“Now, darlin’,” said Mrs Lynch to Queen Pauline, as she sat on the side of her bed looking contemplatively at the floor, “thim rascals’ll be in the Hall in two minits, so take me advice and give them more nor they’ve got.”
“But my object in sending for them is not to add to their punishment,” said the queen.
“More’s the pity, for they need it, an’ the Coort was too tinder wi’ them intirely. Two weeks! why, two months would do them more good. Anyhow, see that ye give them a fearful blowin’ up.”
“I’ll do what I can for them,” returned Pina, with a pleasant laugh, as she rose and passed into the Audience Hall, where the prisoners and as many of the settlers as could find room were already gathered.
Here a slight change of feeling seemed to have taken place in the people. Perhaps the sight of Hugh and Malines—two men who had, up till that time, carried matters with rather a high hand—bound, humbled, helpless, and with bits of straw which had been given them as bedding sticking to their garments, induced a touch of pity. At all events, there was none of that riotous demand for vengeance which had characterised them when under the influence of excitement at the trial. Evidently a slight reaction in favour of the culprits had set in, and the entrance of the queen, therefore, took place in solemn silence, no one knowing why she had sent for the men or what were her intentions. Poor Pauline was much embarrassed by the silence and by the situation in which she found herself. Being a girl of mind, and not a mere human machine made and content to run always on beaten paths, she had resolved to try an experiment, and braced herself to the duty.
It was by no means a new experiment; on the contrary, it was older than this world’s history, though new to Pauline in the particular circumstances—being an application of the law of mercy.
“My friends,” said Pina, in a somewhat tremulous voice, which however became firmer as she proceeded, “this is the first trial that has taken place in our little colony, and as crime must be firmly repressed—”
(“Punished, my dear—putt it stronger!” came in a whisper from the side door, where widow Lynch was listening; but, fortunately, none of the audience heard her.)
“I feel,” continued Pauline, taking no notice of the advice, “that it becomes me, as your chosen queen, to do what I think will be best for the interests of the community.”
“Hear, hear!” exclaimed some of the audience; but they gave no further expression to their feelings, being still uncertain as to the queen’s leanings.
“No doubt,” continued Pina, trying, not quite successfully, to swallow the lump in her throat, “the punishment which you have awarded these men is in strict accordance with your ideas of justice, and, being utterly ignorant of law, I will not presume to doubt the wisdom of your decision; nor would I interfere, either by increasing or decreasing the punishment, did I not feel that this case is peculiar, very peculiar. It is, as I have said, the beginning of crime in our kingdom, and little beginnings, you all know, often lead to great results. A small leak may sink a ship. Then, in the second place, this is the first offence committed by these men, and first offences require peculiar treatment—”
(“That’s so, my dear—powerful treatment. Give it ’em hot!” inaudibly whispered the widow.)
“Turning to that Book,” continued Pauline, “which shall be my guide in every act of life, I find that God ‘delighteth in mercy.’ Can I go wrong in following humbly in His footsteps? I think not. Therefore, I venture to exercise the privilege of my position, and extend mercy to these men. The law has been vindicated by their trial and condemnation. I now, in accordance with constitutional right, bestow on them a free pardon.”
This, being rapidly uttered, quite took the people by surprise, and caused them to burst into a ringing cheer, above which the no longer inaudible voice of the widow was heard to exclaim—
“Free parding, indeed!” in tones of indignant contempt, as she shut the door with a bang and retired in disgust from the scene.
“I do not know,” said the queen, when silence was restored, “on what particular officer of my household,” (a confused little smile and blush here), “falls the duty of setting crim— I mean forgiven men free, so I now order the prime minister to cut their bonds.”
