When war was formally declared, the Big Chief told Jarwin to prepare himself for battle. At first our hero had some qualms of conscience about it, but on reflecting that on the part of the tribe to which he belonged it was a war of self-defence, his conscience was pacified.
The Big Chief ordered him to throw away his now ragged garments, smear his whole body over with oil and red earth, paint black spots on his cheeks, and a white streak down his nose, and put on warrior’s costume. In vain Jarwin begged and protested and sang. The Big Chief’s blood was up, and his commands must be obeyed, therefore Jarwin did as he was bid; went out to battle in this remarkable costume—if we may so style it—and proved himself such a prodigy of valour that his prowess went far to turn the tide of victory wherever he appeared during the fight. But we pass over all this. Suffice it to say, that the pugnacious tribe was severely chastised and reduced to a state of quiet—for the time at least.
One day, not long after the cessation of the war, a canoe arrived with several natives, all of whom wore clothing of a much more civilised description than is usually seen among South-Sea savages. They had a long, earnest talk with the natives, but Jarwin was not allowed to hear it, or to show himself. Next day they went away. For some time after that Big Chief was very thoughtful, but silent, and Jarwin could not induce him to become confidential until he had sung all his melodies and all his psalms several times over, and had indulged in extempore melody and gibberish until his brain and throat were alike exhausted. The Big Chief gave way at last, however, and told him that his late visitors were Christians, who, with two native teachers, had been sent from a distant island by a white chief named Williams, to try and persuade him and his people to burn their idols.
“And are ’ee goin’ to do it?” asked Jarwin.
“No,” replied the Chief, “but I am going to Raratonga to see Cookee Williams.”
Of course they conversed in the native tongue, but as this would be unintelligible to the reader, we translate. It may also be remarked here that “Cookee” signified a white man, and is a word derived from the visit of that great navigator Captain Cook to these islands, by the natives of which he was ultimately murdered.
Jarwin had heard, while in England, of the missionary Williams. On learning that he was among the islands, his heart beat high, and he begged earnestly that he might be allowed to go with the chief and his party to Raratonga, but his wily master would not consent “You will run away!” he said.
“No, I won’t,” said Jarwin, earnestly. Big Chief shook his head. “They will take you from me,” he said, “when they find out who you are.”
“I’ll not let ’em,” replied Jarwin, with pathetic sincerity, and then began to sing in such a touching strain, that his master lay back on his couch and rolled his large eyes in rapture.
“You shall go, Jowin,” (that was the best he could make of the name), “if you will make me a promise.”