Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

by Louis Becke

'Certainly not, captain! I merely advanced a supposition. I have the most absolute faith in your very excellent judgment and superior knowledge. Let us steer north for San Christoval, and trust that good fortune may attend our search.'

Old Sam's red face beamed with a childish pleasure, and he gurgled something out about 'the intense relevancy of the satisfaction it gave him to be in such complete and personal discord with Mr. de Cann,' and that he 'sincerely trusted they would always remain as such.' Then he strutted away, and bawled out an order to the second mate to tell the cook to kill the pig, as the creature 'discommoded and dirtied the decks with continuous incessity and was always rubbing itself against one of the carronades and suffusing the ship with its intolerability.' (As a matter of fact, he had no ill-feeling against poor Julia, but thought it rather undignified to have the creature poking about the main deck with a naval officer on board.)

These were happy days for Tom. Between himself and the quiet, self-contained young mate there already existed a feeling of friendship, which grew stronger day by day. The advent of De Caen, an educated and travelled man, whose usually refined and dignified manner but concealed a disposition that in reality was brimming over with an almost boyish love of merriment and an ardent spirit of adventure, was another source of pleasure to him; and both of the grown men seemed to vie with each other, as the days went on, in instructing a mind so open and ingenuous, and so quick to receive impressions for good; for whilst Collier gave him lessons in navigation and practical seamanship, De Caen talked to him of the world beyond the Southern Seas, of the history of his own country, and was delighted to find that Tom knew a good deal of his (De Caen's) pet hero, the adventurous Dupleix, and of his struggle with Clive for the supremacy of India in the early days of 'John Company.'

And then in the evenings Collier would tell him tales of his own adventures in the South Seas, tales that made Tom's heart beat quicker as he listened, for the quiet, grave-eyed young officer had faced death and danger very often, from one side of the Pacific to the other.

'The South Sea Islands are a bit different, though, Tom, to what they were fifty, ay, twenty years ago,' he said, with a smile; 'but even Captain Hawkins, who pretends to grumble at the changes that have occurred, admits that us sailor-men have much to be thankful for. The missionaries--English missionaries, I mean--have done a lot for us, quite apart from what they have done for the natives. And yet most trading captains have not a good word for the missionary.'

'Why is that, Mr. Collier?'

'For many reasons, Tom. One is because the advent of the missionary means less profit to the trader, less prestige to him as the one white man on one particular island. The trader wants to sell his grog and his firearms, and he ruins and destroys the natives; the missionary comes to elevate and redeem them. Tom, my boy, you should read what English missionaries have done in the South Seas! It is a better tale than that of the victories won by British troops upon the blood-stained field of battle; for the victories of the missionary have brought peace and happiness instead of tears and sorrow to the vanquished. Look here, Tom.'

He took down a book from the shelf over his bunk.

'Here, look at this. It is the narrative of the first voyage of John Williams to the South Seas--John Williams, who gave up his life for Christ under the clubs of the savage people of Erromanga. Here you will read the story of those first missionaries. Some of them, perhaps, were better fitted for the task than others; but all were eager to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. And they taught it well. Some of them, like Williams, gave their lives for those whom they had come to help; others lived and worked and died, and no one hears of them, Tom. But though they have no earthly monument to record their good work, God knows it all, Tom; God knows it all.'

One morning at breakfast De Caen was telling Collier some stories about the characters of the convicts in New Caledonia, and of their continual attempts to escape to Australia in small and ill-equipped boats. Once, he said, a party of nine desperate creatures hurriedly made a raft by tying together some timber intended for the flooring of the Governor's house, and with a few bottles of water and a bag of flour to sustain them during a voyage of more than a thousand miles, set out to reach Australia. They actually succeeded in clearing the reefs surrounding Noumea, when the raft came to pieces, and the poor wretches were devoured by sharks, in the presence of the crew of a vessel entering Dumbea Pass.