Amid some laughter, Joe readily drew forth an enormous clasp-knife and obeyed this command. Then the queen, stepping forward, held out her hand with a bright smile to Hugh Morris. None but an utterly abandoned wretch could have resisted that. Hugh gave in at once—seized the hand, and not only shook it, but kissed it heartily. So did Malines, and so did the others, and then they all dispersed—Teddy Malone signalling his exit with a cheer and a shout to the following effect—
“Hooroo! boys—she’s ivvery inch a quane, an’ two or three eighths over—cut an’ dry, ready-made, hot off the irons! We’re in luck—eh! boys, aren’t we?”
The latter remark was made, with a hearty slap on the back, to little Buxley, who, turning at once and grasping Malone in his arms, went in for a vigorous wrestle by way of relieving his feelings.
Whatever may be thought of this matter by men deep in the learning of human law, we feel bound to put on record that this plan of Queen Pauline the First proved a great success, for, from that day forward, Malines and Morris and all the other conspirators became excellent members of the community—gave up all ideas of piracy on the high seas, set to work like men to fence in their properties, cultivate their farms, prosecute their fisheries, and otherwise to make themselves useful. Another result was that Silver Bay Settlement began to flourish.
Similar results usually happen when men give up quarrelling and take to working. The schoolroom was soon finished. The queen had her Bible classes—plenty of Bibles having been found in the ship—and Dominick even went the length of venturing to conduct special services on Sundays.
But, strange to say, the more things prospered on the island, the more pensive became the queen, as well as Otto and his brother. It was not so with Dr Marsh, however. Some unknown influence seemed to keep him always in a hearty frame of mind.
“I can’t help it, Dom,” said the queen, as she walked on the white shore of Silver Bay one evening while the sun was descending in a golden blaze, “I can’t bear to think of them.”
Poor Pauline’s mind was running on a cheery bald little old gentleman in Java, and a mild little spectacled old lady, with knitting proclivities, in England, whose chief solace, in a humble way, was an elderly female cat.
“Am I never to see them again?” she added, as she sat down on a coral rock, buried her fair face in her hands, and wept.
Dominick tried to comfort her, but in vain.
“It’s all very well what you say, Dom, but here we are settling down as if we meant to stay for ever. Even Otto talks less than he used to about Robinson Crusoe, and no ships ever come near us, and the sailors don’t want to quit the islands, so we can’t even use the ship we have got, and—and—O darling mother! and dear, dear papa!”
If Queen Pina, who broke down at this point, had only known that, about the time she was speaking, the dear papa was running for his life, covered with mud from head to foot, in the midst of thunder and fire and smoke, she might have mingled horror with loving emphasis as she mentioned his name.
At the time of which we write, the island of Java, in the Malay Archipelago, was convulsed by one of those tremendous earthquakes which have at irregular intervals, from time immemorial, shattered its mountains, overwhelmed some of its fairest lands, and killed thousands of its inhabitants. It is not our intention, however, to touch on this subject more than will suffice to elucidate our tale.
Deeply interesting is it, at times, to note the intimate connection that sometimes exists between places and events which seem exceedingly remote. One would imagine that the eruption of a volcanic mountain in Java could not have much influence on the life or fortunes of people living on an island nearly a thousand miles distant from the same. Yet so it was, in a double sense, too, as we shall see.
The great shock in Java, which overturned the bald little old gentleman’s chair, causing him to spring up and exclaim to his partner, “Hallo, Brooks!” passed through the intervening earth, losing much of its power on the way, caused Refuge Islands to tremble, and Pauline to look up suddenly with the exclamation—
“What’s that Dom?”
“It is marvellously like an earthquake, Pina.”
Strange to say, Brooks in Java made precisely the same remark, at about the same moment, to his senior partner.
Thereafter old Mr Rigonda, who didn’t like earthquakes, said to Brooks—who didn’t mind earthquakes, being used to them—
“I’ll start off for England immediately.”
He did start off, even more immediately than he had intended, for the neighbouring volcano, as if angered by his remark, sent up a shock that shook the surrounding houses to their foundations. The senior partner rushed out in terror, and was just in time to receive a shower of mud and ashes while he fled away through fire and smoke, as already mentioned.
