A Voyage round the World / A book for boys

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Once more we set sail to return to our homes. Numerous were the hardships we endured, though no one murmured. Several islands were visited. At some, food was procured; at others we were afraid to stay, on account of the fierce character and the cannibal propensities of the inhabitants. We had been ten days out of sight of land when we reached your island, and truly did we rejoice to find not only whites, but Christian men to receive us.”

With these words the native missionary finished his narrative. I was particularly struck with the artless simplicity of his account, and the faith and perseverance he and his companions had exhibited, so worthy of imitation. I felt ashamed as he spoke of white men, when I recollected how many act in a way so totally at variance with their character as Christian and civilised men, and how bad an example they set to those whom they despise as heathens and savages. I have very frequently met young men who fancy when they are abroad that they may throw off all restraints of religion and morals, under the miserable excuse that people should do at Rome as the Romans do,—in other words, act as wickedly as those among whom they have gone to live. What would have become of Lot had he followed the example of those among whom he took up his abode? Now, my young friends, I daresay that you will think I am very young to lecture you; but remember that I have been round the world, and I should have been very dull and stupid had I not reaped some advantage from the voyage. What I want to impress upon you is, when you leave your homes and go abroad, to be if anything more strict, more watchful over yourselves even than you have before been. Society will, too probably, afford less moral restraint, the temptations to evil will be greater; but pray against them faithfully—strive against them manfully, and they will not overcome you.

Our voyage, as I was saying, had hitherto been prosperous; but a gale came on, and we were exposed to the very dangers the missionary had so well described to me. We could do nothing except help to bail out the canoe, for the natives understood how to manage her much better than we did; and, with all our civilisation and nautical knowledge, we had to confess that in that respect they were our superiors. The canoe laboured fearfully, and often I thought that she must founder. How anxiously we looked out for some sign that the gale was abating, but in vain. Had we been in our own ship, we should certainly have thought very little of the gale; but in this frail canoe we had ample reason to dread its consequences. At length the wind shifted, and drove us on in what the islanders considered our proper course. We ran on for some days without seeing land, and then the gale blew over and left us becalmed under a burning sun. We had carefully from the first husbanded our water, having the advantage of the previous experience of our companions. As it was, we had barely sufficient to quench the constant thirst produced by the heat. Every day, too, seemed to increase our thirst and to diminish our stock of the precious fluid. Our hope had been to fall in with some vessel which might either supply us or give us a course to the nearest island where we might obtain it. One forenoon, when we had been suffering even more than usual, the chief declared that he saw a vessel on our weather bow, and that she would cross our course. With intense eagerness and hope we all looked out for her. As her sails rose out of the water, we saw that she was a schooner. If we could but get on board her, we thought that we might again in time rejoin the Triton. We were very certain that Captain Frankland would not cease to look for us while a chance remained of our being discovered. Gradually we neared the schooner. I saw Cousin Silas and Ben Yool looking at her with great earnestness.

“What is she, Ben, do you think?” asked Cousin Silas.

“Why, Mr Brand, as you know, sir, I’ve been boxing about the world for the best part of the last forty years, and I think I ought to know one craft from another, and to my mind that vessel is no other than the piratical craft we were so long aboard. I say, if you ask me, sir, that we ought to stand clear of her. She’ll bring us no good.”

“Exactly my idea,” answered Cousin Silas; “the wretches might very likely send us to the bottom, or carry us off again as prisoners.”

We were, however, too near the schooner to hope to escape from her; but we agreed that we might lie concealed while the canoe sailed quietly by her, and that, probably, no questions would be asked. We had some little difficulty in explaining the character of the vessel to our friends. When they did understand it, they seemed to be much horrified, and undertook carefully to conceal us. As we drew near the schooner, the rest of our party went below; but I wrapped myself up in a piece of matting, leaving a small aperture through which I could see what was going forward. The schooner stood close up to us. I was very certain that she was the pirate. Several faces I recognised. Among them was Captain Bruno. At first I thought that they were going to run us down; then I dreaded that they were going to make us come alongside. Hauling their foresail to windward, they hailed two or three times, but in a language was not understood. At last an answer was given from the canoe. What it was I could not tell. It seemed to satisfy them. To my great joy they once more let draw their foresail, and stood away from us. This was not the last time we were to see that ill-omened craft.

As soon as she had got to some distance off, my friends came out of their hiding-place, and I disengaged myself from the folds of the mat. Truly thankful were we that we had escaped her. The missionary told us that the pirates had stated that we were about three hundred miles to the westward of Otaheite, and that we should pass several islands to get there. Once at Otaheite the chief knew the direct course to his own island, and believed that he should have no difficulty in finding it. Our escape from the pirate made us, for a time, almost forget our raging thirst; we could not, however, but admire the fidelity and resolution of the natives, who, rather than run the risk of betraying us, had refrained from asking for water from the pirate.

All that day our sufferings were very great. As we were running on during the night, our ears were assailed by the sound of breakers. We listened; they were on our weather bow. If we ran on we might miss the island; so we hauled down our sail, and paddled slowly on towards the spot whence the sound proceeded. All night we remained within sound of the surf. How anxiously we waited for daylight to ascertain that there was an island, and not merely a coral reef over which the sea was breaking! That night was one of the most anxious we had yet passed. Slowly the hours dragged along. It was wonderful to observe the calm and resigned manner of the islanders. The missionaries and the chief never gave the slightest sign of distress; even the women did not complain. “It must be near daybreak,” said Mr Brand, waking up out of a sleep into which he had at last fallen. “Look out.” We strained our eyes in the direction in which we believed the island to exist. A few pale streaks appeared in the east; and then, oh! our hearts leaped with joy as we saw tall, thin lines appear against the sky; and, as the light increased, the stems and tops of trees were revealed to view. But our joy was somewhat damped when we discovered that a long line of heavy breakers rolled between us and them. At sight of the island the natives, with one accord, raised a hymn of praise and thanksgiving which put our doubts to shame; and the chief, pointing to the surf, made signs that we must go round on the other side, where we should find a place to land. The sail was forthwith hoisted, and we quickly ran round to the lee side, where a wide opening in the surf presented itself. We paddled through it into the inner bay or lagoon, and reaching the shore, the canoe was secured.

The natives did not forget their prayers and hymn of thanksgiving, in which we all heartily joined them. They then looked cautiously about, to ascertain that there were no people on the island who might treat us as enemies. This necessary precaution being taken, we hurried about in every direction in search of water. Jerry and I kept together. Our tongues were parched with thirst. Some of the natives were climbing the cocoa-nut trees, in case any might still retain milk; but the season for the fruit was now passing. Indeed, we wanted water, pure simple water. We felt that we should value it far more than the richest wine from the vineyards of Burgundy or the Rhine. At last we observed a little moisture on the ground near a large tree. We followed up its trace, and soon, shaded by shrubs, we came to a basin of bright, cool water. We eagerly stooped down and lapped up some of the delicious fluid, and then shouted loudly to our friends to come and enjoy the valued luxury with us. In a very short time the pool was surrounded with men, women, and children, ladling up the water with their calabashes and bowls, the mothers pouring it into the mouths of their children before they would themselves touch a drop, while the men knelt down and lapped it up as we had done. As I watched the scene, I bethought me that it was a subject fit for the exercise of the painter’s highest art.