The Crater; Or, Vulcan's Peak: A Tale of the Pacific

by James Fenimore Cooper

The governor, now, seldom ate with his people. He knew enough of human nature to understand that authority was best preserved by avoiding familiarity. Besides, there is, in truth, no association more unpleasant to those whose manners have been cultivated, than that of the table, with the rude and unrefined. Bridget, for instance, could hardly be expected to eat with the wives of the seamen; and Mark naturally wished to eat with his own family. On that occasion he had taken his meal in the cabin of the Rancocus, as usual, and had come down to the awning to see that the hands turned-to as soon as they were through with their own breakfasts. Just as he was about to issue the necessary order, the air was filled with frightful yells, and a stream of savages poured out of an opening in the rocks, on to the plain of the "hog pasture," as the adjoining field was called, rushing forward in a body towards the crater. They had crept along under the rocks by following a channel, and now broke cover within two hundred yards of the point they intended to assail.

The governor behaved admirably on this trying occasion. He issued his orders clearly, calmly, and promptly. Calling on Bigelow and Jones by name, he ordered them to withdraw the bridge, which could easily be done by hauling over the planks by means of wheels that had long been fitted for that purpose. The bridge withdrawn, the channel, or harbour, answered all the purposes of a ditch; though the South Sea islanders would think but little of swimming across it. Of course, Waally's men knew nothing of this bridge, nor did they know of the existence of the basin between them and their prey. They rushed directly towards the ship-yard, and loud were their yells of disappointment when they found a broad reach of water still separating them from the whites. Naturally they looked for the point of connection; but, by this time, the planks were wheeled in, and the communication was severed. At this instant, Waally had all his muskets discharged, and the gun fired from the catamaran, on which it was mounted. No one was injured by this volley, but a famous noise was made; and noise passed for a good deal in the warfare of that day and region.

It was now the turn of the colonists. At the first alarm everybody rushed to arms, and every post was manned, or womaned, in a minute. On the poop of the ship was planted one of the cannon, loaded with grape, and pointed so as to sweep the strait of the bridge. It is true, the distance was fully a mile, but Betts had elevated the gun with a view to its sending its missiles as far as was necessary. The other carronades on the Summit were pointed so as to sweep the portion of the hog pasture that was nearest, and which was now swarming with enemies, Waally, himself, was in front, and was evidently selecting a party that was to swim for the sandy beach, a sort of forlorn hope. No time was to be lost. Juno, a perfect heroine in her way, stood by the gun on the poop, while Dido was at those on the Summit, each brandishing or blowing, a lighted match. The governor made the preconcerted signal to the last, and she applied the match. Away went the grape, rattling along the surface of the opposite rocks, and damaging at least a dozen of Waally's men. Three were killed outright, and the wounds of the rest were very serious. A yell followed, and a young chief rushed towards the strait, with frantic cries, as if bent on leaping across the chasm. He was followed by a hundred warriors. Mark now made the signal to Juno. Not a moment was lost by the undaunted girl, who touched off her gun in the very nick of time. Down came the grape, hissing along the Reef; and, rebounding from its surface, away it leaped across the strait, flying through the thickest of the assailants. A dozen more suffered by that discharge. Waally now saw that a crisis was reached, and his efforts to recover the ground lost were worthy of his reputation. Calling to the swimmers, he succeeded in getting them down into the water in scores.

The governor had ordered those near him to their stations. This took Jones and Bigelow on board the Abraham, where two carronades were pointed through the stern ports, forming a battery to rake the hog pasture, which it was foreseen must be the field of battle if the enemy came by land, as it was the only island that came near enough to the Reef to be used in that way. As for Mark himself, accompanied by Brown and Wattles, all well armed, he held his party in reserve, as a corps to be moved wherever it might be most needed. At that all-important moment a happy idea occurred to the young governor. The schooner was all ready for launching. The reserve were under her bottom, intending to make a stand behind the covers of the yard, when Mark found himself at one of the spur-shores, just as Brown, armed to the teeth, came up to the other.

"Lay aside your arms," cried the governor, "and knock away your spur-shore, Bill!--Down with it, while I knock this away!--Look out on deck, for we are about to launch you!"

These words were just uttered, when the schooner began to move. All the colonists now cheered, and away the Abraham went, plunging like a battering-ram into the midst of the swimmers. While dipping deepest, Bigelow and Jones fired both their carronades, the shot of which threw the whole basin into foam. This combination of the means of assault was too much for savages to resist. Waally was instantly routed. His main body retreated into the coves of the channel, where their canoes lay, while the swimmers and stragglers got out of harm's way, in the best manner they could.

Not a moment was to be lost. The Abraham was brought up by a hawser, as is usual, and was immediately boarded by Mark, Bigelow and Wattles. This gave her a crew of five men, who were every way equal to handling her. Betts was left in command of the Reef, with the remainder of the forces. To make sail required but two minutes, and Mark was soon under way, rounding Loam Island, or what had once been Loam Island, for it was now connected with the hog pasture, in order to get into the reach where Waally had his forces. This reach was a quarter of a mile wide, and gave room for manoeuvring. Although the schooner bore down to the assault with a very determined air, it was by no means Mark's cue to come to close quarters. Being well to windward, with plenty of room, he kept the Abraham tacking, yawing, waring, and executing other of the devices of nautical delay, whilst his men loaded and fired her guns, as fast as they could. There were more noise and smoke, than there was bloodshed, as commonly happens on such occasions; but these sufficed to secure the victory. The savages were soon in a real panic, and no authority of Waally's could check their flight. Away they paddled to leeward, straining every nerve to get away from pursuers, whom they supposed to be murderously bent on killing them to a man. A more unequivocal flight never occurred in war.

Although the governor was much in earnest, he was riot half as bloodthirsty as his fleeing enemies imagined. Every dictate of prudence told him not to close with the canoes until he had plenty of sea-room. The course they were steering would take them all out of the group, into the open water, in the course of three or four hours, and he determined to follow at a convenient distance, just hastening the flight by occasional hints from his guns. In this manner, the people of the Abraham had much the easiest time of it, for they did little besides sail, while the savages had to use all their paddles to keep out of the schooner's way; they sailed, also, but their speed under their cocoa-nut canvas was not sufficient to keep clear of the Friend Abraham White, which proved to be a very fast vessel, as well as one easily handled.

At length, Waally found his fleet in the open ocean, where he trusted the chase would end. But he had greatly mistaken the course of events, in applying that 'flattering unction.' It was now that the governor commenced the chase in good earnest, actually running down three of the canoes, and making prisoners of one of the crews. In this canoe was a young warrior, whom Bill Brown and Wattles at once recognised as a favourite son of the chief. Here was a most important conquest, and, Mark turned it to account. He selected a proper agent from among the captives, and sent him with a palm-branch to Waally himself, with proposals for an exchange. There was no difficulty in communicating, since Brown and Wattles both spoke the language of the natives with great fluency. Three years of captivity had, at least, taught them that much.

A good deal of time was wasted before Waally could be brought to confide in the honour of his enemies. At last, love for his offspring brought him, unarmed, alongside of the schooner, and the governor met this formidable chief, face to face. He found the latter a wily and intelligent savage. Nevertheless, he had not the art to conceal his strong affection for his son, and on that passion did Mark Woolston play. Waally offered canoes, robes of feathers, whales' teeth, and every thing that was most esteemed among his own people, as a ransom for the boy. But this was not the exchange the governor desired to make. He offered to restore the son to the arms of his father as soon as the five seamen who were still prisoners on his citadel island should be brought alongside of the schooner. If these terms were rejected, the lad must take the fate of war.