The volcano went to sleep again for a short time after that little indication of its power, and you may be sure that old Rigonda did not wait for its reawakening. One of his own ships was on the point of sailing that very day. He went on board—after cleaning himself—got Brooks to wind up their business relations in the cabin, and left for England with a fair wind.
And well was it for the bald little old gentleman that he did so, for, a few days later, strange sounds and appearances were in the air and on the sea. Fine ashes filled the sky, so that noon became like midnight, and everything betokened that something unusually violent must have occurred in the land which they had left. Nothing more serious, however, befell our voyager. In due course he reached England, hastened home, and, without warning, burst in upon his wife while that dear little old lady was in the act of remarking to the middle-aged cat, in a very dolorous tone, that she feared something must have happened to the ship, for her darlings could never have been so long of writing if all had gone well.
It was while the cat gazed contemplatively at the everlasting socks, as if meditating a reply, that old Rigonda burst in.
Starting up with amazing activity and a cry of joy, the old lady swept her feline friend from the table—inadvertently, of course—and rushed into her husband’s arms, while the outraged animal sought refuge on top of the bookcase, whence it glared at the happy meeting with feelings that may be more easily understood than described. Of course the old man’s joy was turned into grief and anxiety when he heard of the departure of his children and was told of their prolonged silence; but with that we have nothing to do at present.
We return to Silver Bay, where a sense of insecurity had been aroused in the community ever since the tremors of the earth to which we have just referred.
With the slumbering of the Javanese mountains, however, these tremors and the consequent fears subsided, and were almost forgotten in another source of anxiety.
One morning, while Teddy Malone was walking on the beach of Silver Bay, he observed a small object running and stumbling towards him, as if in great haste or fear. Hurrying forward to meet this object he soon perceived that it was little Brown-eyes, of whom he was very fond.
“What’s wrong, me darlint?” he asked, catching the child up and kissing her.
“Oh, such funny tings me sawd—oder side de rocks,” replied Brown-eyes, panting; “come wid me an’ see dem. Come kik!”
“Funny things, eh, mavourneen, what sort of things?”
“Oh, like beasts. Come kik!”
“They wasn’t sarpints, was they?” said Malone, seating the child on his shoulder and hastening towards the rocky point which separated Silver Bay from the land beyond.
“No, no—not saa’pints. Long beasts, like mans, only hims not stand and walk, but lie down and crawl.”
Much impressed with the child’s eager manner, the Irishman hurried towards the point of rocks, filled with curiosity as to what the creatures could be.
“What sort o’ hids have they, darlint?” he asked, as he neared the point.
“Hids same as mans, and faces like you, but more uglier, all scratched over, an’ dey try to catch me, but me runned away.”
Teddy Malone’s hitherto obtuse faculties were awakened. He stopped suddenly, being by that time convinced that he stood unarmed within spear-throw of savages in ambush. To advance, supposing his conjecture to be right, he knew would be certain death. To turn and fly would probably be the same, for naked savages could easily overtake him even if unburdened with Brown-eyes, whom, of course, he could not forsake, and he was too far from the settlement to shout an alarm.
Perspiration burst from poor Teddy’s brow, for even delay, he knew, would be fatal, as the savages would suspect him of having discovered them.
Suddenly he put Brown-eyes down on the sand, and, twisting his figure into a comical position, began to hop like a frog. His device had the desired effect; Brown-eyes burst into a hearty fit of laughter, forgot for the moment the “funny beasts,” and cried, “Do it agin!”
The poor man did it again, thinking intensely all the time what he should do next.
“Would you like to see me dance, darlint?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh yis!”
Thereupon Teddy Malone began to dance an Irish jig to his own whistling, although, being much agitated, he found it no easy matter to whistle in tune or time, but that was unimportant. As he danced he took care to back in a homeward direction. The child naturally followed. Thus, by slow degrees, he got beyond what he considered spear-throw, and feeling boldness return with security, he caught the child up and danced with her on his shoulder. Then he set her down, and pretended to chase her. He even went the length of chasing her a little way in the wrong direction, in order to throw the savages more completely off their guard. By degrees he got near to the settlement, and there was met by Otto.
