With that readiness to render help which was a characteristic of these women, Christian’s widow, Mainmast, leaped up to assist the fallen Susannah. It only wanted this to destroy the equilibrium of the boat altogether. It turned bottom up in a moment, and left the female crew floundering in the sea.
To women of civilised lands this might have been a serious accident, but to these Otaheitan ladies it was a mere trifle. Each had been able to swim like a duck from earliest childhood. Indeed, it was evident that some of their own little ones were equally gifted, for several of them, led by Sally, plunged into the surf and went out to meet their parents as they swam ashore.
The men laughed heartily, and, after securing the boat and hauling it up on the beach, returned to the settlement, whither the women had gone before them to change their garments.
This incident effectually cured the native women of any intention to escape from the island, at least by boat, but it did not tend to calm their feelings. On the contrary, it seemed to have the effect of filling them with a thirst for vengeance, and they spent part of that day in whispered plottings against the men. They determined to take their lives that very night.
While they were thus engaged, their innocent offspring were playing about the settlement at different games, screaming at times with vehement delight, and making the palm-groves ring with laughter. The bright sun shone equally upon the heads that whirled with merriment and those that throbbed with dark despair.
Suddenly, in the midst of her play, little Sally came to an abrupt pause. She missed little Matt Quintal from the group.
“Where’s he gone, Charlie?” she demanded of her favourite playmate, whose name she had by that time learned to pronounce.
“I dunno,” answered Charlie, whose language partook more of the nautical tone of Quintal than of his late father.
“D’you know, Dan’l?” she asked of little McCoy.
“I dunno nuffin’,” replied Dan, “’xcep’ he’s not here.”