________________________________________________
_ THE village of Papeetee struck us all very pleasantly. Lying in a
semicircle round the bay, the tasteful mansions of the chiefs and
foreign residents impart an air of tropical elegance, heightened by
the palm-trees waving here and there, and the deep-green groves of
the Bread-Fruit in the background. The squalid huts of the common
people are out of sight, and there is nothing to mar the prospect.
All round the water extends a wide, smooth beach of mixed pebbles and
fragments of coral. This forms the thoroughfare of the village; the
handsomest houses all facing it--the fluctuation of the tides being
so inconsiderable that they cause no inconvenience.
The Pritchard residence--a fine large building--occupies a site on one
side of the bay: a green lawn slopes off to the sea: and in front
waves the English flag. Across the water, the tricolour also, and the
stars and stripes, distinguish the residences of the other consuls.
What greatly added to the picturesqueness of the bay at this time was
the condemned hull of a large ship, which, at the farther end of the
harbour, lay bilged upon the beach, its stern settled low in the
water, and the other end high and dry. From where we lay, the trees
behind seemed to lock their leafy boughs over its bowsprit; which,
from its position, looked nearly upright.
She was an American whaler, a very old craft. Having sprung a leak at
sea, she had made all sail for the island, to heave down for repairs.
Found utterly unseaworthy, however, her oil was taken out and sent
home in another vessel; the hull was then stripped and sold for a
trifle.
Before leaving Tahiti, I had the curiosity to go over this poor old
ship, thus stranded on a strange shore. What were my emotions, when I
saw upon her stern the name of a small town on the river Hudson! She
was from the noble stream on whose banks I was born; in whose waters
I had a hundred times bathed. In an instant, palm-trees and
elms--canoes and skiffs--church spires and bamboos--all mingled in one
vision of the present and the past.
But we must not leave little Jule.
At last the wishes of many were gratified; and like an aeronaut's
grapnel, her rusty little anchor was caught in the coral groves at
the bottom of Papeetee Bay. This must have been more than forty days
after leaving the Marquesas.
The sails were yet unfurled, when a boat came alongside with our
esteemed friend Wilson, the consul.
"How's this, how's this, Mr. Jermin?" he began, looking very savage as
he touched the deck. "What brings you in without orders?"
"You did not come off to us, as you promised, sir; and there was no
hanging on longer with nobody to work the ship," was the blunt reply.
"So the infernal scoundrels held out--did they? Very good; I'll make
them sweat for it," and he eyed the scowling men with unwonted
intrepidity. The truth was, he felt safer now, than when outside the
reef.
"Muster the mutineers on the quarter-deck," he continued. "Drive them
aft, sir, sick and well: I have a word to say to them."
"Now, men," said he, "you think it's all well with you, I suppose. You
wished the ship in, and here she is. Captain Guy's ashore, and you
think you must go too: but we'll see about that--I'll miserably
disappoint you." (These last were his very words.) "Mr. Jermin, call
off the names of those who did not refuse duty, and let them go over
to the starboard side."
This done, a list was made out of the "mutineers," as he was pleased
to call the rest. Among these, the doctor and myself were included;
though the former stepped forward, and boldly pleaded the office held
by him when the vessel left Sydney. The mate also--who had always
been friendly--stated the service rendered by myself two nights
previous, as well as my conduct when he announced his intention to
enter the harbour. For myself, I stoutly maintained that, according
to the tenor of the agreement made with Captain Guy, my time aboard
the ship had expired--the cruise being virtually at an end, however
it had been brought about--and I claimed my discharge.
But Wilson would hear nothing. Marking something in my manner,
nevertheless, he asked my name and country; and then observed with a
sneer, "Ah, you are the lad, I see, that wrote the Round Robin; I'll
take good care of you, my fine fellow--step back, sir."
As for poor Long Ghost, he denounced him as a "Sydney Flash-Gorger";
though what under heaven he meant by that euphonious title is more
than I can tell. Upon this, the doctor gave him such a piece of his
mind that the consul furiously commanded him to hold his peace, or he
would instantly have him seized into the rigging and flogged. There
was no help for either of us--we were judged by the company we kept.
All were now sent forward; not a word being said as to what he
intended doing with us.
After a talk with the mate, the consul withdrew, going aboard the
Trench frigate, which lay within a cable's length. We now suspected
his object; and since matters had come to this pass, were rejoiced at
it. In a day or two the Frenchman was to sail for Valparaiso, the
usual place of rendezvous for the English squadron in the Pacific;
and doubtless, Wilson meant to put us on board, and send us thither to
be delivered up. Should our conjecture prove correct, all we had to
expect, according to our most experienced shipmates, was the fag end
of a cruise in one of her majesty's ships, and a discharge before
long at Portsmouth.
We now proceeded to put on all the clothes we could--frock over frock,
and trousers over trousers--so as to be in readiness for removal at a
moment's warning. Armed ships allow nothing superfluous to litter up
the deck; and therefore, should we go aboard the frigate, our chests
and their contents would have to be left behind.
In an hour's time, the first cutter of the Reine Blanche came
alongside, manned by eighteen or twenty sailors, armed with cutlasses
and boarding pistols--the officers, of course, wearing their
side-arms, and the consul in an official cocked hat borrowed for the
occasion. The boat was painted a "pirate black," its crew were a
dark, grim-looking set, and the officers uncommonly fierce-looking
little Frenchmen. On the whole they were calculated to
intimidate--the consul's object, doubtless, in bringing them.
Summoned aft again, everyone's name was called separately; and being
solemnly reminded that it was his last chance to escape punishment,
was asked if he still refused duty. The response was instantaneous:
"Ay, sir, I do." In some cases followed up by divers explanatory
observations, cut short by Wilson's ordering the delinquent to the
cutter. As a general thing, the order was promptly obeyed--some
taking a sequence of hops, skips, and jumps, by way of showing not
only their unimpaired activity of body, but their alacrity in
complying with all reasonable requests.
Having avowed their resolution not to pull another rope of the
Julia's--even if at once restored to perfect health--all the
invalids, with the exception of the two to be set ashore, accompanied
us into the cutter: They were in high spirits; so much so that
something was insinuated about their not having been quite as ill as
pretended.
The cooper's name was the last called; we did not hear what he
answered, but he stayed behind. Nothing was done about the Mowree.
Shoving clear from the ship, three loud cheers were raised; Flash Jack
and others receiving a sharp reprimand for it from the consul.
"Good-bye, Little Jule," cried Navy Bob, as we swept under the bows.
"Don't fall overboard, Ropey," said another to the poor landlubber,
who, with Wymontoo, the Dane, and others left behind, was looking
over at us from the forecastle.
"Give her three more!" cried Salem, springing to his feet and whirling
his hat round. "You sacre dam raakeel," shouted the lieutenant of
the party, bringing the flat of his sabre across his shoulders, "you
now keepy steel."
The doctor and myself, more discreet, sat quietly in the bow of the
cutter; and for my own part, though I did not repent what I had done,
my reflections were far from being enviable. _
Read next: PART I: CHAPTER XXVIII. RECEPTION FROM THE FRENCHMAN
Read previous: PART I: CHAPTER XXVI. WE ENTER THE HARBOUR--JIM THE PILOT
Table of content of Omoo
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