“You seem jolly to-day, Ted,” said the boy.
“Whist, lad,” returned the other, without intermitting his exercise. “Look as if ye was admirin’ me. There’s lot of them tattooed monkeys—savages—beyant the pint. They don’t know I’ve found it out. Slink up an’ gather the boys, an’ look alive. I’ll amuse ’em here till you come back. An’ I say, don’t forgit to bring me revolver an’ cutlash.”
“All right,” was Otto’s brief reply, as he sauntered slowly up towards the bushes. No sooner was he screened by these, however, than he ran like a hare to the palace.
“Halloo! Dom, Joe, Hugh—all of you—the savages again! Arm—quick!”
It needed no urging to hasten the movements of all who heard the boy’s voice. Ever since the first appearance of the savages Dominick and the doctor had put all the men of the settlement under daily training in drill for an hour or so, that they might be better able to act promptly and in concert if occasion should again occur. The arms had been collected, and such of them as were not in use stored in a handy position, so that in two minutes an armed company was proceeding at a run towards the spot on the shore where Malone was still performing his antics, to the inexpressible delight of Brown-eyes.
“Where are the spalpeens?” asked the widow Lynch, who had followed the men.
“Beyant the rocks, mother,” answered Malone, as he received his weapons from Otto and fell into his place in the ranks; “ye’d as well take the child home, or she’ll be sure to follow—she’s nigh as wild as yerself.”
The widow was indeed fond of seeing, as she used to say, “all the fun that was goin’,” but on this occasion she consented to carry Brown-eyes out of danger while the settlers moved at a quick step towards the point.
Behind that point of rocks a band of savages lay concealed, as Malone had rightly conjectured. There were about forty of them, all armed with clubs and spears, evidently bent on attacking the settlement. Of course they meant to do it by surprise, and had concealed themselves among the bushes behind the point, where they probably would have lain till nightfall if Brown-eyes in her wanderings had not discovered them. Their chief would have instantly caught and silenced the poor child, had she not run so far clear of the point that he would infallibly have revealed himself to Teddy Malone in doing so.
When that worthy drew near to the rocks, as described, the chief got ready a spear for his reception. When Malone took to dancing, the chief condescended to smile, or grin, hideously. When he retreated out of range the chief consoled himself with the reflection that it was just as well, night being the best time for attack. When, however, he beheld a band of men moving towards him armed with the terrible things that “spouted smoke, fire, and stones,” a change came over the spirit of his dream. After a hasty consultation with his comrades, he glided off in the direction of their canoe. The rest followed, and when our settlers at last turned the point, they saw the foe paddling at full speed across the lagoon.
Firing a volley of disappointment after them, both in words and bullets, they ran to their boats and gave chase, but, as on the former occasion, the canoe proved too swift for the boats under oars, and the savages got away.
The anxiety that naturally filled the breasts of Queen Pauline and her councillors at this event was speedily forgotten in a recurrence of the earthquake which had previously alarmed them so much.
It happened on a calm, bright morning, when the widow Lynch chanced to be washing garments in the palace beside the queen. You see they had not much regard for state-ceremonial or etiquette at the court of Pauline the First even in public, much less in private, so that, while the widow was deep in the washtub at one end of the hall, the queen was busy at the other end patching Otto’s garments.
At first there occurred a slight trembling of the earth, which the widow, attributing to giddiness in her own cranium, recognised with a remonstrative “Ohone!”
“Did you feel that?” exclaimed Pauline, pausing in her work and looking up with a slight feeling of alarm.
“What, dearie?” demanded the widow, clearing the soap-suds from her red roly-poly arms.
