, fowls and vegetables, that he began to wonder whereunto all this was tending, and as he could make but little headway through his want of knowledge of the language he hunted up Merritt, who spoke the language very well, and asked him if he could ascertain the reason.
Merritt held a palaver, which, by the way, is a West African native word that has passed into our language, and then did what C. B. had never deemed him capable of, burst into a perfect roar of laughter. To C. B.’s puzzled inquiry as to the cause of this sudden hilarity, he presently replied, wiping the tears of merriment from his eyes, in allegory and parable—
“Boys oh! boys, get sticks and beat the natives. By the great hook block ef this don’t beat heavin’ the anchor through the hause-pipe. What sh’ll I hear next, I persoom? Well, never mind, this is the way of it. All these kotow, that offerings, them perlite inquiries that you don’t savvy means that you’re somethin’ of a second mate god. I don’t know what them Kanakas of ours has been tellin’ ’em about ye, but it must a ben a pretty tall yarn, judgin’ by what I’ve heard already. An’ this is only the beginnin’ of it.”
One of the crew-Kanakas was just shambling aft to the scuttle-butt for a drink of water when Merritt hailed him in his own language and asked him what sort of a game he had been putting up on “Seeby” as they all called our hero forrard. The man told him as truthfully as he knew how what had been said, at which Merritt laughed more than ever, and at last turning to C. B. said—
“Looky here, my boy, ef you ain’t careful these yer Kanakas’ll be wiling you away to become the head boss of some new religion of theirs. I guess they hain’t ever struck one o’ your breed before.”
C. B. tried to laugh, but it was a failure. He had come up against a problem far too heavy for his simple mind to cope with. I know of no subtler form of temptation than this for a good man, unless gifted with an exceptionally large fund of common sense and much experience. Now C. B. was a sensible youth, and his splendid early training as well as his native grit had carried him grandly through his recent fiery trial, but nothing that he had ever heard or learned had prepared him for this.