“I took a great fancy to two of them—John and Ruth Quintail,” he said. “They were grandchildren of one of the mutineers. John was twenty and Ruth eighteen. They did everything they could do for a common sailor like me. They were both pretty religious like most of the people, but they were full of fun. They could swim like ducks, and while I was there Ruth swam round the island. She used to wear an orange blossom in her beautiful hair. Our American girls are called fair, but she was the fairest girl I have ever seen. I suppose Ruth and John are at Norfolk Island now and will never go back to Pitcairn.”
Our interest constantly deepened, and I think that even the staidest old tars were as expectant as if they had been boys. There are no coral reefs around Pitcairn; it is of volcanic origin and is sometimes likened to a rock rising out of the ocean. It is only two and a half miles in length, and a mile in width. It was about midday when we caught sight of it. While the ocean seemed rather calm, yet as we drew near I noticed what I had already read, that the waves dashed fiercely against it. There was only one place suitable for landing, and even then a boat had to be skilfully managed in order to avoid disaster. When not far from shore the ship was hove to, and then a white flag was displayed which told that they saw us and that we were welcome. Soon a boat put out and, as it came alongside, I noticed that it was a dugout. One of the two occupants was particularly interesting to me. As he moved about the deck he caught sight of me and, approaching, said:
“You and I must be of about the same age. I am sixteen and my name is James Russell.”
He was so pleasant and unassuming that I could not help saying to myself that he would never make a sailor. Our visitors extended to the captain a cordial invitation to visit the island and assured him of a warm welcome. Of course this was intended to include officers and crew. The captain made fitting acknowledgment, rather unusual for one generally so abrupt, and replied that on the morrow there would be shore leave for all except the few required to manage the ship.
We were like schoolboys that night, anxious and expectant. In the dawn the island seemed one high peak covered with green creeping plants and trumpet vines. As we approached in the boats a man standing on an elevation showed us where to land. The surf was beating fiercely on rock and beach, but we glided ashore without any casualty. Nearly all of the eighteen then inhabiting the island were there to receive us. Russell sought me out and brought me to a young woman to whom I was presented in a very pleasant way. Her name was Sarah McCoy.
The ascent was slow as the path leading to the upland was very steep. On arriving at the top, we were told that the large open space was the market-place where trading was carried on with the whalemen who occasionally called at the island. Thence we passed by a pretty path winding through tropic trees to what was called the town. Many of the buildings showed signs of neglect, the result of the abandonment of the island only a few years before. Our guests had restored some of the buildings, and to our surprise the interior of the houses and their furnishings were about the same as those of our own homes in America.
Now let me describe Sarah McCoy. She was eighteen years of age and while she was of dark complexion and had raven black hair, which was prettily decorated with an orange blossom, yet in form and feature, in conversation and deportment, there was much of the Anglo-Saxon. Her attire was of tappa cloth, although I was told that all the islanders had European clothing. Her teeth were beautiful. The features were regular and the combination was pleasing. We were told that we were to be parcelled out among the people for dinner, and it was arranged that I was to be one of six who were to enjoy the cooking of Sarah McCoy.
The young girl said, with a laugh, “We are the most civilized people in the world, in one respect, and that is cooking. We have no stoves, yet we cook food in a very short time, and we think very much better than food cooked in stoves. The dinner is all prepared and there is only one thing to do to make it ready for the table. Come, James Russell and I will show you over the island.”
The girl was so artless, innocent and winning that I was quite carried away with her. She was full of fun, and at times almost boisterous with laughter, but modest and natural withal. Everywhere we went we saw goats, pigs and fowl running wild, and I knew that this meant a bountiful supply for our ship. I wish I could fittingly describe the scenery. From countless fragrant herbs and lime and orange trees delicious odors filled the air. The coconut trees were supplied with tall plumes which waved gently above our heads, and I should have thought that I was in some land of enchantment, far away from the world, had it not been for the sound of the breakers beating against the shore.
My companions led me to a rocky elevation overlooking the sea.