“Horrible!” exclaimed Max, “I seem to see all that you have so graphically told. But how stern and cruel the teachers who would sacrifice human life rather than abate their own sullen obstinacy, even in trifles—who could encourage this innocent but misguided girl, in her refusal to save her life by the harmless promise to attend a church instead of a conventicle.”
Just as Browne was commencing an eager and indignant reply to Max’s rash reflections upon the strictness of covenanting teachings, we were suddenly startled by a deep and solemn sound, which seemed to come from a distance. While we listened intently, it was several times repeated at short intervals of about fifteen seconds, each time more distinctly than before. It resembled somewhat, the deepest tones of a powerful organ, heard for an instant, and then abruptly stopped. Nothing was to be seen in the direction from which it seemed to proceed, but the sea glittering in the moonlight. Is it to be wondered at, if we listened with feelings, tinged with superstitious awe, to that strange sound, heard under such circumstances, and at such an hour? Johnny nestled closer to Arthur’s side, and I thought that the faces of my companions grew visibly pale. Even Arthur looked perplexed and disturbed.
“What can that be?” said Morton, after a few minutes of almost breathless silence, during which we had listened in vain for its repetition.
“It is certainly very strange,” said Arthur. “I never heard any thing at sea, at all like it, but once, and it is impossible that this can be what I then heard—but hark!” And again the same deep pealing sound was repeated several times, at shorter intervals, but more faintly than before; after continuing for a few minutes it ceased again.
“What was the sound which you speak of, as resembling this?” asked Morton, when all was silent once more.
“It was the cry of a kind of penguin, found at the Falkland Islands; when heard on shore it is harsh and loud; but a short distance at sea, and in the night, it has a pealing, solemn sound, like that which we have just heard.”
“It must come from land in the neighbourhood,” said Morton, “we can probably hear farther on such a night as this than we can distinguish land.”
“Yes, sounds on the water, in calm still nights, when there is no wind, can be heard at great distances,” said Arthur; “it is said that the ‘All’s well!’ of the British sentinel at Gibraltar, is sometimes heard across the strait, on the African shore, a distance of thirteen miles. I have seen, at the Society Islands, native drums made of large hollow logs, which might perhaps, at a distance, sound like what we heard a moment ago. A Wesleyan missionary there, once told me of a great drum that he saw at the Tonga Islands, called the ‘Tonga Toki,’ which sounded like an immense gong, and could be heard from seven to ten miles.”
“Why, I thought that this sounded like a gong,” said Johnny, “perhaps we are near some island now; but what could they be drumming for so late in the night?”
“There would be nothing very unusual about that,” said Arthur. “The Areoi Societies, which are extended over most of the larger inhabited islands in this part of the Pacific, sometimes hold their great celebrations, like the pow-wows, and war-dances, of our American Indians, in the night-time. At the Feejee Islands they have a strange ceremony called ‘Tambo Nalanga,’ which they celebrate at night, with the beating of drums, the blowing of conches, and a number of savage and cruel rites. Something or other of the same kind is observed at most of the islands, though under different names, and with slight variations.”