Before Pauline could answer, the earthquake took the liberty of reply by giving an abrupt shake to the whole island, which not only set chairs and tables rocking in an alarming manner, but drove the entire population from their houses in consternation. Among other effects it caused Mrs Lynch to stagger and catch hold of the washtub, which, far from supporting her, let her fall to the ground, and fell on the top of her.
To most of the settlers the sensation of a trembling earth was quite new and exceedingly alarming. They stopped abruptly after the first rush, and then looked about with pale faces, not knowing what to do. Malines, however, was cool and collected. He had been in various volcanic regions of the world, and undertook to comfort them.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, when the most of the people had gathered round him. “I’ve often seen this sort o’ thing, on the coast o’ South America and among the Malay Islands. It passes away after a while, and often without doin’ much damage—though I have seen a town shook almost to pieces in about five minutes.”
“And what did they do?” asked Jabez Jenkins.
“Och, whirri-hoo!” shouted Teddy Malone, for at that moment another shock was felt, more violent than the preceding. The earth seemed absolutely to roll, and one or two of the huts that had been carelessly built, fell asunder in partial ruin.
“Where is my brother—and the doctor?” demanded Pauline, running up to the group at the moment.
“They’re away up the mountain, with Joe and Otto,” answered little Buxley; “I saw ’em start soon after daybreak—to explore, they said.”
“What do you think should be done?” asked Pina, turning naturally to the mate, as being the most intelligent of those around her.
“If it’s goin’ to be bad,” said Malines, “I would advise you all to git on board the ship as fast as ye can, for the land isn’t so safe as the water when it takes to quakin’.”
“You seem to have had some experience of it. Is it going to be bad, think you?”
“Earthquakes are deceptive—no man can tell.”
“Well, then, we must do our best at once,” said the queen, with an air of calm decision worthy of her rank. “Go, Mr Malines, with your sailors, and get all the boats ready. And you, my people, carry down what you esteem most valuable and get on board the ship without loss of time—for the rest, we are in the hands of a loving and merciful God.”
While these events were enacting on the shore, Dominick, Otto, the doctor, and Joe Binney were seated near the summit of the highest peak, enjoying a cold breakfast. It was their first visit to that particular peak, which had a slight hollow or basin of perhaps fifty feet diameter in the centre.
Just before the first tremulous shock the doctor had been explaining to the prime minister the nature of volcanoes, and stating his opinion that the cup-like hollow before them was an extinct crater. The slight shock stopped him in his discourse, and caused the party to look at each other with serious faces.
“It’s not extinct yet,” exclaimed Otto excitedly, pointing to the hollow, the earth of which had suddenly cracked in several places and was emitting puffs of sulphurous smoke and steam.
They all started up.
“We’d better hasten home,” said Dominick.
“Yes—they’ll be terribly scared,” said the doctor, hastily beginning to pack up the remains of their breakfast.
But, before this could be done, the second convulsion took place. Violent trembling occurred for a few seconds; then the ground in the old crater burst open, and, with a terrible explosion, fire and smoke belched forth, sending huge fragments of rock and showers of ashes into the air, which latter fell around the explorers in all directions—fortunately without doing them injury.
They waited no longer. Without even uttering a word they all turned and ran down the hill at full speed. Being a considerable distance from the settlement, it was upwards of an hour before they arrived. By that time most of the women and children had been sent off to the ship. Pauline, however, had remained on shore to direct and encourage the rest, as well as to await the return of her brothers.
“Right—right—you couldn’t have done better,” said Dominick, when Pauline hastily explained how she had acted.
“It was Mr Malines, not I, who suggested the plan,” returned the queen.
“Hadn’t you better go on board yourself?” said the doctor, “and leave us to manage.”
“No, I am not a mere puppet, sir,” answered Pauline, with a little smile, yet firmly. “My place is here till all my subjects are safe! And your duty is to assist in the embarkation, not to offer advice to your queen!”
With a laugh the doctor went off to do his duty, muttering, “My queen, indeed!” fervently.
