The other boy had, in the meantime, been filling small cups made of half a cocoanut, highly polished and curiously carved, with the juice of young cocoanuts. This proved very pleasant to the taste.
Just as they had handed back the cups to the boy, Ahleka returned, and with him his father, whose appearance was in striking contrast to that of his son, Ahleka; for, although he was browned by many years of exposure to the tropical sun, and the hot winds of this lovely island, was unmistakably a white man. His long hair hanging in soft silvery waves, half way down his back, his grey beard falling low on his breast, while his deep-set grey eyes looked out from under brows that were almost as black as Ahleka’s own, giving his face a most peculiar expression. He was dressed in the same manner as his son, only that over his shoulders was thrown a small cape made of bright feathers. In his hand he carried a long staff. As he came toward the house, in which Captain Gray and his shipwrecked party were sitting, they could see that the old man was strongly affected by their presence; in fact, his agitation was so great, that Ahleka was obliged to support his trembling form.
Captain Gray, followed by the rest, arose and went forward to meet him. He stretched out his hand toward them, dropping his staff. “Thank God,” he cried, “once more do I speak to my countrymen!”
After having seated his father, Ahleka said, “I have told him all your story, as far as I knew it, but he wishes to hear much more.”
“Yes,” cried the old man, “tell me all. How did you get here? All these weary years have I prayed to God that before I died, he would let me speak once more to men of my own country.”
Captain Gray told their story to him in all its thrilling details. He listened attentively, now and then shaking his head sadly. When the captain had finished, the old man said, “You can not hope for deliverance from this sea-bound land for years, if ever. I have been here thirty years. For years after I came I spent my time scanning, with anxious eyes, the face of the ocean, but no sign of sail did I ever see, except once, and then the fire, which I placed on the highest hill on the island failed to attract attention. You are the first sign of life outside of this island I have seen for thirty years.”
His words brought a feeling of horror to each of his listeners. Must their fate be what his had been?
“In time,” he continued, “I grew more contented and ceased to look out to sea. About that time I married, according to the native custom, a young and beautiful girl, the daughter of the reigning queen of the island. Think not that I was soon comforted for the loss of the wife I had left at home, for that was not the case; but the princess loved me and one day two of the warriors came to tell me that I was expected to marry her, and, as a refusal on my part would result in my death, I consented to the proposal, thinking to leave her behind me when I returned to my own country; but the girl I married was so beautiful, so gentle, so affectionate and devoted, that I learned to love her deeply and mourned her loss greatly when she was taken away from me by death.”
“But you have not told us, as yet, how you came here,” broke in Allen. “Will you not tell us about it?”
“’Tis a tale soon told,” he replied. “I left England thirty years ago. It was on the thirteenth of January, 1857, and I shall never forget that day. I think it is thirty years since then, am I right?”