The several dwellings of the settlement being near together, on the occasion of which we are speaking, the women were gathering in groups, with anxious faces; those who had young children, were seen hugging them to their bosoms, as if, before night, these innocent and helpless things might have no other protection than a mother’s arm could give. There was much passing to and fro among them, and they spoke with their heads close together, and in whispers, as if fearful of being overheard.
At nine o’clock in the morning, persons began to assemble upon the southern slope of the beautiful hill on which the cave called the “Castaway’s Home” was situated. It was a lovely spot, covered with a thick clump of palm-trees, and commanding, through the openings of the branches, a wide prospect of the surrounding ocean. All the men of the island were soon there, and as they gathered under the trees, they were divided into two groups, by their sympathies, feelings, and purposes, though not by design. In one group was the father of Emilie, M. Bonfils, a man of more than seventy years, whose locks were as white as the snow, and whose face beamed at once with benevolence and spirit. There was, however, in his countenance, at this time, a mingled look of grief and anxiety by no means usual to him. By his side sat all the oldest men of the company, together with Brusque, and most of the educated and intelligent men of the island.
The other group was composed of Rogere, most of the sailors, and several other men. They were generally young persons, whose education had been neglected, and whose course of life had left them to the indulgence of their passions. There were two or three of them who were kind-hearted, though ignorant and simple men.
The two parties consisted of about equal numbers, some twenty of each. They sat for some time, looking each other in the face, but saying little. The Rogereites looked gloomy and scowling; the Brusqueites had an air of anxiety, but still of resolution. It was apparent to all, that, if something could not be done for the cause of good order on the present occasion, riot and bloodshed were likely to be the inevitable and immediate consequence.
After a long period of silence, M. Bonfils, being the oldest man in the assembly, arose, and proposed that they should come to order by choosing a moderator to preside over the assembly. There was instantly a shout of “M. Bonfils! M. Bonfils!” and as Rogere’s people took no part, one of the men put it to vote whether M. Bonfils should preside, and it was decided in the affirmative. The old man, therefore, taking off his broad-brimmed palm-leaf hat, his long white hair floating down upon his shoulders, stood before the company. His lip quivered, and for a moment he seemed hardly able to utter a word; but at length, in a tone tremulous and faint, and exceedingly touching from its thrill of feeling, he spoke as follows:
“My friends and compatriots; we are all members of the great human family, companions in the misfortunes that have borne us hither, and the mercy which has saved us from a horrible fate. We should then have a common feeling; we certainly have the same interests.
“I ask you to come to the consideration of the great question to be proposed here to-day, with a sense of our responsibility, and a due regard to these considerations. The question to be here proposed is, I believe, whether this little community shall be delivered from that state of lawless anarchy and violence which now afflicts it, and be blessed with a government that shall at once secure liberty and peace. The real questions are these: Shall our lives be secure? Shall our homes be safe? Shall our wives and children live in quiet? Shall right, and not might, be the governing principle of society?
“It is to decide questions thus vital to our happiness and that of those who are dependent upon us, that we have now met; and I beg you as fellow-men, as brothers, as friends and neighbors, as you value life, and liberty, and justice, and a good conscience, to come to their consideration ready and determined to act for the best good of the greatest number. Let no man act for himself alone; let no man indulge prejudices or private feelings. Let us look to the good of all—the best interests of society, and proceed accordingly.”
Having uttered these words, the aged moderator sat down upon a little elevation that was near. There was then a deep silence around. At last Rogere arose, and every eye was fixed upon him, while he spoke as follows:
“Mr. Moderator; I respect the feelings that have dictated the speech just uttered by yourself. I acknowledge the obligation to cast aside selfishness, and look only to the public good. But in reasoning according to my sense of duty, I come to a very different conclusion from what some others do. We are all bound to consult the greatest good of the whole; but how shall we do it? That is the question. We have already met once before, and the persons here present, after mature deliberation, have decided that they will have no other government than such as is founded in nature; they have decided that an artificial system of government and laws only tends to mischief, to enslave the many and favor the few. Then why this meeting? Are we a parcel of boys or silly women, as fickle as the winds, undoing one day what we have done another?