“No,” said the Chief sternly. “You came with me promising that you would not even speak to the Cookee-men.”
“Well, Big Chief,” replied Jarwin, energetically, “you shall see that a British seaman can stick to his promise. I’ll be true to you. Honour bright. I’ll not give ’em a word of the English lingo if they was to try to tear it out o’ me wi’ red hot pincers. I’ll content myself wi’ lookin’ at ’em and listenin’ to ’em. It’ll be a comfort to hear my mother-tongue, anyhow.”
“Good,” replied the Chief, “I trust you.”
The interval of rest coming to an end at this point, the conversation ceased and the paddles were resumed.
It was a magnificent day. The great Pacific was in that condition of perfect repose which its name suggests. Not a breath of air ruffled the wide sheet of water, which lay spread out like a vast circular looking-glass to reflect the sky, and it did reflect the sky with such perfect fidelity, that the clouds and cloudlets in the deep were exact counterparts of those that floated in the air, while the four canoes, resting on their own reflections, seemed to be suspended in the centre of a crystal world, which was dazzlingly lit up by two resplendent suns.
This condition of calm lasted the whole of that day and night, and the heat was very great; nevertheless the warriors—of whom there were from forty to fifty in each canoe—did not cease to paddle for an instant, save when the short spells of rest came round, and when, twice during the day, they stopped to eat a hasty meal.
When the sun set they still continued to paddle onwards, the only difference being that instead of passing over a sea of crystal, they appeared to traverse an ocean of amber and burnished gold. All night they continued their labours. About daybreak the Chief permitted them to enjoy a somewhat longer period of rest, during which most of them, without lying down, indulged in a short but refreshing nap. Resuming the paddles, they proceeded until sunrise, when their hearts were gladdened by the sight of the blue hills of Raratonga on the bright horizon.
“Now we shall soon be at the end of our voyage,” said the Chief, as he pointed to the distant hills, and glanced at Jarwin as he might at a prize which he was much afraid of losing. “Remember the promise, you Christian. Don’t be a deceiver, you ‘Breetish tar!’” (He quoted Jarwin here.)
“Honour bright!” replied our hero.
The savage gazed earnestly into the sailor’s bright eyes, and appeared to think that if his honour was as bright as they were, there was not much cause to fear. At all events he looked pleased, nodded his head, and said “Good,” with considerable emphasis.