“Then you mean to say, that if we had remained in the boats, some greater misfortune might have happened to us?” said I.
“Exactly so,” he answered. “The boats might have sprung leaks, and have gone down, or might have run on some coral bank in the night, and have been lost; or a storm might have arisen and overwhelmed them, or some other casualties might have occurred. My firm belief is that God is everywhere, he orders everything for the best. We cannot too often repeat this for we may even forget the greatest truths at times when they are most needed. If we could but always remember this one, we should be saved the guilt of much impious repining and despondency.”
“True; true; I was almost forgetting this,” I exclaimed. “Thanks, Fairburn, for reminding me.”
I can assure my young friends that the perfect confidence I felt in God’s kind providence enabled me to bear up wonderfully against the misfortunes which had overtaken me; and I am sure that, in similar cases, if they put their trust in God, He will equally support them.
While we had been speaking I had observed a young Malay lad pass constantly, and put his head in to look at us. There appeared to be a look of peculiar intelligence on his countenance, and as if he wished to draw our attention to himself. When he came again, I pointed him out to Fairburn, whose back had been towards him. He looked at him attentively. The lad, however, did not attempt to speak; and when he saw that no one was observing him, he put his finger to his lips, the universal sign all over the world of imposing silence.
“What can he mean?” I asked of Fairburn, when the lad had again disappeared.
“I think I recollect his features—I must have met him somewhere,” he said. “Oh! now I know. He must be a lad whose life I once saved from a party of savages on the coast of New Guinea. He belonged to a small trading vessel from Ceram, or one of the neighbouring islands, which are accustomed to visit that coast to barter fire-arms, calico, and ironwork, for slaves, nutmegs, trepang, tortoise-shell, and edible birds’ nests. She had been driven out of her course by a gale, and found herself on a part of the coast with which no one on board was acquainted. Before she could make good her retreat, she was perceived by some of the inhabitants. The inhabitants of New Guinea are called Papuans. They are negroes, with very ugly features, and are composed of two races—the hill and the coast Papuans; the latter being very fierce and barbarous, and keeping the former in subjection. The people of whom I am now particularly speaking are said to be cannibals. They possess a number of small vessels, which they send out on piratical excursions to a very considerable distance from their homes. Their mode of warfare is rude in the extreme, their weapons consisting only of bows, arrows, and spears. They are said to devour the prisoners they make during these excursions. They may do so sometimes but I think it more probable that they preserve their lives to sell them as slaves. Well, as soon as the strange prahu was seen, a number of these war-boats put out of a harbour, the entrance of which was concealed by trees, and, before she could escape, surrounded her. The Malays fought bravely, but they were not prepared for war, and after several of their number were killed they were overpowered. I, at that time, was serving on board a whaler, which had put into a bay near where this took place. I was away in one of the hosts, when, rounding a point, I saw what was going forward. The Papuans, having rifled the vessel, and taken all the people out of her, set her on fire, and were making the best of their way to the shore. Having heard of the barbarities they practise, and my boat’s crew being well armed, and having a gun in the bows of the boat, I determined to rescue some of the victims. My men gave way with a will, and we dashed after the pirates. They had had experience of the effects of our fire-arms and when they saw us in chase they suspected our intentions, and did their utmost to reach the shore. All escaped except two. We sent a shot through the bows of the first, and the people on board, finding her sinking, leaped into the water, and endeavoured to escape by swimming; the other we ran alongside. The crew fought very bravely. We saw three prisoners among them. Before we could prevent them, they cut the throats of two of the unhappy men. One of their chiefs was going to treat the third, a young lad, in the same way, when I shot the rascal dead. The rest of the people then jumped overboard and swam on shore.
“If there were any prisoners on board the vessel which sunk, they must have gone down in her, for we could find none, and they would certainly have swam towards us had their hands been free. It afterwards struck me that I had no right to interfere as I did. I certainly caused of great loss of life, and the preservation of the lad was the only result. However, I had no time for consideration, and could not help it; indeed, I should probably act exactly in the same way if I were placed in a similar situation again. The lad was very grateful, and became very much attached to me. I took him on board the whaler, and he very soon got into our ways; but as we were bound to the southward, I was afraid the cold would kill him, accustomed as he was to a torrid zone, so put him on board a vessel we fell in with, sailing to Borneo, to which country I understood he belonged. I managed to explain to him, with some difficulty, my reasons for parting with him. When he comprehended them, he appeared very grateful, and shed many tears as he went over the side. I certainly never expected to see him again.”
“If, as I think, you did rightly, by attempting to save the lives of some fellow-creatures, from the hands of cannibals, you see you are likely to benefit by the deed; for I have no doubt that this young lad will do his best to be of service to us. He tries to show us his good wishes,” I said.
“I am sure he will. I know that I intended to do right when I saved his life,” remarked Fairburn.