For some time the volcano, which had thus sprung into sudden activity, partially subsided, yet there were occasional tremulous motions of the earth and low growlings in the heart of the mountain on Big Island, while several minor explosions occurred in the crater, so that the thoroughly alarmed settlers hastened the embarkation with all despatch. Before night had closed in they were all safely on board with most of their lighter valuables and tools, though, necessarily, much of their heavier property was left behind. Where life is threatened, however, men are not apt to mind such losses.
It now became a question whether they should remain at anchor where they were and abide the issue, or proceed at once to sea. Some were for remaining, others were for putting off to sea. There was much wrangling over it at first, and the people seemed in their anxiety to have quite forgotten their queen, when she stepped forward, and, raising her clear silvery voice, produced a dead calm at once.
“Joe,” she said, “go down to the cabin and await me there.”
The prime minister obeyed instantly.
“Now,” said Pauline, turning to the people, “choose among you six of your number to consult with me, and do it at once.”
Of course, the men well-known as the best among the settlers were instantly named we need scarcely add that among them were Dominick, the doctor, and Malines.
While these were engaged in consultation below, a terrible outburst of the volcano settled the matter for them, and brought them all hastily on deck.
The summit of the crater seemed to have been blown up into the air with a most terrific noise, while a dense mass of smoke, steam, and ashes was hurled upwards, and seemed to blot out the sky. Twilight, which had been deepening, was converted into blackest night in a moment, and darkness profound would undoubtedly have continued, had it not been for the lurid glare of the fires which flashed at intervals from the crater. Suddenly the waters of the sea became agitated. The ship rocked uneasily, and jerked at her cable, while the terrified people clung to shrouds and ropes, and belaying-pins. Then the fire on the mountain-top increased tenfold in volume and intensity. Another moment, and several large holes opened in the mountain-side nearest to them, from which streams of molten lava burst forth and began to descend towards the deserted settlement.
At that moment there was a great shout. It had been discovered that in the confusion little Brown-eyes had been forgotten!
A small boat hung at the davits on the port side. It was manned instantly. The doctor jumped to the helm, Otto followed, and, before any could interpose, the queen suddenly stepped in.
“You are mad!” cried the doctor.
“Lower away!” said Pina, as if she had been a trained sea-captain all her life.
Instantly the ropes were eased off, and in a few seconds the boat was in the sea and on the shore. They found little Brown-eyes sound asleep in her crib, with a river of red-hot lava stretching its fiery tongues towards her as if eager for a meal!
Supple-limbed Otto was first; he seized the child and bore her off to the boat. Another terrible explosion occurred just then. Ashes and masses of rock began to rain around them. A falling stone struck Pauline’s head, and she fell. The doctor, who held her hand, seized her in his arms and bore her away. A few minutes more and they were all safe on board again.
But there was no time for congratulations. The sea which had before been agitated, now heaved in wild waves, though there was no wind. It was then seen that Big Island was actually crumbling—sinking into the water! The continuous rumbling of the volcano was terrible. Intermittent explosions were frequent. To add to the horrors of the scene the darkness deepened. As the island went down the sea rushed tumultuously in to overwhelm it. Then it was that the stout cable, under God, saved them from immediate destruction. The ship was hurled from side to side like a cork on the boiling flood. But no cable could long withstand such a strain. The chain snapped at last, and they seemed to be rushing with railway speed to their fate amid surrounding fire and overwhelming water, and roaring thunders, and raining ashes, when, suddenly, there was a perceptible diminution in the turmoil, and, gradually, the waves calmed down. With feelings of intense thankfulness the terrified people let go their second anchor, though the darkness was by that time so thick that they could barely see each other.
It may be imagined what a night of anxiety they spent. With Pauline and some others it was a night of earnest prayer.
When the light of day at last broke faintly in the east it revealed the fact that Refuge Islands had actually and totally disappeared, and that our settlers were floating on the bosom of the open sea!
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |