His mind was chaos for a time, and then there emerged one idea clearly and distinctly, an idea sedulously cultivated by the fine old man McCoy—humility. He felt rather than knew that this would save him, this and the steadfast performance of his duty, from being carried off his balance, and unknown to any save his Maker his heart went up in prayer to be kept humble, true and diligent. It was all over in a moment; then he turned to Merritt with a bright and cheerful smile, saying—
“Please tell these foolish fellows that I am only a boat-steerer, who loves God, and that there’s nothing special about me except that I’m a bit bigger and stronger than ordinary men, which I can’t help being, you know.”
Merritt still grinning told them something that C. B. did not of course understand; if he had he would have protested, for it was not at all what he meant to be conveyed to them. It was to the effect that while C. B. was not exactly a godling he was a specially big man highly favoured by God; that he was half a Kanaka, but had never learned his mother language, and that the papalangi (white men) were all agreed in honouring him. So if they chose to show their appreciation of the honour done to their race in him it was not for him to baulk them, unless they worried him, when he would speedily inform them of the fact and they must instantly obey him. For Merritt, old in the knowledge of these light-hearted folks, foresaw that to occupy such a position as C. B. had been involuntarily lifted into meant not only a great lightening of labour for all the officers, but getting the best that life afforded by way of tribute, as a right and without any cost except to the donors.
In which, of course, Merritt was perfectly right from his point of view, and from thenceforward the ease with which discipline was maintained among the visitors was wonderful. Only C. B. felt sorely handicapped by his inability to speak the language, although, as he always had Merritt to fall back upon to interpret for him, that was not so much of a drawback as he thought it.
The other boat-steerers and officers soon found that life was very easy for them, and took full advantage of the fact without worrying about the reason for it, until on the third day after their arrival the skipper said at dinner: “The Kanakas don’t seem to be half as troublesome as usual on board, how is it?” There was silence for a moment or two until, seeing his seniors said nothing, Mr. Allan, the third mate, replied—
“It’s all on account of that extraordinary boat-steerer of ours, sir. He seems to have got hold of the Kanakas in such a way that they’ll do anything for him. They don’t take a bit of notice of us as far as I can see, but if he so much as winks they’re ready to fly. I heard him say to one the other day, ‘The captain doesn’t want any grog brought aboard and I hope none of you will do it?’ That was all, but that Kanaka looked as if he had had a message from heaven. An’ I don’t believe there’s ben a drop come in over the rail, an’ that without our troubling at all.”
The other officers went on stolidly eating, apparently without any interest in what was being said, but the captain, smiting his leg, said with great earnestness—
“In all my fishin’ I’ve never met a man like this fellow. Whatever does it mean? He don’t preach, he don’t psalm-sing (I often wish he would after hearin’ him that night aboard the Matilda Sayer), he only just does what we all try to do according to our ability, his duty, an’ yet he strikes me as bein’ a miracle. I sometimes wonder whether we’re lucky in havin’ him aboard the ship or not.”
Then Mr. Winsloe lifted his head with a dogged air and remarked—